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Objective: Dealing with a Stronghold Location: Just out of the Mountain reach and moving in Tags: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Ginnie Verd"] [member="Nemesis Nemonus"] Wearing:Armour Wielding:Chakram, Sword, Rifle, "The Nasty Blade" Post: One
One escape post had dropped, one masked Nightmother came out of it. Through her mask, the young woman studied mountain ahead. There were shields to smash, walls to break, villains to kill from what she'd been briefed. Sounded like a fun day as far as the Lupine was concerned as she felt the presence of a number of familiar people through the Force as she moved. Her Chakram was at her back, her Nasty blade held by the strap on her leg and her sword was just a summon away. That was all the Witch needed as she walked forward, face hidden under her mask. Quiet. They do not need to know of your presence before it is time, Lylek whispered into her ear as she moved, observing the structure.
First observation - this rock place had nothing on the Singing Mountain Stronghold, without a doubt.
She heard the shooting in the close vicinity, hidden sapphire gaze looking around before she broke into a run towards the stronghold, moving higher up and through the snow as she did. Closer she grew, Katrine spotted one of the turrets not yet active on this side and jumped, applying the Force into her legs as she hurried beside it, continuing on as her feet landed in the snow once again, picking up her riffle as she moved, excepting trouble now that she had gotten closer. Kill.We take the lives of the opressors always, Doashim growled as she moved, making her feel his strength within her boosting her on. They were most definitely going to have fun today.
In all that, Jart remained quiet as her eyes surveyed the land. He was thinking, plotting and planning, observing their surroundings as he waited for the trouble to begin. Katrine no longer needed just words to understand the spirits as they were always beside her. Pebble, where are you? She reached out through the Force to [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. She could feel her Ward inside but from the outside, she couldn't completely place her. Not when she didn't know the exact layout of the place she was walking into.
Location: Fort kitchens Wearing: This coat, these boots, pants, shirt, etc Wielding: Cerka knife, Dissuader D-30 Slugthrower Pistol with Glitter Bullets (3 rounds), some very strong diuretic in a few plastic bottles hidden in her clothes. Tags: [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Nemesis Nemonus"] Posts: 3
"Sorry darlings, you're going into Radio silence," Scherezade explained as she used the Force to pull the comms out of the soldiers' hands. In under a second they were within her grasp, and she crushed them with her bare hands, tossing nothing but tech garbage on the ground.
Before the three could react, she was already moving. The Force aided her speed, her motions little more than a blur as she lashed out at the first one, her right leg kicking out, smashing into his helm, crunching everything that was on the face front towards the inside, brains included.
The second one was reached before the first's body hit the floor, both legs now away from her as she jumped, each foot landing against a kneecap, making it move in ways no humanoid body was ever meant to, breaking his legs. Her hands grabbed the rifle from him before he realized what was happening, and she turned it around, emptying all the bullets into the unshielded parts of his body.
Her actions, while swift, did take longer than a fraction of a second, giving the third one time to react. Slugs were coming at her with speed and she had perhaps five of them she could safely avoid before the sixth would make a hit and bury itself in her tender flesh. She moved as fast as she could, sending a Force Push towards him, pulling him up from the ground and tossing him backwards. Six slugs. Not a hit. She had maybe three more thanks to changing his position and making him lose balance.
She closed the distance between them, a growl that sounded anything but human escaping her throat. With ease, maybe too much ease, she pulled the slugthrower from his arms and pulled on each of his limbs, removing them from their sockets.
"I don't like it when people shoot slugs at me," she explained, her voice light and bubbly but with a dark undertone. The man wouldn't be able to move on his own unless he fancied a snail-like movement wrapped with pain every time he tried to move anything, "but this is a learning experience, so I'm going to keep you alive."
Walking to the water tank, Scherezade poured the man a glass of water, and crouched besides him, "I'm not going to kill you like I killed your friends," she said softly, ever so smiling, "you get to live. But only if you drink this cup of water."
Ten seconds later, Scherezade exit the kitchens, the water bottle attached to her belt now containing water that would make anyone have runny shits, wondering how long it would take before the soldier she'd sort of amputated realized he was going to have the runny poodoos and no way to hit the bathroom.
Ad then Kat came through via telepathy.
Kat! I just killed two and a half soldiers! It was so awesome! You had to see it! It was all kick, slam, bam, whoo! came the excited reply, and then I detached limbs from sockets with the third. And made him drink water. Oh! Listen, CIS stinks and no one comm'd me, so I didn't comm back, but you better tell people not to drink the drinking water here. I laced it with some very strong diuretics, so people here should start having running poodoos in about ten minutes if my calculations are right. Also, I'm right here.
At the end of her words, came a map that would flash in Kat's mind; the layout of the fortress and surroundings territories, at least as Scherezade knew it. Katrine wasn't far away at all; she could arrive within minutes if she moved fast and with the Force, and meet little to no resistance along the way unless someone changed their plans.
This sentiment would have saved Ginnie from a planetary system of hurt, as Ordo’s face peered through the mire into her deep mahogany eyes.
Loss. An open crater of a wound ripped and tugged at Ginnie’s chest, the loss of Jasper Ar’klim had yet to leave his ad’ika. Not since word spread that Ordo walked out of the Warlock Gate. Not since the Mandalorian Empire took Dathomir for its’ own once more. Ordo then, as far as his daughter could tell, was a flash of anger, a man who felt the need to sleep, when too many weapons fired caustic rounds.
He’d been a ghost of fury, gone before Ginnie could return to the soil of her Dathomiri kindred to seek him. The dragon tempered, slacking its’ jaws and pawing great infernal jagged edges in the earth. Yet… Ordo’s body burned. His skin burned. Ordo was a Master of Force Body. He taught his daughter how to withstand the flames of the beskar forge. Ginnie cried out in a terrible agony, the dragon once more pouncing at its’ intended victim.
