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In the northern Unknown Regions, the savage Brotherhood of the Maw has seen conquest after conquest. The Croke, the Lugubraa, the Shi'ido, the Gundanbard, the Jin, even the mighty Sorcerers of Rhand, all have either bowed before them or been swept aside by a tide of blood and fire. To the west of the Maw's burgeoning dominion, only a few tiny colonies remain independent, scattered among abandoned and uninhabited worlds. To the east, however, lies a worthy prize: the prosperous agriworlds and well stocked armories of the Chiss Ascendancy, flush with resources that could fuel a great campaign to burn the galaxy and loot the ashes.

At first, the timing for invasion appeared perfect. The attention of the Chiss Expeditionary Defense Force is focused on the eastern edge of Ascendancy space, locked in battle with the New Imperial Order as the Imperials attempt to conquer their well-defended Redoubt. But the Ascendancy, recognizing the myriad threats gathering around its borders, recently issued a summons to Chiss across the galaxy, calling them home in order to strengthen its position. If Chiss Space is permitted to consolidate its strength, the glorious Maw campaign to ravage the Ascendancy's worlds could devolve into years of warfare against each Chiss house in succession.

The Dark Voice desires a decisive conquest, not a gradual, piecemeal chipping away of its enemies.

And so the greatest weapons of the Brotherhood shall be unleashed upon the one place important to all Chiss, regardless of house: their homeworld, Csilla. The Brotherhood aims to destroy the entire planet, cutting off the head of the snake in one swift stroke. With the center of their culture shattered and their Defense Force in disarray, the Chiss will fall to the hordes of the Maw. At the same time, the Brotherhood shall announce to the entire galaxy that a new age is dawning: the Age of Annihilation, in which the old order shall be torn down and the galaxy shall burn. Only then can something new arise from the ashes.


TODAY on April 1st, 2021, the Brotherhood of the Maw begins an ANNIHILATION of Csilla.

BotM Faction Staff: Kaigann Fossk | Maestus | The Mongrel The Mongrel

Annihilation Duration: April 1st - April 30th

Brotherhood of the Maw
Sith Eternal
Warlords of the Sith
Eternal Empire
First Order
Galactic Alliance / Jedi
New Imperial Order
Chiss and Independents
Casualties of War



The Brotherhood of the Maw has come, it's vile armada has anchored over the Chiss homeworld of Csilla with the intent of completely eradicating the planet below with a weapon of unimaginable power. The PK-1 "Mercy", a military station equipped with a planet killing superlaser, arrives overhead tabs proceeds to block out the sun in an eclipse signalling the end.

Such a weapon requires time to charge it's raw power, and so the countdown begins. Yet hope is not lost, the FIRST ORDER, the GALACTIC ALLIANCE, the NEW IMPERIAL ORDER, and CONFEDERACY OF INDEPENDENT SYSTEMS heed the call, rushing to the defense of Csilla. Fortifications, prefabricated bases, and artillery are brought forth in preparation by the Chiss’s newfound allies against the MAW as the Chiss and their allies engage the MAW fleet, forcing the ENEMY into action.

The Warlords of the Maw respond in kind, calling upon the WARLORDS OF THE SITH, the SITH ETERNAL, and the KAINATE while unleashing a GREAT HEATHEN ARMY upon the landscape of Csilla. Dropping scavenged walkers, speeders, beast mounts, and countless ground units, the Brotherhood brings the fight to the surface in order to draw out the pestilent rats from their underground havens and eliminate troublesome artillery from interfering in the fleet engagements above.

WAR. War comes to Csilla, defensive emplacements, trenches, and barricades litter the frozen tundra as vast armies field on the snow covered battlefield. The End is near, fight in the trenches, dogfight in the skies, dodge hellfire from above and clash against those who would take your glory. Fight for the Light, fight for the Dark! Fight to decide the fate of Csilla as the world crumbles under the weight of TOTAL WAR


The PK-1 "Mercy" Superweapon charges in the space above Csilla, patiently waiting to bring final death to the planet below. The fleets of the galaxy gather, clashing against the assembled Army of Darkness armada gathered alongside the Brotherhood of the Maw.

The weapon is heavily armored and well defended, fight your way to either protect or destroy the unholy weapon fielded by the insane heretics of the Maw before it is too late! Engage in heavy warfare in the skies above Csilla, or in orbit with the armada of the Brotherhood and it's dreaded allies.

The End is Nigh, purge the darkness that blocks out the light or end the facade of peace once and for all.


The Dark Voice and his most wicked allies feed upon the deaths of those who fall on the world of Csilla. These most foul beings consume the essence of the negative emotions left upon the battlefield and empower themselves subtly in the most profane of practices while awaiting the final countdown to ANNIHILATION.

Overseeing the conflict from the observation deck of the SUPERWEAPON, these dark forces use their power of the Dark Side of the Force to influence the battle in anyway they can while sapping all the strength they can from the horrific conflict below. They wait only to watch from their high tower as all life is silenced as Csilla shatters.

A shatterpoint approaches, Agents of Light board the station and engage the Disciples of Darkness in a duel of fates. Jedi and Sith clash in a battle of wills as unseen forces move to take control of the station from the forces of the MAW. Battle falls upon the very harbinger of death itself.

Come aboard and fight within the belly of the beast to either protect or sabotage the SUPERWEAPON before it can fire on the planet below and end the Chiss homeworld once and for all.


Whatever you want to do as Annihilation looms!



The Dark Voice sat motionless in his lofty throne, staring out within the confines of the crimson bathed ‘Chamber of War’ overlooking ravaged Csilla from the outlook view filled with spectacular lights thrown from ship to ship and flowers of fire sporadically dotting the vast void. Throughout the chamber, dozens of holograms depicted the massive ongoing ground war as walkers, fighters, and ground troops rushed for the trenches. The casualty rate was high, both coaltions threw themselves at each other fiercely, staining the snow with blood and ash.

By all accounts, it was hell on earth.

Smoke and smog from the war ridden landscape was spirited away by the subzero winds nipping at each and everyone of them, blanketing the area which suffered from the already darkened skies from the eclipsing superweapon. Explosion after explosion rocked away pieces of the attacking and defending forces as each force unleashed the blunt of their payloads in a battle no longer for just Csilla but of survival. Debris and corpses littered the land, yet the offensive pushed on. The Great Heathen Army would devour all before it in a tidal wave of blood and drive out the pestilent Chiss from their underground havens.

All that death. All that sorrow and pain.

It was delicious.

The Sith Lord and his allies fed upon the deaths of those who suffered under the weight of the terrible conflict. Consuming the essence of the Dark Side of the Force, feeding off of the deaths and negative energy of the wound opening in the Force. Darth Solipsis wore no trappings of the Voice, he sat within his high seat in black robes adorned in red outlining features, he freely showed his true identity to his followers here on this station. His dreaded head piece sat within a sand filled bowl, an adornment for his newest creation to take in his place, his plans coming to fruition.

“There is a great disturbance in the Force.”

His chair spun around to his allies, Dark Lords in their own right, masters of darkness and dread domain. The Elder snarled, “I can sense the gnawing presence of the Light grow near. They come for the weapon at their own peril.”

A decrepit finger pressed down onto the control console as the old Sith leaned in to speak, “Keep up the bombardment, no Chiss leaves this planet alive.”


