Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Grond the Builder]

​

Location: Far side of Csilla, upper Orbit & surface Assets: Six Harrower-class Cruisers with four Tech-War-Hosts from Vandemar Tag(s): Aurelian Sigismund , open Sar Calgar + Lord Regent of the Hundred + Drums of War​ ​

The battle in space was not really going well, it was not his theatre. Calgar preferred close combat, eye to eye with his enemies, not shooting across long ranges and just seeing the metal boxes they were sitting in, hiding behind shields, armor and long range weaponry. He was growing impatient, one Harrower was lost, a second receiving heavy damage while a third reported minor boarding incidents. The Lord Regent decided it is time to act accordingly. The two Harrowers on the far right, so far just engaging in a long range duel with the broadside of the dreadnought as well as one of the escort cruisers, start to throttle up their engines and move closer to engage the enemies in close combat, inside boarding teams preparing. The Tech War Hosts of Vandemar were a special kind of cybernetically engineered warriors, capable of overpowering ordinary enemieswith their augmented weapons and improved bodies. They were running on high adrenaline levels and these cyborgs were more out of control than controlled, but steered through a hive-system of their commanders. With blazing turbolasers and flickering shields, the Harrowers approached their adversaries, Calgar flagship heading directly for the near four-times-as-large battleship. The man himself was not on the bridge anymore, but was in one of the boarding boats which would be launched to pierce the hull and unleash a wave of deadly tech-warriors. The hammer in his hand was itching and Calgar was smiling. * * *​ On the ground the situation was going much better. The entrances of the city were secured, one war host and Calgars retinue were moving in to collect the target, while the other two were digging in around the entrances, entrenching themselves. A demanding task, as there was both little time and the ground was frozen, the wind cutting and the mood because of the short engagement was more annoyed than inspired. But that was soon to change. Reports were coming in of enemy landing crafts descending to the surface near the city, but there was no visual contact yet and the frontline officers kept pushing their soldiers to dig foxholes and bring up barricades of snow and ice. Everyone who was breathing could see the chilly puffs of clouds appearing and being carried away after every exhalation. They were silently condemning their superiors for this draconic works. The main entrance to the citywas a broad and open valley, the native defences only concentrated behind and around the actual gate into the mountain, not including any outward perimeter. Even the fortifications they had were not very impressive, it took them less than twenty minutes to get through, even before the engines of war could be deployed. Half of the mighty machines were now standing idle, just watching and being silent, their internal reactors hum taken away by the frosty winds. It were actually not the incoming Eternal Empire forces which fired the shot, but one of the war engines opened fire with its gatling blaster, devastating an area which was covered by fallen snow. Explosions lit up while a second engines was joining the shooting and the tech-warriors before and below them were rushing to their makeshift frontline. Their heat-vision was not detecting anything, but the fire was answered. Single shots appeared out of the snowstorm, blue laser bolts exploding left and right. The noise of the war engines was overhwelming though, the heavy artillery seemingly leaving little opportunity for anything to stay alive on the other end. Two minutes after the first war engine started to shoot, visual contact with the enemy was first established. Behind portable shield generators, the screens flickering, a phalanx of battle droids was approaching, well ordered they moved forward supported by tanks, but neither of them shooting. By now the tech-warriors realised that the shots were coming from a differnet angle ...

 

[TK-818]

Location: Mercy
Tags: Yula Perl | Dagon Kaze


The Jedi brought a friend, how nice. Now they both had to die.

His prey wisely hastened their way out of the hangar into the halls in accordance to their mission, the clock was set against them and the Knight of Ren knew it as much as they. Their exit was met with half a dozen durasteel plates peeled from their respective places and thrown telekinetically his way. Initially caught offguard like his conscipted marauders, plate by plate bounced off of him as he brushed what he could away with the Force while others scraped against his armor. The dark warrior pressed on as his fellows were knocked out cold from the forcibly diverted metal.

Thud.

His boot came down heavily as he stood before the threshold of the main hall, as he entered he gave pause and looked on in the direction his opponents travelled with deep thought. Drawing on memory and study, the hunter dove back into the hangar and vanished, making way for one of the adjoining halls on the otherside.

Moments passed as the duo went deeper into the battlestation, the complex was filled with various halls guarded by numerous enemy troops of Maw, Kainate, and Sith Eternal alike while the Warlords seemingly kept their forces primarily on the ground against the NIO. Luckily the two were not met by any resistance on their path until approaching closer to fire control.

Double doors screamed open on the righthand side as the Knight of Ren, Sinh appeared swinging his poled weapon savagely with a wide birth. Paneling broke apart from above and wiring split with a hiss as he cut a swath through the tangled mess of cords that came down in his rampage. Letting his rage unleash, he sent a flurry of attacks down the narrow hall toward his enemies with supplanted power behind each swing.

Almost as if he was trying to kennel them somewhere..

 

[Auteme]

Kuric Taumin Adhira Chandra | Tu'teggacha (?) | Alliance One​

Auteme felt it early. The crashes and chaos below. She wanted to go, but she knew in the confines of the ship she might lose some -- lose lives. There were professionals here; the best soldiers employed by the Alliance who would lay down their lives to repel their attackers and protect their Chancellor.

With each passing moment, her hope waned.

It wasn't until the towering Sith warrior arrived that she realized this might be the cost. The bridge crew seemed to move in slow motion. Auteme took a step forward, half-placing herself in between Adhira and the intruders. They hadn't been stopped, but Auteme couldn't very well give up. The Sith's demand was outlandish. Trading lives should never be done-

Adhira replied before Auteme could. She turned, slowly, looking at her friend and mentor.

Are you sure?

In an instant her mind flooded with regrets and should-haves, but there was no time. "Chanc- Adhira, please," she said.

Please what? Let everyone aboard this ship die? Not sacrifice oneself for others?

Auteme's thoughts crippled her. She just couldn't think of a way out. Would she compromise her values here, look to fight her way out of a corner, or accept what someone she trusted had chosen, even if it might be the wrong choice?

Nothing had happened yet, and she was already sweating.

She didn't move from her spot between Adhira and the Sith. She wanted to say something, make a threat, even -- but she just couldn't.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Saving baby blueberries in the hangar bay
Gear: Armor | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (engaging)

Starlin leaped over piles of bodies in his rush to reach the refugee ship again. The rest of the bombs were disabled rapidly, with the children having already been found and brought forth for him to drain the energy from the planted explosives.

Overuse of the Force left him exhausted, but he pushed on, determined not to give up. The battle was, in many ways, just beginning.

Saber in hand, he headed back for the section of the hangar where Syd and Tegan were… and found the doors all sealed shut. An atmosphere leak had been detected. Starlin banged on the door with his fists, unsure of what to do. The chaotic web of spells Tegan had woven blocked his ability to sense what was going on inside. He couldn’t tell if Syd was still in there, if she was alive or dead, injured or unconscious…

His pent up rage was growing, weighing heavily upon him. He felt so frustrated. Nothing was going right. Sure, he had saved the kids… the first kid! The first kid was still inside!

At last his fury broke through, erupting like lava from a volcano. He pressed his palms against durasteel, stretching out with the Force, and began to tear down the spells in a rage. He didn’t try to purify them with the Light, or undo them with some magic ritual—he simply ripped them apart like he would a spider’s web, clawing at the room beyond.

Awareness rushed into him suddenly. The witch had deactivated the barrier separating them from space. Abruptly, his tactics changed; instead of tearing down Tegan’s magic and letting its energies disperse back into the cosmos, he absorbed the remaining spells. Her acrid power burned him, and he cried out in pain, straining as he poured it back into the disabled systems.

He felt the barrier flicker back to life, emergency systems jumpstarting, air and gravity returning earlier than expected. But still he screamed, overwhelmed by the darkness he had taken into himself. He was unused to and unprepared for this level of corruption. His body was rejecting it like a poison.

