Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Annihilation Final Eclipse | GA Annihilation of Exegol

Calix of Thyrsus

Guest
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Engaging: Sisserith
Nearby Allies: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el BB-610 BB-610 Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad Tren Chaar Tren Chaar Shar Sieu Shar Sieu
[ armor ] [ lightsaber ] [ blaster pistol ]
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[ drengr of the ragnarok ]​

Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble had told him to be aware of his emotions.

With the adrenaline feeding into his blood, it was hard to be aware of much of anything aside from the thrill. He wasn't so much afraid as he was excited, but both seemed to tempt him toward the precipice that the man had said marked those moments when the boy fell to the Dark Side, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it.

He wasn't certain if that was something he should be frightened of or not. The path of the Jedi Consular didn't seem as though it was the one he was destined to walk.

A moment of cognition prompted the boy to try to dodge to one side, not even fully aware of why.

One of the rounds missed him, while the other impacted against the shields of the armor that he wore. It was an explosive impact, as the round pierced through the shield to slam against the boy's chest. He went back, but the suits thrusters kicked in to help steady him from being thrown or spun out of control.

His HUD blinked, red lights flashing warnings across his field of vision as the damage report began scrolling in.

And Calix?

Calix smiled.

Bringing his pistol up, the boy fired a particle beam at the small figure he saw close aboard, the maser-like beam lancing out in an orange streak as the boy set his sights on this target and charged in, head first.

This was what Calix craved. These were the moments that stirred the Thyrsian's blood.

...also, thinking was highly overrated.
 
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Wearing: Armor
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: Maw Freighter
Tag: Darth Temerant Darth Temerant | Velda Nar-Donna Velda Nar-Donna | Darth Wallgof Darth Wallgof | Briana Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren | Brandyn Sal-Soren

Too much silence.

Her feet felt strange when they touched the metallic floor and her stomach lurched as if they'd just cruised over a steep hill in a speeder. At first, she too felt very little. Nothing. But…That was subject to change with every passing moment. The same calming hum of the Force that lingered in the back of her mind seemed to be twisting around something Cybelle couldn't see. It might have been the resonating evil from Exegol interfering with her senses…But, it didn't seem that way. She felt like a small tea candle that flickered away with untarnished merriment. Burning, stubbornly, amidst encroaching shadow. A little flame. A little light. It wasn't much.

She wasn't much.

But, it was enough. She was enough.

The three Knights seemed to drift in varying directions, moving, on their own once they exited the shuttle. They orbited in an organic geometric shape that lent the safety of proximity but didn't act as a hindrance or a crutch. The need for data and a path forward drove them to examine their surroundings. Evaluate, the new reality. The lighting within the freighter wasn't much better, but Cybelle could at least make things out to a reasonable degree. She relied heavily on the Force.

It was for that reason that she didn't suspect Force dampening devices had been extensively deployed. Her field of vision would have been noticeably, immediately, affected. "If the Maw resorted to dampeners they've got to be extremely localized. Though, that would hurt them too.", Cybelle mused softly, though, nodding along with the observation Briana Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren had made. The Maw wouldn't balk at placing themselves at a disadvantage if it meant securing the win. Yes. They needed to be very, very careful in the belly of an enemy ship.

Between the three of them Cybelle had been a Knight the longest, but, she didn't feel any need to press for seniority. If they were in a different place, in a different time, she could almost pretend they were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek on the grounds of the old Ee'everwest Estate. It was a picturesque memory that had blurred at the edges into something beautiful. If only, they could smile like that now. Untroubled. The passage of time had turned those carefree smiles into expressions of resolve.

From childish games to executing galactic responsibilities. Who would have ever guessed?

She breathed in sharply when sudden bursts of the Darkside burst to life among the simultaneous sounds of blaster fire. Cybelle was already in motion by the time the word "trap" left Brandyn, as if, moving on autopilot. The nanites in her armored robes shifted with the changing light to let her blend in with both bright and beige while the green energy of her blade rose to deflect the incoming bolts. It made sense. Of course, it was a trap. The Maw would never fight in a linear fashion with an expected outcome.

"We're not alone."

She referred to more than what lay on the other side of the door. The sensation of an etheric tear ( Velda Nar-Donna Velda Nar-Donna ) combined with a cloud of insanity ( Darth Wallgof Darth Wallgof ) could not be missed by even the most novice in their Order. Cybelle focused on one issue at a time. It was all they could do—With blasters ahead, shadow above and behind.

Her lightsaber was more than effective at reflecting bolts while the door keep rising and she continued to send them back where they came from. Hoping to disable it so they could pass. The way she moved was fluid, light, as if she were made of wind and sky versus flesh and bone. The sooner they dealt with the sudden obstacle, the better, but as if to hammer her earlier words home Darth Wallgof Darth Wallgof suddenly announced himself. The sound of a lightsaber was something they all knew by heart. The bleak sensation, the sinister condescension, meant only one thing.

Sith.

At being referred to as a child Cybelle felt an eyebrow raise as she turned to initiate a defensive stance. Expecting, incoming. The familiarity exuded was…Troubling. What should be an impartial snatch and grab would suddenly become a far more complicated affair.

"…A friend of yours?"


It was accompanied by a wry, distant smile for the siblings. Clearly, the term "friend" was used very, very loosely.

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In Umbris Potestas Est
Allies: Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen Grand Shepherd Burtch Grand Shepherd Burtch Brodan Dobson Brodan Dobson Ira Sarrin Ira Sarrin Gabriel Creed Gabriel Creed John Jewl John Jewl Naivia Ri Naivia Ri
???: Eschara Ren Eschara Ren Primarion Hiperius Primarion Hiperius
Enemies: Jack Versio Jack Versio Dasmi Lindervale Isla Draellix-Kobitana Isla Draellix-Kobitana

Exegol System

"Are you sure about this, My Lady? This is a tremendous use of our stockpiled resources, and if it fails, we'll be in a very poor position to flee from the Galactic Alliance and their allies."

"I've kept my cards close to my chest the entire time I have carved out our territory here in the Maw. We have few options and the destruction of one or more dreadnoughts will be enough to scare the Alliance into submission. Once my followers have been firmly established as wielding power equivalent to that of our allies under Admiral Sularen, this splintering and fragmenting band of warlords will flock to us, if not out of ideology, then out of power. I consider it somewhat disdainful to make this move, but we have little choice."

"Very well - the Sovereign Elites are fueled and ready to engage."

-

Sixteen Sovereign Elite-class Battlecruisers jumped into the Exegol system, some distance from the Ragnarok. Their hulls still bore the scars from past conflicts, which mostly obscured the old Sith Empire markings that had originally adorned their hulls on their release from drydock. They were joined by several dozen Pluton-class Battleships, including the Ablution, the Saturn, and the remaining Saturn-Ds and Saturn-Os from the old Greater Maldrood prototyping projects - among regular Plutons as well. Upon their arrival, the hangars of the combined fleets disgorged a cumulative thousands of Scrapmetal drones configured with high-yield antimatter charges. The strategy was simple: if a fighter destroyed one, the blast would be enough to catch them too. And if they impacted a capital ship... the results would be more than lethal. Last to jump in, somewhat at range from the larger battle taking place, were a few dozen Voracitos-class Bombardment Spheres, which immediately began saturating the Alliance, Eternal, and other hostile vessels with massed swarms of seeker baradium missile fire. The less any smaller vessels could interfere in the mission of Onrai's fleet, the better.