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Broken Heart and Soul
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group
Location: On aboard the superweapon.
Objective 3.: Duel of the Fates | Stop the superweapon
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Kiss of the Red Witch | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Anabasa Anabasa

After her recent events, the red-haired woman didn’t really think she would see what happened here. And that was nothing more than the fact that the Eternal Empire is fighting on one side with GA and NIO. But something happened that still forced them to go to the same side. And it was nothing more than that Chaos itself set out to destroy a planet.

The Eternal Empire has not maintained good relations with BotM anyway, especially since the attack on Batuu. It was time for repayment and to help protect the Csilla. Just because ZU had more interest on the planet and there were many Chiss in the Eternal Empire as well. The point was, they were here now.

She regretted not getting to the planet because she had been asked for help during the siege of Superweapon. So with the Ashblade-class Neurofighter she led, she headed for the planet-like thing. This weapon reminded the woman of the Death Star of old times the most. Irrelevant; she intended to sabotage it from inside.

With the smaller machine, she was able to manoeuvre well and avoid the fight. The Empress waited for the point and news of when they would hit through the defence. As it happened, she set off at the highest possible speed, sacrificing manoeuvrability so that she could land on board as soon as possible. She soon managed to do all this in one of the hangars.

To put it mildly, the landing didn't get too good either, it was more of a semi-impact than a landing. After a prolonged slip, the wall and a few containers eventually stopped the ship. The woman immediately jumped out of it, then activated the camouflage of her armour. She, as always, hid her own presence in the Force and thus set off for the inside of the ship.

It was time to find the best place to sabotage this monstrosity…


Starship Killer
[Location: Csilla's Orbit - ANV Resolution(Iblis-class Missile Frigate) - Internalized C.I.C]
[Commander Giraan Standing By]

She could feel it.

She could feel metal rods pounding, clanging, rushing to position. Loud rolls echoed out as missiles slid into firing position. Shouts, clicking, and loud hammering all rushed to her ears. Teica stood in silence, perched atop a rounded platform, command chair behind her.

The Resolution’s port and starboard sides were covered in the motions of panels flipping open to reveal the missiles within. Dark interiors lit up, in bright blue, and her ordinances let loose into the field. Red and blue blasts of energy darted from one end to another, as the chaos continued around Csila. It would only get more chaotic. The missile frigate dove behind one of the friendly Imperial destroyers, while impacts continued to ring about her hull.

Teica had seen it all before. Ziost. Korriban. Felucia. The Namadii Corridor. Everything from the sight of Crucifix-class star destroyers raining down fire, to the sensation of smoke spewing from the wall panels returned. The Brotherhood, or whatever they were all calling themselves, had yet again disturbed the fragile tapestry of the galaxy, this time with their hopes resting on Csilla’s destruction. She wouldn’t let them fulfill those dreams.

“Confirm statuses with the others. Prepare to receive target information. ” The commander limped down the platform after hearing the various ‘Yes ma’am’s come from around the C.I.C, “And fire some diamond borons into that superweapon, keep ‘em to the far sides.”

Sitting nestled amidst the Brotherhood and Sith forces was the towering presence of a great sphere, seeming to cast a shadow over all unlucky enough to be directly in front. Death...Death was the only word needed to describe it.

They called it “Mercy,” A quick relief from the alleged sickness that had overcome the galaxy, A swift end to all the Brotherhood and its allies deemed wrong and evil. Conveniently, they forgot their own evils, their own sickness.

The contest of tactics and perseverance continued outside the mix of bulkheads and hull plating that surrounded them. The void ran amok with flying debris, and plasma-infused flesh, all taking care not to target the Resolution. Slowing to half-cruising speed, the missile frigate kept its hull out of sight, and covered by its escorts.

The commander’s fingers curled around the insulated middle of a narrow rectangular comm link and lifted the device from its spot, nestled in the groove of a black box extending from the far right wall. Two seconds of entering keys came before the microphone clicked to life.

“Chief, what’s your status?”

“I have a full team down here. Reactor’s holding up. Darli should be up in C.I.C any moment,” Her engineering department head kept the report a quick tone, then continued again, “Need anything, ma’am?”

“Just your voice,” Teica’s tone bordered just off of being joking, then returned to fit emotions around her, “Good luck, chief.”

“You too, commander.”

The signal cut off, and the Corellian’s eyes returned to the viewscreen.

Subject 54 Havoc

You May Fire When Ready
Objective: Prepare the superweapon for firing
Location: PK-1 Superweapon control room
Allies: Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis ,BOTM, attackers
Opponents: Defenders, Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir , Teica Giraan Teica Giraan

Technicians and gunners moved around the control room, running around, typing on consoles. Havoc stood at the central console, wearing his uniform, checking the systems of the Superweapon one final time before the main event. This was it. Now, the weapon was charging, preparing to fire. Almost time for the main event...

"Status report." Havoc ordered one of the technicians at a console.

"Yes, sir!" The technician replied. "Main weapon systems, operation! Secondary weapon systems, operational! Shields, operational! Navigation, operational! Targeting systems, operational! Main reactor, operational! Main weapon status: charging!"

Havoc nodded. "Keep an eye on the systems, we need to make sure everything goes smoothly." He said. He looked back down at his console, and continued to type on it.

Being Head Gunner/Technician was a difficult job, but one Havoc preformed extremely well in, thanks to his experience and training. He understood this vessel as much as the engineers that built it. He knew how the systems worked, and how to fix them if they went wrong. He was charged with both the upkeep of the station, and the firing of its main weapon, too. An important job, but one Havoc wasn't going to back down from.

Then, he heard a message over his commlink. The enemy fleets were beginning to arrive.

The battle had begun.

Quickly, Havoc broadcasted a message across all Maw channels. "Attention, Maw and friendly forces, this is the Mercy Superweapon. The superweapon is charging, I repeat: the superweapon is charging. All systems in the green, firing will commence as soon as possible. Be advised, ground forces will be alerted when primary ignition is commencing, and will have a short window to evacuate." He said over his commlink.

Then, he sent a message to his superiors. "This is Havoc. My Lords, the weapon will be finished charging soon, and we will be able to fire. Targeting systems have already locked onto Csilla, and we require your clearance to fire the weapon." He said over the commlink.

Then, one of his gunners reported in. "Sir! Our scanners onboard have detected an unauthorized ship enter hangar 3-A!" The gunner told him.

"No doubt they intend to sabotage the weapon." Havoc replied.

He activated the station-wide commlink, and said, "Attention, attention! Scanners have picked up unauthorized lifeforms boarding the station. All personnel, prepare for combat. Fortify defenses, defend the systems." He said, hearing his voice echo through the halls. Outside, he could hear turbolasers firing at enemy ships.

And so, the battle was truly beginning.
Vile Pillager

Location: Surface of Csilla, Brotherhood Trenches
Tags: Kaleleon Kaleleon , Open

Blood and ice. Gore and snow. His world had been reduced to these.

Gazing up at the sky, where the distant lights of the Maw fleet - and the terrible weapon it protected - shone like vile stars, The Mongrel howled out praises to the Three Avatars. At last, he could feel his long journey reaching a resolution. His tainted rebirth on that nameless, worthless planet, where the Dark Voice had marked him as destined for greatness; the early raids on Batuu and Jakku, taking slaves and leaving behind mounds of corpses; all the conquests that had followed, from Lao-Mon to Tiantang, crushing civilization beneath the Brotherhood's heel; all of it had led to this battle.

