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Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

Dasmi Lindervale

Guest
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THE - GREAT - HUNT
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---In Transit---

Klaxons sounded as warnings from the other fleet were shared through the Intermingled system. Dasmi staring through the viewport in silence as the bridge crew began to holler back and forth to configure their own systems to the readings they were receiving from what was likely a doomed group.

They had come to aid the Galactic Alliance.

His eyes slid over to the information panel as he registered the number of vessels that had jumped in near the Ragnarök.

And the Alliance would have to bury them as well it seemed.

---Currently Present----


Location: Exegol, Outside the Red Honeycomb Zone
Objective: Fleeting

Warning alarms about an enemy presence outside the Honeycomb reverberated through the crew's skull. Eyes scanning the systems before them to find the solutions as a mass of vessels appeared. Dread was quick to settle as the crew moved about their stations in preparation.

Rimes unmoving and giving few orders aside from the call to the med stations aboard to prepare for large numbers of inbound wounded.

The crimson eyes never betrayed the sense of defeat at the sight of such a group off to their side. Their own vessel having been prepared for a different battlefield than the one that had been sprung on them.

Systems were checked as the first wave of weapons ran across the shields, and their own deployment of Droid Starships began to pour out to meet the incoming.

The Herald had begun its pass through the divide, the Lasher hot on its heels as the Havoc slowed to finalize its approach.

Halting forward movement to understand the signals it was receiving. Thrusters engaged along the nose to adjust its course beginning to warm when they sent their signal.

<"This is the ENS Havoc, adjusting cour-">

<"ENS Havoc, if you adjust your course and return to your position we will fire upon you for dereliction of duty. Press forward with your orders.">

The radio silence was deafening. Even the sound of the Missiles connecting with the outer shielding seemed minute compared to the tension that rode them all in those few seconds between.

<"Solid Copy, Ragnarök. See you on the other side.">

The thrusters went cold as the main thrusters pushed it forward slowly into the waiting storm, the Herald almost completely through as the Ragnarök shuddered against the storm that had arrived.

The Medley had been torn apart by the incoming fire, unable to get its vectors in before the Missiles had reached them. The Skipjack had rounded remarkably well while the other two hadn't quite believed the sensor readouts provided.

The shield shimmered along the surface of the Ragnarök. Hull plating in places glimmering in white hot heat briefly as pieces penetrated the overdrawn system while the vessel began to execute its turn.

"Give them a broadside before diverting weapon power to engines. We need to get the nose pointed in to reduce shield overdraw. ENS vessel provide what cover you can from those blasted munitions!"

Rimes hissed along the comms, staring at the enemy that had countered them.

The Disruptor vessels for their size were covering the zones with ease, anti-starfighter duties taken with their survival on the line in mind. There was little communication between the Gunners and the data being provided.

The systems almost overworked as the bearings began to cook the lubricant packed inside from the severity of movement. Missiles were still coming in. The protective shimmer of the Ragnarök shield fading in spots as the Disruptors crew's adjusted course to provide better coverage while remaining protected.

It was a painful wait, the hulking mass unwilling to move like a dainty cruiser.

Rimes silently despised the bulk, watching the targeting vectors align for a broadside salvo.

"Rapid and Continuous fire from all stations with a firing vector." The Ragnarök let loose with half of its firepower. The orbital autocannons slowly traversing to gain a target lock while the vessel itself turned and bucked against the incoming fire.

---Tags---
Enemies: Onrai Onrai
Allies: GA | EE

 

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F I N A L_E C L I P S E
Objective II : Shadow & Bone

FINAL DAWN
EXEGOL, UNKNOWN REGIONS




SHADOW HAND COMMAND
TASK FORCE LUMIYA

As expected, Sularen's unorthodox counter-attack was extremely effective as two of the Y-Wings were caught off-guard by the sudden bombardment and destroyed almost immediately, the remaining two tried to pull back further but were also destroyed leaving the rest of the Y-Wing Squadron vulnerable to further attacks from the Dispatcher. The tight space within the hangars left little room for the remaining ten Y-Wings as one by one they were picked off by the Turbolaser Canons of the Dispatcher. In a desperate attempt to escape, they fired a round of proton torpedoes at the walls in an attempt to evade the Turbolasers and simultaneously attack the ship from the inside, but unfortunately one of the torpedoes hit a fuel cell causing a large explosion that further destroyed another two Y-wings and damaged another, leaving only 6 Y-Wings still intact.

To add insult to injury, their torpedo attack failed to breach the interior of the Prophet as to allow the Y-Wings to carry out more devastating attacks and as such, the remaining eight Y-Wings choose to retreat with another two falling victim to the Dispatcher as they emerged from the hangar. Just as they left the hangars and began to retreat away from Sularen's Fleet, the Squadron of eight TIE Terminators, the High Regent had sent to the area were able to intercept them as they engaged the remnants of Gold Squadron while supported by the Anti-Starfighter batteries of Sularen's Warships. In the end only two Y-Wings would escape the carnage leaving Task Force Lumiya to it's own devices. The Prophet itself had suffered considerable damage from the attack but other then the loss of the hangar and nearby rooms, it was fully operational and still represented a major threat for enemy ships that might try to confront it.

"Looks like we managed to wipe out most of that Y-Wing Squadron, what's left of them is already in full retreat and distancing themselves from the fleet" Rackham stated. "Good riddance. Now that such annoyance is gone, we can resume our plans" the High Regent said. Looking back at his datapad he saw that the evacuation was already 93% completed, bringing the Final Dawn one step closer towards completing the first phase of their operation here on Exegol, just as Sularen had intended. Once the evacuation would be complete, the High Regent would be able to turn the full might of his forces upon the fleets of the Galactic Alliance and other factions that had shown themselves here at Exegol.


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Meanwhile the wave of Starfighters and Bombers sent by Sularen earlier had finally completed their ascent into Exegol's orbit where they were greeted by a developing space battle between various factions and the Maw in orbit. As they approached the battlefield they spotted a GA Battlegroup deploying their fighters to engage the naval forces of the Nomadic People's Coalition, prioritizing on the transports and support ships that were assisting the fleet. Instinctively they moved forth to join the Starfighters already deployed by the Nomadic People's Coalition to intercept their Alliance counterparts with the Interceptors at the front, the Terminators in the middle and the Bombers at the back. Once Burtch's Starfighters began fighting those sent by Alucard, the 300+ Starfighters and Bombers sent by Sularen descended upon their foes, unleashing hell upon them.

As heavy dogfighting erupted, the large formation of Starfighters and Bombers broke off proceeding to engage their foes all around them with a ferocity Alliance Pilots had never seen before. They were not fighting the regular starfighters employed by the Maw but rather the advanced TIEs of the Final Dawn renown for the deadly effectiveness on the battlefield. In one particular case a Squadron of TIE Annihilators were beset upon by a Squadron of Alliance Elite X-Wings (The Twin Suns Squadron). As the enemy squadron unleashed volleys of laser canons and proton torpedoes upon the TIEs taking out two Annihilators in the process, the Bombers fought back with as their Point-Defense Canons returned fire while they shunted their power to their shields to withstand further attacks from the enemy.

As the dogfight continued, new developments occurred elsewhere in the form of the arrival of Onrai's Armada, which immediately began assaulting the Eternal Imperial Naval Battlegroup under Basmi Lindervale while at a far distance, a large swarm of unidentified creatures began emerging from the Red Honeycomb Zone, charging towards both fleets above Exegol. The Battle over Exegol had truly begun and it would be this confrontation which would decide the fate of Exegol as a whole.


