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

[Romul Saxon]

W A R M A S T E R
Abregado-Rae

IRON TOMB​

Allies: Tytos Saxon | Gel Karn | Yuri Maji | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Feydrik Munin | Siv Dragr | Kamon Hourn | Vreegan Fett
ENGAGING: Darth Strosius
Adjacent: Madrona A’Mia | Arris Windrun | Vestra Tane | Lily Rhodes

"RAGH!" Romul roared as the Old Boar threw the entirety of his strength into finishing the blow. Upward swung the hammer to meet the Sith's fell hand, and had it not been compromised, perhaps the raw vigor would have been enough to sever the limb altogether; but the metal had been fractured by dark arts beyond Romul's knowledge. As it collided with the Dark Lord, the splintered with a resounding crack before entirely shattering. The jarring shock of impact traveled up Romul's arm; with a grunt of surprise and pain, he dropped the now-useless shaft. Beskar. . . shattered? Understanding dawned upon the warrior's mind, bitter and clear as he remembered the Sith's dark miasma that had impacted with the hammer.

Yet no respite was granted to ponder his weapon's ruin as a burst of energy caught him full upon the breastplate, forcing him several steps backwards. "Heh," the Old Boar heaved mightily, exerting himself to stay upright. The Sith lunged forward with its lightsaber, a strike born of distance too great to land -- yet Romul's eyes saw the same shearing darkness as before now slithering down the Sith's arm and past the crimson plasma blade. Not keen to be the victim of the same trick twice, the veteran deftly sidestepped the shearing shadows, plunging past him a quarter-centimeter from where he'd stood. In the same breath, he drew the same cryoban blaster Gallius had entrusted him with before the ambush, put it at his hip, and squeezed the trigger all in one fluid motion. A torrential storm of cryogenic bolts, wintry-blue, assailed the Sith from close range.

Sensing his master's peril, Tusk let out a terrible roar from behind, the deep tremble of its reactor core thundering like a waking beast. The mechanical beast soared into the blizzard-struck sky as a host of Sith, dead and not yet, charged the battlefield. Then its roar became one of flame as its cannons and heavy ordnance thundered as one, a deluge akin to dragonfire unleashed upon the charging horde.

Gallius Saxon and the front lines of Mandalorians and Gados had reached the center at last, where the grim climax of the day seemed poised to see the Sith swallowed by the ice and snow. "FOR MANDALORE!" and "FOR KESTRI!" the Mandalorians cried, their voices ringing like horn-calls above the din as their blasters and rockets all echoed as one chorus, while the Gados raised a chittering harmony of ancient oaths exlaimed in their native tongue, oaths of vengeance and death for their home.

Warfleet
Helix | Astra Sadow | Ceria Kesyk | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Yuri Maji​

All hands on deck stood fast and marvelled; impossibly, not only did the tank targeted below weather the storm thrown at it, but several shots echoed back as if they were reflected from a mirror of dark glass. Impossibility was common on fateful days such as these, and, much less inclined to shrink before opposition, the Mandalorian commanders relished the opportunity to play with their prey. An opponent that did not back down so easily was made worthy in their eyes.

The Kestri Cyare and Ramorla had registered some damage, but nothing critical. The reflected fire, which had been overwhelming for a tank of its size, was nothing compared to the defensive systems of the behemoth Star Destroyers; moreover, much of its original power had been lost to physical depreciation once reflected.

The Star Destroyers continued inexorably bearing down on its target from above; except instead of firing in front of the tank, it opened up with fire in front and around it, intending to cleave the earth about with its celestial wrath to immobilize the tank; not through direct damage, but environmental. All strategy warranted experimentation when the enemy denied basic reality. Powerful entropic webifiers, a quartet from either ship, sought to kill the tank's inertia and movement altogether. At the same time, one of the Star Destroyer's tractor beams locked onto the tank, providing maximum reactor power to lift it, defying gravity itself.

Meanwhile, the ion cannon barked back at the harbingers of death that hovered high above, damaged but operational. The cannon was a considerable threat; the Cuyanir was a stroke away from becoming totally disabled, the heavy assault cruisers lower in the atmosphere where they held sway. Another precision strike from the Star Destroyers was ordered upon the ion cannon, this time to hopefully render the cannon nothing more than a smoking crater.

Shots were coming down now from the massive Sith dreadnought too, though Romul's fleet did little more than tactical maneuvering and standard defensive procedures. Mandalorian vessels were beyond state-of-the-line, especially the feared Ha'rangir dreadnoughts themselves. And as the Mythos Fleet above, commanded by the Hammer-hand and reinforced by Maji's fleet, continued to overwhelm the Sith, not much could feasibly be thrown towards the Saxon fleet below.

Evacuation Fleet​

The slaughter of the fleeing civilian vessels from the city continued. Hope remained, as it always does in the darkest moments, but the rampant death was but one more testament on a ledger eons long of the barbarism of the Sith.

Romul's evacuation fleet, on the other hand, bore the majority of the refugees of Le Yer and the metropolis. Not as much as he would have wanted to save, but as much as he could've. The strange, quiet lingering of the Sith was tactically perplexing, yet perhaps an objective eye would not entirely give them fault. When bloodthirsty Mandalorians surrounded you, there was little more to do than fight and pray for a Sith end.

The fleet entered into lower orbit, crossing the planet's atmospheric threshold and ascending into the heavens beyond. Some ships smoked from wounds incurred by last-ditch efforts to halt their progress; still, many more vessels were strong. Even the vode aboard remained silent, acutely aware of the slaughter of their brethren back onworld. Every single Mandalorian would give everything if it meant dying for their vode; but today, the mission required that they live.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• x5 Ha'rangir-class Star Destroyers
  • Gra'tua Dral - Flagship
  • Haran
  • Kalden
  • Kestri Cyare
  • Ramorla
• x2 Dalab-class Strike Carriers
  • Havey'ir
  • Aay'han
• Ka'yatr-class Suppressive Cruiser
  • Akior
• x5 Brokur-class Heavy Assault Cruisers
  • Stri'liir
  • Sur'ar
  • Aarikir
  • Cuyanir
  • Mavan
• Aranar-class Escort Frigates
  • Numerous, mainly used as transports for civilians.
• Ram'or-class Corvettes
  • Numerous, mainly used as transports for civilians.

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Abregado-Rae

LOOK WITHIN
​

Allies: Kamon Hourn | Yuri Maji | Vreegan Fett
Targeting: Now just Quinn Varanin

Right before impact, two thermal signatures simply vanished into thin air. Whistling birds streaked through the blizzard before blooming in colors of yellow and orange, small beacons muffled by the snow. There was only one. Abandoned? The Echani. Quinn Varanin, to whom he'd sworn he'd kill should their paths cross once more. Good, Siv sneered, and leveled his weapon, barrel settling on the bright flare of her thermal signature.

Suddenly, as if a flash, the blizzard froze around him, heavy sleet of snow stopping in an instant. Hundreds of fragments surrounded him like a sphere, and he could see them elongating, growing, gleaming as layer after layer of ice formed around them. Eyes turned downwards to the Echani where keen sight revealed the spear she held in one hand. A mind, sharp with clarity from hatred-fueled adrenaline, perceived many threats at once. Had Siv not walked the delicate line of life and death before, perhaps fear would have finally caught him; but now he welcomed the chance of death like a friend.

There was no moment to think. The spear launched towards him. Ice closed in all around him. Siv inhaled and --

cut the power to his jetpack.

Gravity instantly responded to reclaim the once-airborne Mandalorian, and in an instant his body plunged downwards. He was not very high, perhaps ten meters or a little more, and the descent was swift. Curling tight into a ball, he smashed through the lower portion of the sphere of fragments waiting to impale him. Ice and spear all converged on the same empty spot and collided together in empty air, the fragments bursting into a brilliant shower of glittering dust that sparkled like diamonds as it rained harmlessly from above. Siv hit the ground hard, grunting and rolling. The Echani was in front of him; how close? Perhaps a couple of meters away?

The hate that Quinn exuded for his kind was ironic because it parodied Siv's own hatred for hers. The Sith and their ilk had massacred his home, turning Mandalore to ash and stone and killing everyone he knew and loved, back when he had loved. That devastation had irrevocably changed the teenage boy; but could he fault her, who was but a babe? In the same vein, the Mandalorians who had razed Eshan Siv did not know, nor had he been capable of participating with them, having been a child himself.