“Syd!” Starlin screamed, terror mixed with agony. But his master couldn’t hear him. What had he done? He had been trying to save them—he had to stop this—

"I walk in shadow and darkness; Ashla, shield me from wickedness…" he wailed his rhyming ward against the Dark, vision going blurry. "I walk in shadow and darkness; Ashla, shield me from wickedness…"

A cultist soldier came running toward him while his back was turned, intent on landing a killing blow, only to be blasted back as soon as he got too close. His body skidded across the bay floor, ionized and smoking.

Starlin kept whispering the spell like a prayer until the darkness abated enough that he could plunge his shoto into the door, cutting it open with a few swift strokes. Durasteel thudded to the floor, and he staggered inside. For now, he only had eyes for the gurney still holding the Chiss child. Dead, despite his efforts.

Gritting his teeth, he turned toward Tegan. He had no more witty quips, no jokes, no brevity to lighten the mood. Extending his arm toward her, green lightning arced from his fingertips toward the witch who was the cause of all this suffering.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

[ Just Inside My Head ] ​

It soon became apparent why Ingrid felt something was wrong here. As she walked behind the soldiers she saw that the floor of the hall / corridor, the layer of floor, had become liquid-like, pooling together. The soldiers didn't see it, the Empress did. She would never say out loud that she found this an impressive solution, so only remarked in her mind, silently. So a shape-shifter. That is, one more, because the Empress was one of them too.

The woman saw that the soldiers felt nothing of it, but she still had a bad feeling. The red-haired woman stopped immediately and pulled up against the wall. She felt the Force concentrate and a fire appeared in her hands. This evoked unpleasant memories when the woman fought Elpsis at Byss and the woman used pyrokinesis there constantly. Now she didn't feel like burning herself again.

The moment the woman threw the fire into the soldiers' backs, Ingrid reached out to the Force and teleported. Back to where she came from, back behind her opponent. Here she already knew that fighting would not be avoided because the woman knew she was here. She hoped she wouldn't have to waste time with that, but she had nothing to do.

Because teleportation was stressful, especially if she hides her presence in the Force and even invisible, not to mention she was prepared to attack, so…

The moment she tried to cut the Warpriestess's back with an X-shaped cut, Ingrid became visible and she could be felt, which is why her opponent had plenty of time to react to the attack.

 

[Syd Celsius]

The scream of Tegan Starfall shattered the turbolift, and Syd was flung upward by the vicious blast of Force Energy, creating multiple lascerations on her body that leaked glowing blood everywhere up the shaft as she crashed into a power junction. Metallic squeals of pain erupted from her throat, and she was forced to feed off the energy of the power junction to stay alive during the depressurization sequence, while Starlin Rand heroically took the terrible magic into himself and then expelled it, and Syd felt him actively battle the darkness in the magic, and in himself. She so wanted to help him, but she was barely staying conscious due to the loss of air, desperately holding onto consciousness as she drained the power junction in the lift shaft in the loss of gravity, and it was in the field that his mental fortitude would be the greatest test, more than the physical; Syd wouldn't always be there.

You can do it, Starlin. Trust in the Force. Trust your feelings. Don't let the Darkness overwhelm you. You're stronger than that. I know you are. she called out, managing a smile as she felt him restore the barriers, but felt the death of the youngling.

Tegan disgusted her. Tegan didn't hold a candle to Phyre's cruelty and sadism, but the same callous glee at watching others suffer for her amusement reminded her of the ecstacy Phyre derived from harming the innocent.

Starlin had had enough of her chit too, as he tossed Electric Judgement at her as she floated upward.

Syd actively focused her own inner command of the Light and surged it against Tegan's darkness, trying to smother it and completely disrupt the vile woman's connection as she sped towards her down the shaft with Force Flight, sabers active, prepared this time for any close range tricks, her wounds on her body and face halfway sealed.

Syd's ancient will, refined through successive incarnations, sought to utterly smother and disrupt Tegan's connection, and given how ancient the Sorceress really was, there was a very good chance Syd's sheer power could successfully do it. Tegan would have to struggle mightily to survive the next few moments, because they both wanted her absolutely dead now just for being that fething evil.

 

[Elle Mors]

Csilla Ground

It's All Okay​

Was everything in life, everything that ever mattered, always this difficult?

To live, to really live, meant to put yourself out there, to try things that pushed you beyond your comfort zone, and with every fiber of her being she'd tried - oh she'd tried so hard to be everything she wasn't, and when that wasn't enough, when she'd failed, she ran from her mistakes and tried to embrace what she thought she ought to have been. But this wasn't some deep lifelong trauma resurfacing, this was a woman staring her in the face and telling her all the things she had hoped she never would have had to hear, not now - not after she'd made the mistake of leaving. She wasn't shocked to hear that Sylvia had found someone - of course she had! It didn't hurt her either, she was happy that she'd found a way to be happy without someone like her holding her back.

That's what she would have done, all she could have done, wasn't it?

She saw that, the conflict raging in her - in Sylvia, and in part herself - and knew that it was the past wrestling with their futures, trying to hold them back to a time they couldn't ever hope to return to. It wasn't that she didn't want it, that she wouldn't have fought for it if she knew it was never going to be anything more than a memory, but the passage of time had taught her the maturity she'd sorely needed back then. Maturity to understand when something was over, when choices could hurt others; seeing the pain, the confusion, and knowing what she did now, that she'd discovered someone else that could be there for her, only emphasized this in her mind.

Like all other things the words had been difficult to find, but that struggle was hardly comparable to the titanic task of forcing them out of her lips. "You deserve to be happy, and you found that without me." She said, struggling to keep from losing her composure - impressively keeping the tears back and her tone mostly even. "Go find her, let her know you're safe. I..." She continued, her voice trailing off as she turned her head to look back from where they'd came from. "I found something, too." Elle explained, though she kept her words intentionally vague. It wasn't a lie, strictly speaking; she'd found the guiding light of the force and had become a Jedi along the way, in a manner of speaking she had replaced intimacy with others with trust and intimacy in the force. Religion, possibly, but mostly a distraction.

"I can't come with you. My place is with the Chiss, at least for now. Someone needs to stop this."

She paused as she started to turn away, finding herself unable to maintain eye contact now, and sucked in the air she needed to say something else.

"We'll find each other again, I promise, so don't let me hold you back anymore."

'Tossing her rejection back in her face? Cold.' The voice of her conscience whispered in her ear, heard for the first time since Bastion. 'She already made her decision, I'm just making sure she doesn't lose what she already has.'

'Maybe you don't know what's best for her.'

'Maybe I don't, but she'll have to make this decision without me.'

Sylvia Virtos

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 6
Objective: Mad Fates
Equipment: Mind Crown | Purple MidNight Duster | Black Ancient Sith armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser (toasted) | FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X10 Hypo-syringes | X4 Daggers | Liquid Delirium | A Variety Explosives | Pack of Death sticks | Holopad
Allies: Darth Solipsis | BotM | Csilla go Boom fan Club
Enemies: All the Stars in the Night Sky
Special Tags: Starlin Rand | Syd Celsius

---

Tegan floated there the quiet and darkness of space and the stars beyond. It was a moment, one where she could quiet the endless thoughts that never ended. Her mind always working never stopping but for a second she had the quiet. Then she felt as Starlin absorbed the chaotic energies of her rune spells and then the gravity and air returned as the systems reignited early. Tegan’s small body plummeted to the hanger floor, she didn’t even stop or slow the descent, her small frame slammed to the metal grating of the hanger bay.


Bang, bang…..came the beating at the hanger door as Starlin forced his way in. Tegan rolled to her side and came to her knees just to face Starlin. In her roll to her knees, she had grabbed one of her sabers from her belt and clenched the cylinder in her only good hand. On her knees and her left fist clinching her saber that had not yet been ignited the masked devil, the girl called IT stared at the Jedi who had busted through the door.


He let loose his green lightening of Judgement, Tegan just stared and gritted her teeth as the lightening bit into her. She felt his rage and anger, his mind teetering on the abyss of Chaos. Yet all the pain he felt from the death and digust, he had not even felt a single ounce of the pain Tegan herself felt. Even if he lived a thousand years, he wouldn’t know the true pain she had felt in her lives. Not even in ten thousand years could he begin to comprehend what had twisted her into what she was.