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Back in the Prophet, Sularen was overseeing the progression of his evacuation efforts as usual as more and more Alliance and Imperial Forces continued to land within the shipyards in the Forbbiden District slowly closing in on the evacuation zone where most of the remaining Final Dawn Soldiers and Personal were in the process of finishing the vital operation. Throughout the bridge, more alerts and warnings were being issued as the battle intensified throughout the planet.

"Onrai's Armada has just arrived in orbit!"

"Romund Sro's Star Destroyer has been successfully boarded by an Alliance Strike Team"

"More Alliance and Imperial Forces are making landfall within the Forbbiden District"

Once more Sularen was left scouring his datapad as he carefully navigated all the new notifications regarding the ongoing developments occurring all around Sularen and his Fleet which so far had managed to remain relatively unharmed save for the brief attack from Gold Squadron. As the High Regent buried himself in his datapad, carefully pondering on his next move a single individual walked up towards him, surprising both the High Regent and his aide as she spoke to the former from behind his command chair.


"I don't seem to be supposed to be here, but magically I am. Is there anything I can do to help, Sul-chan?"

Sularen's Command Chair proceeded to rotate around soon moving to face the individual in question, an Agent of the High Regent by the name of Naivia Ri. "Ah, Agent Ri. I thought you were in the Forbbiden District." Sularen replied. "Regardless, indeed i am in need of your assistance. I need you to stay here in case the enemy attempts to board my flagship. If such an event does occur, i will require your skills to ensure that this ship does not all into enemy hands" Sularen added. After he spoke, Naivia Ri asked once more question for the High Regent.

"One more question, Commander, can I get you some juice? There's loads of it on the ship! i don't want them to go to waste!"

"Some refreshments would be appreciated, Miss Ri. Although i would first like to inquire what type of juice you have in mind." Sularen responded. The High Regent figured that having spent a lot of time focused on the battle he could benefit from a drink or two. After all, his fleet remained unopposed in the skies above the Forbbiden District and with the main Alliance fleet still tied up with the Mawite Defenses in orbit, they were still a long way from moving in to engage his fleet.

Thus, the High Regent leaned back further in his chair patiently waiting for Ri to return with his supposed refreshments. This was going to be a long battle indeed, but having fended off early attacks from enemy forces and with the ongoing evacuation nearly complete, it was certain that even if the Maw lost the Battle, the Final Dawn would still escape with it's hands full having successfully accomplished all their objectives. The Maw's demise was indeed inevitable, but the Final Dawn's survival was already well guaranteed.



 
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Exegol Phase II
Tag: Jasper Kai'el


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Stumbling through the vessel Romund leaned himself against a wall as the ship heavily shook from bombardment. Though he was still in great danger, the dark Jedi smirked behind his mask. Desiring that even if the ship was lost that it would be a punic victory for those who had commandeered it for the Jedi. Where each of their brave souls perished in vain.

With another violent shake from bombardment Romund fell to his knees, heavily breathing, even walking just a few feet felt like miles for his body. His clothes were torn and shredded from the blast he created prior, even having lost his nice top hat in the wreckage. Getting himself back up he made his way into an intersection of corridors in the ship. There the Dark Jedi saw a group of panicked mawites who looked upon Romund’s battered appearance. “Lord Sro, you’re alive! They’ve taken the bridge, we need to take it back!” The lowly Mawite crewman said, causing Romund to shake his head.

“No… NO! The ship is lost, our allies are already trying to see to it that the vessel is destroyed before it can be turned against us. W-We need to escape now…” His voice sounded out of break, and exhausted. After speaking he turned away from the group to make his way to find a way to escape off the ship. Either through some sort of shuttle to take, or even an escape pod. However, as he did one of the Mawites approached Romund from behind and spoke back to the Dark Jedi.

“But, if we’re to die anyways should we not do everything we can to fight the Alliance, you can’t just run away, you ca-” The incessant mawite was cut off by Romund. Even now he still possessed considerable physical strength. With a quick and powerful back handed strike from his one remaining hand he smacked the Mawite crewman so hard their head was now looking in the opposite direction, killing them. As their body fell to the floor Romund winced and waved his hand some from the pain of striking them, his missing fingers making his hand rather sore. While he did the other Mawites in the group only backed away some, not saying anything unless they wished for a similar fate. Turning his back to them Romund continued on his quest to find a way off this ship, and hopefully off this forsaken Sith world…
 

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O B J E C T I V E
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Wearing: Black Hooded Cloak
Equipment: Lightsabers x2
After the lightning, the lights of the ship flickered erratically for a few seconds as she watched him fly backward. She kept her watch on him looking past the light plumes of light smoke delicately danced from the ground where the lightning splashed and ricocheted. And then it only followed that the lights had cut completely.

In the complete darkness, she had considered moving, it was not the best idea to be where she was right now, and she was about to do so. Then in merely a moment, the new lighting for the area kicked in. Finding herself under the halo of the backup lighting from the ship.

And he was not where he was a moment ago, imagine that.

Yes, time to move, and at the moment, she was about to do so. Then she heard the all too familiar ignition of a lightsaber. Guided by darkside, she forced jumped away from the direction the sound was coming from, only to spiral downwards and turn her body to face him as she landed.

She did not know exactly what he planned to do just then but she had an idea, and it wasn't good. And another indirect attack, how pleasant.

Her gaze narrowed with vicious and poisonous intent. When two cylindrical hilts, small in appearance which had been hiding in each of her sleeves, had made their appearance and found themselves in her hands when she used the force to call them. Only to press the ignition switches found just under her thumbs.

And two gorgeous blades of a bright crimson hue sprang from both of Velda's lightsabers. And the sonorous twin deep electronic hum of a growl had sung from them in chorus. The right hand holding one of her lightsabers that had struck him with lightning earlier had risen again, this time, pointing her right blade directly at him, signaling her intent.

Then the ten and a half feet that had now separated the two had been crossed quickly in seconds by her but not directly at him. The idea was to not appear predictable as she jumped and pushed off the upper side of a nearby container all the while closing the distance. She could end up coming from the side, or straight at him.

Her jump landed her on his right side. With her right saber attempting to connect with his in a smooth swing. Her left took motion to swing down toward his left side. The idea was two cross-plane cuts at the same time. The fighting style of choice was her own take on Jar'Kai.

Her style was elegant, fast, and unpredictable and the Sith Lord had no plans to let him leave her sight again.


 

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THE DAUGHTER OF DUTY
EXEGOL | FORBIDDEN DISTRICT | THE GATES
LEADER OF THE COMPANIONS | BEARER OF
THE RING OF JUDGEMENT
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In an instant, as quick as a flash of lightning that skittered across Exegol’s atmosphere, hundreds of ships snapped into the storms.

Ancient and automated, the synchronisation across hundreds of ships was nothing short of impressive. Rows and rows of pyramid shapes that threatened to eclipse the skies. In less than a moment, the vacancy in Exegol’s atmosphere found itself filled with a fleet loyal to one: The Scion of Sardun — the Lord of Light’s legacy in the form of Knight Ashina.