This was the battle that would begin the Age of Annihilation.

Behind The Mongrel, countless thousands of Bloodsworn marauders raised their voices, echoing his chanting. There were other tribes, too; the followers of every warlord were represented here, armed to the teeth and filled with unholy purpose. They all knew that this was the conquest that would be remembered for a thousand years. If their faith was strong enough, it was the night before the Final Dawn, the sweeping away of those foolish heretics who still believed that their decaying civilizations were worthy to stand the test of time. They were all part of something far greater than themselves. They brought War and Death.

Only then, with their victory, could there be Rebirth.

The tribes had landed hours earlier, their entry into Csilla's frigid atmosphere covered by the overwhelming firepower of the Brotherhood fleet. Though they would have preferred to simply sweep across the planet in a great horde, as they had done on Crakull and Mar'Zambul, the servants of the Maw recognized the odds arrayed against them. Contrary to their instincts, they had dug in, fortifying their landing zone just in time to counter the Chiss defenders - who had built trench defenses of their own. Soon, the countless allies of the Chiss would bolster those forces, and the Brotherhood would be sorely tested in battle.

There had already been a few preliminary charges, each side testing the other's defenses, and the carnage that had resulted still steamed upon the bloodstained snow. A savage no-man's-land stretched out between the two sets of trenches, an expanse of slush, mud, and gore that no one had yet succeeded in crossing alive. Dead Chiss soldiers ripped apart by beasts, slugthrowers, and hand weapons sprawled beside dead marauders, the victims of monofilament wire, plasma grenades, and disciplined blaster barrages. For the moment, all was quiet, save for the occasional blast and cry of alarm when someone stuck their head above a trench... and had a sniper take it clean off.

Of course, the Brotherhood had prepared for conditions like these. They had weapons to deal with no-man's-land, and they had weapons designed to clear the enemy trenches in an orgy of bloodshed. The Mongrel, taking command at the front of the battle, was responsible for finding the right time to unleash both. "Ready the Moon Children," he hissed to the marauders around him. "Their bodies will be our shield, their corpses our road, to deliver us into the enemy's soft underbelly." It was a simple solution, if a callous and cruel one - to use their madmen to soak up enemy fire while the rest of the horde advanced behind them.

Still chained up in their transports, screaming into their muzzles and thrashing against their bonds, the Moon Children raged at the galaxy for the pain and madness inflicted upon them. They could not be commanded, for their minds were far too broken; they could only be unleashed and pointed at the enemy. And that was exactly what the Brotherhood aimed to do. The beast handlers took up their long shock-sticks, to herd any of the mad clones who veered off course back into the fight. If the Moon Children died by the ten-thousands to take even the first trench, then they would serve their purpose. Their lives meant nothing, only their effectiveness.

"Unleash them!" The Mongrel screamed, and countless chains fell loose within countless transports. "For the Avatars! For the Final Dawn!" With that, thousands upon thousands of Moon Children streamed out into no-man's-land, howling and gurgling, lurching on two feet or skittering on all fours, a mass of near-brainless humanity filled only with the drive to do violence upon whatever was in front of them. It was the first true salvo in what looked likely to become a brutal, grinding trench war, men and women dying for every yard of Csilla's surface. The Mongrel smiled at the thought; the slaughter would be glorious.
Breaker of Minds

Location: High Orbit over Csilla
Commanding: Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought
Tags: Open


Pain. Fear. Suffering. Tu'teggacha the Taskmaster drank it all in like fine wine, his facial tendrils outstretched and writhing, as if ripping still-warm meat from the corpse of a conquered foe. The Ebruchi seldom ventured into battle in any capacity, confining himself to overseeing the torture and reshaping of the Maw's enemies and servants alike... but if this was the taste of war, perhaps he should sample it more often. With a final shudder of ecstasy, he forced himself to focus. The orgy of destruction that the day promised to bring was only just beginning, and he would have plenty of time to feast upon all of the darkness that came with it.

The Taskmaster sat upon the command throne on the bridge of the Fatalis, the Brotherhood's terrifying Super Star Destroyer. Built from the bones of the ancient Imperial SSD excavated at his direction on Jakku, it had become something more than the symbol of a long-lost regime's power. It was almost unrecognizable for what it had been, transformed into a vessel that resembled a living thing, a great hunting beast of the stellar depths. Surrounded by the Brotherhood fleet, it lurked in their midst, screened by the constantly moving press of barbaric-looking warships. The first foe to push toward it would learn of its terrible power firsthand.

Behind the Fatalis, hanging over Csilla like a hammer poised to fall, the "Mercy" charged its superlaser. Soon it would unleash that impossibly powerful beam, another relic of a lost age of heroes and monsters, and put an end to the Chiss capital entirely. Until then, it was the task of Tu'teggacha and the other commanders of the Maw fleet to keep the superweapon safe. Even with the mighty ships they had arrayed, that was a fearsome task. Looking out at the assembling enemy fleets - half a dozen of them - the Ebruchi felt a shiver of his own fear crawl up his spine. It was an unfamiliar sensation, being personally at risk in this way. He savored it.

The Maw Armada brought together many disparate elements in a savage and powerful whole. Ramshackle pirate battlecruisers stood beside prototype Sith warships, built in secret in the Deep Core. The fleet was incongruous, seemingly at odds with itself, but it fit the Brotherhood's philosophy well: nothing mattered but power and the will to use it. The men and women serving in those crews might be nothing alike, as different from each other in discipline and philosophy as the exteriors of their ships, but it did not matter. They faced a battle for survival that, if they could win it, would shape the galaxy's destiny forever. Their names would be remembered.

"Raise shields," Tu'teggacha commanded, "and maintain our defensive screen." He would let the enemy come to him. In order to win here, all the Brotherhood had to do was wait. Let his foes charge into the defensive gauntlet, forced to move into range of their guns and find themselves on the receiving end of the first missile salvos and turbolaser blasts. "Prepare all weapons to fire as soon as the enemy moves into range. We will greet them with a wall of imminent destruction." It would be a pleasure to taste the panicked final moments of the enemy crews as their ships were blown apart, trying desperately to penetrate the Maw's barrage barrier.

Of course, they also had another tactic that would give these so-called "heroes" pause. Countless Brotherhood ships had been outfitted with transparisteel blisters along their hulls. Into these see-through chambers had been herded thousands upon thousands of slaves, the bulk of the Maw's labor force on several of its conquered planets - along with prisoners taken on all the raids they had conducted on the way to Csilla. These were tortured, panicked innocents, civilians who had nothing to do with the war. And if the enemy fired on these living shields - a tactic borrowed from the Vagaari warships the Brotherhood had encountered - all of those innocent people would die.