Tegan rose slowly to her feet and began stocking toward Starlin Rand . The lightening started to rip apart her jacket, armor, and helmet. It ate deeper into the exposed flesh of her right arm. Yet she moved forward taking it all her steps slowed even more as Syd joined in the attack. Syd trying to purge the corruption from Tegan. Yet Tegan’s corruption could not be purged it was a taint upon her very being the curse her family bore. Her name cursed by darkness same as her father and passed down to her own children everyone in her family scarred and forsaked by the force itself.


As she continued her push towards Rand, waves of rage and pain flooded off Tegan in all directions. Everything she felt and thoughts of destruction and darkness road on those waves in all directions. As waves of pain flew off her, they would give every force user or magic user short visions of dying. The cold empty feeling death brought. They would feel the pain and suffering of tens of thousands of years, that Tegan had seen and felt. Those vision of death were the feeling Tegan had felt all the times she had died before. Syd was ancient but she failed to realize Tegan was as well an entity of primordial time well before the dark ages.


“Strike me down, Jidai!!” She screamed her accent slipping out one she hid well. Her calm soft tone disappeared and became something wild and chaotic. Her armor and helmet ripping away exposing her underclothing, skin, and face. Her eyes burned a fury of orange like fire steaming from the sockets and her teeth gritted hard lips bleeding. Her right arm flesh ripped away exposing bone in parts. Her red saber ignited as she pushed through the mud of the lightening bombarding her body. Her face began to crack and lines of black began to form.


A wave hit them both giving an image of a very long time ago, a vision of pain. A girl being sold as an infant. An infant left in a room with other infant’s cries screaming out. An infant growing to be a girl to be tortured and experimented on. Abused and mutilated for perverse amusement of the captures those that owned her. Sold, abandoned, made a slave to cruel captors, the girl rose to slaughter those that no longer owned her. Then the girl slit her own throat as she stood among the bodies of those that had made her what she was. The cold embrace flooding over her but death saw her and feared her so rejected her.


“I have Stared down death many times! I have cut down those that have claimed to be deaths hand!” She screamed at Rand as lightening arced off her into her saber that was being branded into her left hand. “So, let your rage take you, let it take me because I am a Phoenix and I will rise Again because nothing can extinguish my flame.”


As Syd flew at her at high speed, Tegan herself approached Rand Tegan threw up a force barrier that would keep her divided from Tegan and Rand for a moment Tegan wasn’t looking to survive that was clear but she wanted Rand to feed into anger he was feeling. Tegan pushed through the air leaping forward at Rand her Saber swinging down at his outstretched hands. As she did her now exposed head cocked back, her orange eyes closed. Then her head came forward with force speed aiding it in a fluid movement her head aiming right for Rands head. As soon as the impact of forehead to forehead would touch a telekinetic push would explode out from Tegan’s forehead. A technique her father had invented it was called the force headbutt it could crush a normal non force user man’s skull in a single blow or snap their neck. Though a force user could sustain it, it was a lot of force being pushed on one’s head and neck. Yet Tegan herself had nothing to lose this body was ravaged and didn’t have much juice left.

 

[Sylvia Virtos]

All I Know
Elle Mors

---

​

Choices once made in confidence now began crumbling. Sylvia thought she had moved on, but all of it was wrapped up in the belief that the woman standing before her was forever gone. Merely the knowledge Ellie was still alive and the fact they were both here had thrown doubt in all of the choices she had made. At the end of it all, she could only feel guilt for the promises she had made. No matter what happened from here, Sylvia could never again look at her bond with Quinn the same way.

Ellie told her she deserved to be happy, yet Sylvia did not fully believe it. The mess of her thoughts had the spacer wanting to make a thousand rash decisions, but all she could do was listen to Ellie speak. To hear her explain her reasons for parting ways once more. Not just for space. Unlike herself, Ellie had the courage to be a hero. Sylvia could only ask herself if staying with her was the right thing to do, only to realize the blonde wouldn't let her. Sylvia stood still, frozen in indecision as Ellie turned around to leave.

The dorm room flashed before her eyes. Sylvia sat on her bed, unable to move as Ellie walked out the door. It was the biggest mistake she'd ever made and now, it felt like it was about to happen again. Even Ellie's promise couldn't take that fear away. She needed to do something herself, and time for it was running out. This was her last chance to do something.

"Wait."

Sylvia broke through the stasis, a panicked look piercing through the back of Ellie's skull. She wouldn't allow history to repeat itself just like that. Even if Ellie thought it was for the best.

"I'm not leaving it up to chance. I refuse to let this be the last time," her hurried voice sounded as she pulled a holodevice from her winter coat. A chip was ejected from it before she quickly returned it to the pocket where it came from. She held it out, hoping Ellie would turn around to see it.

"Take this. It works with any comms device, and it's directly linked to mine. You better survive and let me know you did afterwards," the spacer continued, panic slowly giving way to insistence the more she spoke. "I'm not letting you go, no matter what you'll tell me. I'm not breaking that promise a second time." If Ellie wouldn't do what was needed, Sylvia would. She waved, but not as a final goodbye.

"See you later, Ellie. Don't keep me waiting too long."

In the meantime, Sylvia had things to put into perspective and a mind to make up. As painful as it was going to be and as guilty as it was going to make her feel, she was going to have to make a clear choice. Not doing so would only cause more harm; not only to herself, but Ellie and Quinn too.

Painful days were ahead.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Alars Keto Jayda Vanator​

Now that was something unexpected. Considering the intent of this station, the death radiating from the planet below along with the multitude of malevolent presences on board this station. It was of little surprise that Aaran was not able to sense that one of the individuals in front of him was Force Sensitive. Especially when they seemed to be unaware of it themselves.

The sudden surge of telekinetic prowess did give him pause, causing him to halt in any further attack. His head merely tilting to the side in curiosity at Kryll's effort to save himself from bisection at Jayda's hands. Raw, unfocused and untrained. But certainly potent. Idly, the Jedi wondered if Kryll ever knew what he was before this moment. Probably not, otherwise he would have been snatched up by one of the other Dark Sider adepts in the Maw as an apprentice. Or inducted into the Knights of Ren.

But now his problems only increased. He had to deal with a homicidal cyborg. A lunatic untrained Force Sensitive. And somehow manage the resolve the situation so he could make his way to the ignition chamber and stop this station from firing onto the world below.

No pressure.

But first he needed to create distance. To give himself an opening. With Kryll lunging forward to tackle him off his feet and Jayda swiping at any exposed limbs. He was in a rather precarious situation. So as the maniac lunged for him, Aaran bent his knees, pushing off as he was caught around the midsection. Propelling both of them far further back than Jayda may have been anticipating. Just barely avoiding being grazed by deadly plasma. Leaving the cyborg with nothing but the scent of scorched leather as the lightsabers grazed against his arms. His protective Talisman spearing any serious third-degree burns. But it was still enough to leave a nasty welt.

His own arms wrapped around Kryll. Attempting to roll with the Marauder, hoping to get on top so that he could deal with him quickly before Jayda caught up to them. One hand would move to press against the warrior's chest. And with a surge of will, the Warden of Peace would call upon the Force.

Hopefully, a wave of nausea would overcome Kryll as the Jedi Technique of Malacia was employed. Reaching out, Aaran attempted to befuddle Kryll's internal biological systems. Nausea, dizziness, fatigue. Hopefully all three would overcome him enough to give Aaran an opening. Enough to disorient him enough that he could catch the Marauder with a savage blow to the side of the temple with the hilt of his deactivated lightsaber. Hoping to knock him clean out before Jayda arrived.

Or at least get him to stop with any attempts to grapple.

 

[Darth Maleva]

Elpsis Kerrigan
​

Maleva smiled with the cruelty of as the power came through the tendrils. It disappeared in a blink as the raw power of pain reverberated in the area around them. It struck out in the force, chaotic waves rising. Despite not being its direct target, the blast sent the lord stumbling a few steps. As she struggled to regain her balance, her mind struggled with the innate chaos that bucked. Yet, as she looked ahead once more, it bent to her will just as it had so many times before.