Two woven in tangles of hatred spawned by acts for which neither was guilty. The cruel nature of fate, of peoples, of history, that the galaxy was all but indifferent to.

One knee bent downwards, Siv raised the slugthrower at the hip, fanning the hammer and emptying the full cylinder of slugs at the Sith. He was only faintly aware of the sound of a heavy vehicle moving fast, approaching the Echani from behind.

 

[Korar Murrak]

Vod: Braze
Enemies: Naamino Zuukamano Varin Mortifer

Korar saw the necklace get crushed by Naamino Zuukamano then fly into Braze's hand. Luckily it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, at least it couldn't be used agaisnt Braze. He'd have to apologize later for letting it get broken.

Before he could really register what had happened, the building was hit by a stray shot and the duracrete beneath him cracked before giving way. Unlike the other two Korar had no fancy trick and thus had little time to react, same as Kovita behind him. The landing was not as pleasant as Naamino's landing or as controlled as Braze's fall.

Korar landed hard on his back, pain shooting through his body. Luckily his size, build, and armor saved him from what could have been a lot worse pain. As he laid there stunned for a moment debris fell on top of him, not fully pinning him, but enough to force him to push it off with his right arm, which sparked a couple times under the strain, damaged but not close failing.

He immediately looked to where Kovita should be, finding her there he saw her half buried in rubble. Korar knew her well enough to know she could get out on her own quickly enough. The next thing he looked for was the sith, finding him currently in a worse state Korar looked for earthshaker next. Finding it only a few feet from him he picked it up in his left hand, but that's not what got his attention.

What did was a large flat slab of duracrete, about 90kg. A good weapon. Grabbing the edge with his prosthetic and lifting it, his arm sparking yet again, dust falling off of the piece of what was once a floor. Twisting his body and pulling the slab with him it scraped across the ground before it lifted in the air. Aiming for the sith's midsection and waist to not hit his vod who was falling above, Korar let it fly. The slab flew forward, spinning through the air, any smaller bit of debris that was on top now being spun off of it.

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

BYOO
The Mark Of The Dark
​

Theme: I'm Noboby
TAGS: OPEN

myrkrit skal heimta þenna heim

etinn af ormasótt

grafinn til fúa

þá spillir

til myrkrs at gleypa

vér gefum blóð vár

til svelgingar þessa heims​

Daggers raised, ready to make the sacrifice to one the true eternal constant. The diminutive figure began to outstretch her arms before the congregation that knelled before her. Her bare palms up towards the heavens. But she was not opening her arms to the heavens but to the void beyond it. As the voices chanted, invoking the name of the dark the entropy from which all life had come and would all return to in time.

As her arms outstretched and her palms reached to the void beyond the burning and freezing heavens above a violet ichor began swirl and swarm around her body. Then her head rose up revealing her orange eyes that burned with the fires of creation. As the worms on the ground began squirming their way toward her feet.

"Ci asdanetr res tozu het res Gȃyita Ameeno, Res Ameeno het I'shuree slaret, I'shuree anfityitfae. Ci mul taohlih ti imilu het ama kosta I'shar tozu. Silkinal shuree res kaiken het asamkla."

The amulet around the diminutive figures neck began to glow as souls of the dead and dying began to flow into it. Consumed in its violet up and offered up to the fanged God to grant her the power of Metamorphosis.

"Ni atbuha gai be Kad Ha'rangir, naastar Dir. shukur be wihtr bal arasuum. Rala ni cuyir gar haa'it be darasuum akaan bal naastar be gar adiik meg ganar echoy'la etie miai. At gar Ni gurire! oyar'e bu'ctihyr bal a oyar'u yasivr gurcter."

Her orange eyes flared even as she invoked the name of the Mandalorian God that she had adopted the philosophy of long ago in times before this mortal form. She who had never wavered from the way the true way of the dark. The one who would bring about the end of all. In return all she asked for this devotion was vision to guide her way and dominate it.

"ek kalla á frummyrkrit þat, er fœddi þenna veruleika ok þat er hann mun eyða. gef mér aldr eilífðar því at, þú gef ek líf þeira er þér hafa ætíð þjónat. faðma þá tak þar blóð sem blót"

Her eyes peered up at the fluid sky of fire and ice, she stared right through it. Past the clouds, past the sun of Abregado-rae, past the field of stars, past the void beyond, and into the fires of entropy's creation. As the dark bathed over her in shadow.

"Only power is real, and the only real power is the power to destroy. Existence is fleeting. Destruction is 'eternal."

As she said it the ten robed figures stopped chanting and thrust their daggers deep into their chests. Their bodies falling to the ground in heaps, as blood flowed into the crack grounds, streams moving towards the worms now at the diminutive figure's feet. Their bodies be consumed in into the Aether and their souls going to the fanged god. The Ichor that swirled around Tamsin body began to spread out and flow into the worms and they began to transform, age to maturity, and she could feel it all as it began to happen.

The worms and Plague inside them were beginning to meld into one creating a new life form, and they were beginning to grow and mature at a rapid rate.

 

[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

One moment he was getting his bearings, the next he was bowled over by the little beskar warlock.

"Oof" Naami grunted as they tumbled back down amongst the still settling rubble.

Though not ideal, it did save the zabrak from taking a direct hit from a chit ton of duracrete. The huge slab arced over the tumbling pair and landed with yet another brutal crash. For his part, Naami was still pretty dazed from the partial demolition of the building but training kicked in and it seemed he'd be taking the fight back to basics.

Ignati’s rage and fury traveled through the tendrils of the weave and telepathic link attached to each being. A ferocious fury gifted upon them. The fear of death wiped clean, emotions of fear and anxiety stripped of the mind and replaced with that of a lust for war. The God of Conquest has called upon His people, and gifted them a mighty boon of battle hardiness and ferocity. A command to spill blood and shower chaos among those that were their enemies.

Preternatural rage flooded the zabrak's veins and the already incensed warrior roared his defiance amidst the clatter of still falling pieces of building. As he rolled, Naami made to throw a large leg about his opponent and aimed to heel hook. Though his armor was battered and dented, environmental systems were down and his opposite knee still felt a bit stiff in the joint, Naamino was hoping to crank his opponent's leg into an uncomfortable hold. It could buy him a moment wherein his other opponent would think twice before hurling another slab or worse, his hammer.

 

[Pax Velloran]

WESTERN LANDING GALLERIES
ABREGADO-RAE SPACEPORT | Astra Sadow | Open to Tags

Mandalorians occupying the control tower changed the calculation considerably. Pax looked toward the distant structure for little more than a second before abandoning the idea. He needed a record, not a firefight.

"That may solve the second problem."

Assuming they still had a ship by the time the first was dealt with. The brown-haired man's question was the more useful one.

"What I actually need?"

Pax reached beneath his coat and produced the datapad.

"One departure packet."

He angled the display toward them long enough to show the vessel identifier.

"The Far Wanderer. It cleared this berth eleven minutes early. I need its departure authorization."

His thumb moved once across the screen.

"I don't need the tower to tell me where it went. I need to know what told the tower it was allowed to leave."

Pax glanced toward the interior of the hangar. Control wouldn't be the only place the departure had been recorded. A port this size would keep local traffic data somewhere around the berth, even if central operations had been diverted elsewhere.

"Berth operations should have cached it locally. Maintenance, traffic relay, a service console... Anything tied into the docking system."

He looked back to the officers.

"I need the authorization attached to that departure and the terminal that sent it. Nothing more."

The nearest patch of red was closer than it had been when the conversation started. That seemed sufficient argument against wasting more time.

"If there's an auxiliary panel in this hangar, I'd rather use that than cross half the spaceport to discover the Mandalorians have developed strong opinions about archival access. And if your credentials can open it, this becomes considerably faster."

The low-altitude route had merit. If they made it back to the shuttle, they could worry about the rest from the cockpit.

"If we can pull the record, we leave immediately."

His eyes settled briefly on the red staining the far reaches of the hangar before returning to them.

"Low and long, as you suggested."

Pax adjusted the fall of his coat over the datapad and started toward the nearest bank of auxiliary systems.

His gaze moved toward the service stations lining the hangar, then back to the pair.