The gargantuan flotilla of vessels divided itself roughly equally into a pair of groups. Each group possessed half the number of Sovereign Elites, as well as half the mixture of standard Plutons and their derivatives. Beam weapons were already charged up and ready to fire - hundreds of multi-meter wide emerald plasma beams struck across the void of space, aimed, from each of the two groups, at the Ragnarok. Previously, a mere two Sovereign Elites had been enough to cause problems to enemy dreadnoughts, but Onrai had given the naval officers under her domain explicit orders that they were to leave nothing to chance. The sooner these vessels could be crippled, the sooner, the fleet could turn itself towards the destruction of any other valuable hostile assets.

And the sooner Onrai could put her plans into action.
 
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Location: Mawite Flagship

Objective: Press on through the halls

Nearby Allies: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el Calix of Thyrsus BB-610 BB-610

Nearby Enemies: Romund Sro Romund Sro Sisserith


Advancing through the hall alongside her comrades Minerva reloaded her pistols. Just as they reached the middle section more Mawites appeared on the other end with horrid battle cries. Immediately both sides fired each other, killing and wounding before many could even blink. A trooper behind her gasped and struck in the left shoulder while she took cover on the side of the hall and others followed suit.

Emboldened at the sight, the Mawites charged. Those in front were shredded by the troopers’ firepower yet the rest pressed on with renewed roars.

If they want to die so badly I'll oblige them. The Mandalorian thought in utter contempt before a plan came to her.

Not seeing any time to explain to the others she put up the pistols and activating her personal deflector shield in the right vambrace. Blaster bolts were reflected back to the Mawites as they kept coming. Adjusting the size of the shield to cover the front of her upper body, Minerva stood firm, diverting most of the attention.

Seeing what she was doing the Alliance sergeant grabbed a grenade launcher and fired multiple projectiles overhead into the midst of the crazed zealots. Shrapnel erupted several small explosions tearing through their ranks. The blood thirsty screams turned that of pain for those still drawing breath.

Taking advantage of it Minerva turned off the shield and drew her rifle firing with her comrades at the few enemies somehow still. Moments later the firefight was over. At the sight the sergeant gestured to the troops left unscathed to press on. As they passed the corpses they fired a few more shots at anything that so much as twitches.

Stopping at the corridor briefly and looking back and forth the sergeant then pointed to the left hall as their next destination. With that they resume the advance. It was still a long way to the bridge however.
 
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Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom
Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword
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Objective: Rescue the twins and find her way to Asher
Location: Secret Prison Facility, Exegol
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Writing With: The Manifold The Manifold | Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha | The Mongrel The Mongrel and Kallan | Closed
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[ Come back… ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
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Mercy/Keilara #1
Tut #1
Manifold #1
Mercy/Keilara #2
Manifold #2
Tut #2

~ Mercy ~
"You don't owe me with gratitude...I do for freeing me from her. At least I have more space in my mind." I shrugged.

Most people would probably say that I should care about my other personalities or consciousness in my mind. But I wasn't interested. My head felt less crowded without Freedom. Most of the time I was lonely in my own part of my mind anyway and didn't care about the others. And I didn't feel Ziare at all anymore, she became one with Keilara. I know what they wanted and what they planned; it was my idea after all. If I was with Asher, I wouldn't be alone in my mind anyway because he would be there… and the twins. I watched as Manifold put the soul crystal away, then we headed off.

The elevator went down, anger and hatred growing in him with each passing moment. For the last time. I had to draw strength from them to be with Asher again. Tu'teggacha did not respond to my words, even though I felt a very strong fear from inside the base, from the depths where we were headed. These were not vibrations of the Force, I was weak to that, rather I felt them through the channel that I "built" when I reached out in the direction of the Taskmaster. His dread filled me with satisfaction. The dread that was perhaps greater now than the day the Shadow War began.

When we got down to the lowest level, I stepped out into the corridor, MANIAC immediately started indicating countless vital signs, most of which started in our direction. Probably Taskmaster's monsters. I didn't want to spend too much time fighting them. However, there was one thing I could do to remotely prevent them from getting here. Or I could try.

"Protect your mind from a telepathic attack. I can't leave you out of it, it will affect everyone." I said to Manifold; it will affect everyone except me, the twins, Kallan and Keilara, because they were there in my mind.

One way I could be very deadly and kill a lot of people. With the telepathic scream. It was how I killed nearly a dozen elite Eternal Empire agents on Dromund Kaas, and it was how I survived until Asher rescued me. And later over Tython, I killed about five dozen Scar Hounds Marauders at once when they tried to separate me from Asher's body. I focused on hatred, pain and grief; I drew strength from them. I finally stopped; it was hard to do while walking. I concentrated as I expanded my awareness to the entire facility.

I included Tu'teggacha in this as soon as I could, even though I knew it wouldn't do much against him as he could easily defend himself. But as soon as I had it, I screamed telepathically, loud, strong, as I could. Hoping to cause as many beings and persons as possible to have brain haemorrhages as blood vessels burst in their minds. I didn't need to breathe in my mind, so I was able to continue, even when I felt dizzy and my nose started to bleed from the exertion.

I wasn't going to stop until I wreaked havoc among Tu'teggacha's creatures…

~ You should have chosen to be a better person than those who hurt you in the past. Instead, you became an even bigger monster. Father died because of you... but now both mothers and the other father are coming for you. You only have yourself to thank for what follows. ~ Tu'teggacha could hear Abi and Little Asher's voices in his mind.

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~ Keilara ~
Together. I couldn't imagine my life without Kallan either, even if the dream really comes true and we get our own body. The current state had beauty and sadness, we would die at the same time when Mercy dies too. It would be different in a different body, but I couldn't imagine my life without it. He was always there, from the first moment, and I wanted him to be there until the last.

MANIAC had that miracle that he could not only project music, movies, books and newspapers into the mind palace for us, but we could also access different forums. Even all three at the same time, since the AI was able to pay attention to several separate things. So, even though I only knew Kallan personally, I had acquaintances and friends all over the galaxy whom I met on various forums, mostly mechanics, or on the site of my favourite series. The AI was able to store messages and send and record them with just a thought. In this way, we could not only exist in the mind palace, but also get to know others.

But in the end, it was the two of us that mattered and that we support each other in everything. That was the most important thing. As Kallan spoke, I leaned my head on his shoulder and thread my fingers between his. I looked up at him and nodded.

~ I've taken care of you from the first moment, I'm not going to stop now. I will never stop as long as we live. And I know that we have to help her, since we cannot exist without her for the time being. ~ I told him.

I knew that the last act had already started outside. Soon, if all goes well, the twins will be with us, this time physically. It was still horrible to think that they had sacrificed themselves so that we could escape. A parent should have done that, not a child. But it was different with them. The promise of freedom was getting closer, you just had to survive these next few hours. What once seemed so far was so close. I wish Asher could see this here. I think he would have been happy about that.

