Annihilation Head of the Snake: BotM Annihilation of Csilla

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 1
Equipment: Kyrel's Armor, Kyrel's Necrochasis, Vader's Bane Lightsaber
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw,
Enemies: Kaeli Liza
Location: Csilla, Trenches, and Bunkers



He had wandered the battlefield as if a vengeful spirit, the blood slowly trickled from his lips after the meal of the frightened soldiers he just had. Now he had wandered and waited, finding anymore Chiss Commando teams to destroy, moving through the smoke. Kyrel even saw to the sky to see the beam of the weapon rock the sky with far distant explosions. A distorted grin had graced his lips. Now was not the time to make his moves yet within the Maw, but with Csilla's destruction. Soon the moment would be upon him, for he felt that it wasn't just the voices that spoke within his head, but that of the will of the Force. That had led up and guided his action at this very moment in time. Even now he felt the strongest with the dark side that had ever been so far.

With each new squad of Chiss, or New Imperials alike, he masked himself within smoke and mist, before like the dark phantom he was. Let loose a barrage of saber attacks, dismembering each individual that he could find. Feeding on the fear that was palpable through the Force, gaining strength and in turn feeding the familiar blade at his hand. How heads, arms, and legs would fly. Leaving blood splattered all over the snow. Sometimes that old command to consume would make him remove his helm for the moment. Only to feed on more flesh, leaving some of the blood trickling from his mask.
With now stalking yet another group of Chiss, this time the squad would be going back to the bunker on which he just massacred. Learning that in the midst of his bloodlust. There was a gun emplacement. A wicked grin had spread across his face, following them even spreading a sense of dread to touch them. As if he wanted them to know that his very eyes watched them. Causing them to slowly become paralyzed with fear until he finally revealed himself. When he did reveal himself, he would make sure that none of them would live to see past this day for he would see this entire world to burn for such was the way of the Shadow, his guiding philosophy for the dark side.

He kept moving through the mist, any Chiss or enemy that saw him move through the smoke, met the unfortunate end of his blade, or at worst one of the weaponized parts of his body. To cut right through them before they could scream, or mutter a single word. For he had surprise and terror on his side to which he would use to great effect.

Heading back to the bloody swathe of carnage he had caused. There was now a sign that read in the form of Chiss blood across the door of the Bunker. "Enter and abandon all hope." As if the Master of Ren was offering the soldiers a warning, for if they entered inside. There was only despair and death that waited for them. Even as Kyrel calmly waited inside, surrounded by the dark. Even contemplating on using the weapon against the dug-in trenches of the New Imperial Order, but first, he wanted to have further fun by having the flies go towards the spider's web. All but two choices remained for them. Leave and walk away from this, or enter and die a horrible death.

 

[Korum Krov]

Location: Csilla, low Orbit/ Surface
Objectives: Save as many Lives as possible.
Allies: GA/CIS/Defenders
Enemies: open
Tags: Albrecht F. Herlock Teica Giraan ​

"Captain, this is Albrecht Herlock, commanding the Pride of Anaxes. I'll send a mechanic and the equipment needed to the hangar bay. My ship will be ready to deal with the ennemy destroyer with the help of the escort frigate Audacious, identification number X102. I don't know what is your idea, but after what I saw coming from the Brotherhood, I might like it. Herlock over." "Good" Korum thought to himself as he heard the response. This would make his plan far easier. A few minutes later a man came holding two space suits with a grappling hook laid on top.

Korum gestured the man towards his ship following him up the Noga's ramp. Once inside he took the bigger of the two suits walking into his room aboard the ship while telling the mechanic only "Get changed.". The suit didn't fit all that well and he had to of curl himself up in places, but he was still able to move enough. He Kept the visor down hiding his face from the man now aboard.

Walking back into the cockpit with his cape fitted to the outside of his suit along with a lightsaber and the grappling hook dangling from his waist, Korum began began piloting towards the enemy fleet. he turned to the man now also in a suit and said "Things are about to become... Strange best to just roll with it."

Korum reached out with the force feeling for a destroyer near the edge of their line with as few force users as possible. And, once he'd found his target He got as close as possible, staying just outside their firing range. He began To transmit an urgent video to them saying This is the Noga to Destroyer. I have taken an Alliance prisoner with extensive knowledge of their reinforcement patterns. I wish to speak with your Captain at once. The longer you delay. the more of a chance I have of being found out as a traitor. He then waited Keeping the video channel open hoping they'd pick it up, and put themselves on screen.

