Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 4
Objective: The foreplay is over its time for The Main Event!
Equipment: Mind Crown | Purple MidNight Duster | Black Ancient Sith armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X10 Hypo-syringes | X4 Daggers | Liquid Delirium | A Variety Explosives hidden in her jacket | Pack of Death sticks | Holopad
Allies: Darth Solipsis | BotM | Csilla go Boom fan Club
Enemies: Half the damn Galaxy by my Count
Special Tags: Starlin Rand | Syd Celsius

---

Four doppelgangers of Darth Sokar appeared in the four corners of the hanger bay. They were identical in in every way to the one supposedly cocooned in the ice. As the Ice began to melt from Syd’s attempt to bring the temperature back to normal the waters began to flow once more. breath of Fire ignited the Cocoon in an attempted to thaw it faster and then the thermal energy from the bomb in the child added more fuel to the burn.


The first doppelganger burned a symbol in the wall of the hanger of a three-dimensional box, each corner of the box had an identical symbol drawn on it. After it was burned in the wall the figures hand was place over it and the magical energies of the illusionary doppelganger were absorbed into it a green shimmer ran across the walls ceiling and floor. The magical symbol that had been drawn would prevent anyone from phasing or teleporting out of the room though they could still easily leave through the exit doors.


The second doppelganger burned the symbol of a lock onto the wall. Like the first it placed it’s hand over the symbol an dissipated it’s magical energy into the symbol. The walls and ceiling shimmered silver, the only thing it didn‘t seemingly touch was a turbo lift down to the maintenance bay below the hanger. It locked all the airtight blast doors shut sealing the exits though someone with electronics knowledge or slicing ability could easily reverse the locks. Also, one could always go for the explosives technique or cut through them with a sabers. In any case it would slow progress.


The Third doppelganger burned the symbol of chaos into its corner. The walls, floor, and ceiling shimmered a vibrant array of colors as the figure dissipated its energies into it. This made magic and force used wild and unpredictable. One’s abilities could be magnified, or you could be choked by your own force choke. It would be totally random. It didn’t matter the caster either even Tegan was affected by these spells she was having etched into the walls of this hanger.


The fourth doppelganger burned a triangle with three lines drawn in it, each line got smaller than underneath was a link command connecting it to the chaos symbol. The doppelganger put it’s hand to the symbol and it’s energy dissipated into the symbol the walls, floor and ceiling shimmered a purple color as it happened. This would make it so the gravity in the room would shift in unpredictable ways.


As the ice cocoon finally melt ed away a fifth figure rose up on the turbo lift from the maintenance bay below. As the turbo lifted reached the level it to shimmer all the colors it had previously completing the cage. The Cocoon melted away as the fifth figure stood there staring at the jedi this was in fact the real Tegan who will in the cocoon had used it to cover her phasing through the telekinetic net and floor to the maintenance bay underneath.


The cocoon melted away revealing not Tegan but a thermal detonator in her place that was struck by the forward momentum still on the bolt that had only been centimeters from her throat. That and the thermal energies that had been thrown to melt the ice also struck the detonator intensifying the explosion expanded it but thanks to the chaos symbol in place the energies that had been charged by the force exploded into harmless blue paint in all direction.


The real Tegan, who was on the turbo lift behind Starlin couldn’t help and burst into laughter. “Hahahahaha…oh hahaah…Oh god I can’t, I just can’t hahaha.” She was breathing heavy as she laughed oh how she loved the unpredictability that and chaos is what she feed off of, that and destruction. She was laughing almost uncontrollably. “Oh right we are fighting, haha, you saved the boy their are nineteen more on board that ship over there.” She pointed to a ship a ways down the hanger still laughing.

 

[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, Liza

The Dark Three must have been watching, for The Mongrel's aim was true. He grinned in savage glee as the monofilament ripped into the flesh of Kaleleon 's hand; it was an unexpected bonus. But the true victory was successfully attaching the magnetized tip of the strand to the Jedi's lightsaber, that unconquerable blade. Reacting quickly, The Mongrel reversed the launcher's direction, pulling the monofilament back onto the spool with tremendous force. He chuckled nastily as his enemy's weapon was tugged from his grip. Finally, the marauder would have his ultimate trophy. He had dreamed of this since he had first seen a laser-sword on Batuu.

Then his eyes widened. The weapon was coming at him much too fast.

There was no time to react; The Mongrel, without the Force to enhance his speed and reflexes, had no more chance to dodge something moving at the speed of a bullet than any ordinary man. Kaleleon's lightsaber slammed into his chest at deadly speed, fast enough that it might well have blown right through him in a spray of gore... if not for his armored chest plate. Despite the earlier damage from the plasma blade, the armor held, keeping his organs from being pulped by the impact. Still, the force of the blow drove him back two steps and blew the wind out of his lungs, leaving him stunned and gasping. He knew from experience that ribs had cracked.

The Jedi left him no time to recover. Almost as soon as the lightsaber hit, Kaleleon was following up the attack with a barrage of punches and kicks. His first jab caught The Mongrel in the face, snapping his head to the side and knocking his gas mask askew. Beneath it, his now-broken nose oozed blood. The kick that followed slammed into the marauder's hip, but the punch had already turned his body, and it was a glancing blow that his padded leatheris jerkin mostly absorbed. Still, he had no time to get his sword - half a sword, now - between him and the Jedi. His foe was pressing the advantage of momentum, and keeping him from using the fact that he was still armed.

Recovering his senses, The Mongrel deliberately rolled with the impacts, using the force of each hit to twist even further away. The next kick, which should have finished crushing his ribs, glanced off his shoulder instead. Still, a wave of numbness ran down his arm as the powerful strike landed, the force of Kaleleon's incoming boot wrenching tendons and muscles hard. The Mongrel felt his ryyyk blade fly from nerveless fingers, the bisected sword soaring over the lip of the trench and out of sight. For a brief, distracted moment, he wondered what the other Bloodsworn would think, seeing that. They might well assume that he was dead. They might soon be right.

Staggering back against the wall of the trench, the marauder quickly readjusted his mask; gas still filled the trench, and while the Jedi could use his magic to become immune, The Mongrel could not. He knew he had scant seconds before Kaleleon was on him again, pressing the attack at close quarters to make up for the loss of his weapon. Well, too late. The Mongrel had the laser-sword now, and he was going to use it. He'd been cradling the azure blade's hilt against his chest since it had struck him, and now he let it slide down into his waiting hand. At this range, there was no way the Jedi could dodge. With a savage grin, the marauder pushed the ignition switch.

Nothing happened.