~ I will keep you strong as always, as much as I can. As I have done before. You know it's easier for me to do that with you because Mercy shuts me out like Asher tried you. ~ I told him again.

I looked at him again, into his eyes. I trusted him completely, but I couldn't ignore the fact that he was just like Asher. Not in many ways, mostly they are like two brothers, twins. But they had many personality traits that were similar. That's exactly why I was afraid he was going to do something like Asher did on Tyton. Just because you think it's the right thing to do and you wouldn't ask me. I was so afraid of it, especially now that freedom was so close and that we wouldn't have to fear the dark anymore after we reached it.

~ But promise me you won't do anything stupid like Asher did on Tython. Promise me you won't kill yourself. ~ I beseech him.

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Damian Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective Two: Shadow and Bone
Actions: Attempt Escape
Outfit (Cape-less)

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The metal ground was cold to the touch, but it was rather comfortable when pressed against his growing bruise on his cheek and arm. Damian allowed himself a moment of respite to enjoy this small comfort, comparatively he was positively over the moon. Of course the situation could have been marginally better, his plan to. . . to do what exactly? Find vengeance? For who? Damian clenched both his fists tightly, so tight his knuckles turned white from the pressure. His anger continued to grow and yet he couldn’t bring himself to sit back up straight, let alone come up with a plan for his immediate problem.

Damian shifted himself up, his eyes looking around but even with adjusting to the dimly lit room, he found himself unable to reliably see. Much of what he could make out wasn’t exactly useful information, outside of ‘yes the metal bars and locks were still in-fact engaged’. Gently rubbing his shoulder, Damian winced as he inspected another bruise near where he was massaging. He couldn’t exactly wait for a chance to catch an unsuspecting Maw guard. As his own feet chained and secured to the wall would prove the attempt rather futile if the guard was simply there to provide abuse and not drag him to a different cell.

The young Du Couteau heir breathed evenly, his own sight becoming even more obscured as he gingerly tapped his swelling face. The situation was far beyond grim, and as it stood Damian was certain he only had so much time before his captors got bored with just torture on a Senator. They will want to make a point soon, especially if the reports of the Alliance Defense Force striking Exegol. With careful movement he inched himself closer to the nearest wall, relaxing into the cold metal being pressed into his back. Damian’s ears picked up a sound of metal boots clanging, their heavy footsteps marching down the stair railings before finally hitting the solid plate metal sheets of the floor. He continued to control his breathing, even and his arms laid limply by his sides. Damian continued to listen intently, the heavy thuds of the Maw’s steps echoed closer and closer.

Vengeance, all this for vengeance.

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The staff spun, the body shifting to help better intercept and deflect the bolt back upon its shooter, killing him instantly.

He remembered this part about his original career as a Jedi, certainly. Constantly being shot at by every Soldier carrying the best weapons they could get their hands on. Had his father not taught him Form Three he would have died many, many times over.

The Citadel loomed, a terrible, inverted pyramid where the Dark Side perversely sang invisible notes to Nathan's admittedly limited perception. He flinched, barely catching a bolt in time with a staff spin, the team of soldiers firing and killing his attacker.

Nathan spotted a Mawite firing a rocket at him and the squad.

He concentrated and held out his hand just as the rocket armed leaving the barrel.

It vanished mid flight...and re-appeared above the one who had fired, traveling downward towards the shooter.

The explosion was impressive. Most impressive. Nathan had a small amount of time to note how he was starting to focus better...weeks prior, it would have taken the wind out of him...

A storm of bolts swarmed in his direction, and Nathan drew on both the power of the particular crystals he had installed, as well as it's unique attachments--most of it optimized for blast deflection--and combined it with his own Force Senses and rudimentary understanding of Soresu to ward off the storm of shots, coming from a mounted heavy Repeater. The team behind him fired off a grenade from a Launcher and blew up the defensive position blocking their route.

"We're making good time, Jedi!" The Sergeant in heavy armor said. "We've done a great job so far wiping out a good sized portion of the repeater and rocket emplacements. Our Soldiers on the ground won't have such a bad time on this route to the Citadel."

Nathan said nothing at first, deflecting a blaster bolt into a Mawite's face.

"When we get in that citadel, it will be kill or be killed." Nathan spoke finally, in a cold, unfeeling voice as he lead them to cover in the form of a burned out APC. "What are we after that's so important it required us to go ahead of the others?"

"Some sort of Great Crystal. Our orders are to capture or destroy it if we can't capture it."

"I'm in favor of destroying it outright."

"My thoughts exactly..." The Sergeant replied. "Trying to capture these artifacts just breeds the potential for trouble down the road, if you ask me. I don't count on us being able to capture it. Not with the kind of resistance we'll face in there."

"Any chance we might find prisoners?" Nathan asked.

"If there are, they're probably dead or wishing for it." The Sergeant replied.

Nathan didn't reply to this. Unfamiliar with the modern politics, and uncaring of the enemy he faced, as he had faced off against such truly depraved, genuinely sick bastards during the Gulag Era that this "Maw" was, at best, more of the same kind of trash that had tried to kill him back then, that he didn't bother asking things others might have asked. He'd taken a look at one insane nutjob screaming about War, Death, Rebirth (He wondered if it was some sort of catchphrase amongst them) and he realized that, yeah, it was a same-chit, different-day sorta thing. An enemy turning the whole Galaxy into that Airport Level from MW2. (You know the one. Don't lie about it)

Nathan signalled for them to start moving again and they moved through cover and overturned vehicles, until they were forced to stop by a small band of charging cultists armed with swords, screaming that funny chant he had heard earlier.

"So it is a catchphrase..." Nathan noted as he teleported into their midst, spinning his staff to meet their vibromachetes, strictly adhering to Form Three's passivity in meeting attacks, retaliating only when he had an opening, a tip of his blade slicing through a neck or hip. Or an arm and leg. Nathan had not killed many people before this point in this new era he found himself in. If it had just been him, by himself, he might not have, but he was responsible for these Soldiers lives. Responsible to make sure as many of them came home as possible. Sparing as many as he could opened the chance they might be revived prematurely by some outside Force beyond his control and kill other allied forces. No. He didn't have the right to take that risk.

And in war, someone will inevitably die. Judging by how crazy these bastards he was cutting down actually were, he figured they'd done something to earn it. He could figure it out later. It was probably a genocide. That was usually what pissed Republic-Types off. Jedi too. Nathan didn't bother with getting disgusted. He didn't have the energy anymore. He'd been exposed to this wretchedness, this form of moral decay, his entire career and it no longer elicited much from him beyond a sigh of annoyance and an irritated sounding request to be directed towards the perpetrators for their arrest or for their cutting. Sometimes both.

He normally took no pleasure in any taking of life. There were two exceptions. One had been that one Sith whose head he had frozen alive in liquid nitrogen to avenge the victims he had found in that basement the Sith had been using during the Plague. The Nitrogen kill had been the first time he had outright snapped, unable to stomach letting the Sith live because of what he had seen done in that basement, spending the night after trying to forget the terrible horrors in that place, nearly losing his mind. He had never told Lysandra. The other exception had been Elaine, though at the time he had done it, it was as much about lifting the guilt of not avenging his family, a life of debating whether or not vengeance would be wrong finally being put to rest. Except he had been brought to a world partly shaped by his lack of mercy, seemingly as punishment.