 

[Kaleleon]

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

Searing pain raced through my right arm. A punch thrown was missed, and slammed hard into the snow trench wall behind the man. The Kinetic Impact alone sent a shock down my arm. While the gloves did have knuckle protection. Allowing my fingers to stay fine, it mattered not in the grand scheme of things. For it was the jarring impact that caused the fracture of my arm from earlier, to become even more damaged. I heard a loud pop coming from my arm as I tried with all my might of my left to keep control of the barrel away from me. It wasn't just a wince, but an outright scream of pain as it was clear that my arm would have to be reset into place again. Any kind of punch from here on out, would likely have to be my left side.

Despite the pain, Gritting my teeth hard. Nearly biting and grinding them down in order to hold back another yelp of agony as we fought over the pistol. Just what I wanted. Fighting with all I got, it wasn't just trying to get control of the gun, but an unadulterated fight for survival and the chance to continue breathing. A stray bolt that was fired from the gun would be near fatal for either of us. While both of our chests were moderately protective, it was the heads that were vital. We both knew, and fought, for control of the singular chance to take the pistol, and point blank pull the trigger on the other's head. However, It was the idea of the Maw Warrior to sudden start shooting the pistol. Letting bolts fly in every direction. Draining it of its usefulness.

A sudden realization hit me. A Dawn that had risen in my thoughts.

In that moment, a giant red beam flew through the sky. Turning the white bloody snow, an even deeper red. The Mongrel prepared to die. Almost accepting his death. That moment of relaxation told me he was prepared to die on this planet for the Maw. Fitting. As I finally got majority control of the pistol. Ripping it from his hand. However, that is when it snapped the warrior to reality. This fight was still going.

The sudden rearing back of the mans head could only mean one thing. Proudly with a smile, I reared back my own head. However, a very simple force barrier over my face, akin to a faceplate of a helmet, suddenly formed. Allowing us to crash our heads into one another. However, mine was very well protected. I would have almost found it funny that he had done so. As some Jedi knew me for headbutting people with my helmet in the past. In fact, I did it to a Bryn soldier before. Kind of my own trademark. Yet, before the thought could be fully formed, punches were thrown with the saber still in his hand.

Finally he used the weapon. Finally he was going on the offensive. This is now where I shined brightly. Instead of using the pistol as he may have thought, I dropped it by haphazardly tossing it down and behind me. No longer part of the problem set before me, it freed up my left hand. Well prepared now for a hand to hand fight. Being trained by, literal assassins, allowed me the benefits of hand to hand combat. Catching hands.

Left hand grabbing a hold of the bottom of my own saber he had taken from me. Letting his own momentum carry the weapon between the both of us, I yanked the pommel hard. Hoping to get it just in the right position. All in time, Having spent the past years taking it apart, and putting it back together again as a form of meditation for myself, doing so only with the force, allowed me to know exactly where each and every piece was within. Such as, the switch to activate the blade.

With the very familiar Snap, the blue blade breathed life once more. Igniting while within both of our hands.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Infiltrate & Steal //:
//: XESH //: Maijan Paisea //: Kirk Korrado //: Kingsley //: Viribus //:
//: SITH //: Darth Ananta //:

A thumb scrolled through the handheld datapad; M’s message was short and sweet - one thing she gave the Chiss credit for. Allyson wondered what she had done to piss off the woman to get assigned to babysit the ragtag team. They seemed logical with an air of danger about them. Allyson oddly felt at home. They weren’t entirely trusted, and Allyson would never earn the trust she once had after her last big mission. She continued to draw parallels between the group and herself causing her to shudder slightly. Even with the corruption she had felt through the Force, she still assumed herself to be at least a bit righteous and honorable.

Yet, Allyson Locke was an accomplished liar - may be good enough to fool herself.

A voice echoed, followed by what she assumed was a squawk announcing that they had arrived. The spy stood and checked over her equipment and stashed the datapad. A Zeltron gentleman, who had been the announcer - reminded her briefly of certain old actors in certain holofilms. Allyson tilted her head, staring at the bird, then shrugged. A bird, a pink sex symbol, and a woman with a witchy accent seemed utterly normal for a team such as this.

Allyson reached up and removed the cloth eye covering from her cybernetic eye. Despite hating her vision being obscured by the cloth, she liked having a sense of privacy from M’s Skynet-esque hold on her. Blinking lights signaled to both the owner and the others around her that the eye was active again. It pulled all sources of information from the Xesh operatives and fed it directly to Allyson. There was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that she hadn’t read in their files.