Reaching out along the currents of dark energy he sensed, Tu'teggacha found the minds of the other Maw and allied commanders. It was a simple matter for him to bridge them, allowing them all to communicate without technology... or even words. This was his gift, telepathy and the joining of thoughts. He had no flashy Force Lightning or Battle Meditation, but he excelled in this one field of the mystic arts. "We are holding position," he told the other commanders, though he had no authority over them if they chose to carry out their own schemes. "The protection of 'Mercy' is our only priority. We will spend whatever lives we must to ensure it."
The Vulture



The dawn had risen, at last, offering the icy world its glistening rays and banishing the ill-omen of the night's shroud back to the periphery where it belonged for the time. An unkind night had thrust the Warlord of Carlac into the long corridors of his fortress early, and he roused his lessers, summoning them from their chambers and drawing them from their dreams to see to his affairs with him. He needed answers more than he needed anything. Closure was fickle in his world, often fleeting and temperamental, it never resided where he wished for it to. Anxiously now, the sorcerer paced in the underground chamber of his roost, listening for the echoing footsteps on approach to signal his attendants were catching up.

Behind him a familiar specter loomed, watching with her sunken features as he wore a path through the stone floor. Seeing him like this, it urged her to reach for the gaping hole in her midsection, grasping at the seared edges of the plasmic wound with the return of some distant, ill-forgotten pain. There was much she wished to say to him, yet she knew he would not listen. Perhaps she had earned as much from him; silence. She faded, casting herself to the dead wind and leaving naught but a memory behind.

"My Lord, what is so urgent?"

"Are you alright?"

"What troubles you so?"

The triad of sorcerers accosted him for answers nearly the instant he had come into their view, earning a scowl of irritation in retort. The Vulture was haggard, worn-down, and still recovering from the array of crushing wounds he had earned on Serenno, yet here he was, summoning them to the inner sanctum with some unknown intent. The sickly features of his face twisted as he drew a breath through his nose, gesturing with trembling, bandaged hands for the others to take their positions around the central table. "I had a vision."

"Was this the disturbance I felt in the night?"

"Let me speak." He urged, shaking his head, "There are Darksiders at the fringes of this galaxy with every intention of employing a superweapon against a civilized planet, do you understand?"

"Well yes, of course, that's typical of The Sit-"

"No, not The Sith Empire." He was manic, almost, in how wildly he gestured with his hands. Sweat trickled from his jaw, though he continued: "This is something more savage. It's unrefined. Raw. I'm unsure of who I witnessed and the victim of their hand, but I'm going to find out. We're going to find out." The miraluka slid the robe from his shoulders, leaving his upper half exposed as he cast himself unto the table. "Seek what lies beyond my veil, find what I could not cling to, and bring it forth. Pick apart everything, leave no stone unturned."


-- EN-ROUTE --

Sparse reports he had been read had told him stories of The Brotherhood of the Maw. They were fanatics. Nigh-religious zealots with a thirst for annihilation and nothing more beyond what their enigmatic leader commanded of them. In some ways, he was reminded of the early intelligence they had gathered on The Dread Ascendancy... that Grim witch and her radical, terroristic followers who believed her to be a god. It seemed the galaxy was in no shortage of delusionary people regardless of which corner he traversed or the catchy title they took for themselves. It was all the same- they were all the same- in the end and he had no doubt the chapter to this story would close the same as many before it.

The Iron Sun would burn away the Darkness.

The miraluka idled with the spheres suspended in levitation over his hand, flexing and curling his digits intermittently to orbit one around the other, stimulating the damaged cords tautly drawing against his skin from within. He drew a breath of the filtered air, expanding his Sight to those silent, unmoving soldiers sitting on each side of the craft. And beyond, to those in the craft locked below. The one above. The one beside. The remnants of his army of the damned had been mobilized and amongst them all, he was the sole living, breathing commander. No living troopers had been recruited for this mission as, in his mind, the chance of returning home was slim to none. Carlac had lost enough of its people for the time, no, this was not a war for more to martyr themselves for.

The last of the undead beneath his control rode with him across the stars, ushered forth unto a breach he doubted any of them would return from. While this thought in times long expired would have offered The Vulture some level of excitement, now, as he was beginning to understand the value of blood and death itself... he was not so eager.

However, as much as he did not wish to spend the remaining dead troopers he possessed, from what he had gathered in the intelligence briefing, his ground forces were perhaps some of the best equipped to combat the cannon-fodder of the Brotherhood. Ravenous, mindless bloodlust pitted against ravenous, mindless bloodlust.

There would be no shortage of blood to fill the trenches.​


Jayda Vanator


Location: On aboard the superweapon.
Objective: Silence any who board who dare to stop them.
Equipment: 4 Lightsabers (two acquired recently), Heavy modified armour (attached to body), Cybernetic Limbs, Claw/ Talon Feet (Think Grievous' feet style, but retractable).

Taking stock that her prey would come to her, Jayda silently waited as her Cyber Implanter worked her stuff. replacing her damaged parts with new, shiny and durable armored plates. The bone white plates of metal screwed into her body, locking into their proper place. Jayda was just about ready to head out and hunt for some prey, when she was offered something new. "Want to try out the new armor?" Narsire asked, revealing a new form of battle suit for her. It was comprised of extra bracers, shoulder guards, helmet and even a piece made just for her chest. All of it was made of enhanced Durasteel for blaster fire with deep crimson markings across it, as a more visual display of intimidation. After a couple more minutes, the plating was added, none impairments to her speed or maneuverability with her arms. "Perfect," Jayda commented, looking at the armour based off of the legendary Jedi Killer's body, General Grievous.

When Narsire held out two cylinders of metal, Jayda took them, recognizing their shapes. The two lightsabers belonging to her most recent kill. Now modified like her other ones to be more dense and resilient to the punishing grip of her metal hands., she belted them. They had found a dead Sith when she found the Jedi and decided to take the cracked, crimson red Kyber crystals from their cases, using them in these newer shells. Now she had Two Red Sabers as well as her Blue and Green Kyber sabers on her. "This will be FUN," Jayda thought, thinking of all the Jedi she would be killing now.

With a nod, Jayda walked away from her long time colleges and friend to being her Hunt for any intruders. Mostly in a covering cloak and hood, the 7.3ft tall Cybernetic Warrior shifted her legs to get her body into a more reasonable 6.5ft. She would at least have the element of surprise when she encountered someone. She simply walked around, her modified body scanning for any irregularities in her field of view. The slightest shimmer would alert her instantly. The loud and heavy steps of her metallic body resounded menacingly as she walked, her body hunched over. From the front, her unmasked face was visible, the extra head armor retracted till it was needed. But, from the back she was a complete mystery. It was obvious that she was part cybernetic, given the steps she was taking, but aside from that, this Jedi Killer was going to be a new force to be reckoned with.


Battle Suit armour /\ (Body still functions as normal since arms are not covered)

Under the armour and cloak \/

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Atlas Drake

the new colossus



Atlas drew a Glie-44 from the holster on his EVA suit. Two volunteers from the Constellation's crew with military experience secured a pair of battered old GLX Firelances reserved for emergencies. This definitely seemed to qualify. After a silent count he cycled the ship's airlock and Captain Drake took his first steps out onto the hull of the Brotherhood's terrifying new monstrosity. Walking with mag boots felt like navigating through quick sand but they made slow steady progress toward the nearest docking ring.


"I see it."

Above them Csilla's majestic surface began to burn. Tiny explosions rippled across the planescape which Atlas knew could only be massive artillery bombardments from this extreme vantage. It was nothing however compared to the dazzling light show already beginning in orbit. Heavy capital ships exchanged turbolaser fire and entire starfighter wings clashed against one another en masse. They needed to reach cover.