Nathan cut another Mawite in half as he waded into the thickest combat, parrying stabs and blocking chops and blaster bolts. Instinct made him teleport behind and bisect an armored man about to fire a handheld sonic cannon at them. Nathan sank more into Form Three, eyes shut, The Force moving his body and his blade, his fists, his legs into jaws and torso.

No mercy today.

His blade sliced through two more Mawites before they picked up a swarm of gunships firing on everything below. They didn't seem aligned with this "Maw". More Sith. He didn't give a chit. There were always more Sith.

Nathan and the Soldiers accompanying him retreated into the partly collapsed remains of an apartment complex.

"They're all racing for the Citadel. Looks like it's starting to take heavy damage. We could probably steal a ship and get in through one of the gaps..." Nathan suggested.

"Yeah, but they're landing personnel. Firing at anything that moves..." The Sergeant pointed out.

Nathan and the team stayed behind cover as they watched the Sith gunships streak by, firing on Alliance and Maw. Now he was feeling a bit of intellectual curiosity as to just how awful these Maw had been that everyone wanted them dead. Of the groups he had personally encountered, only the Cult of the Brain Demon had ever inspired such unanimous hatred. Then he remembered what the corrupted Elaine told him earlier. About Julia playing a part in the destruction of two different super-weapons.

Ohhhhhh. So 'you're' the nutcases who made those. Yeah. That's sounds about right for this sort of trash... he thought to himself.

It was like Moya had told him weeks prior: Julia didn't have to be the hero in order for the people she fought to still be beyond horrible. While he wasn't exactly certain about Moya's self admittedly biased thoughts in the matter, particularly where the Jedi fit into this twisted equation to explain his daughter's spiral, for the first time, he got a glimmer of the kind of pressure Julia had been under.

Mind rending, crushing pressure to halt foes desiring the death of everything. From the tales Moya had told of the Bryn'adul, Nathan could not be certain his own response to such a threat would have been all that radically different from her own, at least in the most extreme cases. Then again, Jedi encountered threats so extreme they had to be killed immediately for the safety of others.

Moya had also mentioned Laertia's frequent and terrible nightmares as the Bryn'adul slaughter grew more and more savage as she grew more entwined in the conflict, how it became so personal for her, especially when she saw the Jedi seemingly callous to the billions being murdered, all to finish off a Sith Empire. The umpteenth one. As if there wouldn't be enough survivors to form a new one. There were always enough survivors to form a new one. Nathan had been taught this by his Father.

Julia had rebelled, likely realizing the same thing. He pitied her. He wished she could have met his father. He could have taught her the value of accepting the Force's will. Much better than Nathan himself could have.

What are the Three Directives of a Bloodscrawl? his father Angus asked from the depths of a half faded memory.

"Serve the Public Trust, Protect the Innocent, Uphold the Will of The Force..." he hissed out in response out of reflex more than conscious decision.

"Huh? What did you say?" The Sergeant asked as one of those under his command gave a layout of the area ahead via a small sphere shaped scout Droid sending feedback for a holographic projector.

"Nothing..." Nathan answered.

There was a beastly roar through the air and the screaming started. Nathan felt a dark splinter in the Force, sharp and filled with pain.

Curiously, he watched as enemy Maw and stormtroopers started to run from at first, to confront the horror that had just arrived, savagely ripping into their ranks...and watched as more and more Sith and Maw began to run for their lives. In droves

Nathan watched as a corpse pale, white eyed woman in black hoplite-like armor strode casually down the street, soaked in blood and gibs, her fiery orange sword hissing with dark power. Moya had described this one. Lynda/Westenra. Some sort of hyper advanced HRD built by a mad vampire scientist in a particularly severe fit of insanity.

Upon seeing her fight, he saw the grace mingled with savagery, watch her punches cave in faces, her sword bite through armor, Nathan was half tempted to write her off as an abomination, as much a threat to her own allies as she was to the enemy. He knew from Moya that West was not Force Sensitive, so that means she must have pilfered those items she wore from elsewhere.

Either way, he was already leery of her. She was using items born from the Dark Side. Such artifacts could only ever end in misery if kept. But he had no choice. He needed all the help he could get against his daughter, and this beast that had once tried to be a normal, loving human was not something to discard casually.

"Hey!" Nathan called out, waving his arms.

"Are you crazy? That's The Demon of Jedha!" one of the other soldiers hissed.

Lynda's eyes snapped towards him and a crocodile like hiss escaped her throat as she floated towards him.

"What? Do I have Mawite in my teeth again?" Lynda joked in a bleak manner.

"We need help getting a ship to breach that Citadel..." Nathan said.

Lynda sniffed at the air around him and grimaced.

"That smell...it smells so...familiar..." she said idly, glancing at him in suspicion.

"Will you help us?" Nathan asked.

"I dunno..." Lynda muttered, looking around. "I was kinda having a good time here. Nice, sunny day out. Lots of roses to smell..."

"Lots of Maw bunched together in the Citadel like Sardines." Nathan replied, hating having to appeal to someone's desire for unrestrained murder, even though that was basically what the Alliance was here to do (Repeat the Sacking of Korriban from the ancient times).

Lynda took a moment to think, and flew upward as an enemy gunship began a strafing run on the ground below, jamming her burning sword into the side of the ship, cutting it open and ripping open the occupants in the passenger section, the bloody act given away by the trail of blood that would occasionally escape, followed by the ship fluttering, the pilots cries of agony audible before it made a sharp U-turn to them, settling down.

Nathan saw no bodies, only bloodstains and chunks of stuff as he and the others climbed in.

The trip there was rocky, and Lynda was forced to evade incoming fire, but they inevitably reached a blasted open entry...the citadel was under attack constantly now and set down, Nathan, his Soldiers and the demon splitting off, heading elsewhere from them.

Nathan came under fire from the gaggle of creeps defending this place almost immediately, slipping into Form Three on instinct as he and his allies began fighting their way through security, close to Quintessa Quintessa ...
 

THE EMPIRE
IMPERIAL SPECIAL FORCES
Enemies: Galactic Alliance | The Sith Order | Brotherhood of the Maw | Dominik Borra | Corin Trenor Corin Trenor
Allies: The Empire | Ashlan Crusade | Eternal Empire
Equipment: In Bio
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The journey to the surface was eerily quiet among the troopers with only the shuddering of the dropship and whirring of engines creating an unsettling ambience. Those present knew this would be an unconventional operation but even special forces had their limits.

The Empire may have been born from their schism with the Sith but not all among its army were veterans from a time passed and many would be woefully underprepared for what they would face this day.

Despite their recent tribulations from the Jedi and greater Alliance, it was no substitute for inexperience with Sith who exercised a greater threat and degree of unpredictability. Even so, no threat was greater than that of the Brotherhood of the Maw - a group so fanatical that they knew no fear of death.
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Stormtroopers would fight to the death but not because they did not fear it. Rather, it was their duty to the almost equally fanatical Empire that they had trained under.

Most would die in service, they knew, but many considered themselves part of something greater and today would test their loyalty to the limits.

