Rebellion Ekibyō no tengoku: Blackwing Virus | Rebellion of Atrisia

[Tsian Denira]

EQUIPMENT: Armor, Primary Weapon, Secondary Weapon
OBJECTIVE: Safeguard VIP Prennis Keeoli
LOCATION: Xam'Chi Quarantine HQ
TAGS: Luna Terrik | Prennis Keeoli | Kyyrk
​

Tsian's dropship touched down, and the woman was on her feet, walking briskly towards the Dauntless outpost that had been established near the outbreak zone. Her rifle hung from a strap about her shoulder, tip pointed at the ground, her right hand around the trigger, left hand swinging with the momentum of her gait. Airborne toxins meant her helmet was on, and likely wouldn't be removed for the duration of her stay here on Atrisia. A squad of Nephilim trailed behind her, toting the same specialized armor and weapons as Tsian.

"Grand Marshal Terrik!" Tsian's voice carried across the opening as she beelined towards the commanding officer. Tsian took her by the arm, dipping her helmet to speak directly into the earpiece. "I come bearing orders from the Lord Vizier. The passenger on the Dawn is to be placed under my protection. She's a medic, and a damn good one. She can help us figure out what this is, and how to stop it. I'm taking responsibility for her well-being and protection during her stay here." Tsian looked up at the silvered craft as it flew above them. "She is not to know that the Lord Vizier is here. If she requests to speak with him, deny it without reason." Tsian paused, giving Luna a look through the gold visor of the helmet that conveyed the importance of this request. Luna didn't have to know the details. All precautionary measures, to be sure, but one never could be too safe.

As Tsian turned to look up at the ship above, and move to greet the passenger as she landed and disembarked, Tsian sighed to her self quietly. Get the Resolve, he said. Meet him at Atrisia, he said. This day was just getting worse with every minute. Tsian just hoped this one was smart enough to follow orders if she told her to get down...

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

C O N T A I N​

Callsign: Alpha Actual
Objective: Quarantine Xam'chi
Equipment: Project Xiphos Armor | Modular Tri-Blaster | Micro Light Shield | Bayonet | Cryo Grenade (2) | Fragmentation Grenade (2) | Thermal Detonator (2)
Allied: Luna Terrik | Damsy Callat | Tobias Wrynn | Maeve Archeron | Anakwor Farlorn | Jasmille Kavos | Jrurki Liz | The Monster | Allies in Xam'Chi
Enemy: TBD

Tiria departed when it became clear there was nothing more to be said. As a proponent of efficiency among very inefficient individual entities, she would not lament the lack of conversation. The Captain hoped they were mindful of the danger they and those under their command would soon be subject to. Even when word of 'Zombies' would be sent over the link, it would be easy to overlook the obvious.

After she'd left the briefing area and made her way around to Alpha squadron commanders, Tiria stopped just inside the doorway to allow it to shut. Her visor slowly pivoted to regard all those whose attention was now turned in her direction. Each had come to attention in. They were trained for this and conducted themselves with dignity before they even knew what the assignment was. If their orders were to water daisies they would do that with the same dedication as pacifying an invading army because that was their mission.

"We're evacuating survivors," the Captain announced at last. "Reports of a lethal virus spread by hostiles moving through the region have placed Atrisia's population at risk. We are going to move in, secure the Central Government building, and extract anyone not infected. Secondary Objective is escorting as many uninfected civilians as possible back to base. Make no mistake," there'd undoubtedly be a few disappointed in the assignment, "there will be resistance. Our priority is the safety of the Atrisians. We will accomplish these objectives and neutralize hostiles in the area with prejudice that attempt to stop us."

With the assignment laid out, Tiria dropped the Commandment on them next, "Let me be equally clear that you are to equip and use your rebreather for the duration of the mission until I or the Vicelord himself says otherwise. If this pandemic is not airborne already, it soon will be. Anyone caught infected because they find perfectly functional gear intended to keep you alive inconvenient will have my boot mercifully planted in their ass. Is that understood?"

After all, just because your job was serious and even the threat was deadly serious, there was always room for straight-faced humor.

Details laid out, Tiria retrieved her holoprojector to display the layout of the city. "Our LZ will be the Marketplace of Xam'Chi, the Capital City. Base will be situated at that location. From there we will sweep out into the city down the streets of Abalon, Vhedric, and Belephon. Wing groups in Abalon and Belephon will toss sensors as we pass. We're not leading a company of civvies back to a slaughter. Watch our flanks and our rear. We push through, and extract the civvies. In, out. Questions?"

With the shake of the vessel touching down, Tiria's helmet nodded. "Grab what you can carry on your feet. Move out."

As they exited the craft after Omega, the Captain noted what each of them carried out into the marketplace. Nothing out of line. Some heavy weapons here or there. Explosives. Beacons. Medi-packs. Gear to punch through without expecting to tackle an invading army.

Once everyone assembled into three groups, she strode to the head of the center column. A glance had been given in Damsy's direction as the other, senior Captain had her attention captured by something of interest. That could work to their advantage.

Soon word from John Locke and Luna Terrik came in over the commlink, and it was about as bad as could be expected. Probably worse. "Terminate with prejudice," Tiria reminded the troops. "Keep the enemy at a distance whenever possible. Do not let civilians exhibiting erratic or unusual behavior approach you. But in General Terrik's name, do not shoot a distraught civilian. I know I can count on your discretion."

"We're Oscar Mike." Tiria's hand lifted and pointed forward for her commandos to move out on the double. Alpha would begin to make their way forward and Omega would catch up with whatever equipment was in the process of being unloaded. Perhaps they'd lead more than what got tossed out over the commlink that would ensure the completion of the mission.

 

[Damsy Callat]

​

S A V E​

​

Form: Humanoid | Post: 02 | Tags: Luna Terrik Tiria Reinhart Anakwor Farlorn |​

Callsign: Omega Actual | Allegiance: Confederacy of Independent Systems |​

Location: Nanban's Road | Equipment: Hydroarmor / electrotrident / dartgun / rifle w. bayonet / medkit / grenades |​

​

“Boys’re from Breakthrough Division.” Damsy looked up from an open supply crate and stopped rummaging, but didn’t stand from her kneeling position as Berrezz reported in. She had heard about them – reputation proceeded that unit – but there was nothing to break though. “Here to scout.” Ahh. Well, in any case, she hadn’t seen these toys before. Perhaps they were new. Hopefully they were good.​

​

She nodded, finally standing with a clip-on grapple line in her hand. Tossing it to him, she told him, “The others need these. Bring some for Alphas too, if there's any left.” With that, she walked off, back towards the walkers. The crew was gathered around the front legs of one, probably mid-briefing. Damsy waited a few yards off leaning back on a tent support until their chatter died down and one of the men glanced her way.​

​

“Captain Callat,” he said with a crisp salute, a first lieutenant based off his the brass on his uniform. His posse followed suit. “It’s an honor, ma’am.”​

​

“Don’t say that ‘til you hear what I want.” If this deployment had been the slightest bit lighter, Damsy would have said that with a cracked smile and a hint of a joke. “‘Was thinkin’ a win-win. You’re needing to scout, ‘m needing to get inta the Palace. We could use the boost an’ you could use my seeker droid.” Damsy pressed a button on her comms gauntlet as she spoke, activating ID10 Squish. She floated out of her docking port on Damsy’s back.​

​

“Well, you sure know how to make a battlefield deal, Captain,” the officer replied. “I don’t see why we can’t help each other out.”​

​

A private first class looked nervous immediately upon the insinuation. His gaze flitted over to wherever he thought the general might be. “The LAPWs don’t have any room for—”​

​

“Up top, son,” the platoon second in command literally pointed out, shielding his eyes against the early sunrise.​

​

“But—”​

​

It was a valiant effort from a relative greenhorn to follow the letter of engagement during all hell, and Damsy suddenly felt sorry. Not that she was suggesting something abnormal in hopes of completing her first objective, but that the E-3 had to learn under that making calls like this one was okay. The lesson was never easy – it hadn’t been for her – but it couldn’t be any harder to learn under viral threat with a no-risks policy implied to be in place. “What’s your name?”​

​

“Diruno, si—ma’am.”​

​

“I feel for your concern, Diruno, I do,” empathized the sithling. She wasn't just saying it, either; she really did. Hitching a lift on a low-riding tank was one thing with one or two squadmates, but on a walker with six? Luna would not like this stunt at all if Damsy asked permission, less if she caught wind after the fact. Even she herself would jump at any other solution if one presented itself. “But I’m up slag creek and would really like your paddle.”​

​

Hesitantly, Diruno nodded. “We won’t let you down.” He disappeared into one Scorpion, paving the way for his buddies to do the same. All but the leader Damsy dismissed.​

​

She offered his a quick brief, to which she patched in Tiria: “We’re heading through the Red Light District parallel to Dauntless-Alpha Squad. We’ll stay on the ground ‘til our sectors are mostly clear, then regroup along the Xiaolang River.” And to stay in the general’s graces for as long as they possibly could. She probably had a massive headache already; they didn’t need to add to it quite yet. “Good to go, Lieu?” He nodded. Damsy’s only response was to gently hit his shoulder before turning on her heel. She motioned Squish to follow the platoon leader back into his ride, while she jogged over to the Omegas. Her right arm she whipped over her head in a ‘move out’ motion. Her left picked up another grappling hook extension as she passed back by the crate she had been rummaging through. “Front to rear, let’s disappear!”​

​

A quick comm was sent as she caught up to the front of the line, marching towards Nanban's Road: Tadpole to Command. Omega oscar-mike. Over, out. And then, a shout to her charges: "Protect these legs with everything ya got, boys; they're our meal ticket!"​

​

​

 

[Kiff Brayde]

TAG: John Locke | Luna Terrik | Credius | Ben Craig
OBJECTIVES: Evacuate Citizens | Maintain CIS Orbital Presence
​

It was always something. There seemed to be no limit to the creativity of the events that the galaxy continue to throw against Kiff. An assassination attempt, a terrorist strike, a surprise Sith invasion, the galaxy preparing to got to arms over some deep core planet, and now said deep core planet was being attacked by insurgents via some sort of biological warfare. All in all, the normal stuff on the payroll of a High Marshal in the Confederacy Defense Force.