"Run," when his backup looked uncertain Drake shoved them both, "Run!"

Caught in a death spiral one of the passing interceptors slammed against deflector shields above them. Space warped and shimmered overhead. Followed by a storm of raining superheated debris. Impacts scored the hull all around them while the survey ship's crew waded through zero gravity as fast as their boots could seal. When Captain Drake reached their planned access point he wrenched open a nearby access panel and tugged loose some wiring to splice together with his codebreaker.

"Got it. Inside, let's go."

He swung himself up and over the lip of the unsealed docking ring. Atlas twisted into a controlled tumble when artificial gravity began to reassert itself. Reaching out to grasp onto an outstretched hand the spacer lost his footing again when the severed arm failed to meet expectations. His dead crewman floated past moments later, likely victim of a last second micro impact.

"I thought you said that would be the easy part."

"It was."
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Objective 3: Duel of the Fates
Location: PK-1 “Mercy”
Tags: Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo [When the Jedi arrive]

He’d never seen the likes of these soldiers before, a myriad of crimson and black coated Sith Troopers marched within the halls of the Dark Mercy superweapon. They proudly wore the banners of the various Sith factions that rode to aid the Brotherhood’s all out war on the galaxy at large. The dreaded Warlords of the Sith, the zealous Sith Eternal, the vile Kainate, and the Final Dawn that lurked beneath the surface of the Maw themselves. Only the most elite of the marauders were handpicked to serve on the superweapon, those skilled in combat against Jedi to be precise. That was why he was stuck here, watching the beautiful chaos below with jealousy.

The moment the silent alarm was raised, the marauders lieutenant snickered loudly in triumph. So worried had he been that he’d lose out on the glory while The Mongrel The Mongrel carried out the largest assault the MAW had ever fielded. Now, it seemed he was mistaken.

Rushing off at the sound of the intruder’s location, Kryll waved onto a squad of defending warriors and spat out commands as he took lead off into the bowels of the station. He knew not what foes were enroute only that the lone fighter was among the first to come try and stop the superweapon. This he could not allow, in the name of Zachariel Steelblood Zachariel Steelblood , his liege he would not fail. Blood would be his, Jedi blood if he was lucky.

He led his troops on as the station’s garrison spread out in preparation of the battle to come.


Deputy Commander of the 5th 'Black Bear' Regiment


Enedina Tal Enedina Tal | Erskine Barran Erskine Barran | NIO
“Reminds me of home, eh?”

“Last time I checked, Charlie, Hartania didn’t have a giant fucking laser over it.”

Roberts gave a scoff in reply to the Major’s gruff attitude. Ben knew he was only trying to lighten the mood, but it seemed long past the time for that. First Lieutenant Charles Roberts was Bennett Hall’s right hand man, and Major Hall was the same to their Lieutenant-Colonel, who at this point hadn’t been seen in four hours.

The winds were biting like a rabid hunting dog, and the snowfall obscured every damn thing further than a few feet over the top of the trenches. Roberts was right: it did remind him of their home, of the weeks long expeditions to the north pole. They’d frozen their asses off there as well, but he’d have taken more if he knew it might get him out of fightin’ the Crazies here on Csilla. Some of the soldiers who shambled past looked like they might as well have been dead men walking.

Every once in a while the Crazies charged through the mists, lobbing firebombs and spraying their blasters like drunks. It was certainly a new experience for the Black Bear Regiment. They were used to fighting wildlife, and the occasional bandits threatening the colonies. But these were far, far from ordinary bandits.

The regiment huddled closely, nestled in the carved out alcoves in the walls of ice. Prolonged use had started to melt the walls of the trenches, leaving a thin layer of water, blood, sweat, and tears pooling at their feet in places that couldn’t be properly reinforced.

Rumors had begun, moving around the trenches with the troops, that the Brotherhood had entrenched themselves as well after their first huge waves had been rebuffed. Everyone, but none more so than the Chiss themselves, fought like there was no tomorrow. Hell, there very well might not be.

Though the snow was beginning to calm on their side of the trench, they weren’t out of the woods yet. Ben clutched his coat tight to himself as he set against the ice, completely soaked from the knees down. Somewhere above them, over the top of the trenches, a blood-curdling scream rang out, then a cacophony of them followed. They grew louder, which everyone knew meant they were approaching fast. Everyone roused as fast as they could and took to the top of the trenches with their blasters. As the first Moon Guardians came into sight the Black Bears opened fire. They’d learned the hard way earlier in the battle that letting even one of these things into the trenches was a nightmare. They were unfeeling, uncaring, and ravenous. They were caked with blood, mud, and ash from their charge through the no man’s land. Luckily they fell fast. All the soldiers had to do was keep up the pressure and the rate of fire.

“Roberts! Have you got any word from Lieutenant O’Brien!?” Ben yelled over the sound of the wind and the blasters.

“Not yet sir! What about the LC!?”


Kark, he thought. Lieutenant-Colonel Alistair Doyle eluded them still, so they were still out of a commander. The 5th Regiment was stretched too thin.

As he cursed under his breath and wondered where his friend and mentor could be, possibly dead for all he knew, a Moon Guardian tackled Roberts and they both fell into the trench. Without thinking of the consequences, Bennett turned back, lowered his head below the trench walls, and fired shots into the creature’s back as it clawed open Roberts’ coat. The beast wailed and contorted as the bolts struck its spine and its shoulder blades. Roberts gave it a hard push off of him, before reaching to grab a trowel nearby. With the trowel in hand the Lieutenant beat the premature clone over the head until it stopped writhing.

From behind them a cheer sounded. A cheer of defiance and patriotism. As the two stunned men looked to see what the commotion was they saw both Chiss and New Imperial soldiers mounting the trench nearby and unloading into the Maw. It was strange that the two nations had just been fighting, but the threat of a doomsday weapon was eternally more important than any border skirmish.

The horde fell where they stood and began to stumble over one another, not caring about the mass slaughter the reinforcements were inflicting. It didn’t really matter. They’d be back in greater numbers soon enough.

With the soldiers was the Lieutenant-Colonel. His prim and moustache that often curled at its ends instead dropped down his face, surrounded by the rare sight of stubble on the man’s normally aristocratic face. His dejected look as he approached told Ben that something was wrong even before the words came from Doyle’s mouth.

“Where the hell were ya!?” he questioned, though he was not ungrateful for the reinforcements.

“With Tal’s bunch, talking business. We’ve got a situation,” The LC replied grimly. “Crazies have taken ground up on the ridge.”

Doyle pointed past Bennett, who didn’t even have to turn around to know his superior meant the cliff face that loomed over the eastern trenches. They hadn’t thought it would be an issue, but if the Brotherhood had that ridge they’d be able to see the entirety of the allied forces and trenches. And of course the rangers of Hartania would be the ones called to the mount the damn thing.

“What’s the plan then?”

“There's a big crevasse near the far eastern reserve trench. They think we’ll be able to get the men up there without any hassle. It’ll be damn sure easier than the south face of Guilburn!” Doyle referred to a famously tall mountain on Hartania they had once climbed in their youths. But they weren’t young men anymore, and Guilburn did have any genocidal wackos on it trying to stop them.

“I’ll rally the boys. At least this’ll be a change of pace, eh?”



