Annihilation End of an Era: AC Annihilation of Korriban

[First Sister]

Location: Mawite Excavations, Tombs - Korriban
Objective: Feed Master
Side: Defenders
Dark: TK ( Darth Carnifex ) │ BoTM ( The Mongrel Tegan Starfall )
Light: AC ( Mikhail Grayson ) │ NIO ( DECEASED Aron Gowrie )
Direct Engagement: Mikhail Grayson

The great work of the Eclipsing Mission marched ever onward.

It ceased not for the fall of an Empire or the rise of many self-proclaimed Sith’ari in its ruins. It continued in spite of fervent crusades from hordes of pilfering heretics, grand declarations of new galactic orders, and elated celebrations after the apparent defeat of the Empire. Ultimately, the Empire had been a means to an end, a means which was now exhausted, in spite of its once terrible might. For the Sister, she was now liberated from the work of defending it, beating back endless legions of traitors, heretics, and apostates. However, her Master and God yet still demanded a harvest of souls to purify, those of the strong, yet corrupt.

Jedi.

The diminutive electromancer had come alone, landing within the besieged lines of The Mongrel in only a spherecraft. The craft took off after she touched ground, having directed the onboard Tsudakyr Drone to fly to a location on Korriban a distance from the area until she called it back, in order to prevent the spherecraft from being damaged in the battle that would ensue.

Already, the Maw forces were maneuvering into defensive and offensive positions. Hordes of riders, worm-like monsters, savage berserkers, and yet more moved around her, chanting to their heretical idols in preparing themselves for the battle. Cutting a diminutive figure, the Sister’s presence initially seemed to go largely unnoticed as she moved through the dig site. However, once she reached the lines of the Lugubraa mercenaries, the Sister sensed a strong presence ( Mikhail Grayson ), one that was undoubtedly potent in the Force, while radiating a corrupting Light which the Qilin found to be mildly repulsive on an intuitive level.

Nevertheless, the Sister pressed on, before she was overlooking a large hill.

Then, her feet left the ground.

Though seemingly heedless of the torrents of slugthrower fire being rained down on the Ashlan forces, the electromancer embraced the empowering energies of Bogan to keep her out of the slugs’ lethal trajectories, all while soaring along the flanks of the Crusader lines, before penetrating their ranks in a flash of galvanic energy. Fulminations of Dark Side electricity were cast from her fingertips towards the Crusader infantry, cooking men and women from the inside out as electricity bounced from one soldier to another in the manner of an ARC caster. Bodies were set alight as they writhed and twitched in agony, but they did not suffer for long before she felt their souls depart.

A good initial harvest, but alone, it could not justify the Sister’s presence.

The prick of the injector in her neck, full of the energy-restoring cocktail she had formulated herself, brought the Sister back to full strength from the slight depletion she had suffered in engaging the soldiers. However, by now it was only a cautionary measure, as her endurance had improved since she was last on Korriban, studying in the Royal Academy before being called back to Malsheem.

Then, after placing the autoinjector on her belt, she waited.

When the Jedi found her, he would see her standing in the middle of the ten soldiers she had slain, an unignited lightsaber in her left hand and a luminescent cyan glow in her eyes.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Electromancer’s Chitin
  • Energy Shield
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Alchemical Talisman(s)
    • Jin'Wodasir - Pins of Protection (2)
    • Spirit Anchor
  • Left Gauntlet
    • Repulsor Weapon
  • Right Gauntlet
    • LPD-40 IceJet Miniaturized CryoBan Projector
  • Utility Belt
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • Supernal Infusion
  • Droid
    • IBIS Drone
• Jasmine Lightsaber
  • Magenta Kyber Crystal
• Whimsy Knife

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: The Fatalis, High Orbit over Korriban
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw | Darth Carnifex | KV-6000 | Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Tristan Evore | Fiolette Fortan | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Aerarii Tithe | Sergeant Omen | Albrecht F. Herlock

More ships continued to emerge from hyperspace, taking up positions across the system as they prepared for open war. Tu'teggacha growled low in his throat, a wet, sloshing sound like the churning of a polluted ocean. Once again the galaxy was uniting to oppose the Brotherhood's brutal onslaught... or perhaps just to finish off the fallen Sith, and catching the Maw here had been but a fortunate accident of fate for them. The Taskmaster recognized some of these foes. The Pride of Anaxes, the ship that had slipped past his defensive screen at Csilla and dealt one of the final blows to the Mercy, was among them.

Perhaps this battle would be the Ebruchi's chance for revenge.

He also recognized the Tortured Rebirth, the personal starship of Sergeant Omen . Tu'teggacha remembered it well; the brave little craft, heavily modified until it was far more warship than freighter, had dared to attack the damaged Fatalis head-on during the escape from Csilla. The pilot was skilled, strong in the Force, and almost suicidally bold; he knew he would have to watch out for that one, for he was one of those heroes who could swing the tide of battle at a critical moment. Destroying him would have to be made a priority before that could happen... but there were so many priorities now, so many enemies to face.

The Ashlans were already on the move, several of their capital ships approaching the coordinates where the Maw warfleet held position. The enemy commander was being cautious, keeping her force in tight formation and making quick, restrained probing maneuvers. It was more restrained than Tu'teggacha would have been, given her numerical superiority, but the conservative decision was a wise one; it would allow her to conserve her ships, not wasting any of them in a headlong attack but maneuvering tactically. The Crusade clearly aimed to use this fleet in many more conquests yet, and would not throw away their lives.

"Two battlecruisers and a battle carrier are closing in, Taskmaster," the sensors officer reported. A small thrust, but a meaningful one, testing the Maw's defenses... and perhaps trying to draw them out of position. At Csilla, the Fatalis had nearly been destroyed while attempting to cover the boarding of Alliance One and the attempted kidnapping of the Chancellor. It had been forced to retreat under a withering hail of fire, almost breaking apart as the NIO and Alliance doggedly pursued it. Tu'teggacha had no intention of repeating that mistake. "Hold position," he ordered, "and scramble our fighter squadrons."

No doubt the enemy carrier would soon launch its deadly cargo.

As the range between the two groups of ships ticked down, the Ebruchi tapped his knobby fingers on the armrests of his command throne, waiting for his moment. The Fatalis was a mobile fortress, but also an artillery piece. It carried six MegaCaliber turbolasers and an array of orbital autocannons, both designed to fire at extreme ranges, as well as heavy mass driver cannons whose range was effectively unlimited; there was no inertia in space, so the deadly projectiles they fired would keep flying forever unless and until they hit something. The Crucifix Is bore orbital autocannons as well, adding to the far-reaching firepower.

The Ashlan vessels would still be well out of the range of turbolaser batteries, ion cannon arrays, and concussion missile blisters, so it would be impossible for the Brotherhood capital ships to open up on them with their full firepower until they came much closer... but Tu'teggacha was fairly certain that his long-range weapons outranged the armaments of the Ashlan capital ships. That meant that, for a considerable amount of their approach, the Brotherhood could open fire on their enemies without getting hit in return, even if it was only with some of their weapons. "You may fire when ready," he burbled, watching the Ashlans close in.

Huge long-range cannons spun up, glowing with crimson energy...

Even as the battle was about to truly begin, however, more foes of the Sith - and Maw - jumped into the system. Tu'teggacha growled again as the Alliance fleet (or a substantial battle group, at least) made its approach, getting a tactical sense of the battlefield. The fleet appeared to rely heavily on support vessels, though it could afford to with the fearsome bulk of the Morai at its center. Now that was a ship to match the Fatalis, and it wasn't the only one the Alliance could muster. There was a reason they held the center of the galaxy, a reason they had won their war with the Empire: industrial capacity. They could outproduce almost anyone.

Sure, freedom and justice and Jedi, but industrial power also defined them.