It was hard for Kiff to argue that he shouldn't be here; after all, he'd just returned to Fondor from a little scuba-diving expedition on Noasis when the transmission had come that once again, the fleets of the Bassadro Sector Armada were needed by NAVCOM to reinforce Atrisia. Last time, it had seemed that nearly half the galaxy had gathered over the little planet, comparing fleet sizes until the Confederacy had decisively thrown the most ships into the fray. Now, some fringe group that hadn't ever even made it on the debriefing board was attacking Atrisia with what seemed to be a specially manufactured, highly contagious and extremely deadly virus. Typical terrorism stuff, but yet again, the attack on Golbah City had proved that even the Confederacy was not invulnerable to low blows.

At least, unlike the first time, intelligence had said that the orbit over Atrisia was relatively quiet. A small fleet from the Directorate had popped in, but apparently some Viceroyal had vouched for them and said they were here to help with the outbreak. Kiff had no problem with that; he generally didn't have a problem with anybody until they started shooting at him. He'd keep a watchful eye over the Directorate, but if all they intended to do was to help out, then that was a mighty fine move in Kiff's book.

For his part, Kiff had pulled out quite a few stops in quickly assembling a task force, and as the swirls of hyperspace roared past the Confederacy's Might he reminded himself that it might be better to establish a permanent task force for this sort of thing. As a small joke that was likely only really humorous to Kiff himself, the High Marshal had requisitioned the exact same ships that had been with him over Atrisia just a week before. They'd suffered minimal damage and no casualties, so that in it of itself was not very difficult. But Atrisia wasn't your standard naval shootout; the primary enemy was an airborne virus, and for that, a different tactic would be needed to effectively combat it. It was in that spirit that Kiff had brought multiple Comfort-class Medical Cruisers, able to evacuate and treat infected civilians in a quarantined environment. As for transportation, Kiff had ordered that two of the three Lucrehulk III-class Supercarriers be outfitted with transport ships only, able to mass-evacuate citizens from the planet for either treatment or to put them in a safe, non-toxic environment.

For now, Kiff was not playing the role of a battlefield commander. He was now chief medic of sorts, and he was pressed to play his part well.

Spoiler: Fleet

• x7 Grievous-class Star Destroyers
  • CNS Confederacy's Might
  • CNS Glory of Golbah
  • CNS Fading Shadow
  • CNS Kazarm
  • CNS Fondor's Pride
  • CNS Rakham
  • CNS Jerrod
• x3 Lucrehulk III-class Supercarriers
  • CNS Hardwire
  • CNS Loche
  • CNS Torrente
• x6 Comfort-class Medical Cruisers
  • CNS Healing Current
  • CNS Peacemaker
  • CNS Kalandra
  • CNS Thyferra
  • CNS Eshan's Kiss
  • CNS Remembrance

 

[Maple Harte]

Maple slashed, flipped, spun, and parried to fight her attackers, who surrounded her on all sides trying to slash her apart. One guy managed to choke her in mid air, and it was only by calling on her own hatred for The Amalgam that she was able to crush his skull with the Dark Side and drop to the ground a split second before the canes of her attackers could rip her open, using the pilfered weapon of her first opponent for a dual cane defense and offense to survive savage, expertly delivered attacks from the Assassins with their own cane sabers, using the "hook" ends of her weapons to catch limbs or pierce chest and skull or yank a neck the wrong way and snap it. Fittingly, she felt no fear within the Assassins, just the cold determination of the absolute devotion to the Dark Side.

Maple didn't know where she stood on the spectrum of good and evil. On the one hand, her hatred of the Amalgam and desperation to destroy her while she was still semi-lucid gave her a slowly but steadily expanding knowledge on the use of telekinesis for lethal means, but she felt herself a little sicker inside each time she used the Force like that. Though she was neither Jedi, nor Sith, and thus not bound to their idea of what constitutes morality, it nonetheless was horribly troubling to her in private.

She found loose rubble and flicked it into the brain of an assassin too slow to deflect, spin-parrying the follow up attacks of two other and beheading them both with elegant spins of her cane, catching and deflecting the attacks of another and turning him into a kebab as her canes slammed right through his chest. But the Assassins pressed just as relentlessly as when the fight started, even as Maple slowly but steadily Matt Murdocked the living chit out of the murdering creeps, grabbing her canes and telekinetically lifting them and by extension her as she was still holding onto them up over the expert slashes of the remaining attackers. She landed in the middle of them, whipping her canes around her violently, cutting off heads and limbs or just caving skulls in or breaking necks, or any one of a dozen horrible, murderous things you could do when you had a fething lightsaber at the bottom of a cane.

Her attackers fell. She almost sighed in relief, until she realized that the Knights that had come with her were dead, slain by the Assassins they had failed to kill on the first try. Those Assassins were now surrounding her now.

Maple watched them all get closer.

"You fight well. You'd make a fine assassin..." one of them called out.

"You'll make a finer corpse." the Bounty Hunter called back.

The Assassins all yelled, rushing her. Maple was fending off attacks suddenly that came from everywhere, slipping into her drunken style to confuse and frustrate their strategy as she telekinetically drew all three of her pistols to start rapid firing in all directions even as the Assassins tried to launche their own Force Attacks, but they had been in the business way too long to not understand the horrors a Dashade Sonic Blaster could inflict and scrambled out of the way of its bolts as it and her other pistols orbited around her for the next few seconds before they clattered to the ground, six dead from her telekinetic barrage but Maple unable to maintain such focus before her madness interfered, forcing her back on the defensive.

As the fight progressed, Maple became even more brutal, often using her canes simply to bludgeon them to death, smashing in rib and brain, fully in the grip of her rip and tear instinct and with a 40X killstreak to boot.

A small sliver of fear at last begin to start among the dozens of remaining Assassins at the lithe, hazard suited girl that would not die, that had not even been successfully struck yet bashing in the skulls of her foes like they were full of candy. At one point, her schizophrenia caused her to see just that, an assassins head bursting with candy as she struck it. She knew it was actually brains, but that was still hilarious use of special effects from the studio...

Maple never stopped moving, killing another three, then four, breaking necks or piercing chests, but she was starting to get tired and this was still a lot of elite enemies to kill in a single play session...

 

[Tobias Wrynn]

Spoiler

Final Protocol Initialized

Specialist Wrynn, if you are hearing this message, the Empire has fallen. We sent many of our finest Stormtroopers and Agents into cryostasis prior to the collapse with a hope that one day, our dream would reach someone else. We placed our hopes on the few of you we deemed most fit to restore order to a crumbling Galaxy.

The reality is, we cannot trust that anyone will seek you out. This message is coded to you, alone. There are things we did, secrets we kept in order to ensure loyalty. It is not a fact that we can erase entirely, and indeed, one day you were undoubtedly going to discover it on your own.

There comes a time when something more important than a dream arises.

Tobias, you were brought into this Empire an outsider. You have undergone a series of mind wipes that most likely deteriorated some of your memories forever. There is no Empire to stand trial for this no, and there likely may never be again.

What I ask of you now, I ask as not an Officer. I ask you, as one human being to another. Denizens of the Core who want to see it protected. Please.

In return, I offer you this.

Praesitlyn.

Within the simulacra of his austere black and white Stormtrooper armor, Wrynn watched the terrain of Atrisia whistle past. He replayed the message over and again, utter disbelief suspending all emotion. For years he served the Empire unwaveringly, certain it was everything to him.

Upon hearing that message, something in his mind gave.

The years of conditioning and indoctrination fell away, revealing thoughts that seemed disjointed and distant. Tobias Wrynn had an inkling of the man he had been, and yet, that person was a perfect stranger.

As a Specialist, he learned skills that augmented the skill set he already had. Those years spent as a Stormtrooper made him quicker, more efficient, but left him filled with an emptiness that until the past few hours he thought was a normal part of life.

Now, it was not even hate for the Empire that drove him. He was free. Freedom meant so much more than any amount of vengeance. Something inside of him felt whole again.

He gripped the strap that hung overhead and leaned his body out of the LAAT. His rangefinder gave him a bird's eye view of the city ahead, and the chaos that ensued as it transitioned into quarantine. "Wrynn," came the voice of the pilot. "We're closing in on Xam'Chi. No word on the virulence potential we're dealing with. What's your take?"

The man didn't call for orders. They weren't a unit of Stormtroopers. They were just men, together, working against a common threat.

"Circle overhead," he called in the mechanical monotone his helmet provided. "Let's get a good idea of the entire city."

"Looks like we're getting a hail from... some Confederate? Should I patch it through?"

"Yeah, let's hear what they have to say." If they were going to defend the people of Atrisia, Wrynn wagered he and the CIS were on the same side. When the Pilot gave him the green light, Tobias spoke into his comm.

"Confederate Forces at Xam'Chi, this is Lance Corporal Tobias Wrynn of the defunct Core Imperial Confederation," he announced himself. "I've come to assist you."