One might have been surprised to see him among such an assembly of dark warlords and their lieutenants, but there had been a great shift in perspective in recent days that had allowed him to conceptualize different truths.
The primary truth being that Csilla must die.
He wore his enchanted armor over his scarred muscular form, the spitting image of the warrior god standing tall amidst others of his kind. His face was uncovered by either hood or helmet, the latter being tucked under the crook of his arm as he stood silent and still. At his back were two of his ebony-clothed Crownsguard, every square inch of their body covered in protective fabric and a concussion lance held protectively in one hand. Their actions were tied directly to that of their Lord and Master, and they did nothing without his influence.
"The Light-blind will find no succor amidst the bones of Csilla," spoke Darth Carnifex as he listened to the words spoken by Solipsis, "Let them choke on their own doom."
Around the great superweapon were a flotilla of warships bearing his mark, themselves surrounded by swarms of starfighters piloted by deranged neophytes spawned to fight and die without pause. These monolithic vessels levied destructive firepower against Csilla's surface, pounding away with relentless ferocity to carve away at the protective layer of ice and snow that covered the subterranean Chiss cities. Moving away from the superweapon's perimeter and towards the bombarded surface of Csilla were immense tetrahedrons of maddening design. They moored themselves in the atmosphere above Csilla, disgorging their cargo of Vorn-Strunga that would then descend upon the jagged gaps made by the relentless orbital bombardment.
Carnifex held aloft his skull-faced helmet, placing his other hand on its cold metallic surface as he lifted it up over his head and then gently slid it into place upon it. The helmet drew strength from negative emotion, and the palpable waves of negative energy which radiated out from Csilla were more than enough to supercharge the helmet and increase his own power. "I seek only the Living Force of this world, nothing else. Whatever remains can be yours, its people and its culture mean nothing to me."
Csilla was to be but just another world subjected to his vile ambitions, stripped of life much like the other worlds he had passed through had become. His insatiable search for the energy of the Living Force was known only to a select few, and even most of them did not fully comprehend the grand scope. Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf knew more than anyone, but Carnifex did not include her on this mission; he knew that she would strongly disapprove of what she perceived as a wasteful and senseless action.
It was one of the many differences that existed between them. She was curious but cautious and measured in her approach, he was far more reckless and heedless of the damages or consequences of his actions. It had often put them at odds with one another in their shared history, but they had repeatedly continued to work together despite their myriad differences. The work they collectively contributed to was far more important than any personal disagreements.
"Let it begin."

Commanding Officer of the Task Force 58
Location: On board of the escort frigate Pride of Anaxes, low orbit of Csilla
Objective 4: Annihilate the ennemy fleet and provide atmospheric support to the defenders ground forces.

"Sir, we've arrived on the low orbit above Csilla" announced the Navigation Officer.

"Roger. I want all guns ready for long range firing and atmospheric support. We must stop the ennemy at all costs. I want the crew to their action stations. Operations Officer, try to get the identification of the ennemy ships."

"Aye Sir" replied the personnel present on the bridge.

"This is not a drill, this is not a drill. General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestions!"

"Comms Officer, I want a direct link with the ground forces' commander."

"Right away Sir!"

"Ground forces command post, this is Captain Herlock speaking. The Pride of Anaxes will stay in low orbit in order to provide atmospheric support. Feel free to tell me if you need it."

With that said. the Pride of Anaxes was ready to defend Csilla to the last drop of fuel, to the last drop of blood.
The Restless

Objective: 1 Hell Frozen Over

Equpment: Kyrel's Necrochasis Kyrel's Armor Vader's Bane Lightsaber

Allies: Brotherhood of Maw and Friends

Enemies: Kaeli Kaeli Liza Liza Chiss, Jedi and Friends

Finally the time had come. The moment that he had witnessed within the ruins of Fortress Vader on that fiery world was starting to come to pass. As his boots were touching the cold surface, he was surrounded by the various barbaric marauders with only one thing in mind. Death of all life on this world, thanks to a captured and brainwashed Chiss scout the Maw had discovered Csilla quickly. The weapon within the Unknown Regions being completed, and when Kyrel saw it for himself, he laughed for what seemed like an eternity. For the weapon that Vader had misgivings for, would be the same design that opened the Maw's way into the galaxy and with Csilla gone nothing would stop the Master of Ren would enact his vengeance on all his enemies. To take what was rightfully his.

He walked the battlefield, any chiss he saw in his path would meet the end of his crimson blade. For what they saw was what looked to be a man covered in dark robes, with a mask in red markings. A smirk underneath the mask, everything was coming together. The power that he had been seeking all his life would be his, and it would start with the death of this world. What was promised to him by the Force itself would be taken at last. He would slaughter anyone in his way, chiss or not to make that happen. Screams and begging came when Kyrel cut down squads of soldiers, even as they attempted to stop him. Fueled by pure rage and insane euphoria unlike any other. He gave into the bloodlust that fueled the wound in the force.

Stumbling onto a bunker, there was only darkness from within the inside. The Chiss afraid pointing the blasters all over. When there was only an ignition of a red blade to light up the bunker. The men and women within started to firie only to be met with a man who did not go down. The armor absorbing the blaster fire, and when a stray bolt did struck his flesh. He didn't go down, for the man was already dead and couldn't be brought down so easily by conventional means at least not with these beings. The Red blade moved as if a dance, taking limbs off, bisecting and decapitating those that came near him. Even some tried to get away banging on the door senselessly to try and be let out. Only to find that they had been locked in, a gift Kyrel left for the now dead men who tried in vain to escape his wrath.

With only one left alive, Kyrel approached him slowly as he kept pounding on the bunker door. Not even daring to turn back and to look at the monster that had slaughtered an entire platoon with ease. The chiss finally looked back to the towering behemoth before him. Kyrel's mask was slowly taken off with a hiss. Revealing the monstrous and stitched up look of the corpse. Seeing the face surrounded by the red glow of the saber was as if something seen out of a horror holo. The chiss asked Kyrel slowly as the man said nothing but continued to tower over him. "W-What do you want??" Kyrel said nothing to the man, but instead licked his lips, or what lips he did have.

What came next was something truly horrifying as the Master of Ren proceeded to extend his tongue to wrap around the neck of the Chiss. The blood inside Kyrel was in a way very acidic thanks to the minds of the Sith Necromancers that brought him back. Cutting into the blue skin. In a mere instant. The Monster bit into the top half of his head. The force of the bite taking the man's head off from his body. Biting a good chunk of the flesh off before spitting the head out. Leaving the man's body to fall with a sounding thud. The door opening out to the snowy tundra. Seeking out more blood, Kyrel stepped out slowly looking back at the corpse as he snapped the mask into place. The booming and mechanical voice speaking forth.
"Only Death." He said as he went forth seeking out more prey until the time was right for the weapon to eclipse the world and the apocalypse to begin, for with Csilla's fall would begin his rise.


Aldo Garrick



Objective 2: Dark All Day
Resurrection Class Battlecruiser ‘Magnus’
Operation: FINAL DAWN

The time had come. He and his companions had prepared for this moment, the unveiling of the new dawn upon the galaxy at the edge of a knife. To say he was ecstatic would be an understatement, how could one express fulfilling their life’s purpose? Beginning the end of a era long plagued by indecisive, mediocre governments and unending war unbalancing the galaxy at large. Chaos. Absolute chaos.