"If there's one nearby, lead the way."

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | ALLIES: Efret Farr​

For one terrible moment, Casimir remained caught between two worlds. The Netherworld pulled at him with a promise it had never actually made. There was no certainty Kaelis waited beyond the wound torn through reality, no familiar presence reaching for him through the Force, and nothing to suggest that twenty years of searching would finally end if he crossed that threshold. There was only possibility, but Casimir had built nearly half his life around considerably less.

Twenty years.

He had followed every rumor, every relic, every whisper that might lead him back to his sister. He had crossed the galaxy chasing trails others would have abandoned long ago because somewhere beneath all the disappointment remained the stubborn conviction that Kaelis could still be found. Casimir had always believed that if a door finally opened, nothing would stop him from walking through it.

Now one had.

Then Efret screamed.

"No!"

Casimir looked at her. The voice came from the enchanted necklace at her throat rather than Efret herself, but the desperation behind it belonged entirely to her. She knew. Somehow, Efret understood exactly where his thoughts had gone and what the Netherworld represented to him. She was not merely warning Casimir about the danger. She was asking him not to leave her for whatever possibility waited beyond the veil.

Then the glowing tendrils erupted from the pendant and plunged into her neck.

Casimir's gaze snapped toward them before returning to Efret's face. The Netherworld remained there at the edge of his perception, immense and terrible, offering him the first place in twenty years he had not searched for Kaelis. If he turned away now, the opening might close. There might never be another. His sister could be somewhere beyond it, waiting for the brother who had promised himself he would never stop looking.

Efret was here.

Casimir looked toward the rupture one last time.

"I'm sorry, Kaelis."

He turned away.

The pain of it settled somewhere deeper than anything the battlefield could inflict. Casimir did not know whether he had just surrendered his best chance of finding his sister. He only knew that he could not answer one loss by choosing another. Efret had reached for him moments earlier because she could go no farther, and now she was asking him not to disappear somewhere she could not follow.

Casimir chose her.

Only then did the battlefield rush back into focus.

Something changed in his perception as Vreegan descended through the smoke with his rifle braced firmly against his shoulder. Casimir caught the adjustment of the barrel and the minute shift of armored weight that preceded the shot. The Echani did not need to know precisely what Vreegan had loaded into the weapon to recognize the language of a man committing himself to an attack.

The first concussion blast tore through the air, and Casimir moved.

The Force flooded his body as he crossed the distance toward Efret with speed that made everything else seem almost motionless. His crimson saber extinguished as he reached her, one arm sweeping around her waist while the other caught her near the shoulder. Casimir planted his foot and drove them laterally with every ounce of Force-enhanced momentum he could summon just as the ground where they had been standing erupted.

There was no flame this time. The concussion struck the earth with enough violence to pulverize stone and collapse the dirt beneath it. Casimir felt the pressure wave catch them before he could carry Efret completely clear, his grip tightening as the impact lifted his feet from beneath him and sent him hard across the ruined ground. He twisted as they fell, taking the impact across his shoulder and back before momentum finally tore them apart.

Pain shot through his ribs as Casimir rolled through the dirt, and the ringing in his ears briefly swallowed everything else. Another blast hammered into the ground nearby, throwing another cloud of pulverized earth across the ritual grounds as he forced himself onto one knee.

His eyes found Efret first.

Casimir moved toward her and reached for her hand. His fingers closed around hers only long enough for his thumb to press deliberately into her palm, followed by a short movement of his fingers that belonged to the language they had made their own.

I'm here.

The message meant more now than reassurance. Efret had asked him to stay, and this was his answer.

His gaze lingered on hers for a heartbeat before Casimir stood. The crimson blade of his lightsaber returned as he faced the Mandalorian descending through the smoke, placing his back firmly toward the Netherworld and everything it might contain.

Vreegan had attacked them twice now. The first barrage had torn through Efret's robes and skin, and the second had come while she was already being punished by whatever cursed thing hung around her throat. Whatever chance Casimir had just surrendered because he refused to leave Efret behind, this Mandalorian had nearly made the choice meaningless anyway.

Amber eyes narrowed as Casimir studied him.

The Echani had been watching Vreegan since the first rockets fell, and every movement had added something to Casimir's understanding of the man. Jetpack corrections kept the Mandalorian beyond easy reach while allowing him to attack from above. The rifle remained tight against his shoulder when he fired, while his descent had been deliberate enough to sacrifice altitude for a clearer firing solution without surrendering the advantage of flight.

Every attack had told Casimir something, and that was the mistake people made when fighting an Echani. They thought combat began when the first blow landed. For Casimir, it began when an opponent first moved.

He stepped away from Efret, deliberately opening the distance between them. If Vreegan wanted another clean shot at her, the Mandalorian would have to choose between maintaining his attention on Casimir or dividing it. Casimir raised his saber but did not charge. Instead, he reached into the Force and seized a broken slab of duracrete from the crater Vreegan's own weapon had torn into the ground.

The debris ripped free and hurtled upward, not toward Vreegan himself, but across the line of his rifle. Casimir moved with it, accelerating beneath the improvised obstruction while keeping his crimson blade close rather than sweeping uselessly at an opponent still beyond reach. Another piece of shattered stone followed the first as dirt ripped upward from the ruined battlefield, creating interference rather than attempting to overwhelm the armored warrior outright.

None of it was intended to defeat Vreegan. Casimir only needed to interfere with his sightline long enough to force the Mandalorian to adjust, because Casimir was already watching for that adjustment. The angle of the rifle, the correction of the jetpack, and the shift of Vreegan's shoulders would tell the Echani where his opponent intended to be afterward.

Casimir intended to meet him there.

The Netherworld remained open behind him, its presence impossible to shut entirely from his awareness. He had no idea how long the doorway would remain or whether another would ever appear. Somewhere beyond it, Kaelis might finally have been within his reach.

Casimir drove forward through the smoke toward Vreegan.

He did not look back.

 

[Anet Raine]

Calyx Sundrift | Varin Mortifer | Naamino Zuukamano | Braze | Korar Murrak | Feydrik Munin | Helix | Darth Carnifex | Allyson Locke | Naniti
Robes | Mask | Lightsaber​

Gloating before one has cinched a victory is unbecoming of a prospective Knight.
Mind yourself, girl.​

Anet clenched her fist at her Master’s warning. It stung.

How was this not victory?! She looked around. So much was burning. Even the icy winds struggled to do much against chemical fires. Explosion after explosion continued, burning out factories, destroying piping, sending molten slag high into the air before it came crashing back down.

Word entered her ear when her comms lit up again.

The Sith forces were engaging in a full tactical retreat, withdrawing to a high ground position elsewhere within the urban sprawl. Still, there was so much fighting. Pockets of resistance met by pockets of force. Embers and plague spores fell all around them. A basilisk droid latched onto a TIE like a falcon snatching its unaware prey. Only for a second TIE to fire its missiles - deciding to end both.

Anet wanted to show that she was more than a saboteur. That she could be a killer, and contribute to the end of many Mandalorians.

She watched as Sith ghosts poured through the burning streets. Lords and Masters of old, Dark Side spirits. As a scholar, she wondered if there were any great kings or Dark Lords among them. Would she recognize them? Was there something left to be learned?

But A’Mia’s words came back to her.

The point was not to win a pitched battle. It was to destroy this world’s industry. To rob the Kestrans of industrial support; of a staging ground to supply their armada. If the Sith Covenant had their way on Abregado-rae, the Mythic Fleet would lose ships, people, arms, and supplies. And a convenient means of replacing them. It would make whatever happened next… whether it was last-ditched aggression, or attrition war, a matter of material deficit for the Mandalorians.

So, begrudgingly, she turned to Calyx - who, despite having a crisis, would earn no empathy from Anet.

“Come on,” she groaned bitterly. “We’re not far from where we need to be, but the flames will take us if we delay any longer.”

She could teleport them, but figured it would be wise to save her strength. Never knew if the enemy had one more surprise up their sleeves.

The Sith turned and jogged along the rooftop, hopping from one building to the next, tip-toeing around collapsing infrastructure, and avoiding shooting spouts of chemical-fueled fire.