There was no telling whether the Alliance would focus first on the Maw or on Darth Carnifex, one of their most hated foes, but either way the Brotherhood would ultimately be in trouble. The addition of the GA forces to the already formidable Ashlan fleet only further tilted the odds against Tu'teggacha and his small warfleet. They would need the Supreme Weapon in order to have any chance of winning here, and probably even to survive... so it was good to hear confirmation from Derix Tirall , a promise that the Avatar of War would be unleashed. Despite the strain of the battle, the Ebruchi was eager to witness it in action.

And perhaps they would survive long enough for it to arrive, for at that moment the vast Maw Irregular Fleet emerged from hyperspace, the first major reinforcements the Brotherhood had received in the face of all these foes. Sularen had come, answering the Taskmaster's call for aid. It was a vast force, built in secret among the hidden shipyards of the Deep Core, and certainly dwarfed the small warfleet Tu'teggacha had assembled. With such power at his fingertips, it was astounding that Sularen had ever been driven from Byss. No doubt his vengeance would be terrible if he was ever given the chance to take it. It might begin here.

The comm channel opened, and Tu'teggacha inclined his bulbous head in getting. "The fleet is prepared for battle," he told the Grand Overseer. "We will engage with the first Ashlan thrust within moments. Thus far they have kept much in reserve, preparing to test our defenses. Between them and the other enemy fleets, we will be hard pressed, even with your formidable reinforcements. I would advise you not to overextend yourself, Grand Overseer, lest you become surrounded and picked off by our foes." The Ebruchi's dark, glassy eyes glittered. "We must only hold until the Weapon arrives."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition / Actions

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought	Preparing to fire on the Pillar of Retribution
Crimson Offering, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Preparing to fire on the Divine Purpose
Severing Blade, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Preparing to fire on the Rapture
Sanguine Cruor, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Preparing to fire on the Rapture
Vile Nativity, a Samael-class Frigate	Defensive Position
Ember of Sin, a Samael-class Frigate	Defensive Position
Opened Vein, a Samael-class Frigate	Defensive Position
Wretched Fate, a Samael-class Frigate	Defensive Position
Hollow Heart, a Samael-class Frigate	Defensive Position

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Allies: Ashlan Crusade
Enemies: Defenders of this Dust Bowl.

Ishani Dinn
Maybe Creuat & Ishida Ashina​

He did not like this world.

Ziost was deeply unpleasant for him to step foot on. It did have such deep history with the Sith Empire for millennia. But Korriban was a different beast altogether. It was here it all started. Where the exiles from Tython mingled with the native Sith. Refining their dark arts with the native's sorcery. From there sprung the Sith that the Galaxy knows today.

A bunch of exiles and criminals stealing from the native people and then subjugating them. From what he knew, the ancient Sith were hardly paragons of civility, but he wondered what would have happened to him if the ancient exiles never interfered with their culture. Would they have simply died out? Their own culture eating them from the inside out? Would they have risen to become a galactic power on their own? Or would they have simply stayed here on Korriban and only expanded to a few neighbouring systems.

It was something he would never really know. And there was little point right now in ruminating over what-ifs regarding this world.

With some hope, this would be the first and last time in his life that he'd ever step foot on this dusty rock.

When word reached his ears that Greyson and his fanatics would be finally making the push on this world, it was only natural that the New Jedi Order see fit to throw their hat into the mix. This was where their first major strike into the Sith Empire started after all. It was only fitting that they come again during the end of the war.

And to think, it must now be only a shadow of its former self. Where once the full might of an Empire was defending this world. Now all that remained were shattered remnants of the savages of the Maw.

But he was not here for conflict, he was not here for bloodshed. So many on this world were but victims to the predations of the Dark Side. So many civilians, so many citizens abandoned by their former masters. His purpose here was to try and save those he could. Which was exactly what called him to the academy. Slipping in silently ahead of the main forces, he moved deeper into the winding halls, senses extending outwards, trying to latch on and hone in on any particularly intense sources of fear or anxiety that might lead him towards an vulnerable acolyte or civilian.

All so that he may deliver them from this forsaken world.

 

[Derix Tirall]

P O W E R

Operation: FINAL DAWN​

Meanwhile Aboard the Vindicator

The bright light of hyperspace finally began to recede. One by one, the fleet escorting the great weapon exited the blue realm, followed by the dark and hulking figure. Within the hangars of the leading vessels, rows upon rows of Tie Fighters and other heinous attack craft buzzed with great ferocity as they sped into the field of battle. Admiral Alden nodded with approval as the warships organized themselves into attack formation, with sections of the massive fleet forming a globe defensive perimeter around the Avatar of War.

Final Dawn Armada Avatar of War [Primary Command Vessel; Superweapon] Vindicator - Ressurection Class Tyrant - Sovereign Class Adjudicator - Sovereign Class 6 Praetorian Class Star Destroyers 8 Supremacy Class Star Destroyers 20 Autarch Class Star Destroyers Many Frigates Many Corvettes Many Cruisers TIE/ad Fighters TIE/ad Interceptors

He quickly scanned the available data, eyes widening at how quickly the enemy combatants had assembled such a large force. During the War above Cssila it had taken hours for them to truly mount an effective defense, though perhaps they had learned from their earlier mistakes. None the matter however, as they had learned as well.

With the Final Dawn armada growing by the literal hour in the forges of Exegol and O'Reen, the Admiral had gathered a significant force to defend the great weapon at the behest of his lords, Sularen and Tirall. Battlecruisers and Star Destroyers lead frigates and cruisers that had never met their match.

"Sularen and Tu'teggacha will handle the Alliance and Ashlan forces" Tirall's presence on the bridge, even through hologram was unnerving. "Engage the New Imperial Fleet"

The Admiral bowed to the figure. "It will be done, my lord"

Within minutes, a detachment of the defense fleet had been dispatched to destroy the New Imperial Armada spearheaded by the infamous Grand Admiral Caarlyle Rausgeber . Alden frowned at this, Rausgeber had long been a leading figure in the naval world. A shame today would be his undoing.

"Praise the Dark Three" He mused.

​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW

​

And so it was.

In the final throes of death after the great vanquishing of their order, the rats spilled out from their havens. The last survivors of the New Sith Order's terrible purge that had utterly destroyed the Sith and rebuilt them in glorious purpose stronger than before. The prophecy had been fulfilled as Darth Vinaze had predicted, the Sith'ari had come.

The Dark Lord had been reluctant to believe in prophecy or omen, he alone had seen the Sith for what they were. Weak. Divided. Vainglorious. There were at least a dozen pretenders to the title of Sith'ari, false idols one and all preaching in a state of complacency. The Order was shattered between squabbling Lords, mindless drones, and heretical dogma that defied the very nature of the Sith as their hold over the galaxy crumbled under the weight of civil war and schism.

So he destroyed it...

The Dark Lord replaced that which had failed with something new, something stronger. A New Sith Order that would carry on the Sith Code in it's purist state and reward those who would take the galaxy by the reigns. Above all else, the Grand Plan would be carried out, the Sith would once more rule the galaxy. Since the Feast of Folly on Mustafar, the burning of Felucia, and the fall of Thule; Sith flocked to his banner, the time running out on the last surviving remnants that hid here in the sand as both the New Sith Order and the Brotherhood of the Maw came upon it's surface to finish what they had started. He could sense the fighting taking place across the planet's surface, the hatred, the bloodshed, and the sheer violence unleashed. It was intoxicating.

As the priests and cultists chanted in hushed whispers shadows danced around the room. The Dark Side flowed into the chamber like a thick fog of miasma, the crackling light that spat between Sith runes intensified, and the walls themselves began to feel like they were converging in on the assembled party. The unholy stone echoed as the ur-Kittât resonated louder and louder, Darth Howl rose to meet the Dark Lord with a zealous gaze mired in prophetic power. Such was the gift of the Kel Dor whom had joined his New Sith Order, such was the strength of a dark seer. "Eyah seh maat, shu kor huaan." The Dark Lord cooed soothingly, his gaze falling upon the ritual building upon itself in power. The Jedi were coming and he was counting on their arrival.. and their blood, to finish his ritual upon the blood-starved altar.