The Mongrel's gash of a smile vanished, replaced by a look of frustrated puzzlement. Had the weapon been damaged, rendered inoperative by its impact with his chestplate? He had no way of knowing that the crystals within the hilt had been specially attuned to Kaleleon, and would not generate a blade for anyone else. No matter. The situation at hand remained, and he could not dwell on the laser-sword's failure to function. Fortunately for him, The Mongrel never entered the battlefield without a bevy of backup weapons... and even if the lightsaber wouldn't work against the Jedi, the lack of it certainly would. It meant the loss of one of the mage-knight's signature abilities.

The Mongrel let a small holdout blaster slide down his sleeve, one of his many concealed guns and blades. Ordinarily he would never have even tried to use such a weapon against a Force-wielder, but surely Kaleleon couldn't deflect a blaster bolt without his laser-sword. The marauder fired off a pair of shots, all he had time for in such close quarters... and a significant percentage of the tiny weapon's limited charge. Still, since they remained practically within melee range, it would be difficult for the Jedi to evade them. But The Mongrel did not discount the power of his enemy's magic, knowing by then that the Force-wielders were capable of many strange things.

So he held up his other hand in a guard position, hoping to ward off further punches to the face. The inside of his mask was already a sticky mess of blood from the last one.

 

[Halketh]

N O O S E
V U L T U R E
M A R C H O F T H E P E N I T E N T
// HELL FROZEN OVER //
// "THE PERISHED" 5202/5300 \\

​

The chatter of his faction's defenders barely stirred active thought in his mind as he exerted the focus of his will upon the swarming thousands of undead he had dropped onto the surface of the planet with. The Carlaci avalanche had come to save the day, so it seemed.

Silently, The Vulture led them across the tundra, garbed in brilliant gold and glistening white, a royal, well-layered drape speaking tale that he was in his element. This environment, in fact, served his undead forces better, as the cold aided to slow their rotting processes and hampered their decay entirely. It was the perfect mixture of factors for such a glorious end, at least, he considered it such. An extension of his clawed gauntlet flexed a finger forward in silence and he paused upon the precipice of the grittiest fighting, thankful for the muffle of his helmet to guard his ears against the cacophony ringing in every direction.

His army had risen from nothing and gladly, would they return to nothing at his behest.

A swelling sea of seeping life force bled from both sides, hissing into the air in tantalizing rhythm- following the timid retreat of wounded hearts and broken bodies. It was enough to paint the battlefield for him, filling in the empty spans where only sound dwelled, with brushstrokes of blood. Overhead, on the looming ridge, a Darksider wreaked havoc, he could feel the heat of ire wash through his veins, even from this distance, however, the greater number of defenders was his priority. Whatever Sith-labelled Darkness came this way would be met by his wrath in equal measure, but for now, he remained focused.

At his command, the unliving avalanche howled with their twisted, unnatural voices, calling a challenge to the mindless forces of The Maw that raked and rattled back down off the sky, echoing through the choke between the glacier and ridge.

"Go now, lay waste to their forces. Pluck this world from their claws- existence teeters on it." The Vulture stated as the horde rampaged by him, splitting their ranks to flood across the snow and crash into the surging tide of Moon Children- parting around him like a river around a rock. He offered no word of warning to his comrades entrenched so closeby, not in how he thrust his forces into the lines of fire so recklessly.

Darkness swelled across the world, ushered into being by some ritual he felt tugging at his bones, pulling on his veins with insistence. Some Sith Lord, no doubt, was going to do precisely what he would do if he swore creed in such a vile way; reap the life force of the perished should the Brotherhood succeed. He considered, for only a flickering moment, seeking out the source of this, but decided in the same instant, that staving off this ravenous assault was the only way to truly put a stop to that insidious plan. His effort was better off spent here where he could defend the ranks of stormtroopers and Galidraani who had so willingly thrust themselves into the jaws of death.

The horde of undead descended upon the charging rank of Moon Children, blasting the mindless fodder to pieces with initial rounds of pumping slug hail from the throwers strapped to their chests. Those that did not have weapons resorted to base, feral instinct- ripping through the Moon Children in equal, if not greater viciousness- separating ribbon of flesh from body and bone with unnatural strength uninhibited by human restriction. Blood flew from the collision of the tides as howls and shrieks of rage echoed from the Carlaci side- the base instinct to rend and feed stoked into an utterly insane frenzy at the carnage and smell of blood hanging over the valley. Visceral, became the battle then, as the undead ganged up on the yowling Maw, ripping and twisting limbs from bodies, tearing fibrous chunks of tissue from bone with hungering jaws. Grey matter splattered the snow, adding to the concoction of sludge underfoot as innards were ripped from their beds and strung backward, devoured almost as soon as greedy fingers could grasp them.

The Vulture animated upon his perch, hands weaving over one another in slow, telling rhythm as he drew strength from the harvest enacted beneath him. For a few seconds, the New Imperials had seized the advantage. It would be foolish to waste the opportunity. Sparks flickered between his digits, arcing with a resonating crackle. It was the only warning his comrades would get before the air hummed in rising note and light flashed violently. In an instant, both of the sorcerer's hands rocketed forward, thrusting a web of chain-lightning into the fray from his vantage point, frying the screeching horde as the bolts pierced from one to the next, connecting each it touched in a torment of inconsolable misery only relieved when he had seized their hearts. The smell of scorched flesh and charred bone rose upon the churning air, mixing with the stench of cost.​

"What will you do when our alliances are no longer alliances?" His head turned to angle in Lucien's direction then, "The Sith Empire is our collective foe now, but what happens if we succeed in eradicating those we've been sworn to?-"

His own voice echoed from the depths of his mind to haunt him, brought to the surface from his memory by the ghosts afflicting him. He could not help but wonder, if they succeeded in saving this world, if they would return right back to cannibalism. The passing thought made him sick to consider and he struggled to dismiss it, gasping a shuddering breath as he released his technique, curling his clawed gauntlets back upon himself to kill the flow of energy. Smoke hissed from the tips of his fingers and bled into the sky, sourced at the charred corpses his will had created. His focus turned from his shrieking, wild soldiers to the stormtroopers dug into the trenches, and he cast himself down into the bleeding ditches beside them silently.

"L-Lord Halketh!" One of them greeted him after all but running right into him in a scramble to reach the front.

The Vulture acknowledged the man with a nod before he spoke: "Where is your commander?"

"He should be in the rear trench, sir-"

"Good, take me to him-" Halketh gestured with a scorched hand, "-quickly."​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | FN-999 DECEASED Erskine Barran Aerarii Tithe Major Bennett Hall Tyrell Lockhart Enedina Tal
ENEMIES | BotM | WotS | TSE | UX-0626 The Mongrel Lirka Ka
SPECIAL TAG | Khaostra Devoid​

 

[Subject 54 Havoc]

Objective: Open Fire
Allies: BOTM, Darth Solipsis
Enemies: Constantine Oliva

Suddenly, a transmission came through to Havoc. Havoc picked it up and listened.