Luna Terrik​

 

[Kas Varad]

Nearby CIS Allies: Eira Talon | Gerwald Lechner | The Monster
Directly Engaging: [Open to Tango]
Objective: Move yer butts.
Location: Xam'chi Outskirts.
Post: #3
Kit:

Spoiler

Armor: Cabur Beskargam, Weapons: 1x Fusion Rifle, 1x Icebreaker 2x Jackknifes, Melee: 1 x Basic Songsteel Sword, 1 x Force Pike, Grenade Belt: x5 Mixed. Gear: Targeting Visor, Lifeform Detector, x1 Personal Shield (Off), 1x Cluster of Antibacs with Basic Medkit

Well up into his 'crusade' ahead of them, Kas was too busy untangling himself with a well-placed headbutt and proper Varad armored bootstomp to notice who was who, either dressed for a night on the cyber-sticks at a huttjubar shindig or armed to the teeth prepared for the coming armaggedon. All secondary concerns to smashing the nearest zombie against the wall, finishing it off with another extended round of fusion rifle fire directly into it, excessive might be a generous word, ruthless a less kind one.

Second and last member of the herd getting metaphorically sledgehammered by Sergi’s crew, the Mandalorian’s targeting visor tried to confirm any potential infection on any of the three of them with him. Now he knew some of what to look for, wounds or worse. As for exarchs he didn’t know his spoons from his forks when it came to nobility, the confederacy just told him where the next fight was. A relic of a bygone era. Whatever was protecting the lady, animal or man with those teeth seemed to have her safety in hand or tooth at least.

Why are they acting this way? Zombies all up in their spacegrill. "Ask me its too much late holonight TV, parents ain't doing nothin' to set a good example." Kas flipped a slug round in his hand, the lucky bullet slotted back at his waist. “‘'Preciate the assist,” the Mandalorian said to Sergi, “looks like a...” couldn’t say party with the wounded… “messy day.” Tapping the barrel of his fusion rifle hissing with warmth from the heat, placing it on the ground to kick some dirt over it.

Sarcastic or not to what was going on, his way of dealin'. Kas's head snapped to attention, there was something else on sensors, weird holonet reports fed to his headlink. He went deathly quiet as he looked for it. Something larger, not sure of the direction. “Somethings off.” The Mandalorian jetted off a short distance above them for a good view, was he running off? Pfft crusaders running off, he’d be running at it if anything. "Spot check. Nada up here."

Because they were digging UNDERGROUND​

 

[Kirk Tektus]

Location: Waru Operations Base
Wearing: Officer Uniform
Tagging: Credius
​

The first group of the refugee train came in droves and their long grueling vetting process was working out for them. Only a small percentage had to be quarantined so far. There was still a large amount outside, and even more on the way. But there were many queues for them to fill so they could get as much as they could inside. Kirk walked on top the walls overlooking the refugees being vetted while they were herded to either the refugee blocks or the quarantine blocks. These people were stubborn for sure, Kirk was willing to admit. After reading on their history and all they had to go through, he could never understand why the Atrisian's couldn't settle anywhere safer.

Soon a majority of the refugees of the train were huddled into the base and it would seem Kirk would give himself and his subordinates the satisfaction of a job well done and that all he had to do was look after the sick and needy. But his peace was interrupted by a droid. "Uhhh sir. I've spotted Viceroy Nargath running with his guards right towards us."

"Towards u- hand me those." Kirk said, commanding the droid to give him its pair of his binoculars. Through the binoculars he could see the viceroy and numerous guards of his valkan guards running towards them as their lives were hanging by a thread. With closer observation he could see hordes of rabid Atrisians and valkan guards sprinting towards the Waru base, catching up to the viceroy. With haste, Kirk started barking orders to the droids on the wall. "We got multiple hostiles coming in! Man those turrets and fire on my order!"

A whole company of B1's assembled on the wall facing the viceroy and their blasters aimed at the hordes with some manning the turrets. "Mortar team I'm going to need 10 plasma rounds on grid Omega Seven Three One."

"Roger that commander, 10 plasma rounds, Omega Seven Three One."

Kirk immediately turned to the horde and pulled out his SE-14r blaster and waited until the viceroy and his guards were out of their line of fire.

"OPEN FIRE!"

He shouted to the droids as they unloaded blaster bolts into the oncoming hordes. The turrets cut through them like paper and as the sky darkened, a bright red glare was the only source that seemed to emit light. The plasma rounds started to fall upon the hordes and dozens of infected started to disintegrate, their dying screams could be heard throughout the mountain range. Eventually the bodies started to pile up and obstruct the horde's movement. Kirk took this movement to walk down the wall out to meet the viceroy and ordered a couple B2's to follow him outside. "Sir are you infected?!" Kirk screamed as the lasers and screaming dead men filed the air. He had to know and if he was for how long was he exposed. He could be dead in a couple moments from whatever may happen next, but he kept true to his mission. He had to maintain the quarantine.

 

[John Locke]

S A V E

"If a natural disaster strikes your community, reach out to your friends, neighbors, and complete strangers. Lend a helping hand."

Marsha Blackburn

Location: Atrisia
Wearing: This
With: Gianna Aegis
Tagging: Caedyn Arenais | Kurenai Yumi | Yuroic Xeraic | Vytal Noctura | Kas Varad | Darth Miseria | Xobos Yakieer | Kirk Tektus | Kyyrk | Credius | BX-72967 | Junko Ike | Alessandra Creed | Kirk Tektus | Marlon Sularen | Ben Craig | Kaden Farr | Anakwor Farlorn | The Monster | Luna Terrik | Subject 73 Red | Ben Craig | Prennis Keeoli | Kyyrk | Kiff Brayde | Tobias Wrynn

It was the most unlikely thing that John had ever heard of, could ever think of. A war was a massive thing, a constant movement of soldiers and material across vast distances. It was full of the bark of guns, the roar of fighters screaming their lungs out in terror, in anger. It was the silent passage of ships through the cold empty void of space, the hum of their engines and the thrum of turbolasers as they unleashed a storm of energy that would crack durasteel and snuff out thousands of lives in an instant.

John had stood on the bridge of a starship, a behemoth of ceramic and metal designed to sweep all enemies from in front of him. Had felt the energy beneath his feet, the awesome power at his command as he raised finger, issued a command. Had stood in the planning room of a military facility watching reports coming in, lost amongst the hustle and bustle of soldiers moving back and forth, generals issuing orders.

That was where a war was meant to be prosecuted, in the correct place, with the correct gravitas needed to send countless soldiers into the face of death.

A war certainly wasn’t meant to be prosecuted from a comfortable seat, with a sleeping woman curling herself into you as you closed your eyes. It almost looked like both of them were asleep, not that the dark-haired man was actually prosecuting a campaign that ranged over the surface of the planet. Thousands of moving pieces, of soldiers shifting according to his orders, material and supplies flowing across the planet.

John imagined that this was what a Jedi, what a sith felt like. His eyes remained pressed shut, but through the communications network, he’d constructed the man was hyper-aware of everything happening right across the planet. He could grab the data from a single soldier, form the electronics tied into their armour or could zoom all the way out, turning every unit, every member of the CIS into a small mote of light that he could paint across the world with.

It felt…god-like. It felt like he could do anything.

The unhappy shifting of the sleeping Jedi by his side, the soft murmur brought the man’s attention crashing down the grandeur he’d been soaking in. As…powerful as the network made him feel, that wasn’t why he was here, that wasn’t why he was doing this. There was a pandemic to fight, and he was best positioned to do that.

A soft sigh, of breath escaping his lungs as the man let the data wash over him again.

This soon after John had alerted the CIS forces of the state of the planet, had authorised them to go weapons-free, issued them their missions he didn’t quite expect to have any urgent requests to deal with. What he did have piling up, what filled him with a pride in the Confederacy military machine was the constant stream of affirmations.

It didn’t matter what the mission, what the task had been assigned to them. They rose, they rose magnificently.

The first responder was Commander Jachovich, the mercenary just providing a small confirmation of the orders before turning to business. John watched the ship dropping into the atmosphere, a quick thought, a notification to the CIS ships in orbit guaranteeing it safe passage, clearing fighters and cargo vessels from its path. The team jumped, they landed they went dark It was out of his hands now. John had rolled the dice, and both the Exarch and Exarch Talon would have to hope that the man’s luck held, that he came up with a lucky roll.

Not every alert was as…positive as that though, not every byte of data lifted John’s spirits, led him to believe that they’d be ok, that they’d make it through this plague that had swept over the planet. The citizens o the confederacy who had ended up on the planet, through their own choice or through the vagaries of fate. The planet was like a lodestone, seeming to pull in more and more fighters, soldiers, force users, binding them into this moment in time. It was something you saw again and again in history, planets, fights, wars that drew in the great and good of the galaxy.

Atrisia seemed to be no exception if the latest arrivals seemed to be anything to go by. John could feel his hackles rising, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as their identification resolved. The Directorate. The fledgeling imperials that they had already clashed with once in the skies over Atrisia, unlike the Eternal Empire the Directorate forces hadn’t opened fire on the CIS. Still, it was always better safe than sorry. A simple thought, the ships in orbit receiving orders to watch them, track them. He wouldn’t order them to open fire…not yet. But nor would he countenance any risk to the Confederate’s on the planet, nor any chance of the virus escaping off-world.

Only, that didn’t seem to be their intent, at least not right now. John could see the directorate troops in the background of a video sent by Credius , a video of…a guard succumbing to the disease. Without being touched, without any visible carriers nearby. It was the first time John had actually seen the disease in effect, and the sight was horrifying, to say the least. The convulsions, the shudder of pain, those sounds like he was drowning, dying right in front of him. It shook the man to see it, so coldly rendered in the video, without a trace of emotion this was what they were facing. This was the slow death that was promised to all of them, that waited for them on the planet. This was the video that everyone needed to see, that he sent out to the network with a thought.

For a moment, that single moment John considered taking advantage of his ship…it was tempting, so tempting to head to space. To turn the ship around, to head to the coolness of space, the peace of the vacuum. The ship was airtight…chances are none of them had been infected that they were safe He could turn around, control the battle as easily from orbit as he could from the surface. What would be lost? What could he add?