"It will be their undoing, ensure the ritual is not interrupted."

He felt a tug at his mind, a faint echo of words from his humble dark servant Tu'teggacha aboard the Fatalis. So he gave the order, "Kill them. Kill them all." The authorization for the Ebruchi to do what needed done, once Derix Tirall arrived with the weapon it would be all over. In truth, he would see to it that this world was left a broken husk like Csilla, out with the old in with the new. Let it all die.

An audible boom rocked the sacrificial chamber, the thick miasma of darkness taking form throughout the dread altar room and in it's shadow a figure would emerge. The altar would ripple away from it's humble stone into the form of a masterpiece crafted only by the darkest artisans. Skulls of the sacrificed Jedi long passed revealed before the naked eyes, the stone shriveled and shrieked within the Force. An echo of the past, a vision of the future. Spirits long dead, apparitions of Nightsister Matriarchs let loose from the vessel and conjoined unholy matron Pom Stych Tivé , their dark magicks unfurled, empowered began to strengthen the ritual and restore the chamber.

The Dark Lord remained motionless, he glared with souless eyes burning with the fires of Mustafar and the emptiness of Malachor into the direction of the newcomer. His hand rose to the battle ready Maestus and Dakrul as his lips parted to speak, he had seen this one before on Mustafar and now she was here aiding them in their task. He remained silent, letting the Lethan's query sit in the air for the Nightsister to answer, to him she had chosen her side well and there was little else that needed said. He gave a firm nod to the Matriarch and then turned to the powerful Heathen Priest Dakrul and the protective Palatine Guard at his disposal lurking in the dark corners of the chamber. With a sinister glare he spoke, "Seal the corridors, ensure the Jedi have a clear path to me. If you find any Sith that are not among our ilk.. kill them." With that the Dark Lord returned to the great work, he sent a call out into the void to the greatest champions of the Ashlans to come to him..

Cedric Grayson
Auteme

​

 

[Khagan Harrow]

B U R N _ T H E _ W I T C H
Korriban Academy
Near Ritual Chamber
​

Allies: The Forces of Light, AC
Enemies: BOTM, Maestus

The Sith Empire was dead. Their reign of terror and suppression would finally come to an end, once their remnants were burned away from the face of the galaxy. This would be a long process, but Khagan was enduring. Every Sith head taken further fueled the conflagration burning inside his spirit. He burned with hatred for the Sith, and the Sith in turn provided the kindling for that fire to rage. It was the perfect cycle of revenge. So long as Sith still breathed his work would not be done.

Now, his eyes were set on Korriban. Faded blues scanned the blazing horizon overlooking the valleys outside the Academy. A red dune sea, broken up by hills and mountains that burned a fiery orange under Korriban's sun, stretched out there. Warships battled above, armies clashed below, but the deserts were dead and cold. Bereft of most heat, and any passionate fire that may have once lingered there. Korriban was a broken world, a shadow of its former self. Too many empires rose and fell on its surface, and too many tomb raiders plundered its riches. What Khagan would have given to see it during the height of its beauty.

How much he would sacrifice just to see all it burn under the fire of the Crusade during the height of its splendour.

He wrenched his eyes away from the horizon and pushed into the Academy. Whether Korriban was a husk or not, there were Sith afoot. That meant work to be done. Holy work that would never cease.

The inside of the Academy was barren for the most part. Large swathes of it stood entirely empty, more still held mostly the remnants of their former inhabitants. Aside from the occasional patrol of crazed dark side lunatics to avoid, nothing substantial encountered Khagan as he crept through the shadows. None of this was his concern. Whatever the Sith were doing here, their minions were mere distractions. The heart lay deeper in the lion's den, only there could it be torn out.

He couldn't feel the Force, he was not fortunate enough to have been blessed with its awesome powers, but still, an uneasy feeling tightened his stomach. Sorcery permeated the air, the stench of death and decay, essential to the work of any servant of the Dark. It kept growing stronger, threatening to overwhelm his senses, but he held firm. There was no time for nausea, not when he was getting this close.

Drawing his blaster pistol, he crept along a long section of a wall on the second story of the academy. Chanting echoed down the halls, growing louder and louder, until, at a doorway that broke up the wall, it grew distinct enough to make out individual words. The door marked the entrance onto a balcony, which, Khagan assumed, overlooked his target. He stopped at its precipice and edged his head past the corner just far enough to take in the scene below.

A grand chamber stretched out there, prepared for a grand ritual. He could make out the forms of several humanoids, many of whom worshiped a central figure perched atop with sinister chants, others still appeared almost undead, casting off unnatural bouts of black smoke. The entire chamber was replete with dark energy that surged toward Khagan like a tidal wave of nauseating abhorrence. He had reached the pits of human despair and had found sinners deep in a gleeful reverie.

His expression curled into disgust underneath the bandages. A hive of vermin and sin stretched out before him, and he had to stay his hand. Alone, he was unlikely to make a difference, but once the Crusade made it here, he would hold the element of surprise to turn the tide. Until then, he would wait and observe.

His eyes flicked from person to person there below, they lingered on those who did not participate in the ritual itself. Particularly, one almost inhuman figure that was best described as a witch, and a red-skinned twi'lek who, he surmised from the way she carried herself and from her position, was likely as an enforcer, or guardian of the master at the chambers' centre. He furrowed his brows as he watched her, studying her to assess her capability. Something would have to be done about them. Sooner, rather than later.

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Sweat running down her back as she waited impatiently for the arrival of the golem, Ishani tried to stay focused and alert. It was difficult, given that she could hear sounds of battle in the distance and voices somewhere just outside the deserted academy. The floor occasionally trembled from the shockwaves of explosions, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. Part of her feared the entire structure of the newly rebuilt Royal Academy would collapse on top of her.

To keep her mind sharp, she tried to make plans. Where would she go once she reached her ship? Folende? No, too close to the Bryn, and she wasn’t sure if her and Arc’s claim of sovereignty there was valid now that everything they knew was gone. Master Arenais? Force, but that would be difficult to explain when Arcturus came looking for her. If he ever did come looking for her...

Naboo? Heh, she couldn’t afford it, and from what she’d heard the CIS might not be so tolerant of Sith anymore now that they’d voted that Verd guy out of office. Coruscant? She’d have to be really desperate to turn to Dagon and the baby-killing NJO this late in the game…

Home?

Maybe going home wouldn’t be so bad, she thought, even as hopelessness gripped at her heart like the claws of a slow, meticulous predator. Stop thinking about it, she warned herself as her hands began to tremble. But her thoughts would not stop racing, and that damned golem was taking its time getting there.

Get a fething grip, Ish. You know what will happen if these crusaders find you unprepared.

A memory resurfaced. Her mother driving the family’s airspeeder, her father pontificating from the passenger seat. It was a break during one of their usual arguments; somehow politics had been brought up, and it inevitably set her father off. He started ranting about the civil war, that bloody and brutal conflict he had fought in before Ishani was born.

“Do you know what the Jedi did to the people they found? The civilians who tried to defend themselves?”

From the backseat she had caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. A half Umbaran, he habitually wore sunglasses to protect his light-sensitive eyes. It was rare that she ever saw him without them. In her memory, it was nighttime on Chaldea, and her father, having caught her gaze, took off his sunglasses and met her stare.