Within the projection, another deeper strain of agony. This young woman was abandoned by every familial connection she ever had, crescendoed by her recent desertion by D’ral, who took their son and disappeared. No trace. No word. No goodbye.
Ordo’s son showed his quality, as Nemesis showed his in the rumbling vibrations picking up from her feet. The dragon lost texture, becoming once more a pillar of fire fuelled by the grief and wicked survival instinct in the woman, who once made Rally Master at thirteen.
Turning her gaze to the monstrosity of rock, Ginnie threw up her arms and lunged toward the only safety she’d ever known, the vision of her deceased father.
The creature’s monumental fist slammed into the earth.
Ginnie was trapped beneath it.
The pillar of fire lost its’ quality, becoming merely a brush fire in a tinder dry valley.
A heart-beat. A singular focus in an outmatched, yet courageous mind. Hard. Bursts of pain as bones broke, and beskar’gam sloughed off in fragments.
Force Body. Under the monolith’s fist, Ordo’s daughter was still alive, yet faded by the second. A body under the fist, curled up, back exposed to the earth above her, arms broken protecting her bucket-clad head, knees to her chest. Flame licked at the remains of tattered armourweave, beskar plates from her armour fragmented to unrecognizable pieces at the force of the rock creature's assault.
A beacon chimed on the beskar’gam or comm units of familiar vode. Ginnie’s beskar’gam let loose its’ catastrophic failure code, a panic code with a location ping, then failed to naught. No further contact could be made with Ginnie's comm. Nothing but silence and troop reports of a dragon fighting a monster of stone.
Location:The Fortressa [Command] - Exosphere of Maramere Standing Beside: [member="Darth Metus"] Wearing:This Quote: "Those who make war against the Confederacy of Independent Systems have chosen their own destruction. We will honor their choice."
“He is here.”
The hissed words that escaped the white-haired apprentice were laced with something foreign to her. Anger. More and more she felt it. More and more, she indulged, and endured it. The creature that had attacked Relovian, who had deflected her telekinetic control so easily, was here. Something had broken within the Force when he revealed his cloaked presence. That or the little Echani had adapted, and become stronger. Now, she could feel him, just as she could feel the wind against her skin. Now, when he drew close, he could not completely shield himself.
The first sign of trouble was the blockage of civilian ships. The people of Maramere had heard of the work on other planets, especially, on desolate worlds like Katanos VII. They had requested that the CIS come to the water world, in force, to help settle the oppressive state of their lives. The Confederacy performed as promised. They broke hyperspace, with the Mother of all Confederate ships among the Storm Fleet—only to encounter opposition?
After every karkingthing that had gone wrong on every other Confederate venture lately, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that someone, namely the cane-wielding psychopath, was behind it. With that in mind, it didn’t take much to get the civilians of Maramere that blockaded the planet in unarmed ships to stand down. Controlling an entire populace by any means, against their will, was an endeavor that any Force User with half a brain knew would have an exceedingly short half-life. It simply wasn’t sustainable. Threats against friends, family, and the general well-being of the public were more of the SAME trouble that the people of Maramere were already used to.
Such trickery, such cowardice, in the eyes of the Echani was WEAKNESS above all else.
The Confederacy began to broadcast the recorded message from Maramere that pleaded for their assistance on every open channel. Combined with the sheer might of the indomitable Storm Fleet, along with @Schezerade deWinter preemptively toying with the bowels of the opposition, the everyday citizen would have a very difficult time not emotionally and physically suffering from fecal incontinence.
To that end, once the first volley of feeble attacks was absorbed, avoided, or deflected, the Blockade of Maramere departed like smoke on the breeze. Storm Fleet tore into anything that opposed them with a vengeance, however, any ships that moved out of the way would be spared. They would be ordered, for now, to remain in orbit. The ground was not safe. There was not enough of it and there would be nowhere to hide once the true battle commenced.
Something else stirred on the surface. Trouble. Of course. Shaky holo-feed from the ground showed elemental creatures pouring from nothing, rising from the depths like mythical titans, as they tore each other apart. The truth of the matter was less obvious. Srina had rarely met any of the siblings of [member="Darth Metus"], however, the command station of the Fortressa had begun lighting up like a beacon. Her expression fell grim. The last known ping from [member="Ginnie Verd"] hailed from the epicenter of the chaos.
Alive or dead—Srina Talon did not know. Her bond with Darth Metus was strong, unbreakable, but it did not extend to his family. He would know better. Nevertheless, they had a responsibility, and a duty to continue. If there was any hope of finding out what happened to his sister the real problem would need to be dealt with. The plague of arrogance and mediocre power plays that had been shadowing the Confederacy needed to end. Permanently.
“To any of the Knight’s Obsidian near the Mount Valley Pass—Beware. Ginnie Verd was in that area and her emergency beacon has been activated. Her last known location has been transmitted, however, you must proceed with caution. Find her, if you can. Bring her home.”, she issued to the organic men and women that upheld Confederate ideals. Typically, aside from the Mandragora, they were some of the first with boots on solid earth. “It is advised, however, that you do not linger there long.”
Family would always be important to Darth Metus. Srina knew that, even if, she did not know Ginny herself. This was a dire situation that would require all hands on deck. The sooner they ended this pitiful and misguided uprising the better it would be for all involved.
“Exterminatus.”, Srina next called for the selected Droid Forces that awaited deployment and orders. She acted with the full authority of the Vicelord, as any within Confederate purview would be used to, and did not hesitate to call shots when needed. “If you have not already taken a drop pod to the surface—do so immediately. Your duty is to aid the Nightmother and Schezerade deWinter in securing Mount Merakan and bringing it under CIS control. Target the Leaders of Maramere that are present and bring them to heel until they can be dealt with accordingly. Sending up a false alarm, leading us into an ambush, is not something that will go unpunished. They may surrender of their own free will… Or you will enforce their compliance.”
“This debacle has gone on long enough.”