Clearing her throat, she gave a salute to the rest. “Keep comms quiet unless you’re about to get your karking skins burned off.” A smirk and the Corellian disappeared into the fray.

Allyson melded into the shadows, feeling at home on the battlefield and hidden. Each footstep emitted no sound as she crept along quickly amidst the fighting. The spy stopped and leaned against one of the adjacent walls. With so many sith and dark siders around, the tattoo ink burned quickly, keeping the Corellian alert to her surroundings. Chit, chit, chit, chit. She mumbled to herself as she continued deeper, her mission relatively easy compared to the others. Infiltrate while they distract for the most part. M, for some reason, trusted her with the delicate tasks.

Stopping, she ducked behind the overturned crates. Eyes widened as she watched as the Sith patrolled closer. Despite getting a late pick-up on the Sith woman, Allyson did her best to try and blank herself out of existence.

She focused hard, pulling her life force into a blank and Forceless void. Even though the Corellian excelled at manipulating the Force to keep her well hidden, not realizing how close Darth Ananta was would likely make an attempt as void as she was in the Force. Still, she waited for the perfect moment to ambush the Sith.​

 

[Lirka Ka]

The cold of csilla contrasted greatly with the heat of battle, even in this chaos the artistry of such a thing was not lost on Lirka. Snow melted beneath their advance leaving mush for her heavy metal feet to slosh through. But such scenery quickly began to disappear from her mind, bloody tunnel vision setting in on the monster. The Dark demanded, and she would provide.

Her droids remained little more than backdrop in her mind now, the first of her "mighty" machines torn apart with a shocking ease once heavier firepower was provided. They were, after all, just construction droids: a durability that came from sturdy construction and sheer bulk much more than any sort of military hardware. Falling in on it's own leg, the massive machine fell to the earth with a deafening crash of metal and ground, throwing up a mighty cloud snow into the air on it's impact, but it lashed out in it's death throes regardless. They feared the mighty feet of the EVC, but the machines held much more, as it tumbled the former-mount of Ka threw out one of it's massive clawed arms in a simple attempt to just smash the nearest defenders before it's eyes grew cold and dead. It's death weighed little on the Monster's heart, nay, there was even glee in it. They were but machines, raw materials that could be smelted down and remade: each round they fired, every resource committed to their bulk, served only to let the horde of Mawites move with one less gun breathing down their neck.

But she did not let her mind stray from the surging lust for slaughter long, they had come to meet her demands for battle. A flash of blue burst through the clouds first, and with a unnatural grace Lirka danced away from the blast with a flourish. Only to be met by a rain of plasma scorching through the snow, turning the falling flakes into a growing cloud of steam in their wake.

Cowards.

The bolts blasted into her, blaster fire falling against the plundered beskar of her chest-plate and helm, whilst even more heated up the duranium of the rest of her power-suit, the lucky handful piercing through her exposed joints, sheering the flesh beneath.. The pain was exhilarating, a surge of ecstasy that coursed through tainted flesh, reminder she was still alive. Her desire for battle only grew then; her pain only bringing another tainted sermon to be thrown over the wind.

"And they stand! Defiant in the face of their own demise, cursed by hubris and foolhardiness! But they are but men, cast of flesh and blood!-"

And the rain of blaster fire continued, and so did Lirka begin her dance once again. Twirling and forcing her body to take the brunt of whatever fire she could on her beskar plates, but such a thing was only so possible. More fire, another set of bolts piercing through her flesh or letting now-molten Duranium melt down through her undersuit till it melded and cooked the flesh beneath. To them, to those cast of flesh and blood, it was a kiss of coming death, of true agony that could only be submitted to. But Lirka was beyond them now.

"But we are chosen, we are mighty! We have cast aside flesh and blood, for we are the Dark's faithful, chosen of The End of All Things! They will cower beneath true perfection!"

And her dance advanced, twirls ands slides through the earth. But it was only so much. Another round of fire took the monster off her feet, sending her prone to the ground. And there she laid, unmoving. Silence falling upon them...or at least as silent as a battlefield could be. Lirka had scorned mortality, danced with death more times than any of the fools on this planet. This? This would not stop her. And in the silence she laid, a dead hunk of metal and meat.

Her sinew and muscle churned, forcing themselves to reconnect, meat pulsing and convulsing as she was slowly remolded once again. And for a moment, she waited. Letting in a breathe of cold air that stunk of spent blasters, letting the sweet tang of blood lick across her tongue. She was alive. And they would suffer for it.