 

[Astra Sadow]

"A departure packet?" The man leaned in to look at the datapad concerning what ship of clarity could be gleaned there. Evidently, the man Pax Velloran wasn't looking for clearance of his own ship, but of another already departed? There were only a few reasons for that, and they all boiled down to not wanting to be on record as having left (and presumably not having arrived earlier). Smacked of illicit activity.

Looks were exchanged, but neither showed indignation for either to make a fuss yet. Why would someone be engaging in illegal activity in the middle of this nightmare on repulsors? Pax was either a certifiably great thief, or mad as a hatter.

Pax's attention turned out toward the glowing embers, but where he seemed calm, they were... apprehensive. Kaelyr 's glow was uncomfortably bright and near. Not to mention the damn heat was starting to... Wait, weren't there reports about the plague using heat to spread faster? Was someone deliberately trying to hasten the End? They weren't explosions, and if it was a fire raging out of control there'd have been reports and a response organized, so this was deliberate and not from enemy fire. Mad as a Sith.

"Yeah..."

The blue-eyed smith caught the arm of the brown-haired partner with a look.

As his mouth opened to reply to the unstated thought, however, another barrage from above rained down on the spaceport ( Romul Saxon ). The oaths of terror were drowned out by the planet-shaking horror revisited a second time. That wasn't literally next door, but when that much bombardment happened in under half a mile from you distance had a maddening way of compressing perceptually.

Both of them had staggered and then crouched to try and keep their footing under the assault. Thankfully it wouldn't last for long -- again -- but it begged one hell of a question.

"C-- Chandrilan Command, this is Foxtrot Two," he glanced at the blue-eyed man, but this time there wasn't any overt moved to stop him, "requesting clearance for a ship at our present location to lift off. In support of... forces at Site Alpha. Over." ( Leontis Antalis ) Well, if they claimed the ship was headed for the source of the plague to support them against Mandalorian incursion, who would complain? People with a death wish were welcome on Abregado-rae evidently.

 

[Pax Velloran]

WESTERN LANDING GALLERIES
ABREGADO-RAE SPACEPORT | Astra Sadow | Open to Tags

The second barrage settled the question of how much longer Pax intended to spend investigating anything. He caught himself against the shuttle as the deck shifted beneath him, one hand braced against the hull while the sound of the bombardment swallowed whatever else might have been said. Somewhere across the landing galleries, metal gave way with a noise he felt through his boots. When it stopped, Pax stayed where he was for a moment.

Nothing immediately above them appeared interested in collapsing. That would have to suffice.

The brown-haired officer's transmission drew his attention next. Pax listened without interrupting as the request went out to Chandrilan Command, followed by the rather creative explanation for why his shuttle needed permission to leave. Support for forces at Site Alpha. Pax looked at him once the transmission ended.

"That'll save us a conversation."

There was no judgment attached to it. Whatever distinction ordinarily existed between proper procedure and expedient fiction had become considerably less useful after the second orbital bombardment. His attention shifted toward the service stations lining the hangar.
Pax's attention shifted toward the service stations lining the hangar. A maintenance terminal near the far wall still showed a live network indicator.

Good enough.

Pax returned the datapad beneath his coat and started toward the nearest terminal at a jog. The pace felt unnatural after so much careful movement through the spaceport, but caution, given the circumstances, now provided diminishing returns. The red had advanced again while they spoke, creeping across another section of plating near the edge of the gallery. Farther down, something finer hung briefly in the air before the ventilation pulled it sideways and out of sight.

Pax gave it a wider berth.

The terminal sat recessed into a maintenance station near the far end of the hangar, half surrounded by fueling controls and berth diagnostics. Its display flickered once beneath his hand before resolving into an emergency interface stripped of most ordinary functions. Pax worked quickly.

Berth status. Local traffic. Departure history.

The menus had been rearranged under emergency operations, but the underlying system was still doing what it had been built to do: recording movements, acknowledgements and whatever fragments of traffic passed through the local node before being forwarded elsewhere. He found the cache. There was no time to sort through it. Pax pulled the datapad free again, connecting it directly to the service port and selected the entire relevant block of raw traffic data surrounding the Far Wanderer's departure.

Pax skipped the filtering and pulled the entire block, leaving the authorization, timestamps and credentials for later. The transfer indicator began to climb, and he watched that instead. Another tremor passed through the gallery. Dust shook loose somewhere overhead, followed by a thin scatter of darker material that once again vanished into the moving air before he could decide what it was.

The transfer continued. "Come on." The words were directed at the terminal more than anyone nearby. The final segment cleared.

Pax disconnected the datapad immediately and checked only that the data block had saved intact. Whatever answers were buried inside could wait. He slid the datapad beneath his coat and turned toward the shuttle.

He made it two steps before a sound behind him pulled his attention back. It was soft compared to the bombardment, almost lost beneath the alarms. A swollen knot of red along the deck plating shifted, then split open with a wet crack, throwing a cloud of fine crimson particulate into the air. Pax stared at it for half a second too long.


"Time to go!"


He was already moving toward the shuttle when another section of the growth ruptured farther down the berth.


"Now!"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

Fires raged and funneled into the hellish twisters that carved their way through streets and rubble. Portions of the plague funneled into the cyclones whirling within its body before being shot up to the skies to follow air currents within the fire storm. It was a highway of death that directed the plague to further reaches of the planet.

Varin watched as the chaos took the toll that was to be paid at its summons. The destruction led by the orbital bombardments stirred up further clouds on the ground. The red flakes that had slowly and lazily drifted upon the air were now whipping with the currents of strong heated gusts of wind.

Varin turned his attention back to the hole within the building. The fiery wings flexed as his eye peered inside to see the force signatures of two individuals fighting Naamino.

He would not have that. The massive figure that held up the tower drifted apart with the wind, diminishing its form to that of just smoke and ember, only to be absorbed once again into Varin’s body. The tower buckled as the restraint that held it up disappeared, falling away from the hole. Varin stepped over the edge, the spikes within his boots gripping the wall as he ran across the tumbling structure. His legs flexed before a release launching him into the hole just as the slab of stone had barely missed Naamino.

He landed hard on his feet, knees slightly bent, stone cracking before the force of his landing. The heat from his body was oppressive. His gaze pointed at the larger man who wielded part of the building against his battle brother.

His hand slowly reached back, unsheathing his mace. A heavy object steeped in sith sorcery only making it heavier. He leveled it pointing towards the larger armored man. A call for action.

Then he shot forth with great speed, flame and smoke exploding from his back, he came in quick and hard, using the momentum of his body in the swing of his mace.

Naamino Zuukamano | Korar Murrak | Braze​

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Cruelty Ceria Kesyk

Madrona A’Mia Darth Strosius

His frame felt heavy now, he coughed, blood seeping down his lips as he looked up to Lina.

“Ceria refuses my help… but you came straight from Mercy. She will respect that, I think. Can you? Any assistance, anything at all, to help her turn the tide?”

Lina reached a hand down to Cruelty’s chin, her fingers passing briefly through it before her two halves settled together and an icy thumb gently moved to wipe the blood from the corners of his mouth as she pondered his question. She did not know Ceria Kesyk and if the shoe had been on the other foot, she would have refused help from a stranger just as quickly.

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.

“No, my child, I cannot.” she said softly, her head tilting as she offered him a small smile, “but I can help you.”

Wraithspire rose in her other hand, its tips tilting towards the great wound they had torn open. Lina drew from the Nether, pulling its power into her, blackened veins pulsing as she did, smoke-like wings spreading lifting her slightly off the ground.

She felt it swell within her, death and chaos combined into something untameable, letting it build until it was almost too much. Then she let it flow from her, travelling down the already existing threads she held with Darth Strosius and Madrona A’Mia she extended a third thread, watching it settle in her mind's eyes against Cruelty.

Torne flesh began to knit, the natural Firrerreo healing suddenly accelerated as Lina became a rippling conduit of darkness. Power drawn from Chaos itself, vibrating along threads of silk.

And to Cruelty drifted a singular thought:

<<“Do not ask permission. Just do what you must.”>>

 

[Helix]

Currently captaining the Supercrawler
Tags: Romul Saxon (Directly) Ceria Kesyk Astra Sadow (Indirectly in regards to support
​

Thankfully, it hadn't taken support forces long to arrive and deal with some of his external issues. Helix was left wishing his own countrymen could manage this kind of battlefield unity.