As soon as Ishida arrived in the shared atmosphere of Prosperity, Henna Ashina Henna Ashina ’s connection to Strike Team Windu was instantaneous to the little Jedi. It was as though she blinked, and could be alongside the Knights and Masters on the transports that had already touched ground. Ishida settled into it, unresistant to welcome the guidance that extended her deep connection to The Light.

Her thumb brushed against the edge of the band beneath her glove, and pressed it deeper against her skin. It hummed and burned.

Training for Exegol had been as intense with The Force as it had been with becoming intimate with all Sardun had left behind. Each tool he’d crafted alongside The Band of the Silik was an amplification of The Light; Ishida deemed it a necessity to understand their complexities to counter a world as beseeched in darkness as Exegol. She’d devoted herself so intensely to it all that even Vilchis Vilchis had to have been a little proud.

Therefore, with Henna and Jannik Morlandt Jannik Morlandt ’s acute unification of battlemeld, Ishida found herself knitted into the harmony. The struggles. The concerns. The objectives. The delays. Distantly, the connection bound her to the impatience of Strike Team Rex and their bated breath, dependent on the success of Task Force Windu.

She perceived the location of her team and patched the coordinates through the navicomputer. The program updated, triangulating the absolute intersection where the Assault Towers would drop. The remaining fleet would converge around the position Lightpoint Station was meant to arrive at, and provide defence.

Ishida had tugged on Jem’s arm to get her to reposition to the dropships in the main hangar, and they were securely boarded into the arrows meant to pierce all the way down, down, down to their target when the Chief Healer’s voice travelled through their mutual communiques.

"We need the gate!"

Strike team Windu’s advance was essential in securing the gate’s opening for the wider force’s arrival. Ishida knew this as much as the next on the team. She lifted her wrist to speak her reassurances, glancing briefly at Jem.

<Hold fast, Knight Serys. Reinforcements from above are coming to secure the objective. The gate will be opened.>

Like two arrows, the assault towers dropped from the cruiser hangars to either side of the gates. The vertigo was unfelt by the pair within the tower, but outside, the lightning skittered and transitioned swiftly from black, to navy blue, to lighter blue until the nose of the towers pierced into the ground with an erupted rumble. One of the gate’s supports was crushed beneath the magnificent weight of such inscrutable beacons of engineering and Light, the other drop landed on the other side to dissaude a rush of reinforcements to the incoming Defense Force. The other tower was left to Ala Quin Ala Quin 's masterful manipulation where Ishida'd seen her turn something obsolete into a weapon against the ancient Sith Lord.

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The ship jolted on impact, and Ishida reached out to brace herself as the sides began to lift open. The Companions were the first to pour out, and secure the freshly opened gates and counter the Mawites alongside the troopers and Jedi who’d already been working to secure the position.

There was a brief precious moment before the pandemonium, that Ishida was able to protect a part of herself that was friendly and not her usually intense self.

Sort of.

Jem had as many issues with affliction as Ishida did, and returning to her father’s homeworld was as…open an opportunity for an attempt of empathy as any. But Ishida’s version of a pep talk was…just came out something like a rephrased challenge: “Is today the day you die, or make it out alive?”


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ALLIES | NEW JEDI ORDER | GALACTIC ALLIANCE | Strike Team Windu | Amani Serys Amani Serys | Ala Quin Ala Quin | Kranak Vizsla Kranak Vizsla | Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka | Oriadne Hallas | Jem Fossk Jem Fossk
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | THE EMPIRE | Castian Vero Castian Vero | Vilu Kopma Vilu Kopma

 
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Aoki Mira, or Mira Lettee Aoki.
Imperial Knight of the Empire.
Michael Barran's Shadow.


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Tags: Michael Barran Michael Barran Erion Justeene Erion Justeene Sahar Sahar Siyndacha Aerin Siyndacha Aerin @anyone else I missed


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Mira picked up her naginata.

Frowning deeply, she listened to the somber drip drip drip of blood on the ground. That same metallic blood smell that had always been in this Citadel, it felt ten times stronger. The Maw... was wicked, without mercy.

It was rare for Mira to feel genuinely furious. She felt anger, but it was generally unseen based on her numb, resting expression. But right now? It boiled over. Everything. The wars, the monsters, the victims. So many victims. How could this world be so evil? What could possibly make people like this? Were those who had done these things even able to be classified as people? She had never understood it, but she understood one thing. They had made their choices, and now, they had to pay.

She gritted her teeth.

Aoki hung her naginata on her back, then picked up a disruptor. She locked and loaded. Then, another one. She soon had four disruptors, all ready to fire the moment the trigger was pulled. Two hung on her back, the other two each were held in one hand. With the arsenal at hand, she turned to the farther north. Whatever lurked down there, she would exterminate it.

She marched forward, her face coldly hardening into stone. Frozen and indomitable, her eyes were frigid like death but intense like a quasar. Anger, but not at all unhinged or wild. Complete control. Harnessed rage at her disposal as she stalked the hallways. But where was she going? She knew exactly. She could sense him. She could sense the Dark Sider sick enough to unlock these cages and kill so many people. Now, now she would make him pay for what he had done. She was the wrath of justice. She was the judge, jury, and executioner. She was an Imperial Knight.

She entered another corridor. The first thing she saw was a slew on monstrosities. She leaned one rifle against the wall and fired another. She tossed that one aside, grabbed the next one. Fired, then the next one. Then, she fired the final one. Smoke crackled where several abominations once stood. She saw one more, a giant spider.

She cast the final disrupter aside. As it clattered against the ground, she unsheathed her Atrisian wakizashi, Fukaikiru. The songsteel blade shone like a winter's sun as she drew her lightsaber and activated it. The spider approached. Aoki Mira activated her repulser boots and struck like lightning.

A flurry of blades, a whirlwind of speed. What could have been achieved with several well placed strikes was completed with a hurricane of cuts and slices, all true to their marks. It was a controlled burn, a display. The absolute flaunting of skill, yet disciplined still. As the final vital spot was struck, the blur that was the samurai became visible again. She walked calmly away from the spider as it fell in pieces. She deactivated her lightsaber and swiftly put her sword away. She entered a large, open doorway. This was the place she felt his presence.

She entered a large dungeon with multiple unlocked, opened cells. In the distant darkness, she heard more creatures banging and gnawing for release, for blood. But atop a tall platform, his form stood plainly. The Sith. He was ubese, his helmet told her so. She could sense a wildness in him. A chaotic heart. Her facial expression did not change from the intense glare that was both viciously infuriated and perfectly controlled. She only looked up at him, standing from her place below. She stared at him.

Then, she spoke.

"You are the one releasing the abominations. You are my target."

Even in her fury, she bowed. A proper Atrisian bow. She introduced herself. "I am Aoki Mira, Imperial Knight of the Empire. Michael Barran's Shadow and a patron of the Highland Brotherhood."

She narrowed her eyes, "I am the last person you will ever see. Today, you pay for the Maw's crimes against the Galaxy."

She pulled her bow off her back and reached into the nanonite quiver at her hip. She pulled out an explosive arrowhead and notched it in her bowstring. She continued to glare, pulling the bow back with obvious experience in archery. She had come here not hoping for victory, but here to take it.

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FN-999

Guest
F

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Objective: II
Location: Outer Forbidden District, Exegol
Unit: 908th Legion
Unit Strength: 10873/11000
Allies: Empire | Ashlan Crusade | Eternal Empire | Orik Dakari Orik Dakari | Ground Pounders
Enemies: Maw | The Sith Order | Galactic Alliance | Janesha Porwool Janesha Porwool | Ground Pounders
Engaging: TBD | Open to engagement


Up ahead, a swarm of small dots began to register on the night vision goggles of the vanguard.