Before she knew it, the flame was on her. She raised her hands, attempting to mold it away, but the elements had never come easily to Maleva. Flame and light kissed her skin, the delicate facade she maintained dropping. Her true form was revealed; ashen skin, wrinkled and gaunt. Years of insufficient meals had taken their toll on the anzat's aging. Without the illusion, she was hardly recognizable- even more so with the marred skin from the witch's attack.

Fury covered the sorceress. Mere weeks ago, it would have been shameful. Malachor had changed that. She had remembered the true source of her power once more. Looks and wits could get you far, but without the passion she had lost, they were nothing. The lord looked to the woman with a vicious snarl on her face. The blackened flesh screamed, but the only sign of pain was a wrinkled brow. Instead of a grandeur show, she allowed it to fuel her.

The golden orbs didnt leave her target as her hands glided through the air. Scarlet lights, the manifestation of hatred, gathered at her fingertips. With a wild hurl, they sailed towards the woman, the light reflecting off the steel hull.​

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Darth Maleva

The larger battle had faded into the background. She could still feel her squad fighting the Brotherhood horde. She felt Nyssa's and Rhea's blazing fury, Natalie's cool professionalism, Shikoba's devotion and Diona's serenity in the face of adversity. She felt them kill, suffer injuries and above all, fight. She could feel the strands of the Force meld connecting the members of the team as Diona weaved a web around her. Elpsis was outside of it, but that was fine.

Dimly, she could hear blood-curdling screams as Shikoba's magic brought forth apparitions from the ether - of beings the Brotherhood had slain in its mad quest for desolation. And she heard the gunfire, the eruptions of the Force and the clash of blades. But it had all faded into background noise. For Elpsis, it was her and the Sith Lady at the moment.

Flame and light had touched the Sith Lady's flesh, burning the illusion away. Ironically, Elpsis could not see that per se since her blindness meant she could not really perceive physical features. However, she felt the shift in her aura and the pain her foe felt, though outwardly the Sith Lady showed little of it. And, as was to be expected, the Sith struck back.

Scarlet lights coalesced at the Sith Lady's fingertips. Each of them radiated dark power. Elpsis braced herself against the assault when the crimson bolts were hurled at her. A shield of the Force absorbed some of the dark power, though the impact was enough to make her stumble. It was not enough to block the whole assault.

As Elpsis sought to dodge, the old injury in her leg worked against her. A crimson spear of darkness was driven through her abdomen, embedding itself in her flesh. Being a metaphysical attack, her armour could not offer her from effective protection from it. White-hot pain exploded inside her. It surged through her body. Black blood, warped by the dark side, seeped out of her gaping wound.

She breathed heavily, heart thumping inside her chest. But it was not just physical pain she felt. The voices of thousands of souls screamed inside her mind, causing her to reel in pain. Each voice was different, but all had one thing in common: people she had slain. Gangers from her youth, Imperial stormtroopers, Sith, the Firemane pilot she had murdered while a brainwashed puppet. The psychic assault felt like a hot knife was being driven through her brain, exploding into various shards.

Pain flooded her...but she fought back. To fight against the pain and blot it out was a losing proposition. The rational part of her mind knew that it would only give the Sith Lady time to strike her down. The angry part of her mind wanted to hurt her back. And so some of the pain was siphoned away as she fed on it. A fiery glow enveloped her cybernetic arm and it suddenly grew hot. With a groan, she raised it and grabbed the spear. Sparks flew and the enchanted, cybernetic arm was left scorched, but she tore the spear out. Gripping it tight with the Gauntlet of Emberslight, she broke the bolt of hatred in twain.

Then she got up. Still in pain and bleeding, but standing. Hand enclosed around her Uproar Blaster, she squeezed the trigger and fired. Hard-sound guns could not only disorientate and not be blocked by lightsabres, but excelled at breaking bones. Fiery power flowed through her body, as the Eternal Flame lent her its energies once more. The fire inside her was harnessed into a weapon, as she fashioned a thermic lance and sent a fiery beam of blazing heat, bright like a nova, soaring towards the Sith Lady.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective: Duel of the Fates
Location: Experiencing moral conflict, sort of
Gear: Armor | Shoto
Tags: Syd Celsius | Tegan Starfall (engaging)

Tegan came at him. Her lightsaber clashed with his shoto, and she headbutted him. He sensed it coming, knew he couldn’t move out of the way, so he threw up a barrier to absorb most of the shock. Still hurt like hell. Her skull might as well have been phrik-plated.

Dizziness made him stumble back, though he remained standing, still grinding his shoto against her blade. He was mad, of course. Very, very mad. He also knew what she was trying to do. Trying to manipulate him, get him to fall to the Dark. Unfortunately, he wasn’t into 4D moral chess and couldn’t grasp just how much Tegan, in her dying state, was pulling the wool over his eyes.

“Oh please,” Starlin spat. “You’ve been around for centuries, causing untold suffering, destroying countless lives—and you think I would be the evil one for striking you down? I’d kill you just for murdering one child. You don’t deserve life. You forfeited yours a long time ago.”

Still holding his own with just his shoto, Starlin closed his eyes and focused. Where once he had used Judgement, now he called upon purification. He wanted to stop the cycle she spoke of—to well and truly annihilate the phoenix, render it forever unable to rise again. Whether he had to poison the ashes or tear her very soul apart, he would end her and cleanse the galaxy of her vileness.

When he opened his eyes, they smoked with darkness.

The Force creaked and groaned around him, rejecting what he was trying to do—to destroy a portion of its collective energies. No matter how evil Tegan was, you can’t simply eradicate a person’s soul from existence.

That didn’t stop him from trying. And oh, how he tried. He was straining so hard from the effort, he couldn't even make a sound. Determination was the only thing keeping him from collapse.

No more.

 

[Kaleleon]

LOCATION: Csilla Ground
OBJECTIVE: Hold the Line
ALLIES: Open?
ENEMIES: The Mongrel

Narma protected me. Every bit of of the fight was draining me more and more. She lunged forward. Throwing herself to take the fight away from me. She... wrestled this Maw warrior as I had been hit to the ground. The jarring impact of being thrown to the side dazed me quite a bit. Slamming my head fairly hard against the trench wall. Looking over through a haze to see the frame of her fighting and using her body weight to hold him down. Trying to stand up, I could hear pains and the growls. Fighting sounds that came from Narma before a long wine escaped her.

She fell down upon the man for a moment before being shoved aside. Barely making it out as I knew what happened. All this time. Raising her, keeping her by my side. She was someone who I had affection for as a friend, companion, and pet. Defending her time and time again. Fighting the Brynadul. Yet it was now that she gave her life to protect mine. A deep sadness washed over me. Followed by a growing anger. One that boiled over the top of any senses I had. Every fiber of my being wanted to lash out at this man. Every ounce of me wanted to close the distance to this Maw warrior and stick the saber through his gut. Knowing that he would see my eyes with his final breath.

Goading, and almost basking in this kill. A lot of the stun gas had been cleared with the fight between us. Enough that it wouldn't pose much risk. Considering the man's own mask was being torn and damaged to do anything else other than cover his face, I released my hold on controlled breathing. Allowing myself to feel the cold air enter my lungs once more. Feeling it piercing into my soul as I walked forward with purpose.

Left hand easily reaching out, the saber hilt smacked into my hand. Igniting once more in its Azure brilliance. A beacon of my fight left within me. In all of my training, I have never wanted to kill a man. Never desired death of someone. Always attempting to show them the light. to reason with them.

Except this once.

A white knuckled grip on the saber, Held aloft in my left hand. Bringing up to my side and taking a fighting stance. I still had cards to play. Ones that were up the sleeve if I had too. I was renewed with an avengers hatred for this man. However, like Jedi before me, I would use this anger, channel it into the power of my strokes, the speed of my reactions. There will be Justice when I am through with this man. Justice in a sense of equal values. A life, for a life.