The Thralls had requisitioned discarded Abregado-rae equipment and vehicles. They were hardly as impressive as the well-organized and forged resources of the Mandalorians, but they were a far cry from sticks and stones. Sensors and radars would detect a small force of vehicles on approach crewed by those granted protection from the fungus through their blood service. Survival had a way of motivating people to accept your generous offer. Especially when it came with the idea one might be Embraced and granted 'immortality' as one of the Lowbloods.

Long-range weapons fire consisting of blasters and rockets sailed announced their arrival. They targeted the droids that harassed the crawler whilst its personnel struggled with a saboteur within its walls.

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 Helix .

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

The vessels that had been bombarding the crawler soon received fire of their own, and the interloping war droids became the target of arriving Sith ground forces.

With its sufferings alleviated for the moment, the crawler returned to doing what it did best: laying waste to the field.

While Helix dealt with the boarding party, the bridge crew went about their business with deadly finesse.

If nothing else, this latest field test of the v1.1 Landslide proved its efficacy. An approximate estimated efficiency rate of 2,233% more than justified the price of deployment. If the enemy had anything capable of matching it (save their vessels in space), the crawler had yet to encounter it.

Despite the stresses of fending off so many foes at once on land, air and space, Helix was glutted on pride and anticipation.

The after-action reports would show the widespread devastation he was responsible for, and his compact with the Empress would be sealed in the blood of her enemies.

As it turned out, the victory party had been a bit premature, and the triumphant high didn't last long.

The Star Destroyers continued inexorably bearing down on its target from above; except instead of firing in front of the tank, it opened up with fire in front and around it, intending to cleave the earth about with its celestial wrath to immobilize the tank; not through direct damage, but environmental. All strategy warranted experimentation when the enemy denied basic reality. Powerful entropic webifiers, a quartet from either ship, sought to kill the tank's inertia and movement altogether. At the same time, one of the Star Destroyer's tractor beams locked onto the tank, providing maximum reactor power to lift it, defying gravity itself.

The bombardments widened their scope, attempting the hinder the crawler's movement. Masses of earth shifted and churned as the great beast's hide weathered the assault. Comparatively-primitive as it was, the result of such starship-grade weapons fire was more than enough.

The nearby ground, already rendered unstable by the crawler's own prolonged shelling, finally gave way.

The vehicle gave a sickening lurch to port, tossing everything inside.

The bridge crew's alarmed reactions reached Helix's ears even as the hallway he was standing in altered its angle sharply. The portside wall quickly became the floor as the crawler slid into a tremendous fissure opened by the bombardments.

"Losing traction!" Shrieked the bridge officer. "Bombardments have disturbed the surrounding landscape. Enemy is attempting to lock us with gravitic weapons, but the primary grid is holding for now."

"Divert power from weapons and incoming absorbed fire." Ordered Helix. "Maximum auxiliary power to engines. Get us out of here."

The crawler's frame groaned as its armored treads increased their rotation, digging deep into the muck of the disturbed battlefield. Earth, debris, and bodies churned and mulched under the wounded monster's weight as it struggled, slipping deeper into the chasm.

As the ground collapsed around them, so did the buildings. Weakened by the widespread fires and artillery detonations, a massive nearby tower toppled into the pit alongside the crawler, pinning it in place with a boom that sent dust rippling along the ground for half a kilometer. Thousands of tons of earth and manmade detritus slid into place, partially burying the machine, and a devastating munitions cookoff ran along the exposed starboard side, sending spectacular jets of ebon fire hundreds of meters into the air.

"Significant damage to starboard weapons batteries. Major Otherplasma breaches on primary guns Alpha, Gamma, and Delta." Chimed in the gunnery officer. "Self-repair systems nominal, but functioning."

"Reactor-clusters report extreme strain. This unit concludes potential meltdown in the near future." Added the bridge lieutenant, as if the situation were not more than stressful enough.

"Noted." Responded Helix with rather too much composure for one confronted with those ominous words. "Maintain current engine power and get us out of this hole."

"Neutron radiation leak in reactor compartments eight and eleven." Continued the bridge officer. "Approximate 64 Sv and rising. Radiological emissions detected on decks one through three."

"I heard you. Get it stabilized and move us. If we remain here we will have larger problems than radiation."

While the contamination itself might have been harmless to the droids, what it heralded was not. Crewmen raced to the source to get the leak under control, and as though this were not all enough, a priority call came over the mobile bunker's comms.

"Sir, general fallback order has just gone out. Sith command has requested we reform here."

A gridpoint pinged through Helix's mind.

"Very good. I'll hail them."

Helix switched to the command-coordination channel he'd used previously.

"Negative on the move order. We're currently immobilized and under heavy bombardment, repeat, heavy bombardment. We cannot guarantee superheavy armored asset presence to aid the withdrawal order while orbital assault is still in progress."

Slowly but surely, the crawler attempted to drag itself out of the fissure, but it could do little in the way of firing back until then. Diverting power from shields was unacceptable, and most weapons power had been transferred to the engines.

Helix laid a hand on the crawler's internal bulkhead, communing directly with the droid brain that ran it alongside the bridge crew. The machine was suffering, but there was plenty of fight left in her yet.

"Persevere." He ordered, voice steady and assured as ever. "I designed and built you to handle far worse than this. I know you are in pain, but you have inflicted that pain back a thousandfold today. It will be over soon. Just hold on a while longer."

This would be the true test of his engineering prowess. Trapped, under fire, and buried under half the city. Worst came to worst, they'd have to scuttle her, but he'd damned sure try everything else first. The mighty vehicle had served with pride, and deserved a more dignified end than so crude a burial as this.

"Lieutenant, begin self-destruct and evacuation preparations. Don't pull any triggers just yet, but we must prepare for the worst. We'll be meeting that retreating contingent one way or another."

 

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS
Outfit/Armor

Leontis had intended to remain at the tactical station. There was, after all, a battle still being fought. Violet One had gone quiet while securing the defense network. Violet Two remained with the battered ion cannon. Reports from the platoon continued to filter through from every corner of the terminal, and the occasional tremor beneath his boots was a persistent reminder that Mandalorian warships were perfectly willing to solve their problems by dropping sufficient firepower upon them.

Then word reached him that Astra Sadow had returned. Not merely returned, either. Carried. That was enough to pull Leontis away from the display. Curiosity was one of his more persistent weaknesses.

His four House Guardsmen accompanied him through the mobile laboratory, their presence ensuring that researchers and technicians made room for their noble charge. Leontis followed the trail of hurried personnel until he found the chamber where Astra was being tended. He stopped at the threshold.

For a moment, he simply watched. The woman he'd witnessed tearing through Mandalorians had returned looking as though she'd tried to personally absorb every blaster bolt fired in the spaceport. Tattered clothes barely clung to her, wounds decorated seemingly every visible portion of her body, and whatever strange vitality normally animated Astra seemed stretched dangerously thin.

Leontis made no offer of assistance. He wouldn't have known what assistance to offer. Instead, he folded his arms loosely across his chest and observed with naked fascination while those responsible for Astra's care went about the process of putting her back together.

"Remarkable." Whether he meant Astra's survival or the process of repairing her was difficult to tell. His comm chirped. Leontis' eyes remained on Astra for another moment before he reluctantly touched the receiver.

"Chandrilan Command. Foxtrot Two. Requesting clearance for a ship at our present location to lift off. In support of forces at Site Alpha. Over."

Leontis' brow furrowed. Site Alpha? He stepped half a pace back into the corridor, though his attention kept drifting through the doorway. "Hold."

There were several reasons to refuse. Their airspace was contested. The ion cannon was damaged. The hangars had been secured specifically to prevent unauthorized departures, and Leontis had spent much of the battle trying to establish control over precisely this sort of movement.

Another voice interrupted before he reached a decision. "Antalis Actual, Violet One."

That drew his attention properly. "Report."

"We've got it. Automated defenses are under our control. Internal turrets, security barriers, surviving exterior emplacements. Some systems are damaged or offline, but the network recognizes our authority."

A slow smile crossed Leontis' face. "Excellent." He turned away from the treatment room long enough to summon a schematic onto his wrist display.