Deployed to Exegol in almost a state of co-belligerence with common enemies in the fray amongst their hostile Alliance neighbours, troopers would be reminded of their obedience to their orders rather than their emotions.

"Any inspirational words, sir?" She asked the only decorated officer amongst the otherwise low to mid-ranking troopers.

"For The Empire." He replied in a less than enthusiastic tone, mirroring the sentiment among the group, some of whom muttered the phrase in response.

They would soon face what lay ahead as the dropship shuddered one final time as it connected with the ground before it fell into near silence for a moment. The doors hissed open and the Imperials set their first steps on Exegol, morbidly aware that for some it would be their last.

 
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Location: Exegol, Hon Zduul Plateau
Engaging: Silhana Cadera Silhana Cadera

  • Kralmus is hit by Silhana as she rockets past, injuring his hip and knocking him down
  • He gets back up and draws his heavy blaster pistols, shooting in the direction she flew
  • He follows up by launching a jetpack-mounted anti-vehicle missile toward her

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Silhana taunted Kralmus back, keeping up with his banter, but he hardly seemed to notice. He was lost in his own mad thoughts, dreaming of the ending he desired - laughing up at the sky as Exegol burned, his belly full of the meat of his old rival. The last tethers of sanity in him had snapped, and he saw only what he wanted to see, heard only what he wanted to hear. The dream he had fought for - of a dark Mandalorian host laying waste to the galaxy - had collapsed, and now he clung tightly to his remaining dream: conquering his greatest foe.

Perhaps that was why he did not notice Silhana's jetpack firing up until it was too late.

Well, almost too late. The pull of the gravity trap, which no ordinary being could have escaped, held back even the powerful jetpack for a few moments, trying to drag it back to the ground. That gave Kralmus time to scramble aside, his well-honed reflexes kicking in to instinctively move him out of the way. It wasn't quite enough time to get fully out of Silhana's path as she rocketed toward him, though. The pink-armored Mando's shoulder smashed into Kralmus's hip as she flew by, knocking him to the ground. The cannibal howled in surprise and pain.

The bone was certainly bruised, perhaps even cracked; she'd hit him hard, the gravity trap holding her back while she gathered thrust before finally releasing her like a slingshot bullet when it overloaded. But Kralmus Orr had been through much, much worse pain. He forced himself back to his feet, hissing through his sharpened teeth as he first put weight on his injured leg, and drew the twin heavy pistols strapped to his thighs. "What a relief!" he called out, his pained hiss turning into an insane cackle. "It's no fun if you make it too easy."

With the electrical storm throwing off all his sensors, Kralmus couldn't track exactly where Silhana had landed, but he could visually follow the trail of jetpack-scorched dirt she'd blazed as she flew by. Raising both blasters, he opened fire in that direction, sending a steady stream of bolts after his foe. The energy weapons might not penetrate her armor, but if they hit her, they could certainly knock her down with sheer kinetic force. "I... LIKE... MY... MEAT... STILL... WRIGGLING!" he howled, each word punctuated with a half-dozen blaster bolts.

Never mind that he'd just said he was going to cook her. He was well past rational thought, driven solely by hunger and hate.

As he continued to saturate the area with blaster bolts - which would be embarrassing overkill if Silhana had broken her neck on impact - it occurred to Kralmus that he had another weapon well-suited to attacking a general area. Ceasing fire for a moment, he leaned over, pointing the top of his own jetpack in the direction Silhana had flown. Then he triggered his high-explosive jetpack missile, sending it streaking toward the rocks he'd last seen his foe flying past. It was an anti-vehicle missile, designed to put a hole in walkers or tanks.

"WRIGGLING LITTLE PIECES!" Kralmus corrected himself, watching the huge orange explosion light up the dark plateau.
 
Shadow from the Lonely Dream
THEME: Made in Abyss OST 2 - "Tozo Hanoline ft. Uyanga Bold"
Words breathe fire, it breathes the blood of the fallen, it soaks up every particle of the soul, every touch of life, it flares up in the midst of winter, and blossoms in the night, in it everyone sees their flowers and their paths, fire alone in silence, alone burns and groans, one angel from above, flies over the field, and sees the angel the corner of spring, that is the fire of nature, burning and so familiar. Poetry of life, death and love, that is my only word, living fire I am without water, I am your shadow from beneath your chest, I am your nightmare of parting, then Risa carried life in her blade, then thousands of mortal cries, then only a nightmare among the nights that flit before your eyes, but the world, the galaxy, without ships - too dull of a valley, hurry! hurry! Around the lights! The lights! The lights! The lights of living creatures and artificial children, the armies and fleets of the world! Come on, be shapely, O princes and princesses of the ether! While in the midst of the shadows, the friend of chaos goes speedily, to hear in detail that order that ran in a moment, and did not reach Risa's ears! To be fair, not only did Risa completely oversleep the order, but she magically decided to pay a visit to the "old but nice man" who was sort of her superior right in the middle of a military operation! As always Risa was as far as possible from the cataclysmic events, which, wherever you look, were united by a mad effort of atoms called "living beings" to make, in many ways, very illogical and even contrary to logic steps, their giant and small ships, like games of small children playing in the sand by the salty mourning warm sea! If only Risa had a watercolour, a small brush and a blank piece of paper, she would fill it with life! How many colours, explosions, fuss, chaos, stirred up by the fates of countless living beings! What beauty, what grandeur, what play on the good old canon of tales of wars and conflicts! Risa's mind ached pleasantly at the thought of all that was happening, apparently it was the remnants of that little girl who had been thrown out of her family for fear of her nature and her powers. But Risa knew that no matter where she seemed to be, who she would serve and who she would 'hunt', at her core she would still be an unrecognised artist of death, a childishly arrogant fragment from the memory of a long dead being, who was still trying to influence the world through the corrosive changes on the world around her and in the very tormented body of the 'dancer' of the impending end. As the thoughts flitted through the neurons of her brain, Risa had already made quite a long way around the main flagship of the Final Dawn, and eventually found herself in the heart of that ship, not interested in all the hell overboard, she calmly walked up behind Marlon Sularen and poked his cheek lightly with her finger and leaned in to whisper. "I don't seem to be supposed to be here, but magically I am. Is there anything I can do to help, Sul-chan?" Sincerely the girl inquired, and stepped back studying the senior officers around her. They were all too well dressed up and somewhat focused, Risa especially didn't understand all the tension, she just wanted to hear the sweet words that would mean she could quietly under any pretext ruin something or kill someone, for that she decided to take part in this galactic drama,where everyone has their values and everyone demonstrates and defended them in their own way. "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!"

Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen
 

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Location: Lightpoint station, observation deck.
Allies: Maw, Eschara Ren Eschara Ren Kybo Ren Kybo Ren
Enemies: Alliance, Jedi, Sith. Valery Noble Valery Noble Kahlil Noble Kahlil Noble


Kyrel would growl at Valery’s own retort against him. There was no more time for anymore words, as Kyrel’s question was quickly answered when the Sword of the Jedi would rush to meet him head on. He readied himself for her strike, lost within his rage he could feel the power of the dark side course through his veins like liquid fire. Just as he was about to meet her with a heavy power attack as his first move he felt his legs start to freeze in place. He didn’t know what had happened until he noticed the spot he stood on the floor glow.