As they grew ever larger, their identities became abundantly clear.

[Infantry, screen the armor! Remember, they won't die unless you blow off their head or heart! Armor, and artillery, incendiaries and explosives!]

The first of the Mawite horde were met by a withering hail of blaster fire, their lines lighting up as bolts knocked down Child after Child. Soon, the blaster fire was joined by explosives as AT-SATs launched their projectiles into the fray, wreaking further havoc on the Mawite line.

Yet it still was not enough.


[Nines, this is Gisco speaking. Mawite reinforcements coming in at 3, 4:30, 7, and 9 o-clock. More of the same, at least two thousand total.]

[NINES TO ALL, WEDGE FORMATION!!! QUADRIPEDS AND ARTY IN THE CENTER!!!]

The Mawites had seemingly split into multiple different strike teams, and now they all lunged forwards at once, slamming into the entire front half of the Imperial line. Chaos began to break out as the flanks bent under pressure, casualties beginning to mount as the sheer number and density of Moon Children threatened to rout the edges of the newly formed wedge.

Distracted by the developments on the more lightly guarded flanks of the Legion, FN-999 didn't notice the breakthrough right in front of him until a Moon Child was meters away. It lunged towards an officer to the Baron's right, who hurriedly withdrew his pistol and frantically opened fire. It took five shots before the abomination fell dead, its entrails spilling onto the man's shoes. He jumped away in a combination of panic and disgust, earning an amused reaction from the Baron.


"Son, it's gonna get a lot worse than that pretty damn soon." he retorted.

Surely enough, two dozen Children had followed their overeager kin forwards and now began to charge directly at the group. Immediately, the commanders and the nearby squads of the vanguard opened fire, cutting down a few Children with well-aimed shots to the head before the rest got too close to continue firing. From there, it devolved into a brutal one-on-one melee struggle, Imperial wrestling Mawite on the rough sandstone and obsidian of the Forbidden District.

Having expended the magazine of his pistol, the Baron chucked it at a Moon Child dead-set on ripping his helmet off his head, staggering the abomination for long enough for the veteran to take a large shard of obsidian from the ground and drive it through the creature's torso. It let out a cry of agony before going limp, its heart torn asunder by the obsidian now piercing out of its back. A second Mawite climbed over his friend, leaping in an attempt to catch FN-999 off guard. The Imperial released the obsidian shard still stuck to the other Mawite, reached up, grabbed the Child's torso and slammed it into the ground before crushing its skull under his steel-toed boot. A third and fourth Moon Child managed to tackle the Baron to the ground from behind, nearly crushing him under their weight.

Fortunately, their lack of coordination meant that it took the pair became tangled up in their own limbs, giving Nines just enough time to act on his intuition. He tucked his feet back and swung them hard to the right, tipping one of the Children off the Baron. With less weight on his back, FN-999 was able to flip and turn the tables on the other Mawite, pinning the creature under his considerable bulk. A fist to the skull was enough to stun the Child, giving Nines the opening to face the other Child who has just risen to his feet. It had picked up a discarded machete and swung it wildly towards the Baron, who proceeded to evade the clumsy blow and catch the Child by the elbow. With a powerful low swing of his right leg, he sent the creature toppling to the ground, rendering its knife useless.

Ripping the obsidian out of the still-dying first Moon Child, the Baron gripped it and hurled it at the knife-wielder's skull, silencing it within seconds. Withdrawing the rock and the knife, Nines turned back to the previously stunned Mawite, who had risen up and now launched a final charge at him with a cry of pure rage.

The Baron stepped to the side and let his two sharp objects do the work.

As the Moon Child corpses piled around him, FN-999's attention returned to the macro level. No more new Moon Children were coming, the front of the vanguard steadily beating back the frontal wave. Still, the victory came at a price. Dozens of half-eaten stormtrooper corpses littered the battlefield, with dozens more carted off in stretchers. With a note of sadness, the Baron realized that there would be no coming back to retrieve the dead and give them a proper burial. Hopefully, the cremation of all of Exegol would be a sufficient service.

FN-999 was snapped out of his thoughts as another transmission came in.


<"3-3-Bravo to column command, we got Alliance contacts on the scanner. Distance, half a klick north.">

Ah, they finally made it.

It had been the Alliance dogs who had spearheaded the whole Maw subjugation mission, perhaps the only good decision they had ever made. Despite their intentions, they were still sworn enemies, and the Baron had not forgotten their fierce resistance to the takeover of Neshtab. Neither had many of his Doreau scouts, whose vendetta was far more personal.

Still, as reluctant as FN-999 was to admit it, the Alliance was still second to the Maw as the main threat on Exegol. Until the Reborn's perimeter was completely secure and the Alliance units properly scouted, he was not willing to toss troopers their way when they could be better used to sack the Sith Citadel.


[Nines to all, reporting Alliance contacts half a klick north. Requesting unit info. Until then, avoid their position and do not engage unless engaged.]

Next, the Baron turned to the unit that had supposedly identified the Alliance units nearby.

[3-3-Bravo, this is Nines. Hold position. Do you have intel on the size or composition of the Alliance contacts? Send ASAP, over.]
 
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Location: Exegol, Hon Zduul Plateau
Engaging: Silhana Cadera Silhana Cadera

  • Silhana's blaster shot is slightly off-center, and melts Kralmus's ear instead of blowing his head off
  • He uses his jetpack to rocket toward her and attacks with his contained energy axes

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If Kralmus Orr had been at his peak, if he had been paying full attention to his well-honed senses and sharp hunter's instincts, he would have heard Silhana coming. He had endured a decade alone in the bombed-out wilds of Mandalore, surviving against mutant predators, Sith bioweapons, and his own Mandalorian kin; he could not have done so if he had been easy to take by surprise. But his peak was behind him now, stolen not by age but by the simple loss of will. His madness had intensified even as his barbaric dreams had withered and died, and he found himself afflicted by a malaise of apathy. Lost in his own dark thoughts, he was not as alert as he ought to have been.

In the flickering firelight from the cooking pit, the cannibal held up his gauntlet in front of his face, flexing his fingers. He was hungry. He had been denied his last meal. He was no doubt about to be obliterated by the cleansing light of Galactic Alliance warships firing from above, his atoms scattered on the hot wind of total planetary annihilation. It seemed a shame to let his own meat go to waste the way Silhana's had. Kralmus fiddled with his gauntlet, considering taking it off and thrusting his hand into the flames. Would the pain enhance the pleasure of eating? He imagined his own flesh blackening, the fat of his tissues bubbling and popping like bacon on a griddle.

He pictured slurping the meat of each finger right off the bone, sucking down one after another, filling his grumbling belly with himself.

Would he have actually gone through with his proposed experiment in autocannibalism? The galaxy would never know, because at that very moment Silhana shot him in the head. Well, almost. Her aim was shaky, and rather than taking him right between the eyes, the bolt burned along the side of his face. Kralmus screamed in pain and surprise as his left ear was melted into a mangled mess of flesh... but that scream became a howl of delight as he caught sight of Silhana, her pink armor illuminated by the muzzle flash. "Pinkie!" he cried, positively giddy to see her. "You survived! It's not over yet!" He laughed, high and shrill, a sound that was half insane mirth and half pained wheeze.