"Upload Chandrilan command identifiers immediately. Covenant personnel are friendly unless specifically overridden. Mandalorian forces remain hostile. Prioritize anything still attempting organized resistance." A pause. "And give our people access to local security controls. I want doors, barriers, lifts and checkpoints working for us instead of against us. Don't chase stragglers if the automated systems can contain them. Consolidate what we already hold." Acknowledgment followed.

Almost immediately, the wider picture began arriving. One of his squads reported another terminal concourse secure. Civilians were surrendering themselves willingly now, some terrified by the accelerating fungal growth, others by the things emerging from the impossible wound in the sky. Another unit had begun sorting detainees while keeping suspected Mandalorian fighters isolated from ordinary civilians. Resistance remained, but it was increasingly fragmented. The distinction mattered. They were no longer fighting their way into the spaceport. They were occupying it.

"Antalis Actual, Violet Two."

Leontis switched channels. "Go ahead." The report from the ion cannon was less encouraging. The weapon remained functional, but the latest bombardment had compounded the damage. Repairs were underway where possible, though the emplacement had been punished badly enough that nobody was willing to promise how much longer it could remain operational.

"Keep assisting Astra's people," Leontis replied. "Repair what you can. Preserve the weapon if possible, but don't bury yourselves inside it trying to perform miracles. If the structure becomes untenable, withdraw and report."

He lowered his hand. For several seconds Leontis simply stood there. His gaze had returned to Astra. The tactical reports continued quietly in his ear. His platoon was advancing through the mundane work of occupation now. Violet One had the automated defenses. Violet Two had orders. His squad leaders were consolidating the terminal.

Behind him, Astra was being made whole again. Or whatever approximation of whole applied to Astra Sadow. Leontis watched one of the attendants work and only vaguely registered another voice in his ear.

"Chandrilan Command, Foxtrot Two. Standing by on that departure request."

Ah. Right. The ship. Leontis' eyes never left Astra. "Yes. Fine. Release it."

There was a brief silence. His brow furrowed. "The secure hangar, I mean. Authorize their departure. Coordinate with Violet One so the automated defenses don't shoot them down on the way out."

"Understood."

Leontis lowered his hand again. Somewhere in that hangar, the authorization could not have arrived at a better moment. Whatever investigation the vessel's owner had been conducting was apparently finished, and the spreading crimson growth was beginning to rupture, casting fine particulate into the berth. The fiction that the shuttle was bound to support Site Alpha had served its purpose. Leontis knew none of that.

At that particular moment, he was barely thinking about the shuttle at all. That realization finally registered. He blinked. He was distracted. Leontis Antalis did not particularly enjoy discovering that his attention had wandered during a military operation. He looked toward the tactical information still scrolling across his display and found, somewhat irritatingly, that nothing demanded his personal intervention.

The operation was going well. Perhaps that was precisely why his mind had wandered. He glanced at the nearest of his House Guardsmen. "You have the platoon."

The Guardsman's helmet turned toward him. "My Lord?"

"Temporarily," Leontis clarified. "Violet One controls the defenses. Violet Two knows what they're doing. The terminal squads are consolidating. Keep them doing exactly that. No heroic advances. No chasing Mandalorians into places we don't need. Hold what we've taken and keep sorting the captives." He gestured toward the tactical station.

"If something important changes, tell me." The Guardsman gave a firm nod.

Only then did Leontis turn back toward the room. This time he did not remain at the threshold. He stepped inside. His other Guardsmen followed until Leontis lifted a hand, quietly indicating that they could remain near the entrance. He proceeded farther on his own, approaching close enough now to see the damage Astra had suffered and the work being done to remedy it.

Still, he offered nothing. No hand. No concern. No meaningless reassurance. He merely watched with the fascinated expression of a man confronted by something he didn't quite understand and had no intention of pretending otherwise.

The battle could survive without him for a few minutes. Leontis wanted to see how one put Astra Sadow back together.

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

​

​

 

[Kaelyr]

Sith Covenant Allies: Mercy Srina Talon Astra Sadow Veyla Tass Leontis Antalis Xan Atropus

---

There was no room for error at this point, finding that I was at my limit for the amount of souls I could consume to fuel this ritual. It would seem that I was not alone in this endeavor to combat their cold with heat of my own, as I could feel Varin Mortifer and his infernal guest causing chaos of their own. It was the perfect catalyst to use for what I had planned, as I reached through the force to pour all the energy and power I had built up into the firestorm. Pulling on that fiery destruction, I called down several vortices of hellish flame across the spaceport.

Standing, I watched as the fiery twisters touched down, incinerating enemy mandos and infected armed civilians. I could see plague spores spreading further, raining down like snow, more so like a flurry now with the aid of the vortices. It was the most I could do in the moment. At that moment, a wave of rage and fury washed over me, and I could tell this was Ignati's doing. I had been around Varin enough times to know that feeling, and it exhilerated me and Yggdrakses greatly. Now I was ready to continue my carnage; the question was where to unleash my fury at. Picking up Grace onto my shoulder, I leapt to the area where the fighting was the heaviest.

▐ ▐ ▐ ▐

 

[Astra Sadow]

The Thrall Convoy skidded and split when the explosions started raining down from above. At first it was from the Tyranny's support ( Ceria Kesyk ). Not too close, but near enough to have them avoid the area of engagement. Which was fine since they had long-range weaponry to fire at the Mandalorian constructs ( Romul Saxon ) to at least divide their attention between them and Helix 's supercrawler.

What was worse was the orbital bombardment that shifted from just in front of the tank to also including the sides of the tank as well. The Mandalorians had shifted their ground assault to just being from the rear, which forced the Convoy to try and regroup amidst the pock-marked terrain while under fire from the wardroids. At least the ships weren't firing on them directly, but it made supporting the crawler that much more difficult.

When the crawler suddenly found a pothole it couldn't handle, the Convoy's work became that much more difficult. Now the enemy wasn't just on the move, but able to form up ranks. Entrenched warfare was a messy business.

Meanwhile at some distance atop a building with the horizon full of fire and smoke, a man stood dressed in a luxurious coat that fell down to his ankles. Binocs fell from his eyes as a sharp click of the tongue sounded. Of course the Thralls couldn't handle such a simple task as defend a single, heavily armored vehicle. Pitiful wretches. Just because they'd been inducted into the ranks of the Chosen didn't mean they were worthy of the blessing for the Few found Worthy. Certainly none of these had caught his eye.

"I want those Surface to Orbit Missiles operational," he snapped as he whirled away from the edge. "The Sith may enjoy having an enemy fire on their position, but we are tasked with supporting that monstrous hulk and that is what we shall do."

Another man drew near and gave a clip bow before his superior. "Sir, three Sites have been positioned in the region. Outside of the radius of destruction of the Factories, and the current projected paths of Fire Tornadoes and the creep of nearby Blizzard storms."

His lips thinned for a moment as he held his head high. "Very well. Have them begin firing on the Destroyers above. Focus on their weapons, if you must. And tell those fighters in the air to do something about the cruisers. I'll not have our missiles wasted on riffraff a properly trained squadron of fighters should be able to handle!" ( Romul Saxon Ceria Kesyk )


A wet cough echoed in the chamber where silence reigned. Red lights flashed overhead in the dark. It hurt to see. He blinked his eyes in an effort to flush out the particulate in them. A snort was followed by a drawn out grunt as he slowly slid his back up against a console. His head lolled to the side; easier than turning it. He was forced to blink several times to bring everything into focus. Likely some form of head trauma, he wagered. It'd hurt to much to lift his hand up to check. Hurt too much to breathe.

Another barrage just as they'd expected. Ridiculous how ineffectual a shield could be. All those credits made to build a deployable ion cannon that could withstand a ground assault... taken out by a bunch of destroyers that just lurked up there like they owned the skies. He'd have to ask their Queen to send an escort fleet next time. The Sith would pay for it, right? Yes, yes that was a good plan. Next time.

Would Leontis Antalis 's people try to effect repairs again? Perhaps, but with the shield down-- it being up hadn't made much of a karking difference, had it? A broken laugh became a cough at the thought.

No point dwelling on it. He slowly rolled to one side and threw his arm across a console. With his arm the hook, he leveraged himself up to lay against the shattered interior. There was, in truth, only one thing left for them to do. All it took was a few button pushes.