“The Sith love nothing better than to subjugate. They came here and they pillaged, they raped, they enslaved. The Jedi, on the other hand, and all the rest of them who claimed to follow the Light—whatever the feth their particular sect termed ‘the Light’, anyway—they would take prisoners of war. They tried to convert us, make us see their Light. And for those who refused, oh, they didn’t torture them. But they couldn’t let them go, not when they would just go back to fighting on the enemy side, and there wasn’t enough space, not enough food, not enough resources to spare in keeping them prisoner. So they put them to the sword, and proclaimed their purity afterwards. Because they had not soiled themselves by committing the greater crimes of pillaging, raping, and enslaving. They had simply put these people out of their misery—”

“Shut up,” Ishani’s mother growled between grit teeth, having finally had enough. “You’d forgive and forget what they did at the first sign of the Galactic Alliance taking over, just to consolidate your own—”

“To save my family and my people from these hollow, heartless men and women who think themselves righteous, Charisse!—”

In the present, Ishani pushed sweat-soaked hair back from her face. Why oh why hadn’t she left at an earlier date? Then she wouldn’t be in this mess. But no, she had decided to stay here and wait for Arcturus. Which was stupid, clearly. She’d become much too dependent on her boyfriend, building her life around him. She had her own ship—but nowhere to go without him. He’d even changed the shape of her dreams, her desires and hopes for the future.

But Arcturus wasn’t here, and the voices were getting closer, echoing through the academy’s halls from the inside. She thought she could hear her golem approaching as well, clay scraping against marble. Or was it the enemy dragging bodies away to be burned?

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her heart fly into her mouth, only to sigh in relief. Her golem had arrived, a clay chimera. Half woman, half serpent, it stopped and gazed dully at her, awaiting her command.

“Follow me,” she whispered. “Guard my back.”

The medusan monster produced an energy bow from its back and slung a glowing pink arrow, slithering along behind her.

She left the safety of the stone pillar and crept toward the hall, a route she knew would take her toward the hangars. But no sooner had she reached the archway, she became aware of other presences closing in on her position.

Her right hand opened to accept the arrival of her blade, summoned from a pocket dimension, while her left hand clutched a lightsaber. She took a deep breath, then stepped out, weapons held at the ready.

“I know you’re there,” she said, hating how soft and timid she sounded. “I don’t want any trouble... I'm leaving now...”

Aaran Tafo and maybe Creuat Ishida Ashina and Bernard of Arca​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Darth Mori //: Darth Daiara //:
//: G L I T T E R & G O L D //:

​

Korriban.

It was a land with a devastating history for the Sith and the birthplace of the Darkside. Here Sith would travel to learn and become stronger. At one time, this was a place where the Sith would learn, residing in temples to their dark desires. Not anymore, with the Empire collapsing and becoming nothing more than a ghost of their previous selves - there was nothing more for the Sith here.

Or so most thought.

Dirt and rubble shifted under the pair of leather boots, the Force creating a breeze to erase the technomancer’s steps. Some rumors circulated through her networks, someone had resurfaced, and Allyson remembered their ties to the former emperor. Slowly and steady, she moved through the blood-red sand. How fitting for a Sith world, the ground covered in blood-colored dirt. The Corellian scoffed at the thought and entered where she had been tracking Vesta and her companion.

There was a familiarity that pulled at her. The woman who had accompanied the Sith Lord was someone she knew, someone she had saved, and one of her biggest regrets. Aradia was an unfortunate girl who seemed to find herself over her head. Even the first time the pair had met, she was unconscious and assumed dead. Not taking Aradia from the Sith when she had left pained the Spy, but she couldn’t let those attachments hinder her mission.

In the end, Aradia would eventually play a more significant part in Allyson’s life being involved with her padawan. The knowledge she had only picked up second hand, but with Aradia came information on Zaavik.

She couldn’t think of her wayward padawan; the boy was on his own journey - learning who he was in this galaxy. It wasn’t the Corellian’s place to interfere even though he went against their home - even Allyson struggled with feeling like the Alliance was home. Shaking her head, she began to climb, hidden by the Force and from the Force through Force Cloak and Void in the Force. She was nothing as she rose to gain a better view.

Words muffled through the area, and Allyson knew she was drawing closer. Deeper into the hell hole of the Sith world. A chill hung in the air, and Allyson did her best to push back the lingering thoughts of darkness and death. How easy it was for one to fall to the dark side, it was a shortcut, and it fed on the residual hate one held in their heart.

Finally, Allyson got a complete view of the Sith Lord and the Apprentice as she finished climbing. Drawing her bow from her back, she strung an arrow and focused on the Force itself. The tip of the arrow began to glow brightly with the light of the Force. Without warning, the Spy attempted the assassination to slay a devil before its plans came to fruition.
The arrow sang through the air, poised to strike Vesta in the throat. There was a hope that if she could kill Vesta - she could save Aradia.

If she saved Aradia - she could save Zaavik. ​

​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

CITY OF ASHES
KORRIBAN ORBIT
STYGIAN CALDERA
Kirie Thalia Senn
Darth Carnifex First Sister KV-6000

​

"We won't be falling exactly but the principle is sound, Commander."

General San Tekka nodded in approval of the two young Jedi. This Stygian Crusade was pushing the New Jedi Order's resources to their limit. An operation of such dire nature merited a strike team of Jedi Knights yet most were fighting with the Ashlan zealots to drive any remaining Sith off Korriban's surface and purify their unholy shrines. Darth Carnifex was exposed, an opportunity which could not be passed up.

"This is our target," Zark turned to Padawan Ito and activated a mobile holoemitter on his vambrace, "Sith battlecruiser, designation Eternal Rule. The mission, my young padawan, is to board her and bring the rogue emperor Kaine Zambrano to justice."

His face was lined with tension but the Jedi Master maintained a serene demeanor. Another squadron of X-Wings launched, fusial thrust engines temporarily drowning out everything else. Star Corps marines jogging double time in formation saluted him as they passed on the way to their transport. Zark motioned for the others to follow him as he strode for their designated boarding pods.

"You will leave Carnifex to me. This foe is beyond either of you. He was a Dark Lord once and where Zambrano holds court there will be an apprentice. Maybe several. I am relying on you both to have my back."

There was a shudder in the deck underneath him as the Starhawk returned fire with fore mounted rotary point defense cannons and antimissile octets. Distant novas erupted near enough to Korriban's orbit that the heavy capital ship duel could be witnessed from planetside with a pair of simple macrobinoculars. Tracer fire from the City of Ashes tracked the baradium warheads on approach and several more were prematurely detonated well outside effective range. Both ships were now exchanging turbolaser fire but still the Alliance battleship maintained its collision course.

Massive power generators deep within the Starhawk's bowels hummed to life slowly building charge in each of its magnicite enhanced heavy tractor beam projectors. A brilliant blue glow steadily increased in luminosity across her prow. Still aboard the flight decks several battalions of Star Corps marines waited in their gunships and boarding spikes for a signal to launch which would come any moment now.

 

[Dakrul]

Location: Korriban, Inside the altar room
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Sith
Foes: Ashlan Crusade, NIO, GA, Sith

Dakrul was getting used to the cold ebon texture that made up these chambers, it was a change to the fire and fiends that he was used to.

Although there were plenty demons present. A creature entirely made of twisting entangled burning tendrils. Maestus . And closer to his dark lord a headless variant with a halo of flames that cast real shadows onto the walls. Darth Howl . Lined up in the back near himself a dozen flaming humanoids stood watch, each with a black heart beating in their chest. Pontifical Palatini.

But like a sudden change in weather, the Heathen Priest could feel that the brewing storm take form, and soon they would be at its center. As if he were standing in the seabed perceiving a wave break from deep beneath it, he could spot where the darkness faded and the fire began many levels above him.

Inside this lightless pit, they were saved the searing heat of war, but it would spread, he knew so. Kindled by the souls of thousands that hated, thousands that were ready to kill, to murder in the name of their belief. For their cause. Here to end an empire forged, broken, and each time reborn through these very conflicts and stirred emotions. It was the nature of the Sith, in their blood.

But Dakrul knew the difference, for all their faiths were flawed, nothing but tales of greatness and glory. No Dakrul had seen death, and afterlife and hell. He knew the inside of the Nether, he had seen where souls go to die. How they were shredded and fed to the engines of life. A fuel for endless war and death and rebirth.

The domain of The Avatars, the true gods and rulers of fate. The only deities worthy of prayer and devotion, the only belief worth fighting for.