"And you're learning!" He adopted the tone of a proud teacher, pleased and patronizing, as he advanced toward her, showing no fear even though she'd just nearly killed him. "Most Mandalorans would have come out in the open, honor and fairness and all that, but you were completely ready to just hide in the dark and shoot me in the face. Finally giving up those silly moral codes, are we? I'm so proud of you, little killer." He winked at her, his feral yellow eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Still need to work on that aim, though. I'd offer to give you some pointers, but I think I'm going to eat your eyes first, and there's just not much aiming you can do after that."

No more guns, the cannibal decided. No more distance and uncertainty. He wanted to know he'd killed her.

Drawing his pair of contained energy axes, one in each hand, Kralmus triggered his jetpack.

He rocketed straight at Silhana, axes slicing in towards her like scissor blades.
 
Dominik had fought Sith and Jedi before, he knew what they could do and how fast their reflexes could be. But maybe when you got shot out of a cannon it's a little hard to block. Dominik didn't expect the human cannonball to go limp, nor did he expect Jand Talo Jand Talo to cut him clean in half. The body crumpling to the ground was a sickening sound, his flesh sizzling. He walked forward and collected the purple saber and slipped it into a pouch. You don't leave things like that lying around the battlefield.
"Corazona, eyes on the tent and whatever comes out," Jand said as he spun to prepare for a follow up should the sentient projectile land and resume attack. "Agent Guns Galore, the high ground might be advantageous right now - how well do you climb?"

"Very." He replied, and looked towards a nearby pillar of that black-blue rock. He stretched his left arm at the top and activating the minature tractor beam inside his palm he lifted himself up. He had to walk up the face a little, but it would seem as if he was being pulled by an invisible tow cable until he came to the top. He hung onto the edge when a bolt of lightning cracked the air, striking the ground one bolt after another. His helmet could help dim the incredible light but he still found himself squinting as a final strike blew back debris and bodies and dust. Something large and black came hurtling towards Dominik as he hung onto the side of the pillar.

With a grunt of effort he hauled himself up and rolled only for the boulder to slam into the pillar, shaking it terribly. Dominik's legs went off the other side of the pillar but the agent held onto a shelf of rock to keep from falling off. He pulled himself more comfortably ontop when the woman, tiny and filthy and bloody, walked out of the tent.

It took a moment for his software to capture her facial profile and height, but once it did it didn't take long for the SIA's file on Tegan Starfall Tegan Starfall to appear. He remembered reading over this before, when he first got his hands on the files of powerful darkside users. Powerful Mawite, god complex, very old and experienced in Force, Magick and Alchemy. Certifiably insane. And supposedly dead.

Then as the dust cleared, Tegan still eying the Pale Jedi, that smile growing wider and more demented by the minute. "I told you, you can't kill a God, Darth Solgun my apprentice."
A god complex, that was his confirmation that this was the same woman his software picked up. And being this high up, he'd need to be careful of the lightning she could call down. The faraday cage in his armor could keep the shock away from him, but it still might hurt the systems of his helmet if struck. Dominik took a better look at her and despite her appearance, she still had two lightsabers with her. She was powerful in the Force, she showed that card right off the bat. Fear, intimidation, crushing your opponent was the way of most Sith. But it would be more difficult to concentrate on powerful force attacks if she was forced to focus on using her sabers for protection. There were rumors about how many starship crashes she had been in, supposedly her piloting them. And from how much time she had poured into her metaphysical studies and neglecting simple things like learning how to fly, he had to reason that her bladework wouldn't be as good, Knight-level at best. Best way to bait them out was to make her use them.
"Does one of you know this ragamuffin?" "And which one of you is Darth Solgun?"
"Darth Sokar, powerful Mawite and Force User." He informed the two padawans. He knew from the file that Padawan Talo had faced her before, aparently had killed her and had proof, and this 'apprenticeship' might be because of that. Darksiders loved to get inside people's heads, to make them react with fear and hate. That was their domain and they wanted the homefield advantage. And crazies like her didn't like to stay dead.

So instead of saying anything to the two padawans on that subject, he simply squeezed his trigger and sent out a flurry of blaster bolts at her, his left hand on the trigger of the grenade launcher underneath the main barrel. If he saw those sabers ignite to hold her position and block, she'd be blinded by the light and sound of them to hear the grenade coming at her, faster than that man had launched himself before. Though, Force Users as they were, normally had the Force on their side. He just hoped his calm demeanor matched with the Sith Amulet around his wrist would hide his intentions enough from The Force and thus to keep it from warning her of the danger. Though of course, if the padawans rushed to get involved he couldn't launch the grenade.
 
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//: Exogal, Throne Room //:
//: Vesta Zambrano //: Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis //:

"I'm not asking anything of you anymore." Quinn knew she demanded a lot; she was more than a handful to keep happy. More than once she had pushed Vesta, demanding grandeur expressions of love - when she was fully aware that the emotion was almost foreign to her. She almost felt the phantom touch caressing the bottom of her chin. In another time, it would have guided their lips together - but now wasn't that time.

Quinn grasped the hand that reached for hers, holding it gently, smiling softly, feeling Vesta like before. Everything the other woman said reiterated past emotions and how much they needed to stay apart. Typically, Quinn would stand here and argue, demanding that Vesta change her mind. Instead, she silently listened and let the woman speak her peace. When silence fell between them, the Echani felt Vesta draw closer, and she quietly whispered just so the woman could hear.

"I'm tired of being without you. I belong in whatever reality, world, galaxy you exist in." Quinn felt her resolve grow weak; she wanted to be strong for Vesta in whatever she was planning. Yet once more, Vesta was the stronger. Leaning up, Quinn brushed her lips gently against Vesta's. Her free hand cupped the woman's face as she broke the short kiss, "You were and always will be real to me. I'm proud to know you, to love you, and to be here with you." She smiled gently and remained close, "I can never blame you. I can only blame you for showing me and letting me feel loved. This is your choice - but you've walked this path alone for so long," Quinn paused, knowing what she was asking. She didn't have a second thought as she knew there was nothing left for her in this reality.

"You're not alone, not anymore. I've always loved you Vesta."

Quinn's attention snapped towards the entryway, eyes narrowed, gazing upon the figure of the man she had only met a handful of times. The man was Vesta's father, he spoke, and Quinn clung tightly to Vesta - keeping herself quiet. She knew this wasn't her place.
 
A tense silence permeated the tent, as he awaited the woman before him to answer, she gave a few short nods, offered a witchy smile, eyes considered him, and even seemed to morph into a look of sadness if only for a second. And then without a word, but a heavy sigh, she marched out of the tent, right into the path of the incoming Jedi.

Malum could only stand there, continuing to feel the tenseness around his body, was that an agreement on her end? Was she moving to engage the Jedi by herself? Or the most distressing possibility, was she fleeing, and leaving him to deal with the Jedi? That would certainly be an issue, his Consume Essence, its shadowed invisible tendrils had warped itself around all life nearby, and he could count three enemies incoming, and though he could feel unease and discontent from each, resolution shined through the most, they would fight him, and they would kill him if given the opportunity.

"Lieutenant, make your way to the main tent, at these coordinates," He transmitted, speaking into his wristcomm, as sweat trailed down his brow, "Prepare for combat."

"As you command, Scion Marr," The lieutenant spoke back.