"Honor? I will leave you in the snow with nothing but disgust."

Braced against the wall he might have been, but I was taking no chances. I ran forward at him. One handed, I came with a wide swing at him from my left. An angled back hand stroke. the follow-through would allow a secondary downward swing immediately after with no opening to myself. With a right hand suddenly being thrown out. A fist formed into a punch that was aimed to strike him again.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST IV
GALIDRAAN FREE-STATE

OBJECTIVE 1: HELL FROZEN OVER

COMMONWEALTH FORCES: Enedina Tal Konrad Bolter Major Bennett Hall
Tyrell Lockhart Alais Kaun

ALLIES: Irveric Tavlar Tyrell Paxxus Halketh FN-999
Gallius Orcana Albrecht F. Herlock Julian Qar

Aerarii Tithe Liza Korum Krov
Himm'vaun'merek Kaleleon Ziroka

ENEMIES: Kascalion Giedfield Lirka Ka Kyrel Ren The Mongrel
Maestus Khaostra Devoid Chimera UX-0626

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Erskine's Loadout

Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapons: Gifted Brass-Knuckles from the Guv'Nah (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)

201 Repulsorlift Tanks
5 AT-ATs
12 AFVs
5 MLVs
1 Coy. Riflemen
3 Plat. Combat Engineers
1 Coy. Field-Medics

Support: Fighting-First Brigade (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)

220 Cataphract Tanks
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
5 Predator Launch-Platforms
1 Coy. Elite Guardsmen
1 Coy. Elite Engineers

The Stormchaser I

With all the active AFVs tucked in behind their second line, the main, south-facing line of the Fighting First's Cataphracts would do their best in clearing the debris they'd only just created, whilst pushing forward wish turrets and LMGs blazing with activity as they advanced. Most were aiming directly above what remained of the first trenchline, knowing they'd be hitting into the backs of advancing enemies in some fashion or other, and at the very least, leaving their penned in foes no other choice but to continue climbing towards the hell that was raining on them from the second trenchline; however, ever wary of the hidden threat of their Blue-Heart colleagues' previous misfortune, all the second line and first line Cataphracts had been loaded with Carbonite on a Woadish hunch.

'Barran to Cataphract One! You have your infantry targets, all those fighting alongside the Twi'lek woman, remember? Reports have also come through that this woman is a Force-user, an' from what we've been told - there's no real use in wasting our ammunition on 'er. So fire on everything else advancing under that force-user's banner, you are green to go and charge in with the rest of us when that particular bunch has been routed. Good luck, Wendall.... Fire when ready.'

<"Copy that, Milord. "Dia Saor Galidraan!", as they say in your mother-tongue. Cataphract One out!">
The veterans are, but the newbies are aw too sure our heavenly Father's got oor back these days. Quite the contrast.

Recognisable flashes of light erupted almost 300 metres ahead to Erskine's left hand side, raining hell and sonic booms on the inclined no-man's-land ahead as the Fighting First pushed on to the base of the mountain itself. Orbital debris would fall in burning chunks of flame around them as the LMG-gunners atop the turret of each and every vehicle, along with every last crewman with viewports opened, watched on in aesthetic pleasure, though Erskine would remain wary of being annihilated from behind as the droid-colossus contingent had been before him. Ordering the center of his second advancing line to face their smoothbore turrets to the north with AP-magazines chambered and ready, the second line of Cataphracts would slow down slightly to let the Fighting First's AFVs to assume the second line role in place of those who'd covered their southward, uphill approach to the trenches.

Even though the snow beat down around them, the way had never been clearer to the Fighting First, made all the easier by the violent impact on the ground between the first and second lines of trenchworks. However, the grisly remnants of the first line of defence were strewn across the ground as they drew within 200 metres of the allied detonation's ground-zero, splattered with the bloody remnants of dead warriors from opposing sides of the battle from before. Some among the 1st Brigade would wonder if leaving the mountain's defenders to find their first opponents was the right choice, though all of those who harboured such thoughts would keep it to themselves and see their allies' plight through more rational lenses; all the Galidraani artillery pieces had been left to help Nines in his efforts, along with an entire contingent of audacious Hartanians to bolster the numbers of the infantry units in the area, all that Barran could've possibly done to help them had been fulfilled and each silent second-guesser would understand as soon as calmer natures prevailed.

'Safe t'say it wisnae Tal's lot who detonated they charges o'er there, some blast for depth charges! Just look at it, lads!', Johnstone shouted from his spot in the LMG turret-nest, with his broad Tuath accent making a small part of what he said quite difficult for his Lord-Commander to understand. Despite this, Erskine was well-versed in Tuath accents and their absolute butchery of Galactic Basic, and had gotten the gist of what his hardened LMG-gunner was saying, putting a hushing hand up to Grigg (the Carrack loader stationed beneath the young Tuath) to indicate he understood enough of what Johnstone was hollering from above. Continuing on in his vein of thought, Corporal Johnstone looked once more to the base of the mountain itself before exclaimed,'Honestly don't know if the dip's been made deeper or wider, or even if it's been levelled completely fae this far oot!'

'Ah'll get oan the optics the noo, Corporal! Just you keep an eye oot for anything lookin' t'kill us!', Barran responded, jumping to the periscope optics and setting it to use it's long-distance lens. What he found at first would be quite a horrifying sight indeed, a scene of kindred fiends murdering each other that was heinous enough for Lord Erskine to dip down towards the first trenchline with disgusted instinctiveness; however, it did put all detrimental curiosity to rest at a blessedly early instance, so there was also a degree of thankfulness in the Brigadier-General's shift to find something more helpful in answer to their immediate issues. It didn't take long to see that the mud-walls of the previous trenchworks had been blown out completely, making the beginning of their ascent even easier without the dip at the back of the trenchline to worry about, and as soon as this was seen, Barran comm-linked to Johnstone's personal channel and muttered his conclusion,'Flattened out, we drive right through the mud an' work oor way uphill.'

<"Wendall to Blue-Heart Alpha! We've made some solid hits already, just a few more and we're joining this mass charge!">

'Join now, Capatphract One! High-gear and no letting off the acceleration pedal! Get your twenty moving! I want the full two-twenty getting stuck in! Time for a good old-fashioned close-quarters scrap! Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

The Stormchaser II

The advance had been unchallenged on approach to the first trenchline, and unusually quiet until the sounds of roaring, shrieking and bloodcurdling screams rang out into the storm of snow and flame around the Fighting First. Nothing could be seen of it as yet, as the snowfall had been quite thick from the moment the ground beneath the mechanised Northern-Galidraani contingent began to incline towards the first layer of trenches; however, Erskine began to recognise the behaviour patterns of lost undead soldiers as the work of Lord Halketh, seeing them through almost every viewport in the ACV before jumping to action on the comm-link unit. Stepping away with encouraging, nodding smirk towards Leftenant Kaun first, Barran would step past the passenger to snatch up the receiver before pausing to frame his response as sensibly as possible, as his next transmission would possibly sound bonkers to crewmen who may not have believed the tales from Bastion, Generis or Serenno.

'All units! This is Barran! Conserve ammunition, most of the undead you'll see today will be the work of one Lord Halketh. These zombies in particular like nothing more than to ignore or shunt aside every allied unit hindering their hunt for opposing flesh, as they have but one goal; to feast on the flesh of our enemies, be they Sith, or Brothers of the Maw! We're hunting mutants, malformed clones and other monsters of sickening design here today. Why else would Lord Barran favour the SA-35 this time around? We're here to annihilate some creatures of our own, but not the undead who ignore us, no exceptions! Advance until we link with the 409th and the Carlaci Corps! No deviations!'

All the vehicles would begin to veer around their potentially tide-turning reanimated allies, little flicks of the vehicles rear-ends would be aided by the slippyness of the snowtopped surface to get past the lost zombies who were also being shouted at by some of the crewmen in the Fighting-First. Cries of,"Back that way!", and,"Follow us for your food!", could be heard by the Tuath LMG-gunner as they climbed towards the sight of a battle that was becoming visible to the vehicles in the frontline formation, and Erskine's wary second soon after. Though the support line still had smoothbore turrets facing north with caution, it was becoming obvious to those looking backwards that the thickening mass of zombies were indicators of an impending freakshow of apocalyptic proportions.