And it was his sacred mission to correct these heathens, to cure them of the illness and ignorance. To dominate the souls and guide them into the afterlife… and back.

Darth Solipsis words washed over him, each syllable a gift from their savior, each a small part to play in the accomplishing of the greater goal. The Voice that had been speaking to him inside the belly of the Gehinnon ever since his birth, to now be so close. How exhilarating.

“Kill them…”

The Faceless Hunger bowed his iron crown towards the Sith'ari. Not daring to address his holiness by words. He waved at the twelve dark princes, together they would bring glory to the Brotherhood. He was silently stunned at their beauty, they must taste so much sweeter, so much more potent than the “Students” he had devoured before. He savored the prospect. Licking his metaphorical teeth at the idea of ripping those beating hearts out of their chest and letting the tender flesh run down his throat.

He would have loved to indulge in the fantasy further when he sensed a new presence, he directed his eyeless gaze towards the balconies in the higher floors. A figure made of smoke and coal hidden in the shadows. A creature not bathed in fire, mortal and machine, a soldier. Khagan Harrow.

He reached out mentally, a practice so ordain it was comparable to breathing. “ Maestus ohh guiding one, a solider has entered these halls” both his left arms lifted and simultaneously pointed into the perches above.

Both the Darth and the Plapetine Guards were made aware.

Dakrul then set off accompanied by a few of his graces black-hearted elite. They served as they were instructed, to cull any who would dare disturb the ritual and guide the light-bearers deeper into the darkness. Armed with his necromantic staff and a dread blade at his side he was prepared to set the world ablaze, to usher in the same flames that burned for eternity in the undead plane of Nether, to prepare a feast for his hell-bound kin.

 

[Ana Malixar]

Objective 2: Bloodsoaked Valley
Allies: Open
Enemies: Open

Ana stumbled her way around the valley on Korriban. She'd been largely absent from everything since the Maw had invaded Felucia. She knew the Sith Eternal was fading--and fast. The words of Tu'teggacha still echoed in her mind, as they had for the past few weeks: "Remember this, young Sith: there is a New Sith Order rising." There was an undeniable desire within here not to become irrelevant, the very order she'd come to serve was evaporating around her. Yet she persisted, determined to understand everything she could before it fell. She was currently wandering near an old grave on the outskirts of the valley of the dark lords. It had been overlooked by many, including the Maw who were intent on discovering every relic that lay within this valley before the outsiders destroyed everything. But she had heard rumors that despite the plundering that had repeatedly ravaged this valley, something lay within. It was a pipe dream, a hope that had little relevance to the truth. Nonetheless she persevered.

The tomb she had arrived at was rather ceremonial, it was indistinct and you could tell from the surroundings that many people had already been here before. Yet she felt a certain confidence that if she just ventured deeper than anyone had gone before she would find something. That belief alone caused her to venture past the horrific marking carved into stone a thousand years earlier. Markings that depicted people suffering, screaming, and dying. The pathway wasn't clean as she stepped over bones, mounds of sand, and other obstacles, but it didn't stop her. She saw that the main door to the tomb was already open and she ventured inside.

Once inside the tomb, it was as she expected: relatively indiscreet and basic. But as her studies had suggested, this was just a product of nobody knowing how to venture past this point. It was an obscure hope that she, a basic acolyte could figure out the code needed to go farther. And that hope alone hinged on the fact that you could go farther, which many Sith historians had concluded was impossible. She heard loud noises coming from outside the tomb, undoubtedly the sign of conflict on the planet, but she ignored it. She would need to concentrate if she was to figure out this tomb's secrets and blocking outside interference was one thing she was good at. She surveyed the walls carefully and hoped that something would reveal itself.

 

[Kirie]

-
LUNAR ORBIT
STYGIAN CALDERA
ALLIES: Zark San Tekka | Thalia Senn
ENEMIES: Darth Carnifex | First Sister | KV-6000

Kirie felt the derision emanating from Thalia and shifted her weight slightly as she was lectured. At first she felt shame at being blindsided, at thinking that she had the skill and experience to be of help, and, as usual, being wrong. A moment later she felt a sting of resentment. Who was this girl to be so dismissive, so annoyed at her?

She breathed out a sigh. Ignore the kid, don’t let her get to you. Centre yourself, there’s a job to do after all.

Kirie gave Thalia a sidelong glance, embarrassment reddening her cheeks. But, as she looked to Thalia, Kirie sensed something beneath the snark and derision, the same fear, the same gut-wrenching sensations that Kirie herself was feeling. Kirie frowned slightly. Thalia seemed too young to be out on the battlefield. But that was the Jedi way, she supposed.

“Thank you for explaining that to me.” Kirie said, offering the girl a small smile before turning back to Master San Tekka.

As he outlined the mission Kirie’s face paled. She did her best to stay steady in spite of the anxiety coiling around inside her. The Eternal Rule, Carnifex’s flagship. No longer was he the Sith Emperor, but there was no doubt he remained the fearful, dangerous man she had heard stories about since she was a teenager on Balmorra. Kirie did not like the idea of going in there to face him, but she couldn’t turn away now. As much as she hated the fact it was her who was roped into this mission, this was a chance to rid the Galaxy of a true evil, she couldn’t risk losing that chance.

“I understand. We’ll have your back.” Kirie said, glancing again at Thalia. She hoped it was true, that they could hold back the Sith apprentices, that Zark could hold his own against Carnifex.

The last rounds of marines took off into the void, and Kirie followed the pair into the boarding pod, trying her best not to think about the details of a device designed to fling them at high speed into a capital ship.

Well, Thalia and Master San Tekka seemed confident enough it’d work, so Kirie swallowed her feel and took her seat, buckling up her harness and triple-checking it was secure before looking up again.

“What about once we’re done, do we have an exit strategy?”

 

[Auteme]

Cedric Grayson | Taeli Raaf Darth Solipsis | Laertia Io ​

Just another battle.

Were she more like Cedric, she may have felt the same -- after all, it was not the first time she had fought on Korriban, though she hoped it would be the last. The last time she’d come with few Jedi allies, chief among them their esteemed leader and her best friend, Ryv; they’d come as one, faced the weight of Korriban and the might of the Sith in full. She’d returned covered in burns, carrying Lucien back to the shuttle, even as the darkness seemed to lift ever so slightly in the presence of their light.

Now there was an army, a crusade, and she stood not with her closest friends but rather an armoured, determined follower of Ashla. Above them gathered the might of the nations who had deemed the Sith unacceptable to the galaxy. Common purpose drew them together to strike at the black heart of the Sith.

Yet for Auteme she was drawn to Cedric not by what they had in common, but rather their differences. Among the crusaders she was by far the least equipped; her jumpsuit made her look like a janitor lost in the halls of the Sith academy. She was no soldier, yet she deployed with them. Nonetheless she stayed with Cedric. Unlike his violent advance, Auteme’s way was softer; the ones he maimed found themselves falling into a sort of soft sea, pale white strands enveloping them into a near-impenetrable cocoon. It would fade in time, but the skills she’d learned from the Mist-Weaver had grown, and now the wounded or hostile could be frozen in safety until after the fighting.

With Cedric’s skill leading the crusaders further into the academy, the halls soon became thick with the strands she’d woven. They found a moment of reprieve further inside, where she could reply to him.

“Every battle feels like a tragedy, no matter how familiar,” she said. She was far less experienced than Cedric, but for a moment she recognized the melancholy in him; it reminded her of Ryv, and how he’d felt neither fear nor joy before they’d arrived on these same sands. Only, not soon after did his emotions pour out, washing away even the darkness of Korriban.

The place felt lighter than she remembered, yet still the dark dragged at her feet, threatening to slow her down. Her mind felt clouded. She could not feel triumph nearing. Perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps they’d lose; perhaps that victory against the Sith that so many sought could never truly be achieved.

Perhaps the only thing holding them back were the memories. Memories of the Sith, memories of each other -- Force knew she still held doubts about the Crusade’s methods, even though her understanding of Cedric himself had improved.