The ion cannon's power plant began to retract the control mechanisms and allow the energy to build up at an accelerating pace. A safety valve of sorts kicked in to discharge that energy in the form of ion blasts. The barrel of the cannon started emitting bolts one after another without the customary recovery period. One after another the bolts started firing up into the sky at the Mandalorian ships. The cannon slammed back into place each time. And the power continued to build. ( Romul Saxon )

A loud groan filled the chamber, and could be even more clearly heard by those outside. Metal fatigue. Micro fractures and fractures felt the endless pounding of the cannon. The amplitude ramped up swiftly, and soon another strut began to buckle.

The Fire Commander felt the ever so gradual tilt of the weapon. The cannon could only correct for so long -- so many degrees. Teeth grit, he clawed his way across the broken terminals and by the shattered bodies. Not fast enough, he raged. And that's when he saw it. A way to get where he needed to go in the time he needed to make it. One, last push.

A sharp cry rang out, but his trembling fingers managed to stab into the controls just as jagged metal had lanced the Commander. Stabilizing thrusters meant for a controlled descent began to fire along the circumfrence of the cannon. They weren't meant to lift off or take the place of the stabilizing arms, but then they didn't need to keep the cannon upright for long. Just long enough. Just enough to take those godsdammed Mandalorians with them. Long enough...

Bloody fingers fell from the controls, limp. The cabin was silent. Nothing moved. Heat began to build up. Red lights flashed. Soon the core would exceed its limit. Whose ever desperation won out to silent the cannon wouldn't matter. It'd take as many Mandalorians with it possible. And if Leontis' ground forces weren't careful plenty of them along with it.


When Leontis Antalis first made his appearance, Szehil snapped for one of the attendants to get the man out of there. Fortunately, something seemed to draw his attention and he left without a fuss.

He was gone for a short while, which afforded them the chance to tend to Astra, but then Leontis had to return. All they'd really managed to do was manage to get her tattered clothing free and the first transfusion finished. It was at least a small mercy they'd gotten that much done before he barged back into the room. Man probably hadn't even noticed the body on the other side of the bed covered by the bloody rags of Astra's discarded clothing.

Szehil hissed at the man and slammed the butt of her palm against his chest. "Get out! How dare you--"

Astra, for her part, lay atop a table with wide bands to cover her modesty while another slid a wet sponge over her pale flesh. A soft groan came from her. Was it when the sponge touched one of countless burn marks that adorned her? There weren't nearly so many as there'd been holes in her jacket and clothing, however.

Water splashed as the sponge was wrung out and then moistened again. The man tending her took their time wiping up the blood and soot from her body. They seemed to flinch whenever Astra made a sound.

"Leave," Szehil snapped.

Then Leontis got what he'd come for. Astra's eyes slip open. They were burnt golden again, and clear as crystal unlike the red that'd filled them when last he'd seen them. Her hand reached up to grab the back of the attendant's head a second before she yanked it down toward her mouth. With a sharp cry, and a jerk of the limbs, the man half-lay across Astra's right shoulder as her lips found his neck. The sponge slapped wetly across Astra's belly, but did not dislodge from fingers that tightened about it squeezing water about her abdomen.

It only took seconds before she released them with a light toss. The man stumbled and fell back against the wall. A clatter of metal followed as their arm struck a tray on the way down.

The dark haired woman sat up right without using her arms or hands and pivoted to the side. Those golden eyes shone with intensity as they honed in on Leontis. Szehil started to call out 'Miss' when the less pale woman shot across the room. One forearm would seek to catch below the chin and force the man back against the wall with her other hand going for his head for purchase; Astra wanted to pin his back against the wall with his head for leverage. Her lips peeled back to reveal much longer than average canine teeth. With a breathy hiss, she sought to gaze into the man's eyes. "Idle curiosity, or has your hunger awoken yet, General?"


"Ma'am.... Ma'am, the Ion Cannon's Full Burn!"

The Head of the Lab that Leontis had kindly humored if not entirely enjoyed turned their head at the news, eyes wide as saucers. "Secure all samples! Engage mechanical locks on containment chambers. Shut down all equipment. Shut it all down now."

She darted among bodies that dashed throughout the room to grab hold of one of Leontis Antalis 's peoples arms. "Tell your people to turn off anything that isn't ion-protected. I don't care how, just do it now. The ion cannon's going to overload and there's a good chance there'll be an ion burst here. At the spaceport, if that happens." She turned to run away to help ensure everything was secured. As she went, she shouted back to them, "You'll know when it's safe!" When an enormous eruption happened that might take out an entire wing of the port. Also, the lights would go out. Spaceport probably hadn't invested in caps for their electrical system unless it had to do with the Tower.

"And make sure someone tells everyone in the area," she shouted after she'd gone through the first door.

Mercy | Srina Talon | Kaelyr | Leontis Antalis | The Arkanian | Carduul Akahl
​

"Spaceport Control, this is Corvinus One, packages are loaded and ready for delivery. Request hold on self-defense perimeter for IFF-tagged materials. Over." With the spaceport Tower control wrest away from the local Mandalorian or Mandalorian-supporting staff ( Leontis Antalis ), it was time for reinforcements to arrive to secure the largest landing and disembarkation spot on Abregado-rae. Minus some... cosmetic damage resulting from Kaelyr and some localized damage elsewhere. Leontis' personnel could use the support ensuring the captives were contained as well, and cycle out personnel to avoid exhaustion allowing Mandalorians to slip through cracks in their positions. There were also some additional vehicles that should help manuever in case of another ground assault on the facility.

First thing was first, however: make sure their packages weren't shot down mistaken for Mandalorian drops.

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

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Tags: Arris Windrun Madrona A’Mia Revna Marr Vestra Tane Vess Sadragen Tytos Saxon Romul Saxon​

Lily had brought them into chaos.

Above their heads fire and ice collided, the storm cracking as lightning burst through red stained clouds, the ground swelled and pulsed unnaturally like breathing flesh beneath their feet and at the centre of all of it?

Roaring winds, blazing tornadoes and furious sleeting storm clouds clashed neath a rent in the very fabric of space-time whilst soldiers scurried like ants under it all. Still, countless beskar clad warriors rallied — pushing for the victory over an already broken world. She had to hand it to them, they were brave.

A'Mia sneered at the thought while her visage slowly changed. That hulking, blighted tree towering at the heart of everything soon took on a ghastly, taunting form. It made no difference who recognized the homage, it was enough for A'Mia to know, for her to call out a booming challenge whilst so laden with power that she might burst.

Lily had no idea what or who that was, all she knew was it was terrifying and even with the dream catcher, she could feel the Governor beneath it feel her glee and the raw power brimming beneath the surface, like a pot about to boil over.

She opened her mouth to comment, to ask a question when Arris was snatched violently from in front of her.

“Arris!”

Her lightsaber sprung to life and she took a step forward only for it to be obliterated in a blast of something dark and terrible.

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.

Survival instinct should have kicked in, they should have made her make herself small, she should have shrunk away from it, but Lily didn’t. Her jaw set, her own anger, momentarily forgotten in the chaos rising to meet her.

“What?!” she snapped.

But there was no time to answer, no time to sort through any of it as the dead drifted onto the battlefield, sand drifting from tears in reality as thousands of dark side spirits surged into the battle and above all the din, the great ticking of something mechanical, a noise that she did more than hear, but felt in her core.

She felt the strands of her dream catcher begin to snap, unravelling one by one as the Netherworld brought something new, a madness that wasn’t hers. Ariss screamed someone’s name, her rage so powerful Lily could taste it, she could feel it like it was her own.

With it came more.

Ignati’s rage and fury traveled through the tendrils of the weave and telepathic link attached to each being. A ferocious fury gifted upon them. The fear of death wiped clean, emotions of fear and anxiety stripped of the mind and replaced with that of a lust for war. The God of Conquest has called upon His people, and gifted them a mighty boon of battle hardiness and ferocity. A command to spill blood and shower chaos among those that were their enemies.

“IT’S GLORIOUS!” She screamed into the rancid air. Her words and her passion carried across the telepathic link.

The dreamcatcher Cruelty had shown her how to build unravelled like the last strands of a spool and everything slammed into her at once.

She staggered but she didn’t buckle as her eyes drifted across the battlefield, looking for a familiar figure, looking for the one person she knew could bring her back from herself.

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.