In a flash, the beast of metal showed her true nature. Flinging herself to life once again: the Monster landed on all fours, bounding forward , like a monster a charging reek that sought only to maim and kill. Her glowing eyes shining through the bloody maelstrom that was Csilla; she moved with that unnatural speed once again, charging forward with a beastial savagery before bounding high to the sky to meet the initial line of defenders, the wall of meat that the forces of FN-999 and DECEASED Erskine Barran presented, and but of course, a special ire was given to the first to fire: those glowing emerald eyes hunting for Maple Harte now.

 

[Sylvia Virtos]

I have made mistakes
Elle Mors

---

​

Sylvia blinked. She thought it was her own mind playing tricks on her, but the woman didn't vanish when she approached. After all this time, thinking she was dead, she now stood before her. It really was her.

Ellie was alive.

Sylvia wanted to jump, scream. She wanted to hug her, but all she could do was stand there, frozen. A tear rolled down her cheek as she heard her speak, but not a single thought was spent to tell herself to wipe it away. Her mouth fell open, Elle's blank expression gazed upon by a face wrought with emotion.

"Y-yeah..." Sylvia uttered. It was all she could say as her thoughts turned to a mess. It may as well have been a fever dream. Perhaps it was.

Yet despite the state of disbelief she was in, the spacer could see that this wasn't the same Ellie. The look in her eyes was a foreign one. Time had changed the both of them, in different ways. The anger she once clutched onto so tight had now been buried and left behind, which had allowed her to move on. The only thing she hadn't been able to put to rest was the pain she had caused to the only friend she had for nearly her entire life. But Ellie, she was muted. Far from the smiling and friendly girl Sylvia remembered. Surely it was all the spacer's fault.

Ellie was right, though. Her words reminded her of the danger they were in, returning a sense of alertness in Sylvia's eyes. "You're right. We can talk later, we need to get out of here." The speeder had room for a second person. She rushed her way over to check if it wasn't too badly damaged when a question pierced right through her soul.

You aren't here with them, are you?

"Wha-"

Sylvia turned back around, giving the blonde a puzzled look until it clicked. All this time, Ellie still thought Sylvia was with the Sith. Worst of all, she couldn't blame her.

"No, no. I left the Sith ages ago. You- you were right. And I'm sorry. For everything." Even if it wasn't the time to talk, those were words that weighed heavy on her heart. Words she had been wanting to say for a very long time. She regretted every action since the moment Ellie told her of her apprenticeship. Sylvia's head tilted downwards, eyes cast down towards the snow. "I let you down and... and treated you terribly."

Sylvia shook her head, pushing away the tears that tried to well up. They needed to get away first. "I got a ship. Twenty minutes by speeder. I just gotta check if nothing was damaged."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

NEW JEDI ORDER | GALACTIC ALLIANCE | CSILLA
Yula Perl
ew TK-818

His psyche returned back to him but everything disappeared - washed over by a blinding flash of red. Superlasers converged in one point and released death upon a line of corvettes; the grand explosion echoing through the Force as thousands of lives perished in a mere moment. It was operational and their time to shut it down just got halved. Dagon barely heard Yula's yell through the ambience of death reverberating across the ethereal. His whole body whipped forth and back violently at impact, nearly snapping his neck, as the starfighter skidded hard on the durasteel floor of the superweapon's one of many hangars.

The Jedi came back to his senses, with his heart pacing fast and seeking to snap out of his chest. The harness was off and he punched an emergency button on his right. The cockpit hatch flew open with a hiss and Dagon emerged on top of his seat. They were alive and they were aboard the planet killer. Smoke billowed from the starfighters engine and in their crash landing's wake were multiple Maw casualties and damaged vessels. Blaster fire erupted the moment his cerulean blade came to life.

"You gonna get that harness off today or what?!" he called out at Yula at the first sign of her body shifting. His voice was strained, urgent. Even if he was grateful that she had somehow managed to keep them alive and on the superweapon, too, nonetheless. The blue blade danced, fending off blaster fire, while the Force in his free hand knocked away assailants. "We need to get outta this hangar and head towards the reactor. Fast!"

Something warned him that the Ren wasn't fully out of commission, merely delayed by Dagon's interference.