A shade from the past, one she’d hoped would have been brought to justice long ago, sprang up in their path. Auteme had long ago lost patience for Laertia Io, but never could she hate the woman. Despite that, she wondered if there was such a thing as too many second chances.

Though the Sith seemed to single out Cedric -- for obvious reasons -- Auteme intervened without delay. Her hand rose and from it sprang the same trick as earlier. Strands of light seemed to materialize and suddenly tighten, encircling Laertia in an attempt to restrain her. Trying to fight it would be like fighting the sea; each broken strand reformed rapidly, and they were hardly lacking in strength.

Even so Auteme knew she couldn’t restrain the woman long if she fought constantly to escape, but at least it’d tire her out, and allow Cedric and Auteme to pass.

“Let’s go,” she said, and soon resumed following Cedric deeper into the academy.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Allies: Ashlan Crusade
Enemies: Defenders of this Dust Bowl.

Ishani Dinn
Maybe Creuat & Ishida Ashina​

His pace halted as he heard the faint voice call out to him. A rather familiar tone. His mind harkening back to an awkward meeting on Ossus so long ago. An altercation with some Acolytes, the majority of them attacking him out of simple fear of punishment about what could happen to them if they simply let him go.

But now things were different. Their master's power had been shattered. Their thrones toppled and they had been shown that their power was not without limit and their resources not without end. Aaran had little doubt that many Sith had holdings independent of the now broken Empire. Many of them would have fled and hidden among countless hidden enclaves, hiding to lick their wounds and vowing revenge.

For all their talks of superiority, it seemed they were willing to toss aside their pride in favour of survival. Considering that the Dark Side fed on the ego, the Jedi wondered if they realised that such things weakened them in the long run. In fleeing and hiding they were admitting, if only subconsciously, that they had lost. And if they lost, then the Dark side was not superior. And if the Dark Side was not superior and the true way the Force was to be used. Then everything they had done and sacrificed for might have in fact been for nothing. That there could have been another choice they made.

But once again, he was allowing his mind to wander, musing over things that he was never going to be absolutely certain of. These kinds of thoughts were better suited to be mused over back on Coruscant over a cup of tea. Not on an active battlefield.

Dragging himself back to reality, the Jedi stepped around the corner into Ishani's line of sight. "Glad to hear that you're leaving." He said, tone same as it was the last time they met, polite and conversational. But the casual garb of a spacer was replaced by the traditional robes of a Jedi. The sunglasses that hid his marred eyes now replaced by a simple cloth bandage.

"I would not advise anyone really to spend too long on this world. I feel nauseous just by being here." He admitted, a slight smile appearing on his face as he nodded his head once in greeting to the Acolyte. "Ishani right?" He asked, hoping that he had remember her name correctly.

"Now I hope you'll forgive my prying. But can I ask where you intend to go?" He asked, hands folding behind his back, making sure to make no sudden movements that might set off the rather skittish looking Alchemist. Or her unusual companion. A casual glance with his supernatural vision made it fairly clear that it was some kind of construct powered by the Dark Side of the Force. A rather unseemly thing. Possessing of a base intelligence, bound to the Acolyte's will.

He wondered if the creature was in pain. Or if it was capable of feeling anything aside from obedience to its mistress. But those again were questions for later.

"Because I would not recommend trying to meet up with your masters. I feel as if you're intelligent enough to realise where that leads." He said, making a vague gesture around them. Violence begat violence after all. In the Sith's attempt to subjugate the galaxy around them, they simply inspired others to rise up and strike back.

One wonders if they still would have burned Ession if they had any idea what such an act would ultimately lead them to.

"Is Arcturus also around?" He asked, genuinely curious if the partner she was so devoted to. Someone she was willing to attack an obviously superior fighter for, one who's children she proudly declared she wanted to have was still around. Or did he act the typical Sith and simply toss aside such loyalty and devotion when it stopped being useful.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

​

INSIDE THE SACRIFICIAL ALTAR CHAMBER


'One head…two head…three head…four…all these others…and still some more…

NEXT!'

Additional tags: Darth Howl | Tu'teggacha | Derix Tirall | Dakrul |
bad guys: Cedric Grayson | Auteme | Khagan Harrow |
​

Dark spirits drug the skulls of the fallen jedi from the planet's surface and too their unholy eternity. Each newly severed, materialized into the chamber from high above the hedonistic altar. They thudded down upon the others who met their demise ages past, and were instantly assimilated into the structure. As usual, the altar grew in its size right before her eyes. Their eyes open still…batting about at their surroundings, watching, chastising.

For a moment the Matriarch cocked her head as she pondered whether the soul within these were even able to contemplate their current predicament, and the horrific commitment it entails. How they appear as if they could! Her black eyes filled with shadow then cast upon the young one, Maestus . 'Brave girl,' approved the misandrist, but not a word she spoke. Regardless to her attempts to remain secretive in her partnerships, this Mistress has a bit of a notoriety across star systems, whether or not she ever visited them.

The Matriarch sensed a thirst for knowledge in the young one. How could it be that someone could withhold knowledge from a woman? "All knowledge is available to those who possess the gift of understanding to wield such power," she said. "For any magick to die with its beholder, is a tragic loss to the galaxy." She returned her attention to focus her coven on amplifying the magick which unfolded.

The additional twelve unleashed a barrage of different tinctures over the altar surface. Their combination resulted in an ethereal plunge. Ice crystals formed over the flesh newly introduced slaves to the ravenous Darkside. The servant of the Nightsisters awakened. Spirit Ichor burst forth, out of the palms of the thirteen Nightsisters and barraged each and every skull. The chamber alighted in its vibrant green glow, casting shadow deeper still where wicked sentinels stood watch. Their demon servant roared as it made its appearance above the altar, writhing in the air, most unwilling and displeased with its station. This is the same creature which the Nightsisters of Dathomir for centuries exalted as one who existed upon a higher plane of existence, he whom they once all worshiped as the Fanged God, their supreme leader, until the Nightsisters found a power and a logic more vast than its constrained ancient teachings, and he was brought low by these. How much more greater evil could this harvesting and intertwining of two ancient magickal cultures make manifest!

The Nightsister smiled at the materialization of her tool, the lead character in an ancient lore, depicting the first Darkside being ever to exist, once physically imprisoned within the Maw itself. Pom Stych Tivé turned her palms towards Darth Solipsis and she sent the Spirit Ichor which oozed from her captive demigod, to dance across the distance between them.

What shall these Sith demand her notorious servant manifest for them?​

 

[Darth Daiara]

Darth Mori | Allyson Locke

Spoiler: The Story

SIX DAYS AGO..​

METALORN

Much had weighed on the Shi'ido's mind in that moment when Aradia had spoken, and, though she knew it was in her own best interest to divulge at least some of the innerworkings of her mind with the girl, she couldn't quite find the strength of will to speak the evils she wished into existence - as if keeping silent, keeping those thoughts inside, was the single thing preserving the one last remaining shred of Vesta Zambrano. It would have to be spoken, perhaps even soon, but now was not the time for her to relinquish her one last tether, even if she was the only one that knew it existed. Her expression hardened, conflicted, and she looked away, towards the gleam of the moon - a moon that was different from one she had stared into before, but its silvery light was a reminder of a night she was slowly starting to forget all the same.

"I want to destroy what led to who I am today." She answered.

It was cryptic, perhaps, but it was also telling - there was much that could be attributed to what created the Sith Lord, both literally and figuratively, in every sense of the word. "The chains that bind us ought to be destroyed, but also the reasons that they were put on us in the first place." Mori added, turning away as she pivoted towards the crypt. Her hand reached out, the earthen coating that covered her sword crumbling into sand - as if undone - and the blade was pulled from its momentary tomb back into her hand through the force, her fingers wrapping around its lengthy hilt without offering any visible indication that she'd expected anything outside such a result.