Srina released the comm as she watched the situation quietly. The Fortressa was still making a slow approach, placing them in a pristine position, before holding in the exosphere. It was impossible to land such a behemoth on a planet like Maramere but it could easily be seen from the ground. The pale-skinned apprentice held out a delicate hand for her Master to take as Sith Corruption filled her gaze and silver eyes began to burn a wrathful gold. Together, they would make this man suffer.
“He is here. Feel him, through me. He has taken from your people. He has taken from you. He seeks to destroy our nation, to spread like a disease, and for nothing, but his own inconsequential agenda. This parasitic waste of midichlorians and air must not leave the system alive.”, she spoke to the dark-skinned man beside her, dulcet tones filled with the ire of a demon and a fury that was held the bitter cold of a nuclear winter. The boy that had been thrown through the storefront on Relovian before her eyes had not survived. Srina had tried, in vain, to mend his injuries…But she had been unsuccessful. If that boy could not live, neither, could the man that had sent him careening headfirst through the glass. He was only human. He would break, like a human. Die, like a human. The words that left her lips next were final and dire. Born of a langue she did not know, had rarely heard, and yet, in her darkest moments knew exactly how to speak.
TLDR: Exterminatus and Knights Obsidian have some direction they can follow in this post. The words are bolded for you. Hopefully, this also clears up the confusion about being in orbit waiting or on the ground.
Nemesis, you messed up, brah. You can do a lot of things but beating down a cute little Verd named Ginnie? Nah. Hard, nah. Be seeing you. XOXO
It was the first time that Vermes had ever encountered the other components of their gathering. But, the data feed informed the Commando quite thoroughly regarding each of its peers. Basic information flooded its memory banks, enough so that a strategy befitting their collective skill could be devised in mere seconds. As [member="WD-334"], [member="Kyber"], [member="Rog-r"], and [member="G3M1N1"] made their entrances into the Hangar, Vermes soon found that the dropship set aside for their departure would not do. The enemy below was in a heavily fortified position, so much so that the Commando stepped briefly away from the lumbering beast.
"The Lok Revenants have been marked for Exterminatus. Our Target is their fortress: Mount Meraken. Plan of attack: Rapid entry directly into the enemy fortification via boarding pod. Total Extinction of all sentient life within Mount Meraken."
To this end, Vermes led the way past the dropship and into one of the archaic Droch-class Boarding Ships present within the Fortressa's hangar. After a few moments to get situated, the Exterminatus would launch as one from the Hangar, escorted by a handful of Vulture II starfighters. Entry was plagued by the typical thunderings and rumblings of space combat - yet things did not get truly interesting until the Boarding Ship sliced through the upper atmosphere. Anti-Aircraft weaponry lit up the Exterminatus' escort, so much so that even the Pod itself was sent into a spiral by laser cannon impacts.
The trajectory was thrown off course.
The Blades of the vessel found themselves tearing through a stone surface.
It was, surprisingly, not the Fortress that the Exterminatus had prepared for - but rather a collosus of pure stone. At terminal velocity, the Pod would explode through the creature's head, before thundering forth to the actual surface. From thence, an unglorified skid through the air would prelude the vessel's final halt. From thence, the Exterminatus would finally have boots on the ground. A quick diagnostic check saw that, save for a few minor dings, Vermes' chassis was unscathed by the entry. It wasted no time in kicking open the Pod's door and leaping out of the fallen craft.
"Command, Exterminatus has reached the surface. Commencing Extinction Event." came its response to the orders of [member="Srina Talon"].
It took but a moment to gather its bearings. A sweep via sensors showed that they were at the base of Mount Meraken. And they were not alone. Their landing was fortuitous - by all accounts they had arrived at a service, access point to the Fortress. But the way forward was littered with life forms. Conscripted natives were huddled behind whatever cover they could find, shaking at the sight of the flaming Pod before them. Defensive turrets were re-aligning to place the Exterminatus in their sights. If Vermes were a human, it might have felt excitement. It might have felt adrenaline pumping through its veins.
But it could only "feel" the grind of its vibrosword being tugged free.
"[member="Scherezade deWinter"], there is an access turbolift not far from your position. Sending general coordinates to your comm. Please lower the turbolift so that Exterminatus may commence."
Vermes didn't have to tell its peers how to do their job. Instead it simply bounded into action, relying upon its servos to dance through the erretic blaster fire like a Jedi. Its blade soon bit into the first victim of the campaign, splitting open a head via downward strike. The spray did not give the Droid pause. The gargled cry did not shake its nerves. There was no humanity within the Exterminatus - only death.
Location: Moving from kitchens to turbolift location Wearing: This coat, these boots, pants, shirt, etc Wielding: Cerka knife, Dissuader D-30 Slugthrower Pistol with Glitter Bullets (3 rounds), a bottle of strong diuretic (last one), and a water bottle that has diuretics already mixed in it. Tags: [member="BX-72967"] [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Nemesis Nemonus"] Posts: 4
Scherezade had expected the next line of communication to come from Kat and delivered telepathically, but it was her comm that went off instead. She blinked in surprise as the droid's voice sounded through into her ear. That was okay. Droids were usually nice, when they weren't pointing swords at her and threatening to gut her if she didn't listen to people who clearly did not know any better.
So apparently, she had to move about 75 meters in a direction, and send a turbolift down so droids could come up. She really hoped they were the crazy killer droids. This place could do with a lot of blood washing.
With a light step, she proceeded to move in the directions. Sounds of things going boom were still coming in from the outside, but she paid them minimal heed. She was inside, doing inside stuff; the outside was not her concern at the moment.
But even inside, it appeared that things would not go as smoothly as she'd planned. Going down the hallway that led to the turbilift, she was stopped again. This time, it was a dozen soldiers. Only two of them seemed to be uncomfortable.
"Y'know," she said with an innocent grin, "I really wish I had a sword or two. I could chop you up into pieces like that and put you into those loose meat 'rat' burgers I've been feeding you shmucks for the last few days."