A moment of fear, the icy claws grasping for his soul, tearing into him. Just for a moment before he opened his eyes, staring at the slumbering redhead in his arms. He wanted to protect her but she wouldn’t take that, she wouldn’t run. Gia would go where people needed her, no matter the cost, the danger. A moment of fear, passing in a breath. People needed him too, he could do the most good at Jar’Kai, finding a cure to the virus. The ship shuddered, engines ramping up as the nose swung around. Jar’kai it was. For better or worse, John was committed now, he’d live and die with his colleagues and friends.

The thoughts, the emotion had run through the man’s head in the barest second, a small break in his concentration but, it was enough. Enough for that small slip in the network, for his concentration to break, for a whole to appear in the coverage. Not much slipped through, a routing request from Kaden Farr , but even as John reached out, trying to wrap the web back together another voice appeared. A hand catching it as General Luna Terrik answered, sending directions down the line to the Mandalorian, buying John the time he needed to settle back into his position at the centre of the web.

Just in time to receive Commander Kirk Tektus coming back his conformation, seeing the movement orders given to his troops before his attention was pulled away. A welcome voice, a voice he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear again.

“Alessandra…”

Her voice cut through his reply, the words cutting him short, sending a cold shiver down his spine. This…was worse than he thought, worse than he could ever have imagined. Dry mouth opened and closed before he could gather himself, before he could reply.

“We hadn’t identified it yet, we’re looking to obtain a live specimen to test…well to confirm now.”

A soft breath, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“Alessandra…if it’s The Sickness and you’re infected…I’ve…I’ve got a team of Dauntless closing on your position. We’re setting up quarantine camps…as many medical supplies as we have. Just hang in there, we’ll figure out a cure…we’re all going to need it.”

Committed, for better or worse.

“All Confederacy Assets… this is Minister Locke, currently in command of the Confederacy Forces In this area. We have an initial suggestion that the sickness on Atrisia is the Blackwing Virus. The galaxy has faced this threat before, has survived. We will find a cure, but treat all enemies as hostile, engage them from maximum range. If you start to feel sick or are wounded immediately report to the medical camps. Good luck to us all.”

As his voice fell silent a quick thought redirected droid forces to the medical camps…less places of healing now than quarantine. If the virus spread, if the patients were infected, they needed forces at hand to be able to deal with the situation. Forces who wouldn’t succumb to the virus themselves.

General Terrik’s voice cut through the dark turn of the man’s thoughts, leaving him nodding, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“General, if we are dealing with the Blackwing…have your men be extremely careful we know there are infected forces in the area.”

Then a friendly voice, one of the few he’d heard, lifting him and crashing him down at the same time.

“Voph…I really wish you hadn’t. Is a virus…it’s the Virus. We’re…we’re working on it but…I’ll find a cure. Don’t get…”

He couldn’t say it not without giving the thought shape.

“Be careful in there.”

He needed to get his thoughts away, needed to be able to focus on something else, not thinking about his friend surrounded by a fog of the virus, just waiting, inching closer to…new arrival. The ships in orbit broadcasted the information as a new fleet materialised, a force of ships containing…a lucrehulk, more than one. There could only be one fleet, on faction it could be.

That small sigh of relief, something else that’s going right.

“High Marshall Brayde, am I glad to see your ships. We believe someone has released the Blackwing Virus on the planet, I need your ships to enact a blockade. At this time the planet is quarantined, I don’t care if the Vicelord himself is demanding you let him through. Until we know what’s going on, until we know for a face there’s a cure and we’re safe no one gets off the planet. You’re authorised to destroy any ship that tries to escape.”

No ship.

John might have just signed the death warrant for everyone on the planet…but maybe, just maybe they could save the galaxy. Only history could judge him…as long as there was a history to judge him.

 

[Slaad]

Location: Xam'Chi
Objective: Feast on the Maliphant
Allies: Xenro | Darth Immortuos | Grrwunhoooll Agaburry
Tags: Srina Talon | Darth Empyrean | The Monster
Ambiance: Nom Nom Nom

Peering through the fresh gash in the ship’s hull, a single white eye took in the entirety of the ship. Those who were spread about, attempting to rise from their recent and what should’ve been deadly impact. Slaad could feel the air rife with the mystical energy of the force. Though the orb focused primarily on the two that lay together one holding the other in a way Slaad had once known.

How the being craved for the touch of his love once more, her breath upon his skin, the look in her eyes as they proclaimed their eternal emotions for one another. All of it gone, she was yet another who couldn’t be saved. She didn’t wish to follow Slaad to the realm beyond, to salvation, so she took her life. To have just a few more moments with her Slaad would give up anything.

Transfixed watching the two before him like a holodrama, the creature almost didn’t notice the two pilots that were trying to sneak around. The sound of blasterbolts filled the air, crimson darts of energy seeking to impale and tear Slaad asunder. They were infected and didn’t even realize it. Their efforts futile, they would either understand the ways of the Rancidous or be taken by the disease.

With a quick motion, the crimson blade danced through the air deflecting the first bolt down and into the pavement. The second was a negligent flick of Slaad’s wrist that managed to catch two bolts them both reflected back to their originator. The blaster bolts impacted with the core of one and the upper chest of the other. Picked up from the impact the two were hurled to the ground. They would live long enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Returning his gaze to the show taking place before him Slaad saw the figure that had been on the verge of death had risen once more. That had raising the snarl upon the man’s face. Awww the anger, the rage, the fury within. It brought a temptation of its own, hunger, a craving rose within Slaad’s being.

Eye narrowing as the force swelled and was released Slaad cemented his footing to the ground, bracing the muscles within his body. Or at least attempted to, the wave of telekinetic might slammed through the wall of the shuttle blowing it open. The creature pushed back, feet skidding across the asphalt, kicking up duracrete. The impact of the telekinetic wave was immediately lessened as the energy dispersed was seemingly taken and drained into Slaad’s very being. What was possibly expected to send the creature hurling only slid him back a handful of yards.

The well of mystical energy from the push rose within Slaad’s being intermingling with his own. This was only the beginning, the first taste of what he’d feel upon devouring the little man. Sadly as much as Slaad wished it he couldn’t hold onto the energy forever. He released it his mouth coming open in a horrific shriek that pierced the air.

The asphalt in front of Slaad was torn free within the bellow, projected towards the other epicanthix. The air itself reverberated as the scream shattered windows due to the high disorienting pitch. No sooner than the scream having ended Slaad was moving forward the crimson blade held aloft before his face before moving down and to the side, the Makashi salute signaling the beginning of the end.

 

[The Monster]

Sergei looked over at Eira Talon who had a striking semblance of one of his targets, the Exarch. A relative maybe? However judging by her posture and the bodyguard she had with her, she was at least a competent fighter. And he needed whatever he could get right now. He looked down at his now dead comrade, and his old trainer's instructions hit him instantly.

No point in decency for the dead, if it means costing more lives of the living.

He reattached his weapon to the second point on his sling to hold it in place and holstered his hand cannon. He then immediately reached down and unbuckled the man's own sling for his rifle, the bandoliers for his ammo and grenades, and stripped the backpack off of him. Thankfully none had the dark oozing substance coming from the man's helmet and he walked over to set them towards the lady and her compatriot.

"Ma'am if you know how to use this then I suggest you take it, we need to move and recover our objective before this place gets overrun. I'll explain more on the way, but for now we need to move. Sergei then went back to the corpse and started looking through the chest piece for a particular part as he needed more time. And then he found what he was looking for. A small cannister that was the now dead operative's sealed air. Sergei quickly swapped his empty out for it and breathed a small sigh of relief. The idiot hadn't turned on his internal air supply which meant the tank was full, and sealed so no contamination was possible. He had more time, and they needed to move. He looked back at Gerwald Lechner and his own soldier had already stripped the other fallen operative, placing the gear on the ground for an easier pickup to them all to get extra ammo and equipment. Sergei then spoke quickly and decisively through a low power speaker/local comms to the people around him.

"We've been here too long, we need to move. Grab what you can or want, and stay behind me, we have an Exarch to save,"

-------------- Meanwhile at 3000 ft -----------------

The Droid Brain aboard the vessel had been watching intently the actions of Sergei's team and noted the casualties and engagements that had occurred. It had yet to fire as the resounding noise of it spraying laser cannon fire would generate more attention than it was worth. It's processors chewed through multiple data algorithms as it studied the current position of Sergei, the locations of his targets, and his current strength in numbers and air supply. It came to a single conclusion. Reacting quickly it assessed nearby assets and noted that a unit called Dauntless command was in the AO. The Droid sent a quick text message request directly to Luna Terrik of Dauntless command. The request was as follows.

To Friendly CIS units, priority one comms request. Commander Sergei Jachovich has received mission to recover Exarch and Exarch Talon from crash site. Status of survivors unknown but activity at crash site suggests survivors. Sergei is currently en route to crash site to assess and recover what he can and destroy anything not recoverable. Current status of Sergei's team, 50% combat power. Status of enemy presence in nearby vicinity, threat level Alpha. Confirmed viral pathogens are Airborne. All infected confirmed hostile. Suggest you use small team to insert at drop location marked LZ Liberty and use suggested route to intercept and link into Sergei's team. Civilians and freelancer combatants are present and considered non-hostile. Suggest termination of all infected combatants with extreme prejudice. ALL CBRN PROTOCOLS IN EFFECT. BE ADVISED EXPOSURE OF AIR HAS HIGH PROBABILITY OF INFECTION. SERGEI'S ACTIVE INTERNAL AIR TIME IS 1 HOUR, 57 MINS AND COUNTING FROM MESSAGE. WOLF FANG ON STANDBY FOR COMBAT AIR SUPPORT.