He felt his own legs start to tighten, and just as quickly the Master of Ren found himself caught in a trap. He was unable to move his lower half as he felt the ice start to climb towards his waist. Gritting his teeth from the icy sting what he would do was stand there motionless. All he could do was simply watch as the Sword would rush head on towards him. Kyrel simply waited as he was unable to move, and when she had finally met him for her opening strike he had simply grabbed her free wrist with his strength. Using his size, and his strength to control the flow of the battle as a Djem So master should he used Valery’s lunge against her and upon her opening strike she would get tossed to the other side of him.

If this had worked, Kyrel would stare down Valery with murderous intent. Just as quickly as he had tossed her to the other side of him he had countered with throwing his saber in her direction as a counterattack. Once he had done this he had quickly shifted his torso to Kahlil and with his free hand stretched out open palmed. He would use the Force to sent several objects flying towards him in an attempt to throw him off balance. All the while he was slowly trying to break free from the clutches of the icy teeth that had held him firmly into place. With what little time he did have before Valery would launch her next attack he would send a charge of lightning down the ice quickly hoping to dissolve it and regain his footing before Valery had met him for another strike. The battle between Ren and Jedi, and for the fate of the entire galaxy had begun in earnest.
 
ᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴢᴇʀᴏᴇꜱ

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EXEGOL - PHASE I


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| LOCATION: The Brotherhood of the Maw's Flagship |
| ALLIES:
The Galactic Alliance [NEAR: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el | Calix of Thyrsus | Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad ] |
| ENEMIES:
The Brotherhood of the Maw [NEAR: Romund Sro Romund Sro | Sisserith] |


BB-610 was incredibly glad to see that their boarding had already invited opposition before they could even move. BB-610 was subsequently glad that his sarcasm module was still very much functional after some inactivity.

It was wishful thinking to believe their trek to the bridge would be one without issue, but wishful thinking is parr for the course for Jedi, so perhaps it wasn't as unfounded a sentiment as the droid once believed. Wary of incoming blast fire, he hastily rolled back, taking cover behind the gunship he had arrived in, not even daring to peek as his allies returned the assault. It was worrying just how dessensitized he'd gotten to the echo of bloodcurdling screams ringing out around him that followed with the thud of lifeless bodies, but it was a thought he'd have to postpone, with his advanced photoreceptors dotting his disks alerting him of approaching Mawites-- one a monster, broad and intimidating, the other a diminutive creature, backed by warriors. Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el and Calix of Thyrsus took their stands in fighting their respective foes, while Mandalorian Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad engaged with their rivalling forces.

It was now or never, the droid thought, and with his teammates clashing with the Maw's offence, BB-610 swiftly rolled to the wall's nearby data port as he inserted his scomp link, accessing the flagship's schematics in order to bring up its layout for his droidbrain to memorize. Satisfied, his scomp link was retracted, and as he spared a glance to the thoroughly cramped central hall buzzing with blasters and lightsabers, BB-610 opted not to chance his survival with brazenly waltzing through, but to take a detour to the nearest right, calmly waiting for more troops to dash past him in frantic need to exterminate the invading Alliance. Once his path was cleared, the astromech rolled forth, uncontested and unbothered throughout his trip down a much more dangerous route-- if you were a Jedi or Mandalorian, of course.

This hall, while safer for the droid, was nonetheless a longer path to the bridge than their intended designation. With the enemies they'd made, the less attention brought to him, the better. His Imperial chassis worked to his advantage, and all he had to do was fulfill the same purpose he'd done adnauseum all those years ago for The First Order: roam the halls, mindlessly drone with low, emotionless beeps, and not cause a fuss. A rather easy job, as BB-610 caught sight of a handful of fellow astromechs (and one skirting mouse droid) up ahead, promptly joining them without issue as he blended in flawlessly. He followed, for the meantime, as Mawite forces ran and ignored him as though he were just idle decoration, and would have to branch off to the bridge soon. It would take him a while to arrive, but with how full his allies' hands were, BB-610 anticipated arriving there shortly before they did. Their enemies, failing to kill them, would at least be delaying them. BB-610 simply wouldn't allow that, as he internally brought up the path to the bridge and eyed its position through scanned walls.

Silently, he wished them luck.


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A measly Padawan, Corin remembered his first fight against the Sith well. An onslaught on the system of Tython, swiping and slashing their way up the spire in an effort to put an end to what Darth Solipsis had set in motion. He was there, right beside Dagon; always beside him. Those were morbidly fonder memories with the years separating the two from one another until the elder was gone, vanished, disappeared and lost - empty reassurances were all Corin had to hold onto now. Though there was little and less time to dwell on it once on the surface of the birthplace of the Maw. So twisted and evil, the now Jedi Knight could put an end to it without Dagon. Or maybe join him in some great beyond, a fragment in the Force.

On the outskirts leading towards the Forbidden District, the lone Jedi trawled through the wreck of Exegol. He clutched tightly onto the brightly beaming blue lightsaber as much as the darkened steel of a blaster pistol, knowing all too well that old habits died hard. He wore no armour, no robes, only the old and stained leathers. Maybe it was more than another mission, Corin mused halfheartedly.

A piece of a legacy.

Corin wondered what he might think of him now. Climbing out of his hovel, thrown onto the front lines, displaying all those troubles on his sleeve that Dag cautioned him over for years. He could almost laugh, knowing what an awful student he was. They weren't master and apprentice, they were a family. A dysfunctional one, too. Like ice and fire, the two opposites clashed countless times. It worsened with age. Corin knew his vices, though he never deigned to fix them.

They made him, him. Let them stay, let them be. Consumed by his own fire, raging within. The thrown fists, the ventilated frames, the cut limbs - they all spoke to that. The thin gaps in an otherwise thick Sith defensive were breached. Behind enemy lines and absent any support in the meantime, the sight of a descending Imperial craft caused his gaze to narrow and his brow to loft. Though the Imperials were always hungry for a fight.
 

Sisserith

Guest
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Location: Hangar Bay - Mawite Flagship
Objective: Protect the Flagship
Direct Engagement: Calix of Thyrsus

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Sisserith’s sharp magenta gaze caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at the corners of the Jedi’s lips.

She knew immediately that it was the typical brand of Jedi arrogance and pride that she had heard in the stories told by the War Shamans and Heathen Priests. Nevertheless, it only strengthened the Seseli’s resolve, giving her fresh motivation to make that smile his last, regardless of whether the ritual succeeded or failed.

Even if the Maw collapsed and Exegol was burned to a husk, Sisserith was determined to claim at least one victory over an agent of the anathema.

Sparing not a moment after her initial salvo of shotgun slugs, Sisserith leveled her right arm towards the Jedi and let loose with a single, dumb-fired Lumablast rocket as he recovered from being shot, aimed to impact the immediate area around him. Nevertheless, Sisserith’s gaze widened as her opponent quickly regained his poise, before bringing his pistol up to return fire split-seconds before her rocket might go off, thereby compelling Sisserith to follow up her offense with defense. Priming her powerful, digitigrade legs, the Seseli threw her body into a leaping pirouette, the acrobatic maneuver carrying her form four meters to her right as the Jedi’s particle beam grazed across the armor plating on her left flank.