These guys weren't carrying slugs though. They were shooting little lasers at her, which made avoiding getting hit so much easier. The lasers moved slower than slugs and weren't quite as deadly when they hit. They still hurt a lot though, and Scherezade did all she could to avoid them, jumping, ducking, and at one point running on the wall as she closed the distance between her and the dozen. Every muscle in her body sang with joy as she fought, legs kicking out, punches getting delivered, and soldiers having their heads clanking together. This was fun. Especially now that she could mostly do it without getting hurt in the process.
The problem with fun though, was that sometimes, it absorbed you too much in. When the last soldier fell and his body released all his insides contained, the smell was overwhelming. But with it, Scherezade noticed something that hadn't been there a moment before; pain.
Looking down while trying not to breathe too deeply, she opened her coat, noticing the ugly shot to her midriff.
D'uh. She hadn't worn any protective clothing, or thought to bring such with her. So one of the laser shots had made its way, burned her pretty purple fur coat, and now her stomach was injured yet again. One day, she was going to understand why people always went for her midriff. She had so many body parts to choose from, but the injuries were always friggin' on her stomach. If Bacta and healing eventually stopped working, she was going to burn worlds if any of that left scars.
She couldn't actually stop to work on healing. Not yet, anyway. So she continued to walk, grabbing her little Czerka knife, and sliced along the damage that the laser shot had left her with. She didn't know how to heal the inside, so she had to open it and take a look. Taking a look was hard when you were walking and had a turbolift to reach, but she managed anyway.
Her left hand sent the turbolift down, and she leaned against the wall, trying to move away some of the blood that had begun to pour out. "Okay listen tummy," she talked to herself, placing her mind in a serene enough place that would permit healing, "we don't need to heal everything now. But what you're going to do now is knit yourself together so that I can stop losing blood, and so that there's no long term permanent damage crap going on. I've got chit to do and not enough time to do it if you're gonna bleed all over me."
Her words helped her shape her will. She focused with the Force, her self made injury as well as the burning tissue around it beginning to knit. It was far from perfect. It would probably re-open if she was in another physical fight. But it would do for now.
As Scherezade waited for the turbo lift to give that ding sound that would announce the arrival of the droids, she looked up, her eyes falling on the automated doors that had a WC sign on them.
WD-334 watched as others of the Exterminatus task force arrived. The war droid boarded the transport vessel the group was to board, it's guard with it. WD just managed to fit inside, going towards the back of the boarding pod. Once all were onboard, the bod launched. WD could feel the rocking of the combat outside in space, the shuddering as they came through the atmosphere and then had to hold still as to not end up being thrown about as the ship was hit and they went spiraling out of control. The vessel soon reached the ground, hitting something hard before stopping.
WD-334 and it's Echani Guard followed out of the pod, looking over the landscape after setting up a bit of a perimeter. Then they began moving, and soon they would be upon their targets.The battle began as soon as one of the members leaped into combat. WD-334 immediately got to putting suppressing fire upon the natives. Being backed up by it's guard WD took the careful slow approach forward towards them, using a blaster cannon attached to it's unshielded hand.
Vulture 21 for some reason hadn't activated until late into the battle. Not that it mattered the space battle might be underway but there were no fighters here. So instead he followed the pods down. He saw [member="WD-334"] and his guard fighting their way through the people on the guard. Vulture made a few passes above the droid making a few hits on several emplacements down there. He also made attacks against the base itself.
Where there was thunder, there was lightning. Where there was [member="Srina Talon"], there was always Darth Metus. Together, they stood upon the bridge of the Fortressa and stared out into the abyss. Already, the operation to purge Maramere of the Revenant stench had begun - but extermination would not satify their hunger this day. No. There was one who tread upon the rock below who was worthy of the Vicelord's blade to his neck. Darth Metus could see his face: a hazy memory which ebbed through his bond with Talon. He saw the children blown apart on Relovian. He saw the youngling tossed aside before his Apprentice's eyes.
He felt her wrath: a white-hot inferno which raged beside him. Her words dripped with the Dark Side - a venomous fuel which poured over the Sith's own fury. She goaded him. Pushed him. Told him the truths of their enemy's crimes. And it was absolutely necessary. She knew her Master. She knew the man walked with Mandalorian chains shackled to his soul. She knew that he held back in many things - in her instruction and in his own power - for the sake of what others thought. No more. This cur was reason enough to shatter those chains once and for all.
Darth Metus had to fight. At his fullest.
He parted his lips, as if to form some sort of answer to the wishes of his Apprentice. He could feel himself standing over the Abyss, staring the Darkness square in the eye. He could feel the Humanity leaking away from his person, as if being syphoned away by an unseen hunger. This is what he had avoided for so long - and yet she wanted him to go there. She needed him to go there. The place he had avoided for her sake...
What...
Ginnie.
The distress signal rang out within the Sith's helm, tugging away his attention from his Apprentice for just a moment. What came next was what a HoloNet connection could not convey. Confusion. Agony. Fear. A wild cacophany of his sibling's plight screamed through the heavens and hit the Sith square in the chest. He gasped. His eyes widened. His heart thundered away in his chest. He...It had to be done. He could not hesitate any further. His burning gaze found the alabaster woman. His offhand reached, gingerly stroking the rear of his palm against her cheek. "When this is over, pull me back."
His voice was but a whisper compared to the thunder of his power. The Dark Side crashed down upon him as he took the plunge into the Abyss. A mighty roar filled his helm as the rage and desperation bent the Force to his whim. Then there was quiet. Then, Darth Metus slumped into the arms of his Apprentice...
A Midnight Star Appeared.
Above the dueling monstrosities did a swirling mass of shadow erupt into being. At its core was light - but it was the furthest from life granting. There was no warmth to be found here, no comfort, nor solace. There was only Wrath of Darth Metus. Flash! The light blinked before swelling in size. A swift as a lightning did it double, triple, quadruple, and quintuple in size until the Golem itself found a new Challenger to its Dominion. From these dark depths did a clawed hand extend and grasp the edges of shadow for purchase. It tugged the remainder of its monstrous form forward, revealing true Oblivion to the light of day.