 

[Luna Terrik]

​

C O N T A I N​

Objective: Quarantine Xam'chi
Time: 0915
Equipment: VAARS Rifle, Tactical Recon Handguns (2), Personal Armor, CryoBan Grenade (4), Thermal Detonator (2)
Ally tags: | Tiria Reinhart | Damsy Callat | Tobias Wrynn | Maeve Archeron | Anakwor Farlorn | Jasmille Kavos | Jrurki Liz | Kurenai Yumi | The Monster | Kaden Farr | Alessandra Creed | Prennis Keeoli | John Locke | @ Subject 73 Red | Kyyrk | Tsian Denira | Eira Talon | Srina Talon | Gerwald Lechner |
Enemy tags: | @Xam’chi enemies | Slaad |
Post: #3

There was a point in Luna’s career that she didn’t know if she would ever see a battlefield again. After spending years in the First Order’s pilot training program and working her way up to a squadron lead, tragedy managed to strike in a horrifyingly unfair way. The night before a patrol near the edges of the influence the empire held, Luna had been taking the time to go over a few last repairs on her personal TIE fighter. That thing had always been special to her. Damaged time and time again, yet always managed to be able to be put back together just in the nick of time. That night though, alone on the deck of the hanger, she couldn’t have known it would be the last time she climbed in and out of that ship.

A fueling pipe, somehow having come loose from it’s struts, swung down to crack it’s metal rim against the side of her head. She had laid there for minutes before the maintenance worker had found her, managing to quickly alert the medical team of her injury. She, of course, remembered none of it. The pipe had knocked her clean out, and had it not been for that worker, Luna might very well have died on that floor because of the head trauma. But staying alive didn’t mean there wasn’t consequences for what had happened. Alongside a nasty scar that now ran from her temple across her forehead, the pipe had managed to crack her eyesocket in such a way that her equilibrium would be forever thrown off by fast movements.

In short..she’d never fly a fighter again. It was too much on her mind to try to keep up with the stars moving past her viewscreen alongside keeping her own head straight. Not for a lack of trying however. As soon as she had been released, Luna was sat back in that cockpit, fighting against her own mind so that she could touch the stars once again. There was no luck, and within a quarter of a year from her injury, she was decommissioned from service. Transferred to the ground where she would work as a mechanic.

Where she had once touched the stars, shooting across the sky as if it was owned by her very engines, she now found herself confined to the ground. A fallen angel from her perch among the heavens.

It didn’t take long for the dread to settle in. Having worked so long only to have it stolen from you could provide quite the source of darkness over ones mind. However, in the right hands, it could also provide a source of motivation. Those hands, at least at first, were not Luna’s. The hands that began to mold her into what she was today belonged to a man by the name of Major Kaduri Yonrin. A curious human, one who worked for the First Order’s spec ops division at the time. He had heard of Luna’s story and managed to pull her out of the darkness of her own mind and take her under his teaching wing.

Of course, practical skills were needed. Blaster work and knife training, both of which Luna found a knack for very early on. But there were other things that he had in mind for her. Kaduri didn’t see the redhead as just another commando, but as someone with a potential to take command on the ground as she did in the air. What that required of her, however, was to look at the battlefield in a much different way. He started that train of thought by teaching her the finer points of Dejarik.

Of course she had heard of it before, and had played it too, though she had never found herself enjoying it very much. Kaduri pushed Luna to understand combat, the strategy behind the game. Howe everything could be moving at once, multiple pieces on the board fighting other pieces in different areas, yet the end goal must be kept in mind. To be the last one alive, with the last pieces. How many different battles didn’t matter, as long as one could keep their mind about the end goal. This was the lesson he sought to teach her, and the one that had stuck with Luna all the way to this point.

K’lor’slug moves forward two spaces, toward the center of the board.

The reports from both Omega actual, alongside Alpha actual that they would be moving out soon was a welcome update to come through her comms. With any luck, they would be pushing through this planet’s red light district, quaintly called Kan Lwai Fong, with haste. Whatever these zombies were, the reports were coming in that they weren’t the fastest things. If her captain’s were able to, Luna assumed that they would just push through any light resistance they faced. With this in mind, she patched into the pair of captian’s comms to provide a quick answer. “Dauntless command copies. Keep me updated on hostile counts and VIP locations.” As she was shutting off the channel, she could’ve sworn she heard sound of a couple of scorpion’s metal legs hitting against the ground. More than likely nothing more than her imagination.

Enemy Ng’ok moves a space forward.

Sometimes the battlefield provided unexpected opportunities, new pieces. This was exactly what @Subject 73 Red’s voice reminded Luna of as it seemingly appeared out of nowhere. A surprise, but a welcome one to be sure. He was a good soldier, after all. “Sergeant red, good to hear you. I do have a job for you..” Her voice trained off for a moment while her fingers pressed a few quick buttons on the holotable, zooming in on the mountain near the edge of the city. “There’s a resort on top of the mountain. Ike Peak. Among other things, it was a tourist destination. Get me eyes on it, find any civvies you can in there. Send an update when it’s done.” Red would get that job done. Luna had worked with the man in the past, and his sense of duty and honor were always a welcome sight on a battlefield that could be filled with the depraved and lifeless.

Opposing player’s Kintan Strider moves two spaces forward, attacks Houjix. Four damage done.

Of course, the battlefield was not always a kind place. The revealing of the virus being the blackwing was a plenty heavy blow to the men and woman fighting this thing. It was an infamous disease, one that would stab fear into the heart of any trained medical professional. Even Luna, who had only ever heard and been briefed on the disease, knew now of what she was sending her troops into. An absolute monster, one that might chew them up and spit them out before she knew what was going on.

That’s why, when the voice of an unknown factor, an unknown piece flowed from the speakers, Luna was quick to press the respond button, quick to begin to tell Prennis Keeoli to leave immediately. This…would not be the case. Instead, Luna’s voice was as calm as she could muster when she finally did begin to respond. “Doctor Keeoli…there is a quarantine camp being set up outside of the marketplace of the capital city. You will see it. Land, come meet me in my command tent. There we can talk.” She wanted this doctor nowhere near the city. But if Luna could talk to her first, perhaps there was a chance the general could talk some sense into the woman before she did something incredibly stupid. Not that she’d be risking any of her men for it.

At least that was the plan at first. When an unidentified ship touched down within her view, as well a squads full of troops unloaded from it, the reality that whatever situation this doctor had brought with her was much more complicated than Luna originally thought. What didn’t help was when the supposed leader of this group called out to her and, without warning, gripped her arm and pulled her to the side a slight bit. The commandos that were near the entrance of the tent were quick to grab for their pistols, but were quickly put away with a motion from Luna’s hand, who then turned to the woman to begin to address her.

“Firstly..” she stared, pulling her arm from the viceroy’s grip, perhaps a bit more roughly than was necessary. “you could have comm’d first. Secondly..if this woman is an asset as you say, then you may take her to where she needs to go. The financial district should provide a good place to do her research in relative safety. If you are to find anything…” The general trailed off, a new voice popping into her comms. It wasn’t one that she recognized, though someone offering assistance wouldn’t be turned away so easily. She made a quick, excuse me motion to the viceroy, then stepped to the side to quickly address Tobias Wrynn.

Grimtaash moves forward two, stuns the Kintan Strider for two turns.

Handling new pieces to the battlefield was something that Luna was getting better at as time went along. Thankfully, a job immediately popped into mind for whomever this was that was offering assistance. “This General Luna Terrik. I appreciate the help you are offering. I have two squads heading toward the Xiaolong Palace. If you could get me eyes on those squads, I’ll patch you into their comms so that you may provide them live updates as they move along. Keep me updated on your progress.” With the order given, she turned back to the viceroy, ready to be finished with this situation as well.

“Grab your scientist and head to the financial district. Get your research done. And stay safe. I don’t have the resources to be sending squads after you if you get into trouble.” With a nod, she focused back on the holotable, eyeing the dots that represented her forces beginning to move throughout the streets. Things seemed to be under control, for now. Nothing was screaming to her that it needed to be controlled quickly. At least, that was her thought process until that robotic voice filled her comm units.

Enemy Ng'ok uses it’s special ability, attacking the Grimtaash twice. That piece is defeated, and the left side of the board is open.

Exarch Talon. Crashed. Possibly hurt. Unknown asset attempting to rescue her. The exact type of situation that Luna hadn’t needed to confront so far. And she had only one piece left in her pocket that could deal with it. “Needles,” Luna’s voice paused momentarily, making sure the channel between her and the master sergeant was secure. “I need you to link up with Theta squad, press into the city. Meet up with a squad that is currently pushing toward VIP Talon’s ship. I need her secured, Q’vares. I wouldn’t be sending you out into the city if I didn’t need you.” The response was almost instant from her friend, one that Luna knew would much rather be on the backside of the fight, providing overwatch, than on the front lines. “I’ll get it done, general. Stay safe.”

What had felt like a secure and quickly decompressing mission had suddenly turned into something much, much more high stakes. The battlefield could change like that. Suddenly turning on it’s head and forcing the player to adapt, or die trying. Right now, Luna was having to scramble. All she could hope for was that, soon, her own pieces would begin to push back and relieve some of the pressure, allowing them to come out on top.