“@Subject 54 Havoc charge a single reactor burst and make aim for the enemy fleet. You may fire when ready.”

Havoc nodded. "Yes, sir. Acquiring firing solution." He affirmed. He looked at the other technicians in the room. "Commence ignition of Reactor B-16." He told them. The technicians got to work, typing away and pulling levers, scrambling around the room to their stations.

Havoc hear the low hum as the reactor started warming up, preparing to fire. It was almost hypnotic; the slow, steady hum was almost soothing. Even the station knew that it was about to put on a show, and it was pulling out all the stops. Almost time...

Then, he heard the ping from the targeting computer. "Enemy fleet locked. Firing solution has been acquired." One of the gunners reported.

"Reactor primed and ready to fire, we're all good to go." Another gunner said.

Havoc nodded, typed in a little in his console, aligning the weapon with the firing solution. Then, once it was aligned, Havoc pulled the lever. He heard the hum sharply increase. Then, he heard the loud sound as the large, main weapon fired, its shot racing towards the enemy fleet. Havoc watched the enemy fleet on the viewscreen, and as the shot quickly approached the fleet.

They had come to stop the weapon, but instead it was the weapon that would be stopping them. Ironic

 

[Anabasa]

Ingrid L'lerim​

Finding her prey was proving difficult. They'd definitely be landed on this level--hiding their ship was nigh impossible. And yet, it was as if they'd become invisible in the Force. The Warpriest continued to stalk, redoubling her mental probing. And yet still, there was nothing. Even if her prey wasn't Force sensitive, there should be at least a mental signature. The edgy mind of an intruder, constantly checking every which way. There was none of that. Every soldier she could feel aboard the station was meant to be there, or at least that’s what they truly felt.


No, the Huntress needed another strategy to find her quarry. What was the intruder’s goal? The fleet they were fighting right now was here to stop the superweapon, so perhaps a saboteur? If it was indeed a saboteur, they would be moving towards the reactor control rooms. The only other place an intruder might go was the throne room, but any who were foolish enough to go there weren’t skilled enough to survive.


Now, to prepare to catch the spy. Anabasa returned to the massive reactor shaft, shifting her from while she walked. Frog-like legs with bones made up of thousands of tiny layers formed, with the layers meant to disperse the force of the impact rather than shattering the whole bone. They replaced the mostly-human looking legs she’d had previously. Her arms shifted as well, stretching and then widening. They flattened, while her chest muscles increased in size to support her new wings. They wouldn’t need to truly fly, but functioning wings were better than gliding wings. The Warpriest leapt down the seemingly bottomless shaft, She allowed herself to fall for nearly a minute before beginning to slow her descent with the wings. She landed on her feet at her desired level. Pain shot up her legs as dozens of the layers of bone shattered under the force of the landing.


Pain was a strong tool to a Force user. The dark Side flowed through her, speeding her transformation back into her previous form. The layers of bone merged into solid, humanoid structures again. The process was painful, something the Sith master continued to use. Within moments, she was walking again. The reactor rooms weren’t far from this corridor.


There was still the problem of locating the intruder if or when they came by. They could clearly hide themself in the Force, as well as apparently being able to vanish to scanners and vision. The Huntress would have to be creative. Stopping in the middle of the hall, she laid down on the floor. Bones were reabsorbed into her body, removing any structure. she flattened out, allowing her body to spread and nearly match the floor, leaving barely a few centimeters’ difference between where she was and where the floor was meant to be. Portions of her body slid up the wall, and two eyespots formed on either side. She couldn’t afford placing fully functional eyes for fear of their discovery, so the eyespots would have to do. They blended in better, though they could only see differences in light and dark. More than enough for telling if whoever was walking over was actually visible. She used the material from her bones to form a calcified shell, matching the color of the walls and flooring she was blending into. It would protect her from damage, as well as improving the illusion by keeping the floor hard. When her prey walked over, she would know by the footfalls. And then, she would strike.

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: Chiss and allies
ENEMIES: BOTM and allies
ENGAGING: Zachariel Steelblood
GEAR:

Spoiler

Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour

FIRE MEETS FATE​

Ah, the challenge.

Finally.

As Dimitri stopped, he turned to face the one that welcomed him. Maintaining the barrier of Force around him, the Obsidian Lord spread his arms wide in invitation.
"If you wish to entomb me, you won't be the first. Others have been successful in the past. Yet here I still stand and they do not." he said, raising his chin, eyes burning like wildfire.

The Dragon hoping the prey would take the bait.

The humanity within the immortal body hoping to put an end to all the madness and return home where he could be at peace with his Apprentice.

An eternity of misery. Don't ever forget.

Darth Anguis' taunting voice spoke up in his mind. An ancient master still pushing his no-longer-Apprentice to still be the monster. Quiet up until the moment Dimitri wished for peace once more.
<So be it.> the Dragon thought. If the only way to achieve peace within his own head, was to become the monster, then so be it.

Just then, his assailant decided to act and Darth Hydrus smiled a cold smile and moved. When his armoured opponent touched down and swung at him with a battle cry, the Sith Lord, with his inhuman speed, was already behind the giant. Sending a Force pulse into the back of his opponent, Dimitri then readied into a dueling stance.
"Cease this madness." he said, giving the madman one last chance to walk away.

Yet he knew it would be in vain.

Lunging forward in a swift movement, the Dragon struck at the giant's midsection. He did not remain in that position, however, and moved away again, ending on top of a stack of crates with the speed of light, invisible aside from the slight red blur of his blade.

As he stood on top of the crates, he readied himself again for an onslaught. Feeding constantly on the swirling Darkness that spread throughout the entire ship, he was Darkness personified. Entirely bloated, his senses were heightened and aware of everything, eyes shining the same bright red of the blade humming in his readied hand.

And the door that bound him to Eenia Vahn , was kept firmly and forcefully shut.

 

[Molly Armstrong]

Adhira Chandra | Auteme | Aldo Garrick | Tu'teggacha

On Board the Magnus Resurrection Class Battlecrusier​

Sheep had come to the slaughter, and now the Despoiler of Brosi was to become the Butcher of Csilla. Staring out of the magnetic field of the hangar and into the mass of ships outside, Taumin was itching to be let loose on the battlefield, somewhere. Anywhere. He knew far below was Kascalion Giedfield , leading the Warlords’ soldiers from the front. Kuric should have been there. It was his right as the apprentice of the former and now recently deceased warmaster Darth Vinaze

In rigid formation behind him as he stared out coldly were elite soldiers of the Convergent Order, veterans of Ninn and Malachor whose unparalleled devotion reached that of the Maw, and whose discipline was unmatched aboard this battlestation. Kuric was not like them. His calm demeanor was breaking at the seams, his bloodlust almost uncontrollable.