The Kellas I

'Milord, most landed upright or side-on, so it's nowhere near as bad as it looks, but we lost a few o' those repulsors an' most of oor AT-units-'

'-Most o' the walkers? Kark this for a laugh, man! Dig out whatever ordnance you can, get every idle pair of hands to work, and get this column moving eastwards again! We don't have the time for this chite!', Lord Aron responded to his newly-bloodied adjutant from Westcape. Time was, after all, genuinely stacked against them this time around, and Erskine would take no excuses for such an important operation. Their ridgetop foes were likely to have been strengthening their positions again, and with more and more time stacking itself against them, it would be likely that all the 2nd Brigade's previous destruction to the raiders' defences would be repaired in time for their late arrival. This alone infuriated the Lord-Major in ways he never thought were possible for matters as superficial as digging mechanised vehicles out of an avalanche, but Gowrie eventually relented and continued,'Just show me what we're working with so far, we obviously needed the bad news oot the way first.'

'An' fortunately nothing half as bad as losin' fifteen walkers, Milord. Rest assured, it's aw just a case o' puttin' every shovel we have t'good use and gettin' aw the engines warmed up and started again. Everything else is just tactical reorg.'
Honestly so lucky yer no oan a planet where leaving ye behind meant leaving behind a corpse that remained unburied....

<"Baird to Blue-Heart Bravo! We're in position at oor wee rise from before, nae shots fired and nae positions compromised as yet. An' nae need t'recon a battlefield we've grown familiar wae awready, plenty landmarks an' such an' plenty blindspots covered anaw.">

'Finally, some good news for a change!', the Tuath-born Major exclaimed with a rueful edge to his elation, glad that he could still rely on those who had no weight issues to deal with. Barran's guard battalion's thermal sights had finally stopped malfunctioning, and all were well accustomed to the cold they were reconnoitring in, being of Woad and Tuath descent to the last, and having plenty experience of fighting on frozen planets to use to their advantage for their efforts on Csilla. Snatching up the comm-link's receiver, after climbing back in through the left viewport of the newly-repaired (and refurbished) ACV Two, Lord Aron straightened his coat before replying,'Gowrie to Guardian One! Good work, though you'll understand that the elements are working the visibility factor against yees. My only advice for such circumstances, and in consideration of those we dealt wae before the avalanche, is ti use yer ears. If anything sounds notably - errr - monstrous, get in touch!'

<"Copy that, Milord. Ah'm just as curious as you are t'find oot what could take such a shelling an' survive it, rest assured. Anything that can scream like a Banshee after an HE-shelling is nothing ti take lightly, no even slightly. Guardian One out!">
​

​

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Surface of Csilla, Eastern Ridge
Allies: Kyrel Ren , Maestus , Lirka Ka , Khaostra Devoid , UX-0626 , Chimera
Engaged: Kaleleon
Nearby Foes: Major Bennett Hall, Liza , FN-999, DECEASED Erskine Barran , Tyrell Lockhart , Himm'vaun'merek , Aerarii Tithe , Maple Harte, Jabez Melidoru

Panting hard, The Mongrel took stock of the situation. The Jedi's creature was dead, slumped in the muck at the bottom of the trench. He was certain of it this time; no further threat would come in that particular form. But the mage-knight had used the distraction well, recalling the azure blade to his hand. That was very, very bad. The marauder looked down at his vibroknife, still stained with Narma's blood, then back at the shimmering laser sword. He had barely survived Kaleleon 's previous two attempts to cut him down with the weapon, and now he had neither anything to block it with nor the proximity to try to seize it.

There was some good news. The Mongrel could see that the beast's death had broken the Jedi's serene composure. On the one hand, his foe would fight all the harder now, striking to kill rather than holding to that strange pacifist ideal of "disabling" a foe; in that way, he had finally caught up to the reality of the battlefield. But the Force-mage's anger would unbalance him. He would strike with passion rather than discipline, his blows more powerful but less skillful, and that could be exploited. At least, The Mongrel hoped so. And there was still the matter of his right arm, almost certainly sprained or broken in two places now. That leveled the field somewhat.

Kale rushed him, his laser sword coming in for an angled backhand - the sort of blow that could sever limbs with terrifying ease. The Jedi was fast, too, even faster than before; his magic must be coursing through his veins, fed by his fiery lust for revenge. The Mongrel let him close in. He was braced against the wall, with nowhere to retreat to, but that was not the reason. The Jedi had shown that few distance attacks, if any, could touch him. The only way to hurt him was to surprise him at close quarters; that had been the secret to every hit the marauder had been able to land so far. And with the lightsaber back in his foe's hands, this was do or die.

As Kale's lightsaber swung in at him, The Mongrel dropped to his knees; the churned, frigid mud of the trench bottom sucked at his armored shins. The azure blade cut clean through the trench wall above him, leaving a glowing streak of glassed soil scant inches above his head. The Jedi's follow-up punch fared better, catching him right in the side of the face. The marauder let out a sound somewhere between a howl and a serpent's hiss as the Force-empowered blow hit home. He could tell that the punch had broken one of his orbital bones, an eye socket fracture; his left eye was already swelling shut, the skin turning a nasty shade of purple.

His one consolation was that Kale had just punched him with a hand that, after hitting the trench wall at high speed, had probably already been broken. The shock of hitting The Mongrel's very solid skull that hard would probably reverberate up the Jedi's arm, shaking fractured bones and causing terrible pain... hopefully enough pain to distract him from what came next. Using the momentum of the strike to twist his body, The Mongrel rolled over his right shoulder, past the Jedi's left leg and under the deadly saber. As he rolled, he struck out sideways with his deadly vibroknife, trying to drag it across the tendons and arteries of Kale's thigh.

Even a glancing leg wound would slow the Force-mage down, but The Mongrel was hoping for more. A good slice to the Jedi's quadriceps tendon would cripple the leg, disabling his ability to walk or even stand and likely dropping him to the ground in a heap. If the Avatars were truly with him and he hit the femoral artery, well, the fight would be over; a minute or two of profuse bleeding, and then Kale would be dead. It was why The Mongrel had armored plates to protect his thighs and groin. He could only hope that the Jedi's jumpsuit was not somehow concealing similar protections, and that his passing swipe had struck true. His foe was unlikely to miss again.

Rolling to his feet at the opposite side of the narrow trench, with a scant few meters of distance between them, The Mongrel held up his vibroknife in a guard position. It wouldn't do any good, of course, against a lightsaber; the weapon would be sheared through instantly by the plasma blade. Still, it gave the outgunned marauder some sense that he was still in the running to survive this. With his other hand, he reached up to touch his face... and winced. The swelling was serious. He couldn't see anything out of his left eye, and could only hope that there had been no permanent damage. In the momentary lull, he began to process what Kale had said before charging.

Nothing but disgust. The Jedi's words amused and rankled at the same time. "You Force-wizards think yourselves so high and mighty, so above the rest of the galaxy and all the people you deign to protect." The Mongrel shook his head, his shattered and skewed gas mask flying from his face, then spat a mouthful of blood into the slush at his feet. "I have seen the works of the true gods, and you are nothing beside them. Nothing but disgust? Foolish of you to condescend to us in our hour of victory. Forget your 'superiority'. You've seen today that you can bleed. I'll finish the lesson for you: you can die, too."

The marauder still wasn't sure how badly he'd managed to injure Kale, if at all, so he prepared for the worst. Eyeing the edge of the trench, he dropped a hand into his satchel, fumbling for a plan...

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi nodded at Gannan's frank and unvarnished assessment of the situation. His words were not an encouragement, but that wasn't his job. His job was to kill the enemy. He could leave the optimism up to Natasi. "We've beaten better Sith than these," she said with a slightly curled lip. "And this time it looks like the rest of the galaxy showed up to play, which is a refreshing change of pace."