He would need to buy some time for the Guard to arri-

"Stay behind me or I'm liable to kill you!" A voice called out to him within his mind, a very familiar voice, the Mawite woman that had just left him behind, seemingly, not yet abandoning him.

He offered a smile, he might just survive this yet.

He closed his eyes, and he disappeared from sight, this would be the first time that he would use Force Stealth in an explicit combat manner, not for an assassination, but still, certainly to kill. He did not know if the Jedi were aware of his presence, as he was most certainly aware of them, but that did not matter much.

He only needed a moment.

His invisible self emerged out of the tent, and a voice was heard in his mind again, "You take the pale skinned Jedi, I'm going to kill his companions. Take it slow I want him to feel the pain of loss." This was the first time he would actually see his opponents, to actually survey the field.

The wildcard had lasted about as much time as he had expected, his corpse lay there, cut in half, with his head smoldering with smoke, and his lightsaber was missing.

Troubling.

Before him, when he had been a boy, such a sight may have caused him to hurl his breakfast across the ground. But he had seen death and fought in battles across the Outer Rim. Seen more than Mawite strangers lay dead.

His eyes traveled instead to consider the living, the serious-faced, pale-skinned Jedi that the Mawite had mentioned stood breathing, two lightsabers in hand, at the defense. So he was to be his foe? Most interesting.

Then his eyes rested upon the female Jedi, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the pale-haired beauty, though much of those considerations ended, as she was hurled back by the Mawites attack, seemingly then her foe had also been found.

That did however still leave the last, and at him, Malum felt a moment of disappointment, he held the Force yes, which is why Malum could sense him, but he was not Force-sensitive, he was a soldier. A soldier, who considered himself a Jedi, if the hilt of the dead Mawite's lightsaber was any indication.

Now, that would not do at all.

Hidden to the world, he began sprinting, the sounds of his steps concealed and muted, the soldier could be dealt with later, maybe indeed when the Guard arrived they could rip him apart.

For Malum, his opponent was ready-made and waiting, a user of Jar-Kai, was he worthy enough for Malum to show him his two blades?

Malum was ready to be impressed.

Taking a step out of Quintessa's book, he lept to the air, the momentum of his movement pushing him forward, as if a battering ram resolute in its goal, as the cavalry readying itself as the enemy flank, and ready to win the decisive victory against the Nagai Warrior. A moment passed as his red eyes were revealed to the world, as his blackened clothing, his cloak, became visible to the naked eye.

The next moment, lightning swirled between his fingers, as if a river strengthened by the flood. It launched itself out of his fingers, moving at impossible speeds, blue in hue and colour, as it had a singular target.

To bring the Jedi to his knees.

Jand Talo Jand Talo Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania Dominik Borra Dominik Borra Tegan Starfall Tegan Starfall
 


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IN THE LIGHT vol. 2
Issue #3

Katja Javik Katja Javik
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The arrogance of youth clung to the air, a foul stench to shift with the breeze. In earlier days, it was much the same though with a cohort of his fellows to fall and stumble back onto with each misstep. Not anymore. The lot of them had grown up. Their bodies marred with scars, their faces lined with stubble and beards, all with a sharpened harshness to their gaze. A generation of Jedi that had been born into a war, raised into a war, and fought that very war. What else was there for them to do but to adapt and to overcome? The Sith made themselves their foes first, and Imperials rose to the challenge. To meet them in their destruction, to leave that damnable scar in Ilum forever.

It made Corin strong and tough, though sometimes callous and capable of cruelty that was best avoided by the Jedi. Lest they became their own enemies. But worst of it all, it made him snide and irritating. "Hm," the huff that flew forwards was rife with mockery. "Cute." He continued with the sight of the thrumming vibrostaff from either stormtrooper.

He was quick to deflect and parry when the strikes came, swatting them aside and returning with probing strikes. "You come to the homeworld of the Sith, of the Maw, and you choose to fight me?"

 


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GENERAL RIDOR
222ND NOVA CORPS || 512TH LEGION || 312 ATTACK BATALLION
PERIMETER OF FORBIDDEN DISTRICT || EN ROUTE TO FORBIDDEN DISTRICT SHIPYARDS ||

PHASE 2: LANDFALL
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Transferring from the SSD’s hangar to the dropships was as orderly as it was silent. The battalion was split, but each ship was outfitted with the same speeders that would give them a hearty advantage in the condemned streets below. Osarla could feel it already, permeating evil unlike anything she’d felt.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, and hoped that Sion’s strength would not be subdued by the overpowering malfeasance of Exegol’s atmosphere.

"Where is Sion?"

As if the Major knew where The General’s mind was, Teshi asked about the youth. Osarla understood the intention of Major Ocano’s question — but felt a pang of sheepishness flush her face. It wasn’t a question a Master should have been asked about their Padawan. By decree of The Order, a Padawan learned best alongside their Master. Her duties as General made that more an intermittent practice, than a reliable one. To poor Sion Lorray Sion Lorray 's detriment.

“He is alive. On a separate mission.”

Just not a part of their detachment’s operation on Exegol. Osarla knew that at some point this day, she may be put in the position to make a decision that could put a rift between the traditional Defense Force and The New Jedi Order. And if that moment came, she was tentative enough without the expectation bleeding from her Padawan.

Snaps of silver lit the otherwise near-black skies, the command for a jump came. Osarla frowned. The last time she’d leapt from a moving ship, she’d said it’d be the last. She was getting too big and too old for that…Force-body be damned.

“Hold steady, we’ll make it.” Osarla put her hand on Teshi’s shoulder to steady her, and looked in the direction of the captain. “Our transport is two fold. The ship and the speeders. We jump, we’re on our feet down there. Hold out as long as we can up here.”

A few beats passed before their comms confirmed the potential. Their ship had sustained damage, but a landing could be scrounged and made possible. Barely.

And it did. Barely. Smoking and puffing bits of fire on the descent, the gunship scraped along the ground with teeth-grinding hops and skips. Lighting encircled its shell, twisting itself into the engines and giving it a final, angry burst of eruption. Osarla clenched it tightly, containing the blast until it dissipated within the tiny energy shield-ball she’d created.

As she did this, the rest of her soldiers and marines moved about their positions — undistracted and principled.

Motivated by Valour, the Pathfinders leapt out the gates first, hardened by routine and right into action. True to their nature, the soldiers were on the precipice of the event. Leading the way in their own right.

The Marines under Osarla’s immediate direction were steadier. More evenly-paced. Hardened in another way. Surgically precise and deft with their formation and preparation. Artillery set up their mounts, the walking machines prepped themselves to press through enemy lines, and Osarla and her battalion to be deployed salvaged speeders from the crash sites and proper landings. Preparing themselves for a speedy rush.

<Confirmation — Strike Team Windu has decimated the gates!>

"Not a moment too soon." Osarla murmured. In the distance, the massive togruta could see the impressive pillars that operated as dropships.

<Mount up, Nova Corps!> The General commanded, relaying the response through the comms. This was expected. They’d gone through this for months leading up to the siege. Each marine knew their targets: The canons and mounts of the enemy, to make a clean(er) sweep for the Jedi and Pathfinders to operate unencumbered en route to the Shipyards.

And then, once they were deep below the Citadel, the ships themselves would taste the mighty edge of their lances.

Unlike the rest of the battalion, she wore no helmet. If she’d been younger, with smaller montrals, she might have been able to. But those days were long gone. Nowadays, the protection she had only shielded her eyes and a respirator covered her mouth and jaw to protect herself from wind and tiny debris.