His thoughts were broken as he was hailed by an approaching officer, bearing a Sith crest. The Devaronian had lost track of how many different Sith cults, enemies of one another on a regular day, had come to aid the Brotherhood of the Maw.

“Taumin, is it? Admiral Garrick has requested the creation of a boarding party.”

Kuric hadn’t heard of this Admiral Garrick before now, but he presumed it was the man in charge of decimating the enemy outside.

“A boarding party to where?” he growled back at the officer with a degree of skepticism. He needed to be turned loose soon or he might tear this puny man’s head off his spine.

“Alliance One, Sir. You are being called to capture Chancellor Chandra.”

Kuric’s face lit up and his mouth curved into a devious smile. Fighting on the ground was his goal, but this... this was worth so much more glory.

“Lead the way”

Alliance One
​

The Maw shuttle carrying the boarding party swayed harshly as it avoided the relentless blaster fire that ripped through the void around them. Luckily Admiral Garrick had engaged the capital ship long enough for the strike team to enter.

The shuttle landed hastily in the wide hangar bay of Alliance One, and the combination of Maw and Sith flooded out into the ship with guns blazing. Kuric conjured a ball of flame in his offhand and lashed it out towards a line of Alliance pilots and engineers like whip. With his black sword he cut down any in his path. He turned back to the shuttle to call forth a Sorcerer of Rhand who had accompanied them.

“Tell me sorcerer, do you feel their presence?”

The woman closed her eyes and felt out through the force intently, reminding Kuric of his master.

“The Jedi are on the command deck. The Chancellor cannot be far.” the woman replied in a dark and raspy voice.

As the last of the hangar was slaughtered and fires began to consume whatever ships had not yet been rallied into the fight outside, the strike team made their way to the prize. The bowels of Alliance one would be rent apart as the will of the combined forces of the Dark Side dictated. Csilla would soon be destroyed, and with it the nations of the galaxy would be sent into disarray.

As they approached the blast doors of the command deck, Kuric pulled the metal towards him, crunching and twisting it open. He stepped through the wrecked doorway flanked by his best soldiers. The sorceress had been right that the Chancellor was with the Jedi.

“ADHIRA CHANDRA!” he boomed, as if his presence were not already known. He held his sword out towards her like a challenge, though everyone knew killing her would not be. Unfortunately for the bloodthirsty Sith Knight, he was to take her in alive. Beside her was the one Kuric could only assume was the Shield of the Jedi, who appeared as nothing more than an insufferable child. Perhaps she would contest Kuric and give him the fight that he so desperately craved.

“The powers that be would like to speak with you. Come willingly and I will not have the Brotherhood decimate this ship!”

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Allies: Teica Giraan Thale Albrecht F. Herlock Roudac Gannan
Enemies: CETCOM Tu'teggacha Talon Kyber Subject 54 Havoc

​

“Sir, we’re detecting a massive build up of energy on the Brotherhood’s battle station.”

So we were too late. The planet was about to be destroyed, no matter what the Alliance and the other fleets would do to the Brotherhood after that. Millions were still on the planet, unable to escape. I calmed myself, not letting the swelling rage and sorrow show to my men.

“Noted.”

The door to the bridge opened behind me as the commanding officer of the survivors we’d just picked up entered.

"Commander Teica Giraan reporting for duty, Sir. I apologize for making such an order, but I want the highest ranking Resolution crewmember on each ship informed that they are to take charge of the others, and follow each captain's orders without incident. And thank each captain on my behalf. It's good to see you, sir..."

“Commander Griaan? Glad to see you’re not dead.”

I hadn’t been expecting to pick her up. The odds were against it, even if everyone aboard the Resolution had managed to escape. I turned around, trying to avoid thinking about the inevitable destruction of Csilla. It was then that I noticed the bloodied tourniquet on her leg. I crossed the room quickly while listening to her words. She’d done remarkably well under the pressure of multiple Star Destroyers bearing down on her, managing not only to evacuate most of her crew from the doomed ship, but also given orders to ensure they worked well with the ships that picked them up. Throw in the injury, and he was proving herself an even more capable commander in my mind.

“Commander, you should rest now,” I offered her my arm to guide her to a chair, “You’re injured, and there’s not much for you to do.”

I also leaned in, sensing the despair in her voice over the loss of her ship and portions of her crew. The stress of battle seemed to be getting to her.

“An officer, must under no circumstances,” I whispered to her, “Show despair, indecision, or other worrying emotions to their men. You are their rock. Stay strong, Teica.”


The words were meant to teach, but I softened my tone to try and help comfort her too. The battle was going well, even with the imminent firing of the superlaser. I crossed the bridge again, to return to my own command display. How long would it be until the goal of the fleet shifted from saving the planet to avenging it? I stared out at the Death Star lookalike. In just a few moments, it would fire. But something was off.

“Wait...That's not facing towards the planet…”

My eye went wide as I remembered how the DS II was used over Endor, all those centuries ago.

The crimson beam filled Hawk’s viewports. We weren’t close enough to be at risk of being caught in it, thankfully. The enormous blast was breathtaking in its destruction, cutting a swath through the local Alliance fleet. Hundreds of vessels were torn apart, the massive damage their hulls leaving them floating, airless husks. Those fully caught in the beam’s path simply ceased to be. A few managed to survive, capital ships caught only at a glancing blow by the beam, or by the shrapnel of exploding ships. I followed the Beam’s path till it left the Hawk’s field of view.

It’d taken several moments for the Bridge to begin recovering from their shock. My face turned whiter than snow, and I could tell by the stunned silence the bridge crew wasn’t much better. I swallowed hard, and tried to speak. No sound escaped my lips, even after another try. Finally I spoke.

“S-status. Status report, Now!”

The bridge officers sprang out of their shock at my command, rallying to their commander as a source of strength.

“Sir, none of the ships we brought to pick up the Resolution’s survivors were caught in the blast!”

Good news.

"Oh shit...Sir. The convoy’s gone.”

I looked at the sensor data from my screen, concern again sweeping over me. The blast had torn right through the refugee convoy we’d been trying to protect. Hundreds of thousands of Chiss civilians were now dead, torn into the vastness of space when their ship was torn in half, or completely disintegrated. The ship’s I’d left behind to continue guarding the convoy were gone too, wiped away by the Maw.