"Come, you have much to learn. You will learn more of me in the coming days, as we forge our bond as master and apprentice."

Χ Ξ Σ - 6 6 6​

CURRENT DAY​

KORRIBAN

Red sands, devoid of life and home of the dead - this was where it had all began, thousands of years ago. King Adas had led his people here, and abroad to the stars beyond, in order to repel the Rakata, to keep his people free from the bondage of an oppressive people, to maintain a rule of the powerful, of the right. Her people, the adherents to this legacy, had forgotten their purpose, lost their way, and this desolate ruin was a monument to all of their failures, a testament to their collective egos. Tombs that had been gaudily adorned with extravagant jewels and objects of power were picked clean by their successors, and the tombs of those by the next - stagnation had ruled the Sith even before the Brotherhood of Darkness had convened on Ruusan, it was a curse cast from the moment the powerful left anything of worth behind that their lessers, and their progeny, desired. The Sith, destroyer of chains, had willingly shackled themselves to a past, to a tradition, for millennia.

To destroy it would be their salvation.

The Brotherhood of the Maw and their New Sith Order, Darth Solipsis himself even, had chosen to comb the world for some stone yet unturned, for some artifact undiscovered, and Mori had seen it pertinent to bring her apprentice - Darth Daiara - to the desolate world both to show her their history and to show her the pointlessness of their hoarded wealth and power. "Each of them, every single one of these great and powerful Sith, amounted to nothing." She said, her voice full of disdain. "Dead, all of them, the moment they deluded themselves into believing they were better than they truly were." The Shi'ido noted with a sweeping gesture of her hand towards the crumbling edifice that had long since been buried by wind-carried sands as they walked into the path left by the Maw that had arrived before them, a tunnel that was dug deep under the Sith Academy.

She looked towards her apprentice, her gaze sweeping up and over her, and she appeared to see passed her - through heat and beyond dunes that towered around the Academy. The enemy, as she'd spoken to Aradia before, were soon upon them - she'd seen the burning in her dreams, a fulfilment of a prophecy she believed might liberate those that came after them, and her legacy, from the burdens of a past that her predecessors could not let go of. "All of this, all of them, and everything that clings to it, must be destroyed." She said at last, her gaze shifting down towards Aradia's face as the pair walked from the front of the Academy and down into the depths below. It was not long until they were in the chambers beneath that housed old murals and objects forgotten by history, the Shi'ido seemingly unconcerned by the impending arrival of Jedi and the rest of their allies.

"You asked me, before, what it was that I wanted from the galaxy."

Gesturing towards the depiction of the Sith'ari painted in rusted blood upon the worn sandstone walls at her side, a massive Sith destroying their own people in flames - like crops to feed the soil - so that they could be reborn more powerful than before, she raised her gaze towards the ships that emerged in the sky far above. "I want to destroy our past." She said, before looking the girl in the eyes. "So that the Sith may emerge unshackled from what we have clung to for so long."

"I will bleed dry those that resist."

There was malice in her words, not the emotionless cold that the girl might've been accustomed to hearing - a fire was there, deep within the Sith Lord, and it burned hotter than the sun. Like a fading facade the stoic look she'd worn for so long, as well as any semblances of conflict, was steadily replaced with an anger that could nearly be felt as much as it was seen.

"And those that wronged us."

Allyson Locke ​

(Attacking / Intending to destroy the planet)

//: Darth Mori //: Darth Daiara //:
//: G L I T T E R & G O L D //:

​

Korriban.

It was a land with a devastating history for the Sith and the birthplace of the Darkside. Here Sith would travel to learn and become stronger. At one time, this was a place where the Sith would learn, residing in temples to their dark desires. Not anymore, with the Empire collapsing and becoming nothing more than a ghost of their previous selves - there was nothing more for the Sith here.

Or so most thought.

Dirt and rubble shifted under the pair of leather boots, the Force creating a breeze to erase the technomancer’s steps. Some rumors circulated through her networks, someone had resurfaced, and Allyson remembered their ties to the former emperor. Slowly and steady, she moved through the blood-red sand. How fitting for a Sith world, the ground covered in blood-colored dirt. The Corellian scoffed at the thought and entered where she had been tracking Vesta and her companion.

There was a familiarity that pulled at her. The woman who had accompanied the Sith Lord was someone she knew, someone she had saved, and one of her biggest regrets. Aradia was an unfortunate girl who seemed to find herself over her head. Even the first time the pair had met, she was unconscious and assumed dead. Not taking Aradia from the Sith when she had left pained the Spy, but she couldn’t let those attachments hinder her mission.

In the end, Aradia would eventually play a more significant part in Allyson’s life being involved with her padawan. The knowledge she had only picked up second hand, but with Aradia came information on Zaavik.

She couldn’t think of her wayward padawan; the boy was on his own journey - learning who he was in this galaxy. It wasn’t the Corellian’s place to interfere even though he went against their home - even Allyson struggled with feeling like the Alliance was home. Shaking her head, she began to climb, hidden by the Force and from the Force through Force Cloak and Void in the Force. She was nothing as she rose to gain a better view.

Words muffled through the area, and Allyson knew she was drawing closer. Deeper into the hell hole of the Sith world. A chill hung in the air, and Allyson did her best to push back the lingering thoughts of darkness and death. How easy it was for one to fall to the dark side, it was a shortcut, and it fed on the residual hate one held in their heart.

Finally, Allyson got a complete view of the Sith Lord and the Apprentice as she finished climbing. Drawing her bow from her back, she strung an arrow and focused on the Force itself. The tip of the arrow began to glow brightly with the light of the Force. Without warning, the Spy attempted the assassination to slay a devil before its plans came to fruition.
The arrow sang through the air, poised to strike Vesta in the throat. There was a hope that if she could kill Vesta - she could save Aradia.

If she saved Aradia - she could save Zaavik. ​

​

Vesta's words would have frightened her once upon time. Before the wars-- before Bastion-- before her life had fallen apart. Now the harsh declarations made a degree of sense. The galaxy had turned its back on her. Kaalia had turned her back on her.

What her and Zaavik needed now more than ever was freedom from that past that wanted to hurt them. And if that freedom came a price? She clenched her fist, her once blue eyes now speckled with orange.

She would pay it. For him.

"How?" She asked, her voice hoarse as she looked over the mural. She had been here before. She had already seen this academy fall... and rise... and now... A twinge of something caught in her chest, but she swallowed it back.

"You cannot kill a past. And even if you did, I do not think they would care." Her gaze slid to the horizon. She could feel them in the distance.

Jedi.

"They are coming." Vesta had not warned her about this, but in a way she was glad. If she had known, she would have had a promise to keep.

"No more splitting up, remember?"

She grimaced.

"This place is lost, why are we even-" A whistle of warning snapped by her ear. She turned sharply, her hood falling back to reveal pale features and a tumble of orange hair. She reacted on instinct, a ball of fire spitting from her hand towards the source. Allyson Locke

Nothing was visibly there, but in her tunnel-visioned response, she missed the arrow.

*unwittingly destroying korriban

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The bloom of explosions filled the space between the two opposed warships, dazzling the visual senses of anyone who happened to be looking in their direction. Neither the Dark Lord nor the bridge crew seemed to be distressed by the premature detonation of their missile salvo, as more orders were relayed to maneuver the Eternal Rule for their next attack. The warship remained rotated at its present slanted angle but began to shift its prow towards the approaching Starhawk.

Both ventral autocannons decoupled from their passive position, barrels turning towards the Starhawk as one of the forward autocannons also began swiveling into attack position. Having not yet engaged any of the cannons prior to this moment, none of them required charging and were ready to begin combat operations once they had moved into position. The firing crews of the cannons watched silently as their target entered optimal range on their viewfinders, the Starhawk's trajectory meticulously calculated alongside several other possible vectors.