She swung her leg over the speeder, and settled her feet against the pedals and tested the thrusters with a harmless rev. The engines rroo-rroooooomed, and she flashed a toothsome grin.

<Our time is now, Marines!> The General boomed over their shared comms, and hoisted her lance in the air for a final chorus of an ooh-rah and shoved her heel down hard, launching forward on her speeder with her lance at an angle prepared to lower at a second’s notice. <Forward charge!>

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ALLIES | GA | NJO | Strike Team Rex Strike Team Rex | Teshi Ocano Teshi Ocano | Alexander Hayes Alexander Hayes | Janesha Porwool Janesha Porwool | Sara Roche Sara Roche
FOES | THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | PROBABLY THE EMPIRE IF U FRONTIN'


 
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Wearing: Armored Jumpsuit, Synthweave Tunic, Utility Belt, Appearance
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Exegol
Tag: Escape Jara
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The adrenaline slowly bled back into her veins as the door that separated them from whatever was behind it, rose in what seemed like slow motion. Briana's blade was called to hand in less than an instant through the ethereal pull of the Force, igniting, and sweeping aside the shots of blaster fire in a measured dance of electric blue, pulling from the most basic understanding of Soresu to ensure that she conserved energy.

This was only their first obstacle, no doubt they'd have many more to face.

Then, just as the group seemed to be advancing on their foe, a familiar flourish of darkside Force energy encroached, surrounding them in a sea of shadow. Her eyes widened in a moment of shock before narrowing, pivoting to face the unforeseen complication.

Nothing could ever be easy, could it? Had it not been for the Sith's sudden appearance, they may have broken through the rest of the droids then and there.

Cybelle's wry comment pulled her lips to a lopsided smirk. It felt so familiar, so normal, that for a fleeting moment she could almost remember who they'd been before they'd all been sucked into the vortex of war and tragedy.

"We're acquainted," Briana mocked, her face twisting into a sour expression, instinctually easing into a defensive position between Wallgof and the others as a protective buffer and staring him down, grasping the hilt of her blade tightly.

The last time they'd met, she'd spent weeks recuperating in a vat of bacta, and while most of the injuries had healed and smoothed away, a deep set of scars had remained to decorate her back.

A lasting memento from their previous encounter.

Resolve, and the desire to prove herself the better this time around, thrummed through her, but with a steading inhale, she tucked the feeling aside and drew from the lightside of the Force, wrapping it around each of them like a security blanket. Their fates were tied to this precarious encounter, there was no room for her pride here.

Throwing her un-occupied hand forward, fingers splayed, a strong pulse of telekentic energy pulsed forward to push him away. "You guys keep pushing forward, I'll cover your backside!"

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Location: Sith Citadel
Objective: Escort the Dark Lord │ Salvage Artifacts
Direct Engagement: Nathan Bloodscrawl Nathan Bloodscrawl

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He didn’t keep her waiting.

Stepping over the corpse of the fallen Sovereign Protector, Quintessa’s chakrams seemed to snap into her grasp, the paired weapons seemingly silent in the currents of the Force owing the Taozin built into their construction. Conversely, the short-statured Asa’nyx’s gleaming cyan gaze was like twin orbs of blue fire in the relative darkness of the Citadel, staring daggers into Jedi as he sprinted towards her. In doing so, she spared him neither words nor greeting.

Only cold, impartial hatred.

In a blur of motion, Quintessa flung a chakram towards the charging Jedi in a wide, semicircular arc from 27 meters away, the bladed disc slicing through the air in a wide, semicircular arc so that it might strike the Jedi on the left side of his neck, with the unstated intention of separating his head from his body. Not a split-second later, her second chakram was leveled in a straight, direct arc from a similar distance, with the aim of severing his right leg at the knee. While her second chakram had more speed and power behind it than the first, it was only so that both of her attacks might strike the Jedi simultaneously, forcing him to make what the aspiring Sith hoped would be an impossible decision.


 
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Silhana Cadera
Lynne Tal’kira aka Lady Orchid
Alor'ad (Captain), member of the Clan Cadera; Bounty Hunter, Headmistress of the House Orchid and The Bounty Hunters' Guild
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Objective: Hunts down Kralmus Orr
Location: Unknown Location, Exegol
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | 2x Beskad | Besar'gam | Mandalorian vambrace || Njósnari Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Writing With: Kralmus Orr Kralmus Orr | Closed
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[ Mando music ]
"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Sil #1
Kralmus #1
Sil #2
Kralmus #2
Sil #3
Kralmus #3
Sil #4
Karlmus #4
Sil #5
Kralmus #5

To be honest, I had no idea what was going through the madman's mind, but I didn't want to know. However, I knew one thing, or two things to be exact, but they were connected to me. I knew I wanted to survive this fight today, and I knew I wanted to go home to Arturo and our little girl Lynne…

Fortunately, I had time to accurately measure the target before the shot, because apparently Kralmus was deep in his own thoughts. And here I was back to the point where I didn't want to know what he was thinking. Although I had ideas about it, he was probably thinking about a meal, what he would eat. In other words, what would he cook with my leftovers, if there was anything left of me. That was my best conclusion from what I had experienced about him in past encounters.

Because almost all his thoughts bounced between food and torture. Although he was always much more sober during those meetings. Now it was as if madness had consumed him completely. so I didn't even try psychology and trying to understand it and him anymore. It was enough to know that in this form it is much more dangerous than before. and I was really not happy about that. Because this also greatly influenced my chances. In a negative direction.

At the moment of the shot, my hand was shaking and Kralmus was also moving, so unfortunately I didn't kill him, I just burned his face and the shot damaged his ear. At first I heard a painful scream, then it turned into a joyful one. Now, should I tell you the sad fact that no one has ever been so happy to see me? This is not the kind of fan base I wanted in my life. But I think it's not a wish show and one can't be very picky. Feth!

<"I'm not just a Mandalorian! I am also the Headmistress of House Orchid and the Bounty Hunters' Guild. And I didn't abandon my own moral code. I never do!"> I said firmly.

This kind of fighting style fits into the code of bounty hunters. I wasn't very happy with the emphasis he used, nor the fact that he was so happy that I was alive. As for the codes. My own moral code was that I would not kill or capture women or children, only those who deserved it and were men. Yes, I may be a bit of a feminist, but these were my own views. That's why there were only female bounty hunters in House Orchid. I fought exactly according to my own code, and this fit into that. I didn't like having to fight like this, but sometimes I had to.

<"And I'm not a murderer. Or at least not like you. I don't kill for pleasure, but only when I have no other option."> here my voice was bitter.

I became a bounty hunter to catch others alive and they have to be judged by the law, so that families and people can have peace of mind knowing that the killer of their loved one is dead or in a prison. In the case of Kralmus… Well, a lot of people would be happy about that. Now he was approaching me, he wanted to bring the fight to melee again, because he was better at that. And I'm still better in ranged combat.

<"To carry out your plans, you have to catch me first. And it hasn't gone too well so far!"> I taunted him again.

I didn't want to let him near me anymore. So, as he approached me, I tried to be on the opposite side of the rock, constantly. Although, if he just split the rock, it will be hard to run anywhere. Whenever he reaches that side where I was, I activate CryoBan "thrower" in vambrace and try to freeze him. Now not just his arms and weapons, but himself.