Still, Gannan's assessment and recommendation that Natasi should ready her escape craft was well-taken. With the loss of Ariel as Grand Moff and the next senior-most leader in the First Order, Gannan himself, here in the battle, it would not do for both Crown and Government to be in true danger. The moment things started to look bad for the Resurgent, Natasi would be whisked away to the Allegro and spirited to safety, whether she liked it or not. If she was very lucky, her feet might touch the deck plates once or twice along the way, but with Dyrn Grav there, she rather doubted it. She felt a surge of affection for her Guard Captain and turned her head, catching a look at him from the corner of her eye.

He's dying to say he told me so, she guessed. But he won't. He's too good.

"Captain, can you communicate with the security team back at the ship to ensure we will be ready to depart if the time should come?"

Her attention returned to Gannan, her dark eyes drinking in the battle scenery and the combat displays arrayed on the bridge. "I will do what I can," she said. "If you have no objections, I'll commandeer the officer's conference room off the bridge. It's usually deserted during combat maneuvers. I'll patch you in." When the logistics were settled, Natasi turned and made her way into the conference room, moving to stand at the display table. It would give her the ability to monitor operations while she sought the proper frequencies.

Natasi did not know Irveric Tavlar well, but the time she had spent with him gave her enough insight to know that he was not standing on the bridge of a ship. He was somewhere, probably up to his chest in mud and blood. In a way it threw Natasi's own lack of combat ability into sharp relief; next to Tavlar she felt ineffectual, almost cowardly. But she reminded herself that their roles were not the same, though they were both leaders, just as their nations had differing needs. So... not Tavlar. She cycled through the data quickly, finally settling upon Gallius Orcana . She hailed his ship on a secure channel, patching in Gannan's earpiece frequency.

"NIV Pride of the Emperor," she began, "This is Natasi Fortan of the First Order; please confirm connection to Commodore Orcana." She waited a beat for confirmation. "Commdore, Allegiant General Gannan has directed First Order fleets to position themselves above and away from that battlestation's firing arc. Our readings suggest that its firing angle is limited to more or less that which we just witnessed, and it doesn't seem to have the ability to shift its orientation effectively. In other words, if our fleets arrange themselves outside of the reach of that beam array, we can concentrate firepower on that battlestation with minimal risk of being hit by that beam."

She glanced through the transparisteel to where Roudac Gannan stood, her eyebrows lifting as if to inquire silently as to whether there was more for her to add. She was no grand strategist, but she could see the benefits of such a move. In addition to moving the fleets out of the firing line, they could potentially discourage the enemy fleets from engaging at long distance for fear of hitting the station. Moreover, proximity to the superweapon would, theoretically, give the allied fleets' scanners a better, clearer picture -- and possibly reveal a strategic advantage the allies could exploit to take the damned thing out of action.

"Thoughts, Commodore? Allegiant General, feel free to elaborate if you have more to add."

Roudac Gannan | Rahmmon Barkai | Gallius Orcana

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective 3
Allies: BotM and allies
Enemies: Chiss and allies
Tags: Dimitri Voltura
Gear: Sword | Axe | Armor​

The man either couldn't doge his attack, or allowed it to strike him. Regardless of the reasons, Zachariel was glad they were finally clashing blades. Back and forth, all around they fought. But while his opponent was clearly an equal, he had yet to show he could be better. In a sense it frustrated Zachariel, and at the same time it made him wonder just what the man was hiding. No opponent of his would truly be weak, unless they were the chaff to be slaughtered. And then his question was answered, as Dimitri changed his tactics.

Dimitri swung at Zachariel's midsection, moving fast enough that Zachairel would have had to fling himself to block or dodge it. Except he didn't, he didn't even care about the attack. The lightsaber swung and hit true against his midsection, but only dug into the armor a small amount before being stopped by the properties of the armor. By some fluke, or sheer dumb luck, rather than cut into the true midsection of his armor, the weakest area, it instead hit the armor above it. Had it cut into the weaker, but flexible under armor, it may have done more damage, but nothing to Zachariel himself.

At the same time of ignoring the attack, Zachariel didn't stop his own precise swings, neither for his sword or axe. Both kept swinging, aiming to cut into Dimitri. Even as he began to try and drain the Force from Zachariel, all he received was mocking laughter in turn. The warlord had faced this before, and he'd have to thank Ingrid L'lerim for preparing him against such an attack. As it was, Zachariel's Force presence swirled and ebbed, becoming as easy to grasp as fog. That wasn't to say parts of his Force connection weren't drained, but no where near as fast, or efficient, as Darth Hydrus wished. Instead it was more sacrificial power lost, or that taken from previous victims.

In concert with his powers fluctuating, it became more powerful, in the same manner it had with Ingrid. His anger rose, though not to the same heights. Instead, they began to return Hydrus' favor, and moved to latch onto the same veins attempting to suck Zachariel dry. In turn, they attempted to suck Hydrus dry, and at the same time suck back whatever was stolen from him. Though not nearly as fast or efficient as Hydrus, it was done in a manner that anything drained would be enough to notice.

And then Zachariel lashed out with his boot, aiming a kick square to Dimitri's chest. He called out to his opponent then, never giving up the fight, never losing the smirk in his voice.
"Big talk for a small man, and with nothing to prove of his efforts." A particularly vicious axe swing followed that statement, the blade singing with bloodlust as it moved. "You are nothing, your efforts for naught, and your mission a failure." At some point in their fight the superweapon had fired. Zachariel had both felt it and been given confirmation of it. And it made him laugh, because the fools that had come to protect Csilla no doubt lay dead or dying. Those who yet lived, they would soon join the numberless dead. Everything that was happening, it simpy provided a greater canvas with which to spill blood. "You will die warrior, as so many others have, and so many more will." Zachariel's laughter echoed throughout the room, amplifying the madness within and without. Their blades continued to swing, and Zachariel felt ever greater pleasure and bloodlust from the fight, and that simply made him laugh more.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Command bunker, Csilla
OBJECTIVE: I - Hell Frozen Over
OPPONENT: Maestus
ALLIES: Ziroka | Halketh | Tyrell Paxxus | FN-999 | Tyrell Lockhart | DECEASED Erskine Barran | GA | NIO | Chiss
ENEMIES: The Mongrel | UX-0626 | BOTM | Sith
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
POST: III

Explosions continued to rock the hardened command centre at the Brotherhood threw everything they had at the defenders. Safe inside the armoured bunker, Tithe watched the holoscreens as New Imperial, Alliance and Chiss soldiers were slewn by the dozen, valiantly fighting to the end as they sought to hold back the tide of the enemy advance. While the men and women out in the trenches were giving it their all, there was a clear sense that the battle was swinging against them.

Lieutenant Legion Command FN-999 organised for a transport to be brought forward to whisk the Vice Chancellor to safety and offered his own men from the 409th as protection. Tithe looked up at his close protection team leader, who offered a nod in agreement. That was a bad sign - his team usually preferred to work alone and avoid opportunities for others to get in their way. It seemed that the situation was so dire that SOPs were going out the window.

“Your offer is esteemed,” he replied to the Lieutenant Legion Commander. He paused for a moment before offering an Aargauun wish of good luck to the New Imperial commander. “May your account sheets always balance and your foes be audited.”

Tithe’s close protection team formed up and around him with the 409th providing an outer layer of security. Word came through that the convoy of armoured personnel carriers had arrived. After one final check to ensure that everyone was ready, the close protection team leader opened the heavy blastdoor and led the group outside.

The first thing that hit Tithe was the biting cold. While he was attired in thermal clothing, he hadn’t realised how much think walls, heating systems and warm beverages of the bunker had been keeping the freezing winds at bay. The Vice Chancellor pulled his overcoat tighter as he was hurried toward the awaiting transport.

The second thing that hit Tithe was the sound. The combat displays in the bunker had played a steady stream of combat audio but had tuned out the ambient noise. The cacophony of explosions, vehicle sounds, overhead bombing runs and bloody screams assaulted his ears. An enormous explosion blanketed the battlefield as the first line of trenches were detonated, temporarily deafening Aerarii. The horrors of war, hidden by the filter his usual position at a distant command post, were on full display.