"Fire," commanded the Dark Lord, sparking off a chain reaction as each cannon began firing in alternating bursts. The energy unleashed by the cannons was tightly compacted Isotope-5, focused through Amaranth crystal focusing irises until the energy output was reaching levels well beyond twenty times the output generated by conventional energy sources like plasma. This energy would travel through the void of space unfettered until it collided with something large enough to rupture the energy encasement.

Then it would violently detonate, the destructive potential enormous.

Carnifex did not remain on the bridge to see the results of the attack, having given the order to continue bombardment of the enemy warship as long as it remained feasible to do so. He moved with his small entourage of guardsmen down from the bridge superstructure, preparing himself for the confrontation with the Jedi he knew was looming on the horizon. They would come for him, as he knew they would, and he would be ready and waiting.

As the oracle had foretold.

Zark San Tekka | Kirie | Thalia Senn
KV-6000 | UX-0626 ​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

ASHLAN CRUSADE
BORN ON A MONDAY vol. I
Issue #7 - Bad Romance w/ Danika Leventis

The cold and dry air whisked through the fractures and fissures of the ancient tombs. It carried in its wake the taste of blood and the smell of soot as the drums of war sounded above. The Crusade had come to Korriban, both a birthplace and graveyard of the Sith. Those fallen millennia ago still whispered words of temptation and threats. Dagon had purged the corruptive presence of his Sith Lord from within, but Korriban still remained a place unwelcoming of Jedi. In the back of his mind, he could always hear the echoes from the past - The Sith are eternal.

The weight of inevitability lacing these words prevented the Jedi from catching up to his target. He moved with extreme caution, halting often to study his immediate area for threats. So far, he had managed, but for how long more? Only his conviction in the Light and his unspoken promise to Yula carried his feet forward.

"Someone's coming this way, Sir." Arthur reported.

"I know," replied Dagon, crouching next on an elevated statue and observing the wide corridor from whence he came. The heavy veil of the Dark Side heaving over the world made it impossible to decipher the new arrival's alignment. He had to wait, observe and reach his own conclusions.

She arrived alone, but with such confidence in her steps as if the greatest galactic army ever raised stood at her back. Ready to kill and die for her.

She was no beacon of Light, that much he could be sure of.

"Always the shortest straw..." the raven-haired Jedi murmured under his nose.

"Master Kaze, if I suggest to you not to engage, am I to assume it will be unheeded advice?" the A.I asked, then added, "Like always."

Since when did they program A.Is with sarcasm?

"I've told you before, Arthur--"

"Ah, yes, the good ol' 'like dogs chasing speeders' speech of yours preventing you from making a rational decision when it comes to engaging Sith. Jolly that."

Dagon blinked, almost laughed, then simply replied, "You know me too well."

"But this time - I'll talk after I strike first."

"Still one to believe in redemption, Sir?"

"Sometimes."

Losing the element of surprise deliberately on Ziost had nearly cost him a lot.

The Jedi Knight pushed down on his toes and lunged into the air with a Force-enhanced jump. Silent as a cat, he hopped from one and two massive stalactites hanging in the shadows before landing behind the woman and firing a telekinetic blast aiming to throw her into the foot of a large statue.

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Allies: GA, AC. NIO, Aerarii Tithe Isla Draellix-Kobitana Tristan Evore Caarlyle Rausgeber Relynia Sorrene
Enemies: BotM, TSE, Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen

Spoiler: Pickett Line 253

Revenge
Glory
Raptor
10 Warrior-IIIs

Fleets upon fleets…​

The reformed 253rd’s first combat action would be here, in the midst of this massive battle. Ships continued to fill view screens, their positions estimated from the pairing of sensors and communication triangulation. Compared to the massive capital ships, the dreadnoughts, the hundreds of cruisers and smaller ships, my line was nothing. But the thirteen ships were still vital, even if only playing a minor role.

We’d been ordered into battle, to join in the clean up operations of the collapsed Sith Empire. I disagreed with working with the Ashlans, a sect of Jedi I considered to be nearly as extreme as the dead Empire they’d been fighting, but when orders came to join their attack on Korriban I obeyed. Finding the Brotherhood here was a pleasant surprise.

Before the Alliance fleet could engage the opposition, I needed to be prepared.

“Order the fighter wings to take off and then hold near Revenge and Glory. I want Raptor to stay near Revenge, and the Warrior-IIIs split between Revenge and Glory. Maintain a tight formation and hold near the rear of the Alliance fleet.”

“Yessir.”

“Start monitoring the enemy communications, if there’s anything interesting inform me and pass it along to Morai immediately.”

“Yessir,” came the reply to the second string of orders.

No surprises this time.

I stared out of Revenge’s bridge viewport, the Maw fleet obscured by the vessels in between. I closed my eye for a moment, remembering the last time I’d seen combat, feeling all too aware of my empty sleeve. The brutal vision of the Maw’s superlaser firing. Victory here would only be the first small step on the path towards avenging Csilla...

 

[Damsy Callat]

WHAT’S HAPPENING?! // VALLEY OF THE DARK LORDS, NEAR MAWITE DIG
RAGS + POCKETS FULL OF DUST + RUSTED-OUT HYDROSPANNER
~ open to interact ~​

It must have been a half hour by the time another two orders masquerading as favors came her way:

Add fuel to the entrance lanterns,

and,

rekindle them if they've gone out while you’re at it.

Arisso’s rationale was as delusional as his faith in the Sith. Did he really think a Lord would lose his way in a valley he frequented? Well, anywhere, to boot, and for a whole damn week? Maybe two. It was too easy to lose track down in that hole.

Still, Damsy did exactly as bid.

Then chanced a glance outside of the tomb. The entrance itself was naturally hidden behind the reasonably high berm of a dune, so a glance at anything beside sand necessitated a hop, skip, shuffle into the outside world. If she was caught, she would be executed, the others punished. But if she stayed inside, despite Arisso’s plainly made desires, they all might die--sweating out water and burning calories their bodies couldn’t much longer spare for hard labor.

Question was, where would she find extra of either…?

No. That wasn’t the question.

“Sith fethin’ spit!”

The question was, what the actual hell?!

Damsy stepped back towards the landmark, reaching out to touch it and pull her body halfway behind it. The vantage point offered a mostly clear view of the largest Eternal excavation sites, but-- Damsy squinted, calling on a combination of her natural sqauloid sight and Force-aided vision. Yonder workers didn’t look like any Sith she had ever seen, nor slaves either. Nor anyone equip for digging. They looked ready for war, what with their guns and their germs and their steel. With their precise toys from power-lances to spider cruisers Damsy wasn’t exactly familiar, but she had seen enough ordinance in her time to know that none of it meant any good.

She wasn’t a Sith sympathizer by a long shot, but a sense of territorial pride surged though her nonetheless. Just who were these people, why where they here, and what kind of war were they expecting over there? Korriban was insulated as insulated could be nestled in the red heart of an equally red empire. It was unlikely that they had gotten past the Sith if the Jedi hadn't done the very same in ages.

No time to muse.

“For Ession! For the Ashla!”

". . . KNOW... NO... FEAR!" . . . "War! Death! Rebirth!"

The ground trembled with battle cries barely distinguishable from either each other or the thousands of footfalls backing them. That was alright. All she really needed to understand was the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Muscle memory and actual memory took it from there. The voices of comrades roused her from cover.

"Release us!" "Join the fray!" "Yibambe!"

But they were long dead. She needed new ones. She cast a glance back at the unnamed tomb and mulling the decision over. Weighing it. Lone wolfing in an active warzone was a huge con, but even bigger was getting kin who didn’t have much military forte killed. There was no need to drag any of the other Sithspawn into this. If she left them alone, the likelihood that they’d at best make it though this hopefully unaware and at worse keep their heads out of anyone’s crosshairs was happily high.

She’d go, just this one time, squadless, hoping against her odds that she made it too.

Nu valia atiduo veek*…

…hopefully with a real weapon or two.

Until then, a neglected hydrospanner she Force Pulled off a nearby sorting table as she stalked past it would have to do.

Spoiler: old tongue translation

* I will return soon.