This game had only just begun.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Xam'chi Streets - On the Move
Allies: Confederacy of Independent Systems & Friends
Tag: Mishel Kryze | John Locke | Luna Terrik | & Others [OPEN]
_______________________________
​

“A cure? Locke...You must be dreaming.”, Alessandra muttered back, but, didn’t actually transmit. There was no telling what strain of the Sickness it was. There was no telling if they had the correct compounds or even the facilities available for mass production. Still. It was admirable that the Confederacy tried. They seemed to like a hopeless cause. She was silent while he gave the news to the rest of their people. It hurt. It may cause panic. But, they had a right to know. Pinging John Locke again, she heaved a heavy sigh, and tried to find some sort of strength to respond with. “My comm is on. If I’m not myself when the extraction team finds me—You know what they need to do.”​

​

It was simple. Aim, fire. Another body for the pile. One less biological weapon on the streets.​

​

Once she lowered her arm, she let her eyes fixate on the woman that looked like Mishel Noren. Her heart knew who it was. Body, and mind. She had always held an inexplicable connection to her half-sister. Her eyes flickered. Mishel’s eye disappeared.​

​

And she was sick?​

​

Alessandra watched her sibling with a sense of morbid fascination while her eye seemed to re-grow on its own. She didn’t look like the rest of the diseased, but, that definitely wasn’t normal. The raven-haired woman reached out to confirm what her sinking heart was telling her. Mishel didn’t even sound like herself. There was a tinny quality to her tone that was even more confusing. Was she infected too?​

​

When her sister spoke again and emotion rolled across her features she felt entirely defeated. Alessandra could maintain an entire nation, caretake a whole planet, but with one, silly cup of tea on a random world it was all over? Glancing back down at the thick, bloody sputum, while a cold sweat ran down her spine. She was starting to feel feverish. “Yes… I think I am.”​

​

Whispers. Little, seductive whispers.​

​

At first, the voice was so soft in the back of her head, so gentle, that she couldn’t hear it. The Minister swayed on her feet while her eyes glazed over. She had to listen. Something sweet called to her. It promised power, and more importantly, a sense of relief. It spoke to the deepest fear that most people held, but never addressed, because it was inevitable. To die—Was the way of the world. Balance.​

​

A flower whispered. A beautiful, black orchid. It promised that which was forbidden.​

​

A way to live forever without fear of mortality. ​

​

Alessandra pulled up from the reverie and chocolate eyes snapped back toward Mishel. The young woman seemed to know, instinctively, what was going on. Hearing that she didn’t have long caused her eyes to close while a shrill scream rang in the air. Rabid. Infected. No, she didn’t. “You’re right. I can feel it. You have to get out of here before it gets you too. Your eye…”​

​

Had it gotten to her sister already?​

​

To her surprise, poignant and eternal, Mishel returned her sentiment. What was the point of beating around the bush when time wasn’t on her side? Did she love her sister? Yes. Should she know it? Know that someone, somewhere, had cared for her? Yes. Alessandra could feel a gnawing ache that made her eyes sting. So much time had been wasted. There were so many things she would never get the chance to do. Say. “…I will always love you.”​

​

She could say that.​

​

Mishel didn’t want to lose her. She understood, but, there was no way out of this. They were too far from the medical facilities and even that was a gamble. She wanted to go to her. Comfort her.​

​

But she couldn’t run the risk of infecting her. ​

​

Alessandra kept moving backward when the dark-haired woman approached. She held a hand out, palm forward, in a universal sign that she needed to stop—But it didn’t matter. Mishel just kept coming closer. She told her that she loved her. Over, and over. Hot tears welled from her eyes. They streamed bloody red down her cheeks against her will. Alessandra did not cry. She was a Malvern. She was a Creed. She was better, stronger, than some stupid plague. “Please Mishel. For once, please, listen to me.”​

​

She didn’t.​

​

Of course. Mishel never listened.​

​

The chant that filled her ears was laced with power and an innate reverence. She flinched when Mishel placed her hands on her shoulders, and tried to pull back, but the expression on her siblings face held her paralyzed. A dark cloud blotted out her vision, hiding the city, hiding the animals the denizens were slowly becoming. What she would become. “Mish?”, she questioned, trying to follow the thread. The more she did the more feverish she felt. In her disease addled mind, it took her a moment to realize that the tongue utilized was actually a prayer. “What are you doing? Stop. Stop!”​

​

She could feel the Sickness leaving her. It held tight like glue, clinging, while it was forcibly torn away from her being. It shrieked in her mind, deafening. In pain. It didn’t want to leave. It wanted to give her everything. All she had to do was accept it and—​

​

The voice was gone. ​

​

Mishel stumbled back and Alessandra followed, before dropping down with her, knees cracking against the permacrete. She could hear her sister telling her to go. The second she tried to wrap her arms around the Ren, to pull her close, that very second—There was a flash of light and she was left holding nothing at all. Chocolate eyes stared blankly forward. Her arms came closed, slowly, while she sank down onto her haunches. Hugging her own torso. Tighter.​

​

Tighter. ​

​

She couldn’t breathe. Alessandra dropped forward in the middle of the chaos and fought to suck in air. The Malvern woman felt like she was going to be sick. Raven hair fell in her face, hiding pain, while footsteps came ever closer. When she did speak, it was hoarse, strained, and little more than a forlorn murmur. “…Mishel…”​

​

Only her clothing and lightsaber remained.​

​

A sickly cry to her right pulled her attention. Her head snapped to the side just in time to see one of the infected coming toward her. Its jaw mashed on something, she could only assume, was a piece of its last victim. A slow snarl curled her lip and the weapon leapt to her hand. She was strong, now. She could protect herself—Both in the Force and with Mishel’s sacrifice. That pain and rage gave her fire, fuel, and with a blinding movement and a flare of red light, she split the infected in half. Navel to cranium. The stinking cauterized halves of decaying flesh fell away and she slowly pulled herself up.​

​

All of her wounds, scratches and otherwise, had healed. Anguish screamed in her veins but her expression hardened whilst she turned the saber off. The light would only draw more of them. The Minister knelt down and placed Mishel’s clothing in her bag. Ignoring the smoldering remains that twitched, still in motion, of the diseased thing that had once been an Atrisian. ​

​

At that moment she hated them.​

​

All of them. ​

​

The Dauntless ( Luna Terrik ) and anyone searching for survivors would find her on one of the main streets, mercilessly, cleaving through the undead while she made her way back toward her ship. ​

​

The second the Confederacy agreed it was a viable option? She would be the first to suggest defoliation.​

​

Enough, was enough. Burn them all. ​

 

[Maple Harte]

"ALL YOU BASE! IS FETHING! BELONG TO ME!" the lithe girl bellowed as she fought the assassins, feeling ache in her muscles, getting slower. But she could not afford to get tired. If she got tired she was dead.

The Brain Demon whispered in the back of her mind, begging her to surrender to its magic. Maple refused to give it the satisfaction.

She called on the corrupted Force Power Doashim the Mandragora Spirit had given her.

Her nerves cut off from all pain sensation and all sense of exhaustion. Maple defended against vicious strikes that more than once nearly breached her constantly moving defense, and Maple retreated into a building adjacent to the dragon shrine, forced once more on the defensive as the Assassins relentlessly pressed her from all sides, as her killing spree began to pick back up, striking down more assassins even as they attacked from all sides in the defiled meditation room.

The red cane she had taken was knocked away and she was suddenly fending off heavy strikes from a blade that had fully extended.

The unthinkable happened as she was driven backward, the saber cutting right through her cane shaft in the middle, the impact making her tumble backward.

Maple grabbed her broken weapon ends, rolling out of the way of lethal slices for her head, the shotos of her broken weapon still active.

Maple improvised, using the upper end as an improvised Guard Tonfa and the lower end as a simple, improvised short lightsaber dagger with an overly long hilt, drunkenly moving and flipping and kicking and slashing the surprised assassins, shocked she had adapted so quickly.

There was no doubt among the remaining killers: This foe had been the product of an extensive and demanding training process, her chaotic attack pattern extremely difficult to defend against or breach. Dozens had been reduced to only fifteen, the most effective and ruthless, and she was still whittling down their rank.

A lucky strike destroyed her tonfa in mid spin, leaving her with just a shoto. Four lunged with their canes but Maple intercepted, leaping and delivering a sweeping kick that caught all of their heads at once, tossing her shoto into the face of an attacker behind her, grabbing the cane of one of the attackers she had hit with unnatural reflexes as she hit the floor, only to immediately leap roll backward as she landed, parrying the thrust of an assassin and ramming her stolen weapon into his chest as she sprang forward, catching the canes of three others and ripping them out of her hands with sheer hatred of her shapeshifting tormenter into the chest of two others, ripping the cane out of the dead man beneath her.

The Assassins stared at her, and Maple stared at them, coldly, her hazard suit unbreached.

"Run away. Just...run away..." she said wearily, eyes bloodshot. "Run away, and I will spare your lives."

The remaining Assassins attacked and after a long thirty seconds of poking, smashing, crushing, slashing, and stabbing, all the remaining assassins lay dead at Maple's feet. Her suit was still unbreached. Maple dropped in exhaustion, breathing.

She'd gotten a rib broken, as well as an arm. Along with a knee cap.

Maple slumped against a mural decorated wall of the ancient god Ryujin, just crying in pain for the next few minutes, unable to focus the Force, or her magic.

The pregnant woman's shrieks for aid made Maple stir in her agony, grabbing one of her enemies canes and helping herself up, screaming and crying, forcing herself to hobble out of the building, hopping on one leg and balancing on the inactive cane. She turned pale from fear.

The Zombies had breached the wards, they were moving, shuffling slowly but surely to the center, where the glowing sphere of purple light lay.

Maple hobbled towards the still shackled pregnant woman, totally spent spiritually wise, the zombies ambling ever closer to the prisoner.

She hobbled as fast as she dared. And when she lost control and hit the ground. She crawled on the blood soaked ground, over dead Sith, desperate to reach the pregnant woman unable to bear the horror of what would happen to her and her baby if she did not reach them in time. She finally pulled herself to the altar, the shuffling zombies only fifty meters away, but slowly encircling the whole area.

Maple, balancing awkwardly on her still good leg, the moans of the dead sending spine shuddering fear through her as she used her stolen cane saber to melt the woman's chains. The panicked civilian quickly scrambled off the altar, grabbing the wounded Maple and dragging her to the dragon fountain shrine, the dead on the verge of surrounding them from all sides.