The Wraith raised its claw.
A mountain of telekinetic fury exploded into the Golem. The blow would hit harder than a freight train and swifter than a hurricane's gale. The Wraith wanted to see the stones break under its power. To see the beast shatter to pieces. And so it struck with everything it had.
His thought washed through him as the eruption of fire came at him. Raising his hands he focused on creating a we get infront of him through the force, the telekinesis parting the power to either side of him. Yet the fury and tenacity of the attack shoved him back, his feet skidding across the ground as heat sapped the perspiration from his skin, his mouth going dry, the raw power nearly shoving him to a knee.
But the golem slammed it's raised arms upon the woman, just as she moved toward the apparition of her father. The devastating collision crushed her form to the earth. And the pyrokinetic display ceased. The ground was scorched as Nemesis rose fully to his height. Crimson eyes viewed the barely moving woman as his left hand opened and called his cane to his palm. Slowly he moved forward.
"Captain, come."
The psychic connection to the captain of his ship began the return of the vessel, the charred remains of the comlink lying in the dirt meters away. Striding forward he moved into the shadow cast by the stone golem and commanded the manifestation to raise it's arms and move back several meters to stand as silent sentry.
Kneeling he looked upon the still form of [member="Ginnie Verd"] and noticed the slight rise and fall of her chest. But even as he prepared to drive the cane through the unarmored spot beneath her armpit and to her heart he ducked as a ship flew by, shattering the head of the golem, and raining stone shards toward the two of them. A reactionary barrier was created sparing them from harm. Eyes tracked the ship that crashed into the ground almost a kilometer away, little droid figures flooding from the shuttle.
Commanding the golem to rise and circle his position, stone rolled up it's body recrafting it's head. Another mental command was sent to his Captain as the Revenant approached.
"Eliminate those droids."
The captain have orders for a company of soldiers to attack. As the men ran for the droids cries rang out as the exertion of their run helped to loosen their bowels, poodoo running from their ineffectual clenching down their legs. But still the attacked, with each step causing another type of fire then the ones from their rifles.
Removing the helmet if the woman he looked at her face for a moment, his hand stilled from delivering a death blow. It wasn't her visage that paused him, but her spirit. She was a warrior. And a warrior always wished to die upon the field of battle. But there was more to his interest. She was blood of the one called [member="Darth Metus"]. Killing her would wound the man, but taking her ..... That would be an anguish with no closure.
With his mind made up he scooped the woman into his arms and stood. Letting a miniscule of his power flow from himself he fed it into the broken body, mending the woman just enough to ensure her continued survival. For now at least.
Eyes flickered above as he sensed a presence build and a new creature come to being. A wraith moved for the golem, a battle of Titans about to begin. Retreating with the woman in his arms he moved to where the Revenant had arrived and hovered, the landing ramp lowering. A light leap aboard the ramp and he turned to view his golem receive a monstrous strike that seemed to shatter the stone creature. Even as the ramp began to raise and the ship moved away, a dozen smaller golems sprang to existence from the ruin of the giant golem. Each leapt upon the wraith and began to pummel it's opponent with fists of stone, seeking to grind this beast beneath their multitude of attacks.
Location: Nemesis Nemonus’ arms. Objective: Be a brat of the highest degree. Post: 6
Side.
Get on your side, Gin’ika.
Chest up in the dirt, Ginnie Verd choked on red bile flooding her ribcage. Internal bleeding was a terrible way to die. Her ribcage heaved at broken angles, legs twitching and arms akimbo. The pain caused a burn of groaning gurgles to push through her throat, as she tried to move something, some muscle or stretch of ligaments.
She was choking to death on her own lungs… buy’ce tugged off her head by him. The attacking man. The man who made dragons of fire and golems of stone. [member="Nemesis Nemonus"].
As he readied his cane for the final blow, Ginnie glared up with seething amber eyes, pulled the shaking remains of her ragged lungs into her chest, and breathed out a stream of fire.
Ginnie descended to weak gurgles and a series of gasping, choking coughs. The Wraith above her she could not see for a narrowing of peripherals. Ginnie saw nothing but the man of stone and fire.
Mando. The collective brethren of her culture awaited her. She too would Hold the Line… but then a curious happenstance occurred. This monolith of dark energies picked her from the ground.
Her brother [member="Darth Metus"]’ onslaught raged the rock about them, stone falling from the fickle sky, but the stone did them no harm.
‘Isley… Isley please…’ Pain flooded the connection, images of the battle, of his Gin’ika controlling a dragon made of fire.
The pain of her injuries made her jerk and surge, yet a succour pacified the agony. Nemesis’ energy filtered into her, pushing her lungs back in shape, some of her bones clicking back into their right places. Her agony faded for a dull and constant throb.
Her head lolled onto his shoulder out of no kindness but the ease it placed on the tension in her wounded chest. One hand attempted to reach for her beskad, to slide the knife into the man’s chest as deep as it would go… but her fingers were gnarled and disjointed, wrist swollen and kinked to an odd angle.
Inhaling again, Ginnie attempted to breathe fire at the man’s face, yet not but a warm dash of flame would reach his chin before Ginnie’ vision failed her. She sunk into an unconscious state, rescued by the man who wounded her, while her beloved brother fought the golems of hell to save her.
The Midnight Wraith turned its gargantuan head away from the ruin that had become its enemy. Three starlit eyes scoured the scorched Earth for any traces of the woman who so desperately cried out for his aide. There! She was being carried off in the arms of his mark, aboard a ship that was rapidly attempting to get away. Savagery escaped the monstrosity's mouth - a challenging roar to the one who dared attempt to make off with his sibling.