It took every ounce of strength I had to not fall to my knees and weep. I had friends aboard those ships, people I’d trust with my life. They had families, loved ones, lives of their own, in and out of the military. In an instant, they were gone. The only way I stayed standing in the wake of the devastation were those still with me. Choking down tears, I stood motionless aboard the bridge. Tiny red beads formed where my nails dug into my palm. This was the power of the Brotherhood. I struggled through, to issue orders to what was left of the 253rd.


“All ships. Pull back, we’ll regroup behind the fleet.”


I fell into my chair, still pale as a corpse. Nausea racked my stomach, and my knees were buckling. I placed a hand over my surviving eye, hiding the wetness within it. Years ago, I’d have jumped at the opportunity to participate in such a battle. Now...Now I wanted out. I wanted to take my line and run away to some peaceful corner of the galaxy. The channel to the 253rd’s surviving captains opened again.


“Belay that order. I’m transmitting coordinates now. We'll regroup after the hyperspace jump.“

 

[Aldo Garrick]

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

Allies: Tu'teggacha | Derix Tirall | CETCOM | Talon Kyber | Kuric Taumin

Tag: Adhira Chandra | Auteme | Constantine Oliva

The Resurrection-Class Battlecruiser ‘Magnus’ drifted into the depths of the unknown toward the imposing Alliance One surrounded by it’s impressive escort fleet. Behind the Magnus, escorts in the form of a Crucifix I Destroyer and a refurbished, scavenger Imperial I Star Destroyer moved in for the attack. Admiral Garrick looked on intently through the viewport of his battleship in anticipation as the boarding crew was made at the ready.

With the aid of the Fatalis under the command of mighty Tu'teggacha , they had a chance to stall off the throes of outright defeat against the escorting Alliance Fleet for a fast smash and grab. Multiple shuttles were deployed as the Brotherhood’s forces closed in on the flagship. Small flowers of fire emerging from the retaliating fire onto their forces as all but one made it toward it’s mark it seemed. The ISD moved in to take the blunt of the Alliance’s firepower as it crumbled moment by moment, Garrick’s own vessel the ‘Magnus’ opened fire on both the Alliance One and it’s escort as the Crucifix dived low, plunging underneath the Resurrection.

The initial boarding party would be hopelessly outnumbered until reinforcements arrived, being so close to the enemy put them at a large risk but if they could pull this off then they would have the advantage no matter the cost.

“Bring the Crucifix in and ram that ship! Disable the Alliance One!”

His eyes snapped away suddenly as it followed a bright light emerging from the ‘Mercy’, the weapon had fired.. leaving a swath of devastation in it’s wake on the other side of the space battle.

“Beautiful.”

The sight of the mighty weapon firing was one for the ages, even in the wake of the damage he had begun to sustain on his own state-of-the-art vessel as it took on the firepower of the Alliance fleet, he wouldn’t trade the view for anything in the galaxy.

Let it all burn.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: High Orbit over Csilla
Commanding: Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought
Allies: Aldo Garrick , Talon Kyber, CETCOM , Derix Tirall , Kuric Taumin
Foes: Teica Giraan , Albrecht F. Herlock , Constantine Oliva , Ryv , Thale, Roudac Gannan , Natasi Fortan, Commodore Gallius Orcana, Adhira Chandra , Auteme

Tu'teggacha was unlike many of the Maw's zealots. He trusted in the Brotherhood's cause not out of faith in their shadowy religion, but out of respect for the power of the Dark Voice, their guide and master. He had sensed that power emerging from the Unknown Regions, and he had left behind his own petty machinations to join with it, knowing that a feast of suffering would follow in its wake. Now, on the bridge of the Fatalis, he remembered exactly why he had been so willing to cast aside his old life. Darth Solipsis was calm, assured, in control. He radiated power and certainty even in this moment, with half the galaxy arrayed against them.

"By your command, my lord," the Ebruchi said, bowing low again as he closed the channel. He returned to his command throne, reassuming the task of keeping the Fatalis and the fleet she led between the enemy and Mercy... though there was now an added dimension to that plan. Ordinarily Tu'teggacha would have been reluctant to cover Admiral Garrick's advance, even at the Dark Voice's command, given the difficulty of maintaining the defensive screen in the face of overwhelming opposition. Fortunately, the arrival of the Maw Irregular Fleet from the Deep Core had strengthened their position enough that he was willing to take the risk.

Sularen had come through for them after all, even though his schemes meant he dared not come in person.

"Move the Fatalis forward," the Taskmaster ordered, "and support Admiral Garrick's attack." None questioned his command, and the titanic engines of the super star destroyer roared to life. The lean vessel drifted slowly forward, its strength concentrated in its weaponry and defenses more than its speed or maneuverability, clearing a path with its blazing turbolaser and missile batteries. Resistance was fierce. The brave pilots of the Alliance fought back with dogged determination, making the advance hard going even with Derix Tirall and Talon Kyber drawing away the First Order fleet. Outside the defensive screen, they were vulnerable from all sides.

Bit by bit they fought their way into the midst of the Alliance lines. Even aboard the mighty Fatalis, Tu'teggacha could see the shields straining to keep up with the magnitude of the enemy's firepower, and they were only just beginning to come up against the guns of the Alliance One. Already damage reports were beginning to trickle in, places where enemy fire had overwhelmed their defenses for a moment. There would be many more to come unless the situation soon swung in their favor. Thankfully, Aldo Garrick had a plan. The Crucifix he had dispatched soared forward, surrounded by a dark halo of assault shuttles. The boarding action had begun.

Until it was complete, until the Butcher of Brosi had done his work, the fleet had to hold.

Tu'teggacha's facial tendrils twisted in awkward patterns as the strain of command weighed upon him. Every moment he lingered here, under the guns of the Alliance, the greatest ship of the Brotherhood took an ever-greater pounding. Readouts went from green down to orange; a few blinked red as gun emplacements and shield boosters exploded along the hull. This was taking too long. The mission to capture the Chancellor was doomed to failure if the boarding crew's extraction was turned to slag, and that was becoming more and more likely. They needed that dark miracle even more now, needed it immediately. And the Dark Voice delivered.

Space glowed red as the Mercy opened fire, unleashing a crimson beam of instant death that ripped through a swath of the enemy fleet... and annihilated the refugee train behind it. Tu'teggacha tasted the fear and anguish of hundreds, no, thousands of souls for an instant before they were gone forever; then it was the turn of the tens of thousands who had witnessed that act of supreme destruction to feel afraid. "Praise the Dark Voice," Tu'teggacha cried, and others on the bridge took up the cry. "Praise the Avatars!" Their ultimate weapon's strength had been proven, their path to victory cleared. All they had to do was hold a little longer.