Maple dropped to the ground, too tired to move, dead weight with all her strength gone.

The dead advanced, the woman desperately trying to pull her up.

"Leave me. I'm just dead weight..." Maple hissed. "Go!"

The woman, an Atrisian waitress who herself had survived Mythos's invasion by barely withstanding an assassin droid, did NOT have time for this.

"On your feet, Jedi!"

Maple barely stirred on the ground, the dead's moaning now merely fifteen meters from them on nearly all sides.

Ten meters...

Six meters...

"ON YOUR FEEEEEEET!" the woman screamed in fear-rage. The scream sent a shot of adrenaline into Maple's brain and she sprang back to life, hobbling as best she could with the woman partly carrying her, the dead so close they could be smelled as they retreated.

They barely cleared them and Maple was dropped painfully and unceremoniously to the ground of the inner shrine as the pregnant woman frantically closed and bolted the doors and windows, milliseconds before they could get inside.

The pregnant woman than broke down, screaming in terror in the shrine as the dead banged on solid iron doors and shutters. Maple crawled to the rifle she had left behind at the start, crawling back over to the woman to at least TRY to defend her if they managed to breach...

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Location: Spaceport
Objective: Rescue Srina, Keep Eira Safe
Tags: Eira Talon | Kas Varad | The Monster
Allies: Srina Talon | Darth Empyrean
Enemies: ZOMBIES!!!

Defiant as ever, Eira Talon dug her heels in and would not move. No matter how hard Gerwald pulled, she would not budge. If he were in his human form the girl would not stand a chance. Even though he was larger than a typical wolf, as Lupines naturally were, Gerwald did not have the leverage to get what he wanted. There was only one thing he could do, and that was let her see this fool mission through.​

​

Her questions were not getting answered to any satisfaction Gerwald had, but what was he going to do about it. He was still under the obligation to remain as a wolf, and unless Eira's life demanded he shift, he was going to obey.​

​

Gerwald was also concerned for Srina Talon as it seemed the ship she and Darth Empyrean were on had crashed. They did not appear on the map where they were supposed to have been, and with all the erratic behavior of the undead, Gerwald feared the worst was possible. No one was immune to this virus. The Confederacy had seen it before, and their last solution was to burn the world and purge the planet of the sickness.​

​

The lupine desperately wanted to project a warning to Eira's mind, but that would give him away as something more than he was meant to be. As for the other two, it seemed they were skilled enough, or had the troops with them, to fend off the current hoard of zombies. Hopefully this would be just as easy, but Gerwald had a feeling things were only going to get worse before they would get better. As long as none of them were infected they could keep pressing ahead. That was Gerwald's one duty in all of this mess, keep Eira from getting infected.​

 

[Asaraa Vaashe]

Location: Atrisia
Tagging: Caedyn Arenais

A Jedi was strong, a Jedi didn’t let themselves be controlled by emotion, by the terror and fear in their heads. A Jedi would rise above it, would be able to put aside the storm that was their emotion and find peace and calm. It was right there in the Jedi Code, ‘There is no emotion, there is peace’.

Too bad then that Asaraa was the worst Jedi ever.

In the young woman’s defence she had tried, really really hard. It was just…well the moment she heard Caedyn’s voice all that hard work, all those defences seemed to crumble, to fall apart. Asaraa wasn’t entirely sure what exactly happened, one second her blue eyes had been watching him approach, had been hoping, praying that this was an illusion, that he’d heard her silent message and turned around.

Only the sound of his voice shattered that, shattered all those illusions. He was here, he was really here.

Asaraa didn’t even remember moving, didn’t remember thinking about it, all she knew was at one moment she was standing there and the next she was right in front of Caedyn. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to wrap him in a bubble and keep him safe…she wanted him to just hold her and tell her that everything would be ok.

Balled up fists beat at his chest for a moment, the reassuring feeling of flesh pounding into flesh before the pink-haired Jedi relented, wrapping her arms around Caedyn.

“It’s a virus…it’s the virus. Blackwing or something. They’ve quarantined the entire planet.”

A head pulled back, tear-filled blue eyes peering up at his face, lips quivering with barely pent up emotion.

“We’re not getting out of here Cae, not unless someone pulls off a miracle if someone manages the impossible. It’s a death trap…this entire world’s a death trap and I called you here…I asked you to come.”

That quiver was unmistakable now, tear running in tracks down her cheeks. Her fault, it was her fault, she’d asked Caedyn to join her here, it should have been a chance for them to catch up and help some people. Instead, she’d doomed them both…she’d invited him to his death. How could he forgive that, how could he ever let that go?

She’d killed him.

 

[Kaden Farr]

LOCATION: Kaden Farr's Childhood home -- OUTSKIRTS
WITH: N/A
ALLIES: John Locke | Luna Terrik
ENEMIES: N/A -- OPEN

​

The deed was done. Even if Kaden wanted to change his mind and wait for Daisy to come to so they could fight, it was too late. It was also too late for Kaden to leave with them. Yes, he could have gotten in his ship and taken off instead of putting his armor on, but the Mandalorian had made his choice. He was going to see it through like the stubborn man that he was. Besides there was something about this virus, these creatures, which reminded Kaden about the Netherworld, and he had the driving desire to eradicate any semblance of it among the living.​

​

His comm call had gone out to General Luna Terrik , and coordinates had been sent as to where he was meant rendezvous. What had once been a market was now overrun. It did not matter where anyone went, they would run into these undead. At least the units of commandos and droid units had cleared a space for command to establish a forward operating base. This was not a routine offensive. They were not simply defending a world. Whether one liked it or not, this was war in its purest form.​

​

Kaden pushed past the crowds of soldiers and others as the General handed out orders. It seemed he was a little late to the party to get any kind of assignment, but he would get to work regardless.​

​

<<< "What about me," >>> he called out to the general as everyone began to disperse. <<< "Where are we low on help... anyone still out there unaccounted for? Do we have evacuations that still need to take place?" >>>​

​

Whether he was killing or rescuing, it did not matter. This plague made Atrisia a living hell, and he was not willing to see his childhood home overrun, or the people he had once been connected to wiped out by this disease. Kaden had not seen it before. He did not know how dangerous it was. It was smart to send Daisy back to Haseria, and it would have been smarter to go with her, but Kaden did not know. There was no cure, not as of yet, as far as he knew. This was not Thyferra where an antidote was easily garnered. This was a situation of evacuation and total annihilation.​

​

Until he had orders, all Kaden could do was wait. He was not good at waiting.​

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Crash Landed In Xam'Chi - [Engaged w/ Slaad ]
Allies: CIS & Friends
Tags: Darth Empyrean │ John Locke | Eira Talon | Gerwald Lechner
Enemies: Xenro │ Darth Immortuos │ Slaad

______________________________
​

A healer—Srina was not.

The man in her arms would find this out the only way she knew. The hard way. There was something in his wound that was preventing her from regenerating the integrity of a blood vessel. Maliphant was bleeding internally around it, a warm waterfall of crimson, and the more he lost the greater chance of shock. Death. She refused to accept either. The white-haired woman moved her hand and stuck two fingers into the entry point of the wound. She could see the offending piece of material without the use of her eyes. It existed in the Force—A blockage that required removal.

“If you move…I’ll kill you.”

It sounded like a threat. It wasn’t. Literal, and cold, the Echani could only deliver her instructions in the most impartial way possible. She could save his life or spare his feelings. She didn’t have the capacity to consider both.

A Jedi would have found a better way. A gentler, painless, safer way. The Exarch plucked the piece of debris from the wound like a thorn from the paw of a lion. Her hand fell over the open injury to his abdomen and she continued her ministrations, pouring energy into him, so that she could direct it to that which needed repair to sustain life.

She could not fight the deadly creature that lingered just outside the ship and keep Maliphant stable. It was a matter of focus. He required it, all of it, whereas the undead being required a distraction. The pilots were trained for emergency scenarios exactly like this. They would perform their obligations to the letter and obey her every command. The fear they held informed her that they were aware that statistics were not on their side.

They knew that there was a high probability that they would not return. Still, they acted.

Perhaps, it was the better option. A quick death versus the slow suffering of a pathogen that hollowed the body and replaced a healthy mind with corrupted neural pathways and a penchant for cannibalism.

In the interim—She mended what she could. A ruptured organ. An abdominal cavity full of fluid. Srina was morbidly amazed that more of the infected hadn’t arrived. The scent of fresh meat, despite the barrier that Maliphant used to shield them, was akin to ringing the dinner bell.

Silver eyes did not lift from his form. They looked straight down. Through him. To all that he was, and beyond that, while shadows and residual pain lent strength and surety. Even when he touched her face and a shock of bloody red marked pallid flesh, she remained still, while pale lips moved in a silent and infernal hymn. A language long forgotten. A tongue, that burned.

“Stop.”​

“Shut up.”, she murmured, brusque as ever, while trying to maintain focus. It wasn’t enough. Mending an injury like this took time. He would be lucky if her efforts didn’t fall apart later on. Srina could feel that he was gaining strength. It was too slow. Too slow. She felt him shifting and a low dual-toned growl curled up from deep within her chest. “Don’t move—”

He reached up and she nearly dug her fingers into the still-healing wound. If he wouldn’t stay still—She would make him. Only, the strangely tender touch of lips to her own abated her irritation. It wasn’t just that. It was what Maliphant put behind it. She gave of herself to him; And he returned it. She could feel that a door had been opened, a metaphysical pathway, where they both existed on either side.

Lips touched. Minds, touched.

He asked for her faith and she found herself relenting, grudgingly. The wintry woman was a little unnerved at what he had done. Not the kiss. No, nothing so plebian. It was the bridge that now existed. A bi-directional line of communication. An unexpected amalgamation of everything they were. Temporary?

Unknown. Rather, unimportant.