But his shattered adversary was not done. The rocks moved and reformed - smaller and larger Golems rose to replace their shattered originator. They moved as one, attempting to pummel the Wraith into the dirt. But their hands were mundane. Their blows were of this world. Their best efforts passed through the Wraith like a hand attempting to seize smoke. The Midnight creature paid no attention to their feeble attempts at bringing it to heel, but rather outstretched the mammoth wings upon its back.
One beat launched the Wraith towards the heavens, its eyes were now parallel with the ship. There was no hesitation. Darth Metus did what had to be done. Its claws flexed, commanding and warping the Force to its desired shape. Thick bands of crimson energy manifested out of the air and coiled themselves around the ship. The engines. The cockpit. The hold. Every major portion of the ship immediately fell under steel shattering pressure.
The Midnight Wraith clenched its fist.
The bands constricted with enough force to tear through the Fortressa. This alone would be more than enough to tear the ship into literal pieces. The engines and Hyperdrive would most likely detonate, causing a monumental explosion. And in her fallen state, even the Pyrokinetic [member="Ginnie Verd"] would be a victim to the inferno. But more than anything else, this would ensure that the Mastermind would see no escape this day.
Today, Darth Metus was willing to kill two to save thousands.
Location: Fortress Engineering Elevator... who builds these things this tall? Objective: Karking elevator music...
159...
158...
157...
156...
The screaming force explosion of a Dark Lord and his apprentice losing their temper, the rush of wrath, hatred and devestation that rolled over her like a hot wind. Ginne Verd? Who was she?
The blood and hot fire of vengance rolled over Erin and left her... curiously absent, it was not her wrath after all. The smouldering fire of her own wrath did not answer the call. Not... completely, anyway.
155...
155...
155...
Ah. They'd found the bodies. Well, that was the risk of being generous. A fruitless gesture anyway, now that the droids had been sent in. She wondered precisely who this nemesis that could cause such unrestrained violence was, she'd like to meet him, he had an eye for releasing the corruption in others.
The e-web emplacement was a nice touch, she had to admit. The doors to the elevator didn't even open before the hail of blaster fire turned them into so much molten metal.
Pyktis iv Nuyak Pyktis,
Spaga iv Nuyak Vele,
Skros Nuyak Laikas Kia Kzaevas!
The hail of blaster fire was deflected - not effortlessly and not without cost, hot bolts of energy burning across bare skin and deflecting from alchemical enhanced fibers, but Erin held her mind together until the spell was released. A thousand blades of blood red light danced from her hand and filled the corridor with bloody light, then with blood and the hot stink of death. Wrath is a tool best leashed by intellect, as Darth Sideous was all too fond of repeating in his holocrons.
The elevator groaned and Erin leapt from the car before it collapsed to the ground below. She sighed as she glanced up. One hundred and fifty five levels. They never mentioned this part in the Sith epics.
She considered contacting the others, but aside from the droids - who would recognise her IFF if it was working - they were all too far gone or too high up to assist her, and whatever was happening outside was beyond her ability to affect now. She could always meet them in the middle.
The ship rose into the heavens on it's exit vector, quickly placing distance from the ground battle where the Confederacy battles the Maramere forces, and where two manifestations of two force masters battled, one of Nemesis Nemonus and the other of Isley Verd.
Yet Nemesis was distracted by the woman in his arms. His face still felt the heat of her flame that was blown into his face. Her cry for help to her brother most likely was sent through the force, but her lips formed the words though now sound escaped. His crimson eyes had caught sight and interpreted what she had said. A plea for Isley to save her. His lips turned into a slight frown as he felt his golems attack the wraith who now focused upon the Revenant. Intent clear. A whisper in the force to [member="Ginnie Verd"] knowing that it was possible her brother would hear him.
"You would destroy your own blood for mine? I should be impressed, but your destruction and downfall will not come by my hand today, but by your own actions. So much for the fabled ties of Verd blood."
He spoke with an antagonizing tone. He had fought the young woman in his arms, felt her power and tenacity, tasted the fierce spirit within. She was not a pawn, though Isley made her one. Or perhaps he had. Regardless, she was a bystander in this battle of will between the two men. And while Nemesis had yet to show just how far or what depths he would take to win, [member="Darth Metus"] had revealed a fatal flaw. One that the elder had not found before. The man would choose his pride, ambition, and vengeance over those who loved him. And while he preferred to war with one that had principles when it came to loved ones, this flaw revealed a completely different avenue of warfare. One he would use to his advantage.
As the Sith Lord Metus began manipulating the force for an attack that felt immense by the riptide felt around him, Nemesis began his own immense grab and manipulation through the force. Darkness was called and darkness answered within his soul as a Nexus of energy began to grow before him. Tendrils of power warped the very air, time and space contorting as he focused on his task.
The bulkheads groaned and crew members screamed as Metus fueled his wraith from hundreds of thousands of miles away, feeding his very intent to literally rip a starship apart through the force. But he was focused on bending the force to his will. Energy crackled over and around him as portions of the ship was torn from it's structure, the very frame warping from the ferocity of the attack.
The engines, revved to maximum, were breached as they ripped from their housing and the explosion engulfed the Revenant, the raw materials of the starship consuming the destruction unleased by Isley via the wraith.
Just before the wave flowed through the bay where Nemesis stood holding Ginnie he dropped to his knee laying her in the deck flooring. Twisting the force around her for a moment he siphoned part if his essence to her, like an anchor.
"Death is only the beginning."
Stepping back the Nexus of power created expanded as if a breath was taken, then it shrunk and disappeared. Where the explosion roared across the bay eviserating the crew to non existence, Nemesis no longer remained. His very presence was gone without a trace, as if he had been eradicated.