If they could, the next victim of that beam would be Csilla itself.

 

[Gren Blidh]

On board the "Mercy"
Interested Parties: Juliana Alderdice Brec Gannan

Gren stared languidly out the viewport window as Csilla moaned with battle. He could see ships cascading through space - Maw and enemy alike - some bound for the bloodshed planetside, others intercepting foes in the space around the planet. What a grand and intoxicating sight! This was war, this was speed. It was as if the galaxy itself had been taken hostage, helpless to only observe the fate of billions from the very command deck upon which Gren now stood.

This was Chaos!

There was no more room for leisure. The galaxy today would be governed by the principles of speed and violence. Chaos did not demand anything specific, but whatever one did, it should be done with a decisive thrust. Peerless purpose. The Maw smuggler could sense, with his burgeoning Force powers, the presence of enemies onboard the Mercy already being met with the sharpened edges of his comrades' resistance, and Gren didn't want to be late to the party.

Reaching into his trenchcoat pocket, Gren's fingers found the Nightsister Talisman he had discovered not long ago with the Maw, and unfurled it. Silently, he walked towards the exit of the command bridge and punched the button that summoned the elevator doors to open. Then, he slipped the ring onto his finger.

Where once the smuggler stood, his dark silhoette against the light from the open elevator doors disappeared, giving way to the visage of a small winged creature. A black crow cawed defiantly and flew into the elevator, disappearing as the doors closed behind it.

 

[Elle Mors]

Csilla Ground

BLUE JEANS​

'At least it'll keep me distracted.'​

No sooner had she formed the thought than the force seemed to prove her wrong, almost as if out of spite. For so long she'd remained successfully out of sight, just beyond reach even when things had nearly thrown her back into a life she'd ran away - been pushed away - from. In an instant, perhaps purely by coincidence, all of her careful machinations and isolationism were foiled by a conflict that had grounded her, if even for the moment. A phantom pain tugged at the corner of her lip, knitting a frown of concern across her face.

'Now or never.'

For a moment she stood still, rooted in place as she tried to decide whether or not she'd join the fray or turn and act on slightly more selfish reasons - if she'd been a better jedi, or if she'd done a better job of letting go of the past, the choice would've been an easier one. A scowl temporarily flashed across her face as she turned towards a feeling of familiarity, despite the discomfort that was now shooting through her chest. Not more than a single step had been taken when a flash of destructive force ripped through the space above the planet, cutting through the lives of hundreds upon thousands and possibly millions of Chiss lives. Notoriously incompetent in the force beyond its use on her own body and senses, Elle's only talents beyond those was as much a blessing as it was a curse - being an empath meant she'd felt the feelings, the panicked terror, that had gripped so many just before they'd passed all at once.

Realization struck her as her emotions ran high - this incursion was meant to be a massacre, not just a siege or battle. While the nature of the Maw's desire to butcher wasn't an unknown to her, she had clearly underestimated the intent behind their arrival. Deep in the void of space, beyond where so many Chiss had just been ripped from existence, a desire to destroy lingered - a testament not to her talents as an empath, the ravenous hunger and thirst for the destruction of the Chiss home world was so vast that even she could feel it. "Chit." She said, her face going pale.

Selfish indeed.

Breaking into a sprint she headed towards what had been troubling her - she couldn't count on herself to save the planet, that much was certain, but she could at least trust herself to make sure someone wasn't caught in the crossfire. Assuming she wasn't here to help them do it.

Sylvia Virtos

 

[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 ] ​

Yet it had not yet happened that the enemy had attacked them, so the soldiers could open the door and move on. And so did Ingrid. As they made their way to the next section of the corridor, it was quiet and calm again. Too quiet and too calm. And the previous presence did not come any closer, but rather changed. The woman had felt this before, on Malachor V, from the former Empress Ashin Varanin, when she “spread out” her aura to make it harder to find. It was a similar feeling.

The Empress knew there was someone behind the next door, but she didn’t know exactly where. She didn’t like that sort of thing; is that she has to go somewhere unprepared. Through the Force, felt the danger, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to run cowardly out of the challenges. Squeezed the two vibrosword grips in her hand, she had to be ready to fight. Although she was invisible, she had no reason to worry.

She’s usually prepared for everything, but so far she hasn’t encountered the level of creativity she’s about to walk into right now. So she didn't even count on that; it was a mistake. Ingrid had done such a thing so far in her life at most, no one else she had encountered who did such a similar act. The soldiers opened the door of the hall and marched in. Since she hadn't heard anything from their direction so far, she went after them.

She stopped at the door to look around. The room was empty, the presence was everywhere; it was disturbing. The soldiers reached the other door, then opened it and headed out. Nothing has happened so far. The woman still had a bad feeling, but she had to complete the task.

Ingrid entered the room.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Alars Keto Jayda Vanator​

He really hated being a passenger. Battles in space were always a source of stress for him. Even more so now that his view of the material universe was far more limited than before. A single stray shot from a turbolaser, one lucky missile connecting with the ship would be enough to have him become one with the Force.

There was a sense of relief when they finally landed in the station proper. Sure, he was surrounded by dangerous lunatics who would gleefully kill him and annihilate an entire world. But at least now that he was on his feet, he had the power to do something about it. "You take the head. I'll handle the heart of the beast." He said, offering Ryv the slightest of nods as the pair emerged from the starfighter.

He trusted his friends to be able to handle themselves. Powerful as the Brotherhood of the Maw were. Their main advantage was their numbers. But in an instance like this, a small, mobile strike team hitting them hard and fast. Their own disorganised nature would be used against them as the Jedi could move through the station by simply being so quick that most of the security force could simply not mobilise fast enough to deal with them.

So that was Aaran's current plan. Blurring through darkened corridors with inhuman speed. Feet clattering against the steel floors like a manic drumbeat as he followed the thread of the Force that was guiding him onwards. Whatever this station was, the main gun would have some sort of centralised firing station. One that was likely to be heavily defended. But an utterly crucial location for him to take and destroy.

It was rather difficult to fire a gun when one removes the trigger after all. It might not be able to stop the station outright. But it could delay it enough for the combined forces of the Galaxy assembled to cripple the station before it could fire.

At least that was the plan. His hope that he could deal enough damage inside to slow things down before the weapon was finally fully charged. All he could do for now was run. Sprinting through the corridors of the station in an attempt to reach the heart of the beast.

So he could tear it out.