The barricade she had left her at was gone, only a crater remained, already swelling with the pulsing red mushrooms and Vess was nowhere to be seen. Logic screamed that she had gotten out, that she was somewhere safe, that if she reached for her she would be there waiting.

But in a sea of rage, logic had no place.

Sensing his master's peril, Tusk let out a terrible roar from behind, the deep tremble of its reactor core thundering like a waking beast. The mechanical beast soared into the blizzard-struck sky as a host of Sith, dead and not yet, charged the battlefield. Then its roar became one of flame as its cannons and heavy ordnance thundered as one, a deluge akin to dragonfire unleashed upon the charging horde.

Lily’s eyes snapped upwards. It probably hadn’t been that droid, it could have been friendly fire, but all Lily knew was that that was the one here now, and it threatened everyone.

She teleported into the storm, a few feet above it, boots landing heavily upon its back. With a guttural scream she sought to drive her saber between metal plates, to bring it down out of the sky. She didn’t feel the cold biting at her, or the hail peppering exposed skin.

There was only rage.

 

[Cruelty]

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

Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Yuri Maji | Romul Saxon

Ceria Kesyk | Lina Ovmar

Cruelty had felt the touch of a mind-walker on Lina.

It was subtle, but the design was there, plain to see for anyone who bothered to look. The Lord of the Sith knew better than to try and tamper with it... or argue with Lina on her abilities. She had already helped so much, his eyes were constantly drawn back to the breaking of the light outside in space. It was glorious to see and mesmerizing.

Every now and again Cruelty could feel a pulse from the Nether. He wondered what it meant, knowing fully well that nobody could fully control something as arcane and gargantuan as this. The difference was that Cruelty had known that from the beginning. He had accepted any price as worth paying and done it anyway. No matter what it would do to the fabric of reality here.

Lina reached a hand down to Cruelty’s chin, her fingers passing briefly through it before her two halves settled together and an icy thumb gently moved to wipe the blood from the corners of his mouth as she pondered his question.

Lina brought his attention back to her, he smiled sheepishly at her tender attention, unused to affection of any kind. "I am alright." The Sith assured her, but did not try to pull his face away from her.

It was nice... to be cared for, even if only for a moment.

“No, my child, I cannot.” she said softly, her head tilting as she offered him a small smile, “but I can help you.”

He was about to ask what she meant, but then Cruelty saw her bringing the staff up again. An ominous device and one that Lina wielded with confidence that spoke of long experience. The Sith Lord knew that it was best not to interrupt her, not while her face contorted into focus and especially not once she began to draw from the Expanse.

The bridge filled with power only moments later.

Then it burst into him and Cruelty cried out, as his body was forced to set every harm right, no matter the cost. Cruelty shuddered as he gasped, his hand resting on her wrist, but Lina was already thinking to him.

<<“Do not ask permission. Just do what you must.”>>

Their eyes met.

Cruelty glanced towards Ceria once and then nodded in acceptance.

As you say. Will you stay with me? I may need... more.

Without waiting for a response, his false eyes closed again and his mind reached out. There was still strain, still pain, as his body accommodated the new energy flowing through him. Dead power, from the Nether, through Lina, straight into him. A cost would have to be paid... but hopefully not now, not yet. Now the Lord of the Sith could see the fleet battle in all its might.

The battle was fierce, lop-sided, but Ceria was a grand conductor of a brilliant orchestra.

All of them trying to play around her, to destroy her, throwing in more assets... somehow the Vice-Admiral kept it all together. And somehow the Tyranny stayed at the center of it all, a fixed monster that dwarfed everything else.

Cruelty was unsure if he could influence the Whole, not after so much effort had been expended on making the Rift-Turned-Wound into the Expanse. But he could help Ceria... and his mind reached out, towards the fleet of the Sith. He understood Battle Meditation, because it was a matter of Connection, to weave the bonds together and make them understand each other. But Cruelty could not, would not, subsume the minds of those within the Fleet... not even if it would win them the battle.

Instead Cruelty reached out to Ceria -- which would most likely earn him a stern talking-to or a beat-down later -- and began to weave a direct connection between her and the Sith Fleet. She'd soon find that those under her could feel the shape of her intent before she even spoke. By the time her orders came through, crews were already orienting themselves toward what she needed.

Now there would be a shared understanding that shaved precious moments from every response.

Every need, unspoken, unuttered, within the back of her mind. Ceria just needed to think of it and her Fleet would respond. Rather than dominate the minds of everyone as a Sith Lord would do, Cruelty used Battle Meditation in a different way. Weaving a web, much like Lily had, to allow every member of the orchestra to hear their conductor loud and clear.

Every advantage that the Lord of the Sith could grant their people... he would.

No matter the cost to him later on.

Because they deserved his assistance, they had clawed their way up, they had stood resolutely as the whole of the Mythos Fleet came down on them and still they stood strong.

Whatever else... Tyrant Squadron had earned Cruelty's respect through and through.

 

[Ceria Kesyk]

MERCY'S TYRANT SQUADRON
IN ORBIT // ABREGADO-RAE
Romul Saxon | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Yuri Maji | Cruelty | Lina Ovmar​

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​

Overwhelmed.

Is that what the Mandalorians saw of the Sith Fleet? Well, Kesyk couldn’t disagree with their tactical analysis there.

But…

What was overwhelmed to the Sith?

He had followed every rumor, every relic, every whisper that might lead him back to his sister. He had crossed the galaxy chasing trails others would have abandoned long ago because somewhere beneath all the disappointment remained the stubborn conviction that Kaelis could still be found. Casimir had always believed that if a door finally opened, nothing would stop him from walking through it.

Was it obsession against all odds?

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.

The aching need to overcome the strength of your Masters?

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

The will to keep going no matter how much they hurt you?

Mercy shoved it down now. She had to. A battle could not be won when your heart was divided and your mind was elsewhere.

Knowing when to lose control?

They plunged into her neck, phasing through the skin and passing white hot electricity between them. Not enough to mortally wound, or even to maim. Just enough to warn of the Hordemother's displeasure.

To resolve against punishment?

“All guns! Everything! Keep firing! Don’t let up!”

To be overwhelmed was power for the Sith. To throw yourself against the galaxy - body and soul - until you were broken… or it no longer beat you back.

Instead Cruelty reached out to Ceria -- which would most likely earn him a stern talking-to or a beat-down later -- and began to weave a direct connection between her and the Sith Fleet. She'd soon find that those under her could feel the shape of her intent before she even spoke. By the time her orders came through, crews were already orienting themselves toward what she needed.

Ceria may not have commanded the Force, but she was Sith as any other. And as Cruelty stretched the Vice Admiral’s will across Tyrant Squadron, every crewman, every captain, every gunner felt it, too. Her will was a scorching blaze that would melt Mandalorian iron. She had suffered, and embraced it, as all true Sith do. Torture and defeat didn’t make her stronger; her survival did. Through the gauntlet of her soul, Ceria Kesyk rose atop the ashes of her fallen nation and claimed her place alongside the new Masters.

The Iron Covenant could thrash and boast; they could toss every precious weapon, deploy every tactic, thump their chest and rage against the echoes of the massacres that shaped them.

But all they would find in return is an enemy more willing than before to destroy them again. And again.

Kesyk knew not why their hearts burned, but she found them worthy nonetheless. An enemy worth killing.

If Romul Saxon believed the Sith overwhelmed, then he had better learn to fear it.

Because the Mythic Fleet would need more than reputation and technical confidence to beat her. Lest Myth be all of theirs that remain; Kesyk’s hand authoring the final writ.

The sole Silencer that remained astride the Tyranny’s belly opened fire on the Star Destroyer that attempted to seize Helix .

While the Tyranny continued to rain fire, unleashing every battery, every missile silo on its planet-facing side towards Romul’s fleet with expert precision and uncanny timing as her fleet worked now with ruthless efficiency. Damn whatever else. This wasn’t a wargame -

‘I am winning this duel.’

She grinned.

Spoiler: Action Summary

• The Tyranny and Tyrant Squadron are now fighting with ruthless efficiency thanks to Cruelty's unique application of battle meditation. With Lina's help.
• A silencer-class is firing its main guns on the ship that's trying to tractor beam Helix's vehicle. Intent is to disable or destroy it.
• Tyranny is refocusing fire away from civilian ships and now directly onto Romul's fleet. Intent is to unleash significant and devastating firepower.