Daxton pressed the release of his helm and slowly took it off, as he sunk his battle scarred form into an amazingly intact chair. Fighting had been hard, that was without any doubt, as evidenced by the blaster scorch marks all over his body armor. His body ached from wounds both old and new as the orbalisks and his armors bacta packs did their work. One could never get used to the sensation of burning liquids flowing throughout ones body, with no source of relief or pleasure. All Daxton could do was grit his teeth and bear it in stoically.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he savored the moment of pure silence before the sounds of battle could be heard once more. It was a shame to have to purge the fortress, but one did not questions coming from High Command, but at least it wouldn’t be a total waste. He already had his splicer teams work on pull any intel they could from the system. Videos, memos, everything they could lay their hands on for later analysis. Whoever was behind this was good, but it was only a matter of time for someone was patient as Daxton Bane to find the threads and trace them back to the source.
Rising up from his chair, he once more donned his helm before slamming a fresh magazine into his blaster carbine. Time to resume the hunt.
Location: The Manda Objective: Learn what Death is Like Post: 7
The infernal dragon awaited her command. It bared down at [member="Nemesis Nemonus"], scorching and giving the last of a Mandalorian’s strength into the fray.
It was nothing to the raw and demonic power of [member="Darth Metus"]. The Wraith obliterated the body of Ginnie Verd, Isley’s beloved baby sister. While the body was atomized, the soul, the essence of Ginnie soared above the mire. She was for once above the tumult, and on the outer edge of the cloud of witnesses, she heard many and one voices calling her home.
It was not her father Ordo’s voice, for Jasper was no longer. It was not her mother’s voice, for she too was no longer. The one and many, the Manda was a chorus unrestrained, and unorthodox in its’ heteroglossic harmonies. Ginnie was one of the choir, and as she watched she saw beyond all doubt, beyond all principalities and beyond all comforts the reality of the situation on Maramere.
Isley Verd was Dar’manda. Darth Metus’ voice would never add to the hymn of the Mando’ade. He would die, and charge from the Netherworld, and die, and charge and die and charge until finally one with the emptiness beyond the Force. Beyond all things.
Esper-like fingers pointed in tandem toward Mand’alor the Reclaimer, and tore his visage from the very memory of their people. Her and the Manda. Metus was no name to remember, as Isley Verd was no essence to recall.
Isley Verd...
"Dar’manda."
One who is not known to Manda.
A pair of thousands of arms lifted Ginnie up from the horrors and struggles of her gurgling death. Rigard’s arms cuddling his infant sister to his chest… yet as she lingered in and began to lose herself to the wonders of the Manda and its’ eternal collective, Ginnie remembered.
Death was, after all, only a beginning, and [member="Nemesis Nemonus"]’ spirit tugged at her like a wound in her side. This woman, this girl, who fought monsters and defeated demons and lit worlds on fire in the end, was destroyed by the absence of a brother’s love.
Within the briefest of moments, or perhaps an eternity in the collective consciousness of deceased Mandalorian souls ‘holding the line’, all Ginnie could remember of her death was the liberation of her pains, a sweet succour finer than tihaar… and a single voice.
Location: The Manda Objective: Learn what Death is Like Post: 7
The infernal dragon awaited her command. It bared down at [member="Nemesis Nemonus"], scorching and giving the last of a Mandalorian’s strength into the fray.
It was nothing to the raw and demonic power of [member="Darth Metus"]. The Wraith obliterated the body of Ginnie Verd, Isley’s beloved baby sister. While the body was atomized, the soul, the essence of Ginnie soared above the mire. She was for once above the tumult, and on the outer edge of the cloud of witnesses, she heard many and one voices calling her home.
It was not her father Ordo’s voice, for Jasper was no longer. It was not her mother’s voice, for she too was no longer. The one and many, the Manda was a chorus unrestrained, and unorthodox in its’ heteroglossic harmonies. Ginnie was one of the choir, and as she watched she saw beyond all doubt, beyond all principalities and beyond all comforts the reality of the situation on Maramere.
Isley Verd was Dar’manda. Darth Metus’ voice would never add to the hymn of the Mando’ade. He would die, and charge from the Netherworld, and die, and charge and die and charge until finally one with the emptiness beyond the Force. Beyond all things.
Esper-like fingers pointed in tandem toward Mand’alor the Reclaimer, and tore his visage from the very memory of their people. Her and the Manda. Metus was no name to remember, as Isley Verd was no essence to recall.
Isley Verd...
"Dar’manda."
One who is not known to Manda.
A pair of thousands of arms lifted Ginnie up from the horrors and struggles of her gurgling death. Rigard’s arms cuddling his infant sister to his chest… yet as she lingered in and began to lose herself to the wonders of the Manda and its’ eternal collective, Ginnie remembered.
Death was, after all, only a beginning, and [member="Nemesis Nemonus"]’ spirit tugged at her like a wound in her side. This woman, this girl, who fought monsters and defeated demons and lit worlds on fire in the end, was destroyed by the absence of a brother’s love.
Within the briefest of moments, or perhaps an eternity in the collective consciousness of deceased Mandalorian souls ‘holding the line’, all Ginnie could remember of her death was the liberation of her pains, a sweet succour finer than tihaar… and a single voice.
"What a strange group of droids and shards the CIS has made This One work with especially putting a tactical droid in this unit, This One suggests the mission objectives changed to all hostile sentient life as This One would rather not kill fellow droids or any CIS organics that go to the stronghold." Kyber would then enter his assigned pod to prepare for combat. Kyber's pod came down at terrifying speeds and as luck would have it landed in the middle of a group of pirates, before the pod could open Kyber quickly destroyed its light and went cloaked, when the pod did open the pirates only saw darkness until a red beam of plasma apeared. "Dam it thats a sith, SHOOT THE MONSTER DOWN" one of the pirates screamed. At first the saber seemed to deflect all the blaster bolts until after a few minutes it fell to the ground. "Did we kill the sith, I can't see it's body?" One of the pirates asked.