 

[Jayda Vanator]

Location: On board the Mercy (Intercepting)
Tags: Alars Keto Aaran Tafo

With her heavy body moving between corridors, directing troops to those that entered their glorious weapon, Jayda's Commlink pinged. Opening the channel, Narsire spoke to her. "Boss, we got a Jedi heading for the Firing Station. Cut him off!" She shouted down the commlink to Jayda, her feet immediately speeding off in the direction of the newest intruder. She wanted blood, and blood she will have.

With the directions of Narsire, and her mechanical legs speed, she was easily able to reach a point the Jedi would have to cross through on his current route through the Mercy. Standing in the middle of the hallway, she waited, her face being all that was visible from her darkened hood and cloak, the many metallic white plates hidden from sight. Like an impassible wall of a single warrior, Jayda towered over most of the corridor. Her over 7 foot tall body loomed as she waited for her Prey to come to her.

With hands on two Lightsabers, she was prepared for the Jedi's attacks when they came. But she wanted to at least give him a chance to fight well. It was no fun if she couldn't mess with her food just a bit before biting off its head. The helmet was long since discarded, allowing her half organic, half metal face glare as the footsteps of her opponent drew closer.

As soon as Aaran Tafo was in sight, Jayda gave a hollow, half robotic laugh. This was the Jedi trying to disable their weapon. He was so small compared with her. "Greetings, Jedi. You'll not win this day," Jayda informed her foe as she adjusted her body to lower slightly, her legs bending to give the Jedi a false sense of security. "I believe you want to get past me, but in order to do that, you'll have to defeat me in combat," Her metallic arm reached out of her cloak and with a small toss, threw a tiny projection device that began to show the bodies of the multiple Jedi she had slew on her path to this moment. A master beheaded, two Knights in pieces, and a young Padawan barely out of the academy; slaughtered. "And I do hope you will prove more of a challenge that they did," Her voice mocked, before the metal arm disappeared underneath the cloak. Her white and grey claws holding twin sabers from her conquests ready for the Jedi's move.

 

[Kaleleon]

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

Blow after blow landed on him. Becoming slightly less effective with his own movements to guard and get away from the onslaught of attacks I sent his way. All that time, he finally got a hold of the saber. So as to when a break in combat, for the sudden change of power dynamic in the fight, alluded to him using the saber. His attempt to activate it, knowing so from watching me do so before our fight, he found that it wouldn't work. It brought a deep and proud smile to my face. Knowing that while he may have taken a weapon from me, and we were both for the moment defenseless, meant we were still on even ground.

I used that moment to try and push forward. Closing distance once more. Aiming to give another volley of blows. Doing my damnedest to take him down, and not just end the fight, but end any further fight that was left in this dog. As many fighters have once said, it doesn't matter the size of the dog, but the size of the fight in the dog. My aim was to remove any fight left in him. If pounding him into submission would end it, then so be it.

Yet, as the distance was closed, I saw he was reaching for something. Eyes showed intent, and the hands carried it out. He reached for another weapon he had on him. My hands, not closed in a fist, but open and ready to be used in a grab or blocking measure, went for whatever he was grabbing for. Happened to be a hold-out blaster. two shots fired with the second one being pushed wide with my hand intercepting the barrel of the weapon. Pushing it away from me with my left. My right came in for a right hook at the man. Knowing that even if I connected, it was going to hurt like hell and probably make the situation worse.

The problem with this, was that first shot. I didn't feel it at first. Adrenaline, anger, and my focus elsewhere hid the sudden onset of pain that laced up my left side. Even throwing the punch still, it wasn't going to be powerful. Just something to keep the man occupied. The first shot made contact with me. Hitting the bottom ribs. A searing heat was bleeding through my body. Sure a Jedi Jumpsuit and a Poncho were great for reducing that injury, preventing lethal damage, and severe burning, but it was still within point-blank range. It was going to hurt.

While holding the oxygen in my lungs with Controlled breathing, it allowed me to face the adverse effects of the Stun Gas from the grenade right at the start of the fight. However, now, it allowed me to not have to flex my lungs, or have deep breathing. Breathing with chest and abdomen wounds was extremely painful. So the act of not breathing, or breathing shallow breaths, would reduce the immediate pain for a short time. Allowing me to stay in the fight.

This fight however, had turned from one of weaponry, to a close quarters with deadly weapons at point-blank range. His gun was no longer his gun. It was "Our" gun. the fight over who controlled the weapon was of the greatest importance. While I could go for the saber, I didn't. Because he couldn't use it. Instead, I opted to remove the Hold-out blaster from his usage. My hands reaching for his wrist, hand, gun, forearm. Whatever I could grab onto to hold the dangerous end of the weapon away from me. This limited hold, was good as an opening. Bringing my boot down at his shins. Hoping pain somewhere else in the body would loosen his grip on the weapon.

All the while, my hands set to work to take it away from him. If I could get use of this blaster, or even just pull the trigger at the opportune time, then this fight could be even more heavily weighted into my favor and advantage.

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: ANS Hawk - Csilla's Orbit]
[Commander Giraan Standing By]
[Direct Relevancy: Constantine Oliva ]​

“Commander Giraan? Glad to see you’re not dead.”

If only she was. If only it could all end right there. If only the regret would cease, and the blood on her hands could rot from memory. But, she was indeed still alive, and still had a duty to fulfil.

“Commander, you should rest now,” The commodore offered her an arm, “You’re injured, and there’s not much for you to do.”

"There's always something to do, sir," Even then, she took the support without issue, and followed Constantine to an empty seat.

Teica let out a sigh as the pain began to fade from her leg, and the presence of the tourniquet became nothing more than a bad memory. Her eyes twitched, then came to close. The façade of control came to a dead halt as her head moved to aim down.

“An officer, must under no circumstances,” Commodore Olivia had lowered his voice to a softened whisper, “Show despair, indecision, or other worrying emotions to their men. You are their rock. Stay strong, Teica.”

"Yes sir..." She raised her head and reopened her eyes. Another mistake.

Teica heard the commodore mutter something, but the world had already shattered around her. The viewports lit up with bright crimson. A great beam cut past, the very thing they were supposed to prevent. Her feet rushed to bring her to a stand, and her eyes chased Mercy's superlaser, then darted to Csilla. But the beam never came. Now she scanned back, and saw the horror in disturbing clarity. Great and mighty warships, civilian transports, picket ships, now nothing but twisted metal and scorched debris, lost with their precious cargo. Hundreds, thousands, were wiped out within seconds. The bridge was paralyzed, devoid of movement, of sound.

People who the Alliance had fought to protect, people who the Resolution had been sacrificed to keep alive, now gone...forever.