The third thing that hit him was the blastwave as all their APCs exploded at once.

“AMBUSH! CONTACT FRONT!”

Tithe was unceremoniously thrown to the ground by one of his close protection officers. The team formed a protective circle in a well-rehearsed motion and begun laying down suppressive fire with their blaster rifles and slug throwers. The team leader looked around for the closest safe point where they could move the Vice Chancellor. Their only option was back into the command bunker, and the team leader began giving out orders for the team to fall back.

Without warning, Maestus and her Chosen were upon them.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TASK FORCE 'BLIZZARD'
501st LEGION | 12th ARMORED DIVISION
OPERATION JAWBREAKER
THRAWN'S REST | CSILLA
Kascalion Giedfield

JAWBREAKER
+8:02 Hour
UTM Grid Point 42 Easting
Zone Of Operation Designation 'Thrawn's Rest'
501st Stormtrooper Legion | Imperator Irveric Tavlar 'Enigma Actual'
12th Armored Assault Division | Colonel Konrad Bolter 'Tyrant Actual'​

The battle raged into the thick of it now, with Spearpoint Aurek ready to recieve the first outright counter offensive by the entrenched enemy, they would hunker themselves down, ready to wield death and destruction on Kascalion's counter attack. Irveric Tavlar led the thrust and twist of the sword into the gut of the enemy, as All Terrain Siege Breakers continued to rain bruising fire support from range, the Pernach Turbo Tanks would barrel themselves toward the trenches, loaded to the brim with 501st ready to assault and overtake the position, matching the numbers of the horde against the experience, cohesion and training of the Imperator's Fist.

Spearpoint Besh continued its steady drive, relying on the chaos across the rest of Kascalion's basis of defense to press the enemy in on itself further and continue to drive momentum in tandem with the 501st Air Assault units, to kill the Devil's Own. So too did a

TYRANT ACTUAL
KONRAD BOLTER
66th ARMORED COMPANY 'HELL'S HAMMERS'
THRAWN'S REST
XT-62 'Cataphract' Main Battle Tank

RIDERS IN THE SKY​

In a stark contrast to Generis and Serenno, the Hell's Hammers were faring well. Rounds landing on target, objective well under way. While following the objective set, Konrad was ready for it all to go haywire. Such was his task, such was the aim of the armor school under the tutelage of the CIC which drilled his current skillset into place. All of it had to be done under time hacks, under pressure, entrenched in a deeply stressful environment. With the whole of the enemy within his sights on these frozen planes, the Sith spawn emerging from the cool fog.

<"Colonel."> A foreboding word to gather the attention of the unit's commander. The multi color display threw up the machinations to the tanker's ill at ease. Life forms, big and fast. Not to be construed with what came with armor, on this system it would be a distinct, different reading. They were soon to be assaulted in close combat, a proper cavalry charge. Bolter shivered for a moment, not from the frigid cold but from hankering nerves before he nodded once more, affirming himself of the next step. He flicked the channel of his commo to commanding his unit.

<"Tyrant Spear, form up in keel strong left, Devil Sword, egress on our right facing, same formation. Sending all movement trajectories to all units, now. Archer Arrow fall behind our position, ready anti tank for target identification. They're sending their monsters...and quick. All Cataphracts remain in siege, move slowly if you have to but once you're set flick shock cages on."> Konrad commanded, delegating the individual movements down to the tank platoon commanders.

<"Keep our spot concealed, swap to thermal. All main guns to high explosive. Focus our main guns on the largest signatures, keep a stabilized lock on them and descend from there, everything else equal priority."> They'd remain shrouded in the smoke, but they could see just fine. He pinged their 501st air assault attachment, Vidage to do much of the same. The gunships responded in time, hovering themselves behind the shrouded cloud of armor centered within Konrad's formation, laying low as they began to pick up the hostile targets on their displays, each one now linked to a guided missile, effectively etching their name on it. But instead of reaching out and striking at a distance, they waited on Tyrant's command, to where this charging horde of demons would be well within reach of every weapon system they had access to.

This couldn't be a more primal, contrasting battle of wills. Flesh and bone clashing against heavy metal. He pulled open the command hatch himself, pulling into view the foreboding silhouettes of the charging demons. It was a wholly different view than the slightly larger than normal life sign pings on the map display. He would soon see the whites of their eyes. But not outside of anything but the sights of his reaper chaingun. He grasped ahold of the handles, beginning to roll the heavy barrels as he narrowed his eyes down the sights, his thumbs barely hovering over the firing switches.

Konrad was soon to drop the hammer. When the Mournfangs and half man half beast cavalry Sithspawn came into range, Konrad unfurled the full panoply of war. As was the legacy of his unit, he would strike to kill.

<"Fire at will!"> He ordered through his unit's comms and soon, in spite of the audial dampeners built into the army officer's helmet, his ears began to ring. The missile pods mounted to the sides of the Cataphracts began to heave their punishing payload toward the enemy. This weapon system had no cohesive priority and would lock, fire and forget onto whatever its AI assisted targeted computer would pick up on. The same went for the side mounted laser cannons. The main guns, however, went the way of targeting these Sithspawn made to pry open their heavy metal cages and rip open the crew inside, rendering the mailed fist of the Empire useless. Not today.

They would hold their ground and they would strike to kill.

ENIGMA ACTUAL
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR IRVERIC TAVLAR
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION 'IMPERATOR'S FIST'
THRAWN'S REST
Pernach-class Turbo Tank

COLD AND UGLY
​

The iron tide burst into the Sith front, the Turbo Tanks able to cross the trenches with ease. When the troop bay doors hung over the deep and methodical schisms dug into the frozen earth, they pried themselves open with a mechanical yawn, the clear smoke from the difference in temperature flowing into the air as the stormtroopers dove into hell once more, their padded boots hitting snowpacked earth and cobalt mud as they began to fire down range into the enemy, though it wasn't long until many resorted to their melee weapons, if they ever drew their blaster carbines at all. Maces, batons, entrenching tools, blades all swung and clashed into the parceled Sith infantry, the 501st might have been trained and equipped to a higher standard, but they were the Imperator's fists. They were bruisers, ready to kill.

With the turbo tanks past the first line of trenches, volleys of missiles and laser cannons began to pound the next line of resistance within Kascalion's layered defensive formation.

<"Signal the guns to target their own artillery barrage, the shields won't be an issue much longer. We don't have the luxury they do of shield projections, so we need to remove their ability to reach out and touch us with their guns."> Tavlar commanded across the holomap. They wouldn't be a problem regardless if they snapped under the firepower or not. They were within the bubble now, they were in their area. Regardless, the air assault attachment with Tavlar's formation was quick to airdrop Stormtroopers deeper into the Sith position to root out and destory the shield generators under the scrutiny of anti-air and invasive small arms fire. Streaming countermeasures pulsed from the gunships as they thumped the packed earth with autocannons, missiles and magnetic weapons. They were all but flying tank, the workhorse 'hind' of the New Order. While it wouldn't be long until some would barrel into the earth, destroyed, they would not do so without stacking several bodies with them.

All the while, Irveric remained in the command nucleus of his tank. While he might have been the frontline commander, many pieces still need be set in their place...and he worried not if Kascalion would seek him out. That was all but a certainty. Once he did, he needed his forces in position to execute, not to deliberate as the Sith continued to wallow deeper into their chaos.

BATTLE OF THRAWN'S REST
IRVERIC TAVLAR | KASCALION GIEDFIELD
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | WARLORDS OF THE SITH

STAGE ONE - HEAVY METAL THUNDER
Spearpoint Aurek stays put and concentrates firepower on the advancing Sithspawn.
Spearpoint Besh continues its push.
Tavlar's formation begins to deploy 501st troopers into the first line of trenches and gunships under heavy fire drop troopers to disable or destroy the shield generator's over the Warlord's position.
NIO's artillery fires toward WOTS's artillery.​