Landing on her feet, legs splayed wide like a savage feline preparing to pounce on hapless prey, Sisserith immediately let loose a fresh barrage of three slug rounds from her shotgun at close to its maximum rate of fire, aimed to strike the Jedi’s chest and capitalize on a potential rocket blast. Singing a chord of howling notes in brutal disharmony, the shotgun barked out a resounding trio of foreboding booms, its wielder's wrath made manifest as she sought to bring death to a hated agent of the anathema.


 
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Then

When Jack had outlined the Selvaris plan, and then left to see to his Y-wing, the other pilots of Gold Squadron had discussed the plan among themselves, as pilots were wont to do. They discussed the pros and cons of the unorthodox idea, and what they might do to improve their chances of survival.

One pilot suggested targeting an escort first, but an older pilot, Gold Ten, shook her head. "Wouldn't work. These bastards would gladly throw away a cruiser or destroyer to get rid of us. A command ship though, they won't waste their own lives. They'll have to try something." The other pilot asked what that might be, but the older pilot just shook her head again. "You can't tell. Thats the problem with crazy plans. No way to predict them, but no way to predict any response, either. Double edged vibroblade."

The younger pilot chewed that over for a moment. "How will we know?" That got a chuckle from all the veteran pilots. "Oh, when the shit hits the fan, you'll know." She said it with a smile, not unkindly. They'd get it in time if they didn't die first. Enemy action was like that. Only fools expected an enemy to stand idle and do nothing. People didn't just let you shoot them. They reacted to protect themselves. And the enemies they were going to be fighting for the Alliance at Exegol were no slouches. After Exegol, the great war would be over. For those of them that survived.

Now

The first clue that something was up was when Jack saw the hangar shield come down. With the blue glow gone, the interior was only lit by the laser cannons of the Y-wings chewing into the ship, and the fires of internal explosions. Without knowing what was up, Jack couldn't warn his pilots what to be ready for. Not that it would have mattered, the enemy had indeed come up with a counter move. There was a bright flash of green, and Gold Eleven's Y-wing was on fire. Then another flash blotted the bomber out of space. More blasts entered the hangar, mercifully not taking out any more of his craft. Then Gold Ten was hit. Several others were hit by shrapnel from the detonation of Eleven. "Eleven is gone, Ten is hit." He heard the forced calm in Ten's voice.

With the threat coming from the hangar entrance, all the guarding Y-wings had to pull back and away, to prevent direct fire from hitting their craft. Despite their best efforts, the damage yet done had not created enough room. Jack had take another big risk. He didn't hesitate. "Three and Four, torpedoes now!" The two bombers in best firing position obeyed the order, and multiple proton torpedoes streaked away into the interior of the Flagship to port and starboard of Jack's bomber. Two sets of large explosions were set off, one larger than the other. Must have hit a fuel cell, Jack thought, before the explosion from that quarter engulfed Gold Three's Y-wing and it also disappeared into a cloud of debris. "Damn." Jack cursed. That one was his fault, but he'd had no damn choice. Gold Four was nearly destroyed, but was at the very edge of the explosion, and survived with minor damage. "Three is gone." He reported.

He quickly took stock of his losses. Two craft destroyed, two pilots gone, and Gold Ten's pinup painting had been scorched black along with one of his engine pods. Two of the remaining ten were damaged. Jack could see smoke, but it wasn't pouring from their engines, so he figured the pilots had things under control for now. They were running out of time, the enemy would be coming for them with fighters as well as guns. He couldn't leave the exit unguarded. But he had to start doing some real damage. They'd made a couple of holes, now they had to commit to their destructive task. He rattled off orders. "Nine, Ten and Twelve, hold that entrance. Five through Eight, you're going aft. Two and Four, you're with me. Hold the door, Ten." Gold Ten would know what the last part meant. Keep them off us at all costs.

The Y-wings split into three groups. Gold Ten and her wingmen were inside the entrance, angled away to avoid direct turbolaser fire pouring in from the other enemy capital ships. They held fire ready to interdict any attempt to come through that way. Jack and his two wingmen angled toward the ship's bow. The four remaining Y-wings angled aft, toward the stern and the engines. The proton torpedo attack that had killed Gold Three had created for the rest of the squadron two jagged and flaming corridors to shoot down, one in each direction from the enemy hangar. The remaining Y-Wings had just enough room to continue their destruction. Green turbolaser blasts continued to come in through the hangar bay, though they only hit the flagship, no more of the bombers.

There was no thought yet of escape, or even survival. Maybe Gold Squadron could wear the wreck of the flagship as a hat, but realistically, the enemy would not take kindly to the loss of a command ship and its commanders. They would be out for blood. Having already lost two of his pilots, Jack was already out for blood. He planned an ion attack, and then Jack intended the Squadron's second barrage would be of the more destructive variety. They'd fire one volley to temporarily cripple the ship, opening up an opportunity to use their second to cause some really catastrophic damage. Ria was providing scans of the interior of the vessel, comparing it with known technical data from the Alliance. Knowing where to shoot and where not to shoot was crucial.

Once the groups had reformed, Jack ordered them to let the enemy have it. "Let's give them the ion weapons too, Golds." The Noble Edition Y-wings blasted out ion torpedoes in two directions, which would play havoc with the enemy ship's power and electronics. Red laser cannon blasts lit the two jagged and flaming corridors as the Y-wings fired. Multiple massive ion detonations in the heart of the ship had the potential to really upset the ship's operation. Three toward the bow and four aft, seven sets of ion weapons blasted out at the flagship's heart with crackling blue lightning playing over the internal spaces. Three ships including Jack were moving toward the bow through the internal space they were carving out, and four moved aft. This left three on rear guard in what remained of the hangar proper, all hanging back and away from the open hangar doors and space beyond.

The Y-wings had to use their instruments because the entire space was beginning to fill with thick black smoke from the fires, the damaged flagship's internal wreckage, and the two bombers which they had lost, as well as the two that were damaged, adding to the foggy miasma of darkness, lit by weapons fire through the smoke. Playing his own laser cannons across the guts of the enemy flagship, Jack was resolved to see their task through to the end. He'd kill this enemy ship if it was his last act in this universe. For the Alliance.
 


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The Forbidden District - Looking at the Sith Citadel.
Oriadne Hallas

Hot water fell over a ball of dried, black herbs. Steam and vapor crashed back up through the top of the kettle as the ball began to dissolve into loose leaves and petals. The tea's fragrance, albeit gentle, was already blossoming. When the first wave had washed over her, the pale woman poured the tea over the tray.

"It is curious to me, this New Sith Order. When it formed, I was dead."

Darth Ophidia and a handful of her closest Darkseekers did not come with the assault of the Sith Order's fleet, but had slowly infiltrated Exegol through seed agents from the old Sith Empire, agents whose allegiance was sealed through sorcerous means to protect their cover. She had come to provide the Order with intel, lest they fumble in the dark during their assault on the New Sith Order's throne world.

She wondered, if she had lived when Solipsis had struck, had she gone with him? Or would she do as the two other Triumvirs and withdraw the remnants of her power to recover and rebuild? Would she be slain here?