"Yeah we did, jedi and sith bodies vanish after they are slain I have been told" another pirate said as he went up to the pod to grab the saber, as a joke the pirate pretended he was a jedi trying to grab the saber with the force. To his and his allies surprised the saber started floating towards. "Maker's Data, I'm force sensitive" the pirate said just before the saber had a burst of speed and pierced his skull. Before the other pirates could react three other sabers that somehow floating behind them started slicing them up. The pirates who were being attacked could not comprehend what was happening and just stood still in shock. Soon only a couple of pirates who were where Kyber's pod landed remained with all of them on their knees begging for mercy to their unknown killer. Kyber who was still cloaked and simply sitting ontop of his pod called all but one of his sabers back to him
"For Those Ones smart enough to surrender do we kill them, let them live or does This One get the choice"
Location:The Fortressa [Command] - Exosphere of Maramere Sitting With: [member="Darth Metus"] Wearing:This Quote: "Those who make war against the Confederacy of Independent Systems have chosen their own destruction. We will honor their choice."
So much death.
Darth Metus did not make her wait long for her vengeance. Her fury had poured through him, bridging the gap between them, and as he summoned his demon—it felt vindicated. Right. An appropriate response. No longer, when it came to dealing with their enemies, would she insist that they take the lesser road of terror. She was through trying to deal with the opposition on even ground. War would never, ever, be made fair. Srina’s eyes burned a hellish yellow-gold as she caught the body of the Sith Lord, her for bowing slightly under the weight, though she quickly used the Force to compensate. Slowly, she sunk to the metal floor, with the helmeted head of her Master resting in her lap.
‘No mercy. No more.’
Her mental words would ring through the minds of those she was closest to. From [member="Darth Metus"], to [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], to [member="Er'in Tenel"], and even that of [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. It was a testament to how much her alignment had shifted. Much like on Tatooine, she drew power from her Master without thought, yet this time, their combined wrath flowed.
Darth Metus asked to be pulled back from the brink when all was said and done. Srina Talon remained silent. She would abide his request, as the touch to her cheek had already secured a silent promise, but she was uncertain that it was the best course of action. To return to his body, perhaps, but to return to his chains? To return to the Mandalorian bonds that weakened them both?
No. They would remain unbound. At least, until the plague had been purged.
Srina bent her head and closed her eyes, however, she listened for any alarms going off within the Fortressa. While her Master was absent she would follow the movements of his shade through the Force, however, she would still remain conscious of the status of Storm Fleet. She did not trust their enemy not to make a move while [member="Darth Metus"] was distracted and she would not allow this toxic waste to take advantage of it. His time of perceived superiority was over.
She watched as the creature destroyed the ship that sought to carry their enemy to safety. It reached with a mighty grasp, with endless dark, and she felt a small thrill when it crushed metal and life in the same span of a breath. The spirit of their enemy faded.
And yet, so did the Sister.
It was like a bucket of cold water falling on her head as triumph was swept away by ice flooding her veins. She drew a breath that shuddered, her form tensing with pain, with loss, that her Master could not currently feel. She would feel it for him. The agony that a brother should feel, losing their own blood by their own hand, rolled through her slender form like a crushing wave. Yet, it did not weaken her.
It did not weaken the threads of shadow that wrapped around her heart. It did not loosen the noose around her neck. Would she willingly die to stop this blight? Would not any warrior worth their salt? The event raised a sense of determination, a need to be thorough, to ensure that the Force User never returned to darken their door again. To ensure that this sacrifice was not made in vain. They would pool their resources and backtrack through each member world they knew he had been. No one was invisible. No one was without flaw. By tearing through his comrades, by ripping apart his life, they would honor Ginnie Verd.
They would pull apart the threads of his organization and bleed dry any associate they found. They would suffer as the people of Relovian had suffered. They would suffer, as [member="Ginnie Verd"], had suffered.
Srina brought her wrist to her lips and began to speak to the entirety of the Confederacy. Now was not the time to balk from their duty or to grieve. Now, they would finish what they come to Maramere to do. There were insurgents and remnants of the Lok Revenants that needed to be dealt with. Exterminatus had standing orders to seek and destroy. Everyone, needed to do their part, to ensure that they kept their promise.
“Confederacy—Proceed through Mount Merakan and destroy the enemies of our new world. Maramere will have the peace that was promised.”
Location: Mount Meraken, Maramere Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Ginnie Verd"], [member="Nemesis Nemonus"] Objective: Devour the Manda
The inferno was extinguished.
The little fire known as [member="Ginnie Verd"] had ceased to exist. In but the span of seconds, her future was taken away. What she was meant to be - the marks she was meant to leave on reality - all came to an abrupt end with the closure of its fist. The midnight calamity stood silent, watching with starlit eyes as the explosion tore the vessel apart. The bands of its power had done their work - the beast could no longer sense the young Mandalorian...and more importantly, the adversary who had caused all the Chaos around them.
Her sacrifice would not be in va-
Dar'manda.
The chime of the fallen's voice tugged at the edge of the Sith's mind. The "spell" of his wrath wavered as it turned its gaze skyward. Although she was gone - there was no doubt about it - the Calamity could feel her presence. Slipping. Vanishing. Becoming apart of something it had never sensed before. No. It had felt this presence once before. Yes. When Manda'yaim was destroyed...Had they not ascended into the same state of existence? Did not Isley Verd join his brother in eternal battle? Did he not know true bliss momentarily? He did...but the Calamity below did not. All that it could recall were vague glimpses of light. Vague voices.
But now, he could feel them. Vibrant. Vast. Mighty. There was power here. Anger here.
Could he let go?
Could he accept the curse she spat as she ascended?
Could he...be...Dar'manda?
His claws raised towards the heavens. Starlight gathered in the midst of its ethereal flesh. Without a soul...The pragmatic mind said to do something about it. The pragmatic mind said to...to...
Starlight tendrils lifted to the heavens, disappearing beyond the clouds.
And [member="Ginnie Verd"] would find no rest. The sweet embrace. The shining bliss. All would turn to screams. The golden presence, that ocean of paradise, now found itself tugged. Avarice. Hunger. The Calamity would fill the void within. It would devour as many heroes as it took to rid the itself of the curse. Dar'manda. Lacking a soul. This would not stand...