The only way to correct the course of the galaxy was to fight fire with fire, introduce an unstoppable force and collide it with an unmovable object. Bring forth greater chaos and from the ashes of the Age of Annihilation, a new pure order would rise to bring forth a never ending age of peace and spiritual nirvana.

Such was a vision to those of the Final Dawn. Such was the vision of Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis .

Aldo stood on the bridge of his mighty warship, fresh from the secret forges of the Final Dawn to bolster the Brotherhood’s endeavor. The Admiral looked on at the chaos as ship clashed against ship, cruisers split open, and fighters were pummeled into submission by unending barrages of laser fire. So much disorder.

“Bring us to the forefront of the Crucifix Destroyer line. I want the proton cannon primed and ready.”

His foot planted firmly as he spun away from the viewport and marched past two Sith Personnel aboard the vessel. Both officers followed Garrick in close proximity as he stepped away toward the comm station, “Make use of the opportunity and continue bombardment of the surface. Make every opportunity count toward ridding us of their pesky artillery. I want fighters to begin headhunting any transports attempting to reach hyperspace egress points. You heard our lord, nothing gets out of the system alive, understood?”
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Bendak Crail


Allies: Brotherhood of Maw Sinh Sinh Inferious Inferious Knights of Ren
Enemies: Jedi Strike Team, Enemy boarding party
Equipment: Knight of Ren armor, Lightsaber

Bendak had seemed to be a newcomer to the Knights of Ren, but was considered at least by Kyrel to be his right hand. To carry out any order to the letter. This was to be done especially so since he had been brought back from Mustafar, ever since he spent years just barely surviving on that hellish world since it was brought under siege by the Jedi. Now he had been introduced to a new group of which Kyrel Ren had followed. At first he suspected that Kyrel was following another Master, until he informed the young Knight of what his plans were for the Maw. To mold the group into a force that would bring havoc upon the galaxy, and it was with this destruction that the Maw made themselves known.

Just like what Kyrel had said for now they would wait until the destruction was over, and then they would finally take power from the man known as Solipsis and his Heathen Priests... For now he along with the other Knights of Ren were instructed to guard the interior of the Superweapon, for Kyrel knew that the Jedi would try something, any enemy of the Maw would try to take the weapon down from the inside. The fierce dark warriors were to protect it even if it meant their lives. And so that would be Bendak's mission, as he felt his enemies search for an opening into the weapon. The weapon itself was a remarkable feat by the Maw. Given the resources taken from the tribes and groups they added to the collective of the Maw, it wasn't long until secrets of days past was given to the barbaric warriors. Death Star tech in it's primal form. While the exterior remained unfinished it didn't matter for the kyber crystal powered laser was fully operational and ready to bring hell down onto a world.

The dark clad figure stood with the rest of the Knights. The interior looked vaguely Imperial with the same architecture. But with a Maw feel, as there were different types of pagan like markings on the walls. The normal colored white lights shown a more red tint giving the hallways a very menacing and spooky feel to them. It wasn't unlike a normal Imperial infrastructure. There was something unholy about the weapon itself. So much that those not directly aligned with the Brotherhood, but with the dark side itself came and answered the call.

The enemy would find an opening, and it would only be a matter of time. When they did the Knights would emerge to engage the enemy. For now Bendak and the rest continued to stalk the crimson colored halls. Waiting for when they would reveal themselves.


Two hours prior
The Warpriest's quarters aboard Mercy

A spindly hand brought another berry up to the wicked mouth. The inside of the shape shifter's mouth had already been stained blue by the berries, but she was still not done with the container. A final snack before Mercy arrived at it's doomed destination. Slowly, the Shi'ido began to change her form, appearing more and more human. The glossy black shell covering most of her body cracked and was reabsorbed as skin and muscle overtook it. Pale skin replaced it, the small mouth grew lips and became larger, matching that of a human woman. However, that was where the humanity ended. Her cheeks remained hardened, now changing colors and forming layers. The head rest of the head appeared to dissolve, becoming a strange, layered mess of material, with some strands appearing to hang off and flow, while others appeared to float unattached. Of course, they were attached, however the tissue connecting them was nearly perfectly transparent. Several orbs were within the head, acting as eyes for the wicked form. The Priestess rose, holding the last blue berry in her hand.

And in a moment, it was gone.


Interacting with Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir


Battle raged both over and on Csilla. The home world of the mighty Chiss Ascendancy was now a warzone. The Chiss Home Fleet was fighting desperately to save their planet, while more and more reinforcements arrived from across the galaxy-true militaries and civilians working together to save as many of the blue-skinned aliens as they could. Aboard Mercy, the leaders of the Brotherhood had gathered to direct the combat as well and hear the Voice of the Maw.

The Warpriest was among them. She had her lightsaber with her, though she was far from a master of the blade. The battle was progressing well. Anabasa felt the deaths of thousands as ships exploded, as soldiers fell en masse, and as civilian centers were bombed. It was exquisite. The Maw hungered, and today it would feast.

“I can sense the gnawing presence of the Light grow near. They come for the weapon at their own peril.”

"My lord, allow me to go confront them."

The Warpriest turned to leave the chamber, to rush down the numerous hallways to confront the intruders. Her darkside prowess would certainly match, if not overwhelm any who came to stop the inevitable. Csilla would be destroyed, and Anabasa would not allow any to prevent that. Such was the will of the Maw. The station was huge, though when one knew the various route and secret halls trips around Mercy would take far less time. Particularly when that one was willing to leap down reactor shafts and the numerous chasmous chambers like she was. Her legs shifted to take the impact better than a human's would, and the Priestess landed hard on the small platform hundreds of feet below where she'd jumped from. Her legs returned to a humanoid form as she now moved down the hallways, feeling her prey grow ever closer…
Anaxsi Hawk

It'd barely been two months since the devastating ambush. Already, the line was given a new assignment and their ships repaired or replaced. Csilla. Home of the Chiss, and now the site of one of the largest battles in recent history. The Brotherhood was not holding back, and the numerous factions that'd come to protect the Chiss had thrown as much as they could into the fight. Even the shaken 253rd was here, one of the only naval forces in the Galactic Alliance with experience fighting the Brotherhood.

I stood again on the bridge of the Hawk, watching sensor relays intently, as I'd done so many times before. At Bastion, at Byss. The 253rd was away from most of the fighting, consigned to the crucial duty of escorting evacuating refugees. The Chiss were prideful, but not stupid. They knew the risk now being posed to their home, and that as many civilians needed to escape as possible, even if the Brotherhood could be stopped. Civilian vessels, military transports, and even some actual combat vessels now made up a steady stream of ships moving away from the planet, out of range of the numerous Interdictors in the fighting, and escaping to hyperspace. I'd even seen massive Mon Calamari cruise ships in the convoys.

Of course, the refugee trains made a juicy target for any Brotherhood Vessel that found its way through the fighting. Thus, we were here to protect them. After the brutal ambush we'd faced at the hands of the Maw's fanatics, I wasn't going to complain. To be frank, I was questioning if I was even a capable commander. But the Line was here, and it was my duty to protect civilians and my own men, no matter what I had to do. We'd even been given orders to prioritize the civilians over our own lives and ships. Though I hoped the crews hadn't found out, my captains knew. They knew their duties, just as much as I. Sadly, many of the captains were inexperienced replacements for this I'd lost.