More water filled the pot and heated to a low simmer. The renewed temperature further teased and coaxed forth the flavour of the now opened ball of dark tea leaves. The fragrance filled her nostrils anew, washing over her with an undercurrent of darkness. She let the fragrance hang in the air, allowing the complexity of the tea's pouring to develop.

"Now I, alive, may see its demise."

Her hands settled into her lap as she looked up at the darkened sky of Exegol. With a deep breath, the Dark Lady of the Sith drew in the old currents of power that writhed through Exegol's bones. She wished she had more time to spend on this dark jewel of the galaxy, to have come here when she had time to feel and tap into the powers that festered in the ground. She had to commend the New Sith Order for their diligence and attention to detail when constructing the ruins

She could only imagine how it must have looked in its prime.

"Strife, death, growth; such is the way of the Sith"

With practiced movements, she lifted the kettle and carefully poured a light amber tea into four cups. The pouring was of atrisian fashion, something she had picked up during the reign of the One Sith a lifetime ago. Exegol reminded her of those days, of Prakith and Coruscant, of servitude since broken, of ascension.

"Or, 'War, death, rebirth' as I believe the locals say."
 

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Exegol
Lightsaber | Outfit
Battlegroup Kenobi
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The battle had begun.

With their unspoken plan coordinated through their dyad, Valery led the charge and closed the distance to strike Kyrel down, while Kahlil used his runes to freeze the Wrath in place. Ice rapidly formed around Kyrel's legs, but despite it, his body twisted enough to catch her wrist before the sweeping strike could become his end. His strength caught Valery off-guard, and she was subsequently tossed to his other side and a safe distance away.

But Valery did not lose her balance.

Her feet slid across the station's floor and she spun around, just in time to see him throw parts of the shattered doors toward Kahlil. She knew that he'd be able to handle that easily, and moved back towards the Master of Ren, who summoned lightning to free himself of the icy trap. His brute strength was his advantage, but Valery wasn't weak and could meet his strength with her incredible speed.

A series of Force-augmented strikes followed, meant to test his defenses and apply pressure so that Kahlil could step in as support or join her for a more aggressive approach. This fight was unlike any duel she's been in before, and couldn't be won by being too passive.


Let's end him together

Valery echoed through their bond, but whatever Kahlil decided to do to enter this clash, she knew it was going to be the big battle of her life. It meant more than just the end of a personal rivalry — the end of this fight would be crucial to their plans for Exegol.


 
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Forbidden District Outskirts - Airfield
Writing With
: Thelma Goth Thelma Goth

She seemed inexperienced, yet that evidently did not extend to her ability to affect matter with her mind. Even hungry as he was, Marrow recognised the need for caution - all it would take to end his existence was a telekinetic grip he could not escape and a single swing of that accursed weapon that seemed strangely common in this day and age.

"More than - the - fleeting chattel," Marrow answered as he prowled closer, before beginning to circle just out of reach of her blade. As he moved, he picked up another improvised weapon to go with his steel pipe - a jagged chunk from a starship's hull that was too hefty by far for your average human, but just right for a being such as him.

"Yield - and I might - keep you," He offered. She had wanted him to surrender. To be a prisoner. He had no need for prisoners, but she might be useful as a hound; one such as her could be used to procure lesser prey for him.
 

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Exegol, Phase 1
Engaging: Romund Sro Romund Sro
Nearby Allies: BB-610 BB-610 , Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad , Calix of Thyrsus


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A parry came, one that was unstable, but clearly executed. It was clear that the man may have once been a highly effective swordsman, but that youth had long since faded. His force push certainly didn't help with Romund's stability. Still, a blow did connect with his shoulder. Fortunately, Jasper made robust equipment. Combined with the large man's instability, the cane-sword slid right off of it. Unfortunately, there was enough force behind the strike to slice through the organic half of his shoulder that still remained. The cut wasn't deep (compared to most stab wounds, anyways), but it was enough to draw a noticeable amount of blood as it tore through his shirt. A visible spurt, even a small one, was sure to draw the darksider's attention.

It hurt. A lot, in fact, but Jasper maintained his focus. He had been stabbed before, and if anything the bleeding was incentive to see the duel through to the end even more so. The force meld certainly helped him maintain his focus in that regard as well. It didn't take much analysis to determine the next course of action. Far from it, actually. The alchemical man's arm was outstretched and open, just in reach of the Lux Ultima's blade. Jasper quickly supported the blade with his organic hand, swinging for the opening.

Arms were important for dueling. Jasper would see that Romund's was severed.


 

Vesta

Guest
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LocationExegol, Throne Room
EnemiesGalactic Alliance | The Empire | Ashlan Crusaders | Mandalorians | Sith Order
AlliesBrotherhood of the Maw
EquipmentFaithless
Interacting Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin | Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis
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'I shouldn't be surprised.' She thought, though her blood ran cold as she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

Her eyes closed momentarily, brow knit together so tightly she could feel the pressure between her eyes like phantom fingers pushing in against the bridge of her nose, and opened them back up when she finally turned to face her living nightmare. The blade in her hand sunk down towards the ground, its tip clinking noisily against the stone flooring as she leaned it against the ruined throne she was meant to sit upon, and the other half of her body came into proper view - an empty sleeve of her dress swaying gently where an arm should be. She hadn't seen a point in recovering from the fight she'd fled from just a day ago on Selvaris when she had came face to face with Valery Noble Valery Noble , Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania , and BB-610 BB-610 .

For the first time in years she felt tears slip down her cheek like rain on a hot summer's day on Maena.


"No."

It was blunt - she always had been. There never had been a point in lying, or in sugarcoating things, but she felt an increasing weight on her shoulders the moment she spoke. She had been so sure of herself when she'd made the decision to change reality if it meant putting herself together with Quinn Varanin Quinn Varanin again, so confident in her arrogance that she could find a way to walk back her mistakes and ensure there never would have been a point that the two had been pulled apart by a war that never should have happened in the first place. Somewhere along the way she had met Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru and realized that, beyond the circumstances of what led to her downward spiral, she had been the cancer in their lives all along.

They had met because her rage at losing a mother at 'birth' to the mother of someone that had at least gotten to know their own, stayed together for as brief a time because she had pushed herself into Quinn's life out of a need to belong with someone else, and then pulled herself away the moment she perceived a chance that she wasn't as important as she had been to her. It took venomous words and hollow threats for the confidence behind her plan to crumble, and then it was only time before her goals had changed just ever so slightly - rather than an ideal world for her, a galaxy, a reality, history, that wove itself without reason to pull two lovers apart she would create something else entirely.

A galaxy without her.

Never 'born', not a concept created, to give the Echani a chance to live life without her toxic presence.

It was more ideal than the end she'd now been cornered into, certainly, but was it all that different?

'I'm not so sure.'

She frowned, concern etched into the fading elegance of her face. "I've given up." She added, quietly. Her apparent discomfort, concern, doubled both for Quinn's safety on a planet doomed to die - but also for her resolve to follow through with the decision she'd made for herself, whether or not her past could hold her back from reaching the last moments of her future to free itself from her grip.

 

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