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Heiress of an Undead Dynasty



Beneath Exegol's Surface, Dark Secrets Lie
Objective: Uncover Buried History
Opposition: Kat Decoria

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Hekate wasted no time after the shuttle landed, quickly disembarking with her Magnaguards in tow. The structure ahead of her, sleek and black, was assuredly the surface-side entrance to the tomb's underground location. She approached, laying a hand on a door carved with Sith runes, then with a concentrated burst of the Force she shattered it, causing it to crumble to pieces before her.

Stepping over the rubble, Hekate ignited her crimson-bladed lightsaber to light the passage before her, the snap-hiss of the ignition and the humming of the blade echoing downwards. Following the stairway that lay ahead of her, Hekate eagerly descended, soon coming to an opening and a crimson overlook. As she stepped onto its edge, she saw her prize standing tall in the cavern before her: the Midnight Ziggurat, final resting place of her ancestor.

The cavern was thick with the scent of death and decay, and as Hekate made her way down to its entrance she couldn't help but wonder what she would find inside. She wasn't more than a few chambers inside when she felt something in the back of her mind, quickly followed by the telltale sound of a lightsaber being ignited, and then a voice.

"Did you want to surrender now?"

Ugh.

Hekate wrinkled her nose, before shouting back.
"And why would I do that? Don't you have Mawites you should be worrying about? Or are you too Force-blind to tell the difference between us and the Maw savages?"
 
Master San Tekka braced himself against a turbulent ride through endless storms. He stowed the aurodium locket of Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder beneath an armored cuirass. Vambraces punched the hatch controls once the Jedi's transport descended low enough. Gale force winds tussled Zark's mane and he glimpsed the shrine world as its desolate terrain was backlit by constant lightning flashes.

"Master Jedi!" the marine pilot's voice crackled over his earpiece, "We've intercepted an enemy holosignal."

"Understood."

"We have returned.", the visage of the Dread Emperor, the Dead God, said with darkness in his inhuman eyes.

He returned the Sith Lord's gaze with a stoic frown. When the message ended Zark deactivated the holotransmitter in his gauntlet. Flashes of light in black sky like the wrath of angry gods heralded a titanic space battle. Final Dawn destroyers loomed over the Forbidden City raining down turbolaser fire. Crashed Alliance ships already littered the wasteland.

"Strike Team Windu, secure the gate and stand your ground. Strike Teams Tano and Rex, be advised hostile reinforcements are massing for a counterattack. May the Force be with you."

Exegol's torment wreaked havoc on comlink signals so Master San Tekka couldn't be sure his transmission had been received. He reached out with the Force and joined his mind to the growing battlemeld. So many Jedi in one place banished the darkness of this world from his mind at least for a time. Despite extreme danger the crew did not object when they were ordered to circle around.

Zark closed his eyes and when it felt right leapt from the banking gunship. Strong currents buffeted the Jedi Master until his freefall slowed into a controlled descent. He landed with one arm out for balance in a classic pose.

San Tekka grabbed the cross-guard lightsaber from his belt, activated it, and slashed in one fluid motion. Clearing the sentinels from this gate posed little challenge for a Jedi battlemaster but he could sense a powerful darkside presence approaching. More tempest than man it would take all his strength just to slow this living wound in the Force down.
 
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Strong as Kahlil was, he wasn't that strong. Not an unholy might strong. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his blade pressed against Kyrel's, keep him locked so Valery could strike him down, but he couldn't keep it up. He slid back, able to keep his footing but not his position. The less Kyrel had to loose, the stronger he was getting. And now, there was nothing.

There was no chance Kyrel could be any stronger than he was now.


The call came just as his feet finally found purchase on the metal floor, and he instead raised his hands. Runes around the room flared to life. Focus, Freeze, Amplify; they filled the room with a bright glow of white. Then a clear, almost solid blue as spikes of ice from all directions shot out to pierce and puncture the living corpse.

Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren | Valery Noble Valery Noble
 

Vesta

Guest
V




LocationExegol, Throne Room
EnemiesGalactic Alliance | The Empire | Ashlan Crusaders | Mandalorians | Sith Order
AlliesBrotherhood of the Maw
EquipmentFaithless
Interacting Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin Her | Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis Father
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Pressure.

On her shoulders, on her chest, against her back - to be the best, the strongest, most powerful, to shine like a horrible star hanging in a red sky. Her first thought was revenge, sharing her father's just anger, and her second was hate. Love came after fear, and it was overwhelming, but it wasn't compatible with her rage until both consumed her. Twisted, obsessed, and possessive were the traits that she very quickly came to keep and they ruined not just her, but everyone else around her. If she had resisted just a little bit longer her father's idolization of her as a perfect daughter never could have manifested, if she would have restrained herself just a tad she wouldn't have Quinn's lips pressed up against her lips. It would have been easy, so much easier, to be alone from the start.

She wanted to be there for her, for better and for worse, just as much as she had wanted to make her father happy and not just proud. The further she had moved in a direction that had illustrated itself to her that she could accomplish both, however, she was drawn further and further away from either. She was colored in with power and fear like no one else, and her terrible obsession with making twisted gestures she mistook as showings of love blurred the lines between right and wrong in ways the dark side never could have hoped to compete against. Bright colors were reserved for people better than her, the Jedi or even the average man and woman, and in her anger lacking the context of her father's rage she spitefully grasped at them - unable to understand why she could feel the things for someone else, willing to do what she assumed it was normal people were willing to do for the people they cared about, yet fall so far into the abyss - but only ever held onto their darker shades.

Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis thought she'd been getting everything she had worked for because he, like she had, misunderstood the very concept of freedom. A belief that absolute power could liberate oneself from the oppressive forces of fate was only true if it meant amputating one's connections to everyone and everything else. 'What point is there in power if everything I need it for has to be cut away first?' She had thought going into the day. The paternal pain and panic her father was openly displaying would have shaken her if she was younger, vulnerable, and not quite so far gone as she was now. She understood his fear, his grief, because it was the same desperation she'd felt for years until her heart steadily turned to stone. "Power, this kind, doesn't raise us up." She offered quietly, amber eyes falling on her father's face with the sort of caution only a child could give to their parent. "After everything you've been through, everything we've been through, we've only succeeded in freeing ourselves from happiness." She said. There was some hesitation there, a distaste for a harsh reality that she hadn't wanted to explain. "You lost her, you gained me - and you're losing me now, like I've been losing everything else this entire time. Not because of them, not because we aren't strong enough. We only live this one life, we only have one try with the people we have close to us, and rather than making the most of the time we've had we pushed everyone and everything else away."

She wrapped her arm around Quinn's back, behind her shoulders, in a gesture of sympathy - and as a gesture to indicate to her father exactly what she meant. "In your eyes, now, at the peak of my isolation and loneliness, I look like I've reached heights no one else could have - because I'm further down this road than you are, in spite of the fact that I've been on it for far less time than you." Her arm fell back down to her side lamely and she adjusted her posture slightly to be a little more straight, stand a little taller. "Surviving means discarding the last vestiges of what separates me from raw hatred and anger, it means sacrificing my love to lose my guilt, and if with all that power I can't use it to create a life for me that I want then what point is there?" She asked pointedly. 'There isn't.' Vesta thought, her eyes moving back down towards Quinn's face guiltily. "I love you, I always have, but I hurt myself when we separated."

"Having you back doesn't make it hurt less." She admitted
in a whisper.

 

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