When Maliphant tried to stand she reached up and drew her sleeve against her lips whilst mercurial eyes settled on his back with a defiant glare. It left another smear. A bloody, half-smile. The crimson of his lightsaber caused her jaw to set tight. She knew what he planned to do, perhaps, even before he had decided it. “You are Sith. Not a martyr.”, the Dread Queen warned, but she pulled herself up, covered in his blood. His blood. She wanted to snarl at him but only ice remained. A frozen heart.

A cold, cruel, sense of responsibility.

He moved forward to engage the beast against her better judgment while she turned toward the Atrisian people that were clustered in the back of the cracked ship. Pressed together, with makeshift weapons. They wanted no part of the gruesome menace that Maliphant now faced. “Stay.”, Srina stated firmly. Her hand rose as she moved to follow her injured companion and a large piece of the hull snapped into place behind them.

Effectively, she sealed them in. High walls. Thick quadranium. Safer in there than outside.

Provided one of the undead didn’t get in.

A sense of pressure, like an incoming storm, caused a slight ache between her eyes. Then a sound followed that generated a disturbing sense of vertigo. Then pain. She could feel her ears burning and her head swam whilst pieces of the concrete pulled up and flung in their direction. Some of it slammed harmlessly against the hull of the GS-77 but other hunks had to either be dodged or halted with telekinesis. Whatever the infected had done—It sounded a lot like Ghost of Tellu.

Srina came to stand beside Maliphant, hand behind her back, whilst she grasped the hilt of her weapon. The initial attack hadn’t been pleasant, by any means, and the Exarch remained unaware of the slow trickle of blood that moved from her left ear. It was just a warning shot.

Silver eyes tracked ( Slaad ) the infected while his lumbering mass began to roll toward them. Was he playing a game?

“These are not the same abominations we destroyed on Melida/Daan.”

Her words were rushed. He exhibited reasoning. Critical thinking. The capacity to taunt them, to use the Force. No. It was not the same. Her gaze narrowed and the debris that had been flung rotated in the air, spinning slowly, as if drifting in space. The differences wouldn’t dissuade her from the fight ahead. Maliphant…Was still hurt. Trust him? She did. What she didn’t trust was the mountain of what used to be a man[?] bearing down on them.

In what appeared to be a split-second decision Srina stepped ahead of her advisor and took the fight rapidly toward the infected. She was swift, light of foot, and little more than a whirling dervish of white and dark that closed the distance. As she moved the Exarch pulled at the slabs of permacrete and hunks of uprooted asphalt that the creature had flung at them. What it gave—She gave back with interest, and her free hand-rolled forward to simulate the snap of throwing something in its face.

Multiple pieces of rock, stone, metal and permacrete large and small would follow her form whilst she pivoted—Using a blast of kinetic force to the ground to push her body up and away from the diseased atrocity. She landed just out of range, to its rightmost side, knees bent slightly to absorb the impact. The hand that held her lightsaber stretched out and a shock of red lit the space beside her. The sounds of concrete projectiles whirling by before they crashed, either against the undead or somewhere beyond it were deafening.

‘Come to me…’, she willed it silently, distinctly aware, that she was at a disadvantage. Her only goal relied around getting it to focus on her over Maliphant. She was small, soft, weak. Obviously, easy prey for something so grotesque, right? Take a simple meal.

Her hand tightened on the grip of her lightsaber. The longer her weapon remained active, the more she could smell ozone, the more she felt her mind quiet. A fight was a fight. She longed for it, secretly, because it made things simple. Clear.

If things went poorly, if the beast took a bite from her, she would at least ensure he choked on it.

Spoiler: Summary

1.) Followed up on the slow sort of mind-meld with Maliphant.
2.) Hid NPC's in the ship and sealed the entryway/exit.
3.) Engaged Slaad ahead of Maliphant after the sonic scream, knowing, Mal is weak like kitten. ~_^
4.) Threw debris back at Slaad and dodged out of the way trying to turn his attention toward her over Mal.
5.) If you need anything clarified pls shoot a DM - Tried not to do "too much".

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Atrisia [Pridwen-Class Cruiser]
Wearing: This
Affiliation: CIS
With: John Locke
Status: Asleep [Astral Projecting to Grrwunhoooll Agaburry ]​

---

On some level, Gianna knew she was asleep. On some level—She knew she needed to wake up.

She just wasn’t ready yet.

The flame-haired Jedi Knight remained tucked into the side of the Minister of Science, almost, more doll-like than human. She seemed perfect in her imperfections while the Dreaming stole her senses away. She slowly replenished the energy that she had utilized to aid those in the Atrisian Medical Facilities—But if she had known what had happened in the interim? That people were suffering, changing, being made anew into decaying beings?

Nothing could have kept her from the surface. Not John—Not anything.

As it were, she found herself walking a dreamscape, enjoying a nice, quiet stroll through an Atrisian Garden. Blossoms dotted the air and a sweet, saccharine scent teased her nose, causing the Jedi to smile inadvertently. That small piece of joy was not to last. Instead of a floral aroma, the fragrance changed, and deepened. It didn’t smell right. Instead of light and airy it almost seemed cloying. Overpowering.

Wrong.

The flowers and garden faded whilst she walked—As if it had never been. Her eyes were filled with tears unshed, causing jade orbs to glimmer, and break. The rank and pungent smell, mixed, with a tinge of sickening sweetness was familiar. It was as if someone had taken a few drops of cheap perfume and treated a piece of rotten meat with it. Eventually, she felt her stomach turn. It saturated everything. Sticking to her skin, clothes, until it eventually settled in her throat. This…This was decomposition.

Potent, Decomposition. It felt like she was breathing in a mass grave.

The ground shook, slowly, and eventually, the earth gave way to human hands that pulled at loose dirt. Mud caked beneath their nails while they sought the sky. Gianna could only watch. They didn’t seem to see her. Moving precisely in patterns that seemed to have a mind of their own. Something directed them. Guiding them. Where had the dead come from? Who had raised them?

Initially, she thought of the Sith Empire. Yet—It didn’t fit.

In the blink of an eye she found that her scenery had changed. When she focused, she was faced with something new, unlike the others, and she couldn’t quite fathom it. Was this a creature of armageddon? A herald of death? He was wrapped inside a wall. Jar’kai? The undead were digging, going beneath it in droves.

Grrwunhoooll Agaburry would see a fair-skinned female suddenly standing before him in soft, blue, unadorned robes. There was no light, no fanfare, nor any sort of display to herald her arrival. She was simply there.

"I’m trying to make them see reason. True reason..." - Kezeroth​

Hair the color of fire rolled in a breeze that didn’t exist. If he looked closely enough, he would realize that he could actually see through her. Regardless, Kezeroth would see her expression. Her sadness was palpable, but beneath that, lay a steady sense of hope. She was a brightness in the dark. A light, a beacon, where none ought to exist. “…Is this reason?”

She could see decaying bodies shambling toward Walkers and Tanks. The remains of a strange, bejeweled, city glimmered all around. Eyes the color of soft, lush grass, turned toward the creature that should have terrified her. Gianna, by all rights, should have been horrified. To know. To see it. To understand. “Is this reason?”

Could he hear her? Feel, as she felt?

The aching of a people rendered low, destroyed, and echoing with loss, terror, and sadness in the Force?

It wasn’t just the Atrisian and Confederate forces that she mourned. It was the turned. The afflicted. Not all of them were mindless. They did not feel pain—But some could still recognize loss.

“Forgive me…I only see madness…”

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Location: Surviving in Xam'Chi
Friends: Srina Talon │ John Locke │ Eira Talon │ Gerwald Lechner │ The Monster
Enemies: Slaad │ Darth Immortuos │ Xenro

The scream was no more than a Force Bellow; something Maliphant had faced a thousand times and more. Sidious, Revan, Bane, each had taught him counters to almost everything one could imagine in the Dark Side - and yet, as he stood their, bearing down this cry, he could feel the true expanse of it. Inexorable, inevitable, unforgiving.​

​

He could do little more than raise his hand, and braise himself for it as it blooded by him to the surrounding debris; of every shape, jagged edge, and form - all weapons in themselves. When it ceased, Maliphant still stood - but his ears slowly began to trickle the blood he so desperately need now. With breath short, with vision blurring in and out of focus, he settled himself; though Srina moved first, to take the attention away from him.​

​

Somehow, he wanted to stop her - demand she get back… but he knew just as well as both of them she wasn’t going to listen to him even if he asked. There was a desperation in it - to let him die for something he needed to protect; but the reality of it was he knew their only chance was to fight together. A heavy sigh, and Maliphant took a moment to dull the pain that racked his body.​

​

He didn’t need it to heal yet - The Dark Side would make sure he could still fight, but he had to stop it from distracting him. A hand moved over the wound, and a fire surged from his finger tips to burn away a piece of his clothing, and the wound itself. Maliphant stifled the cry that pressed itself to his throat - but it was that momentary pain that would help funnel his next movements.​

​

While Srina moved to Slaad’s side, Maliphant moved to the other - and with his focus elsewhere; he let his hand raise, and channeled all that pain he felt into a harsh display of power. Thunderous lightning ripped from his fingertips in a black, white fringed amalgamation of the legendary power - and it would move instantly, yet ever carefully; for every strand of the lightning seemed to dance around Srina, never touch her - only searching for the Necrotic flesh, to turn it to ash before their very eyes.​

​

Even if they could kill Slaad, there was a million more infected coming towards them - there was no doubt about that. Through their connection, Srina could understand his thoughts, feel everything he felt - and that concern of it…​

​

“We need to hold him off long enough for rescue…”, he offered.​

​

Though deeper, he feared how desperate the infection was getting. Would the Confederacy drop a bomb on them to burn away all organic material? He had no doubt they would to him, but to their Exarch?​

​

It was a quiet fear, but one that seemed to grow by the moment.​