"Signal the captains. Tell them to maintain red alert."


I continued to stare at the sensor data, watching each ship as closely as I could, now with my single eye. Giraan was here, fighting the Brotherhood just as she'd done at the Namadii corridor. Another vessel caught my eye, one labeled as Pride of Anaxes. It was a New Imperial ship, rather than an alliance. I wasn't sure entirely why it was called that, though I'd heard many Anaxsi Imperialists had fled to the New Empire. There were hundreds of star destroyer sized vessels, on both sides. An uncountable number of smaller ships and fighter groups surrounded the larger battleships. The Brotherhood were maintaining a strong offensive against the allied armada. I could only pray nothing got through.

Of course, I had no idea if there were even more Brotherhood forces waiting to join the battle...

Location: Boarding superweapon.
Objective 3.: Duel of the Fates | Stop the superweapon
Darth Maleva Darth Maleva
Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.


In her dreams and visions, Elpsis' vision was not impaired. She could see as normal. For someone who had grown accustomed to perceiving the world through the patterns of the Force, it could be disconcerting. But the dreamspace she found herself in was different from the usual one. She was surrounded by nothingness. The soldier looked up to the sky and perceived a myriad celestial bodies. Then there was the bright, brilliant flash of a solar flare. "How easily a life, a world, a star system is extinguished. But their song is quickly forgotten," a soft, melodic voice spoke from behind her. Elpsis knew that voice, and so she turned.

But the Force entity did not assume the form she knew. "You look different," she remarked. "Should I call you White Lady now, Red Lady?"
The entity smiled slightly. The tint of red on her lips seemed to be the only colour on her face. Even her eyebrows seemed to nearly fade away into pale skin. Her hair was a stark white. She looked ghostly and almost ethereal, an effect enhanced by her black attire.

The entity chuckled. "What's in a name?"
"Not an answer."
"I have a thousand forms, dear. Which of them is real? All of them? None?"
"Still not an answer. You just love being cryptic," Elpsis shrugged.
"A luminous being must have its secrets. It has been some time since our last communion. You've grown stronger."

"Yelling at recruits, burning Sith - the family business. You know the drill." But there was a Sith she had failed to burn. The one who had plunged her lightsabre into her mother's chest. All Elpsis had been able to do was chase her away after the deed was done. And maybe - maybe - keep her mother from dying right on the spot. She clamped down on the feeling.

"And now you throw yourself once more into the breach."
"If I get a vision about it, I'm sure a 'luminous being' does," Elpsis said firmly. "They wanna raze a planet for kicks. Hardly what the Lifeweb wants, ain't it? So I'm here."
"Do you know how many worlds have been scorched of life over the past year? It has not made waves because the deaths are silent, their voices snuffed out before they can rage against the heavens. Your Dark Age never ended."
"Even more reason to fight here."

"Yes. So go forth and burn the violators of nature's law. The preservation of creation goes beyond the petty strife of causes and systems. But remember this: your future does not lie in the stars. It lies on the forgotten world drowning in an ocean of blood."
"Tephrike," Elpsis said quietly. "I swore an oath. I intend to keep it. You said I'd suffer greatly. That I'd betray my family, and rise again. You were right about that. Anything else you want to share before I kamikaze into a death star ripoff?"

"The future is not a straight line, child. There are many currents - always in motion. You closed the path of the fire princess. The path of the phoenix is still open. Manifold evildoers are consumed by her flames until they devour her."
"I live to do my duty." Elpsis was quiet for a moment, before adding: "Will she wake?" Suddenly her voice was small and fragile.
"Siobhan Kerrigan will live to bury you."
"That's enough for me. Well, I gotta..."
"Go, yes," the entity finished for her. "But know this: you live for more than battle. Your mirror is waiting for you."
"My what?"
"She calls out to you."
"Get to the bloody point."
"You will know when you need to." Then she was gone.

"That's our ride?" Elpsis asked incredulously, pointing at the torpedo-shaped device.
Natalie just shrugged. "We'll all fit in. At least if your Sithling doesn't hog space." This earned her a glare from the Sithling in question, who happened to be very tall. "It's quick, it bypasses shields and it has a cutting ring to tear a hole through a hull. It's just missing some non-essential systems."
Nyssa raised an eyebrow at that. "Such as, Blondie?"
"Oh, weapons, shields, the works, Sithling."
Rhea, still adjusting to space in general, looked uncomfortable at the admission. "So it's a floating coffin," she opined bluntly.
"It'll get us inside, Bones. Unless you can float through space Leia Organa style. In which case, be my guest."
"Who's Leia Organa?" Shikoba asked. The debate about the boarding torpedo was something she treated with disinterest, but it seemed this Leia person was somehow important, if she could float through space.
"A Jedi who led the rebel forces to victory against the Empire. She was murdered by the Sith traitor Kylo Vader," Rhea stated. She was a Tephriki, and isolation had given her people a somewhat distorted idea of history.

"He wasn't a Sith. Just a pathetic, murderous punk," Nyssa grumbled.
"Typical Sith then," Diona stated. "Here goes nothing. With a device this small, shielding would do us little good if we were hit by a salvoe. It just needs to be fast enough. A world is at stake."
"Yes," Elpsis agreed. Her comm beeped and she took the call. "Acknowledged, sir," she said tersely after receiving the equally laconic order. "We're cleared for boarding. Cut the chatter and get inside, ladies. It's gonna be a bumpy, crammed ride. Nat, cut us a hole when we impact."

And so the small team got ready for boarding. "I haven't seen the sky-void swallow us and your steed," Shikoba said once they were all crammed inside the torpedo. "My visions are reliable. Sometimes I see when a life withers away."
"Very reassuring," Rhea muttered.
"Sometimes moments before it occurs," Shikoba added, just as the torpedo shot out of the launcher and into the darkness. "It is the way of prophecy only to be understood when it has happened."
"If something as petty as a laser shot and shoddy constructions kill me, I'm going to make you all pay for the indignity," Nyssa remarked caustically. "Especially the humans." Driven by exceptional speed, the torpedo burst through the void of space, accelerating to a truly impressive speed towards the vast battle station that loomed above the ice ball of Csilla.
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Lord Regent of the Hundred

Location: Far side of Csilla, approaching the Orbit
Assets: Six
Harrower-class Cruisers with four Tech-War-Hosts from Vandemar
Tag(s): Venerable of Zakuul Venerable of Zakuul , open

Sar Calgar
+ Lord Regent of the Hundred +

The fleet of the Hundred was not really tasked with the goal they intended to achieve, but offered their assistance in change for free reign in their combat objectives during the large battles took place on the other side of Csilla. The re-newed Harrowers slowly approached the planet.

On the flag-ship, the Conquerors Chariot, Sar Calgar stood in his dark plate armour like a statue made of black steel. His warhammer was leaning against the railing in front of him, too heavy to be lifted by most ordinary humans. The cold eyes staring at the planet ahead, the occasional blinking was the only movement he was offering to the people around.

"Show me the progress on the other side."

Calgars eyes moved to the hologrpahic display of the entire systems with amassed fleets and the big superweapon. He wasn't really interested in them, his objective was below on the surface, where nobody was going.