And the Brotherhood called it Mercy. Murder of innocent men, women, and children alike was called Mercy. The slaughter of Alliance personnel was called Mercy. The slaughter of brave soldiers, of families, was called Mercy. Blood boiled and tears evaporated. Hate grew, and torment grew ever more powerful. Teica spent every ounce of strength, every semblance of duty, all to keep herself from lashing out at everything in sight. A low growl escaped her mouth, but then broke to silence.

“S-status. Status report, Now!” Constantine shouted nearby and brought her back from the trance.

“Sir, none of the ships we brought to pick up the Resolution’s survivors were caught in the blast!”

That alleviated only a portion of her rage.

"Oh poodoo...Sir. The convoy’s gone.”

It all returned within those seconds. The monsters had gone too far, taken too much from her. But she pushed what she could to the side, and looked to the commodore. Everything afterward would be his decision, and she had no right to argue.

“All ships. Pull back, we’ll regroup behind the fleet.,” There was a pause, “Belay that order. I’m transmitting coordinates now. We'll regroup after the hyperspace jump.“

They were running. And the worst part was that she wanted to. Teica made a slow limp back to the seat, and let her legs rest. But they refused to calm. Her body ached, her hands came to strangle the metallic arms of the chair, and the commander watched as realspace faded into blue and white.

 

[Sylvia Virtos]

And it all comes rushing back
Elle Mors

---

​

It all seemed to happen at once.

First, the haunting yet vague feeling suddenly became crystal clear. The Force spoke impossible things in Sylvia's mind, with one thing taking the forefront of it all. A face. One she never thought she'd see again. The utter shock it sent through Sylvia made her loosen her grip on the steering mechanism of her speeder for just a second, eyes going wide at the realization. The vehicle swerved to the left even further until the spacer regained control, allowing her to correct course.

Time to process the vision wasn't afforded to Sylvia. A flash blinded her for a split second and by the time her vision returned, a force of utter destruction crashed down into Csilla's surface. Her head snapped towards it in terror as she watched it vaporize anything and everything it touched. She had been in its radius not an hour earlier, and now everyone still there was dead. She couldn't even begin to imagine how many lives had just been ended. This wasn't anything like hearing about catastrophic events. This was happening right before her own eyes. She was no empath, but even she could feel the overwhelming darkness spreading through the Force.

"No..."

It was all Sylvia could mutter. Disbelief set in, eyes still fixated on the destruction. For a moment too long had she forgotten she was on a speeder; the woman lost control and tumbled off, the vehicle rolling out into the snow not too far from her person. She yelped when the realization hit her, but it was far too late. She herself came to a stop not too far from where she first hit the ground, the layer of white breaking her fall and slowing her roll.

The first thing Sylvia felt was the snow's uncomfortable cold. Her muscles quickly reacted and she scrambled to her feet, breathing a sigh of relief. The tumble could've ended much worse, but by virtue of not getting crushed by the speeder and the soft layer of snow she fell into she felt little more than mild pain in her ribs and left shoulder.

With the adrenaline still running through her system and the shock only now beginning to leave her, Sylvia hadn't noticed that someone had been running towards her. Only when she patted off her pants to get the snow off did she realize it.

Sylvia turned her head towards the woman.

The Force hadn't lied to her.

She was here.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Alars Keto Jayda Vanator​

Despite the momentum he had built up through his rapid pace through the halls of the station. He was able to stop on a dime. As if the laws of physics were willing to ignore his previous velocity and agree with the Jedi that he should halt in his tracks at the other end of the hallway, opposite Jayda.

Her appearance, while certainly intimidating meant little to him. For he no longer perceived the universe through sight. He could use the Force to replicate the effect to an extent. But he found little reason to when his other senses coupled with the Force were able to compensate. His head simply tilted to the side slightly at the faint hum of the holoprojector. No doubt an image meant to upset or unbalance him. Reaching up, he lowered the sunglasses that covered his face, allowing Jayda to witness the scarred visage over his eyes.

Her opponent was blind. Visual forms of intimidation would be ineffective. The trophies from her victims, her monstrous form, it meant so little to him. Placing the sunglasses back over his empty sockets. He began to walk towards the cyborg. "Your ability to take life does not intimidate me. It merely saddens me that it is all you can take pride in."

He could feel her hate from here. It was a tangible, spiteful thing. She wanted him dead for more than just being an intruder in this station. The specifics of it were lost to him. But she certainly took pride in her killing of Jedi. As if there was some merit in slaughtering peacekeeping monks.

"I will say this once. Move aside. I've no desire to kill you. But your life is not worth Csilla." As he said this, he began to walk forward. A slow, casual pace. Not even reaching for the lightsaber that dangled at his belt. But instead, his hand was raised upwards, palm facing the lights in the ceiling of the hallway.

At first there was nothing, but suddenly, there was the scent of ozone as the air around his fingers crackled and a bolt of ionized energy sprung forth from his fingers. Charged ions arcing out to strike at the lights above, spreading down the corridor. One by one, the lights flickered and died. Plunging the hall into utter darkness.

And still his footsteps, softer than before, marched ever closer to Jayda. As if daring her to make the first move.

 

[Yula Perl]

Dagon Kaze (disgusting) - TK-818 (????ew)

Dagon’s quips registered as snark in Yula’s mind, but ultimately didn’t reach her. The Zeltron’s focus was being pulled in many directions at once—it had been a long time since she’d found herself in ariel warfare, and the nimble fighter was far more responsive than the sluggish freighter she’d grown used to.

"Yula!"

“I’m busy!” She snarled back, agitated beyond belief already. It didn’t take much; just a few direct hits, a cacophony of warning beeps, and a gut-wrenching nosedive. The fact that she hadn’t even seen who’d attacked them felt like losing her edge. They’d have a better chance on the ground. Hopefully.

“The good news is-“ She called out over the dissonance of their predicament, frantically hitting as many buttons and switches as she could manage to the point where it looked desperately random. “We’re almost there.” Yula felt as if she were trying to rip the yoke from its console, attempting to angle them upwards to level with their target, but the controls were slow to respond. The Maw superweapon loomed closer and closer, a sinister sight to accompany the streaks of smoke ribboning from their craft.

He could guess what the bad news was.

Too focused on keeping them alive from one moment to the next, she hadn’t been aware of Dagon’s mental assault on their unseen enemy. What she was aware of, however, was the fact that things would rapidly change within the next few moments.

Satisfied the emergency maneuvers had them spiraling towards the Doomsday device, Yula’s hands left the controls. Her mechanical connection to the starfighter had died, and so she poured her focus into encompassing her and Dagon within a small, sturdy bubble of Force energy. They wouldn’t walk away unscathed, but perhaps they’d manage to walk away.

"Brace yourself, chisel-face!"