 

[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

Battles shifted. It was their nature. Even in the most minor or most one-sided conflict, violence was a fickle thing, granting its favor one instant and withdrawing it the next. Momentum changed, terrain changed, objectives changed, until the middle and end of the battle looked very little like the beginning. The only hope for victory was to be ready for that change, to hold on with both hands to the thrashing serpent of fate and let your grit and determination carry you over the finish line. Around and beyond the frozen ridge, the battle for Csilla's surface was shifting again... and in the trench, the balance of the duel swung back back and forth like a metronome.

The Mongrel grinned nastily as Kaleleon 's hand slammed into the wall of frozen earth; he didn't hear the arm pop, but he did hear the Jedi's cry of pain and see the signs of dislocation. He would fear no more blows from that side, a tremendous advantage in such close-quarters combat. The headbutt... went less well. The entire point of such an attack was to strike the softest part of the enemy's face with the hardest part of one's own head, but Kale had seen it coming. At first, The Mongrel thought him a fool; crashing their foreheads together in a dual headbutt would only hurt them both. But he had once again failed to account for his enemy's magic.

Some kind of invisible barrier protected the mage-knight's head, and when The Mongrel struck it, pain blossomed through his own. His vision swam, and he nearly lost his balance; had the two men not been locked in a grapple, all but holding each other up as they struggled, he might have fallen to his knees. It was all he could do to throw that wild punch at Kale, fist wrapped around the lightsaber hilt, trying to seize back the fight's momentum with a crippling strike to the side of the head... but his punch was sloppy, his speed and aim spoiled by his blurred eyesight. It was all too easy for his foe to intercept the strike, grabbing back onto the lightsaber he'd lost.

Snap-hiss. The azure blade sprang to life once more, scattering the misty gas... though the thick clouds were beginning to drift away, driven off by Csilla's cold and biting winds. So, the weapon hadn't been damaged after all, just somehow locked by the Jedi's magic. In that moment of ignition, the laser-sword wobbled dangerously between them; each of them had a hand on the hilt, trying to push it toward the other. The tip of the blade grazed the top of The Mongrel's shoulder, and he barked out a cry of surprise and pain; the reek of burned flesh wafted up from the injury, the marauder's second saber wound in this duel. At least it had not gone deep.

His leg still bore the scar of a lightsaber cut at the Battle of Black Spire.

As his vision began to clear, The Mongrel realized that the Jedi must have dropped the blaster to grab the lightsaber. Unfortunately, he'd dropped it behind him, and the marauder could not reach it with his foot. He had no magic to call it to his hand, so the weapon was lost to him for now, though he made a mental note of where it had fallen. Instead, he tried to press the advantage he did have. Kale's right arm was increasingly injured; that meant that the Jedi was pushing the lightsaber at him pretty much one-handed. The Mongrel had suffered a bevy of injures of his own - and his face would be all the uglier after all this - but he still had two functional arms.

"Big mistake, azure-blade," the marauder hissed, his words garbled somewhat by a mouthful of blood and a broken nose. "I thought I wasn't going to be able to kill you with your own weapon, but now you've given me back the chance." Reaching up with his left hand, now free since Kale had wrested the blaster away, he put it on top of his right, giving himself a double grip on the lightsaber. Then he pushed with all his might, trying to shove the laser-sword toward the Jedi's face. Kale was stronger and more skilled than he was, but also down an arm. The Mongrel was a little taller, and had braced a foot against the wall of the trench, pushing against it to add force.

His shoulder twinged in pain, a little curl of steam rising from the scalded flesh where the lightsaber had grazed through his armored shoulder plate. His head throbbed, and his mask was filling up with blood. Straining against the Jedi was taking everything he had, and his injuries were catching up with him, sapping his strength. He couldn't keep this up forever, and maybe not even for long... but he was gambling that it would be long enough to overcome Kale's one-handed resistance. If it turned out not to be, if the Jedi somehow managed to rip his lightsaber free of the marauder's grip, he was surely doomed; he no longer even had anything to block with.

And if he'd learned anything about Kale, it was that no trick worked on him twice.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 3
Objective: Big Iron comes to the frozen Hell
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove (Stored in her coat pocket) | ion Shovel | Mining Laser
Auxiliary Equpment: X8 EV-series supervisor droid (EV-4D9 load out) | Mining Rig Exo Skeleton | Hot Mess (Ship)
Allies: The Mongrel | BotM
Enemies: The Defenders
Tags: Halketh or Open

---

Khaos got herself mounted in the mining rig and moved off her ship toward the hole the droids had been digging. The Droids had clearly stopped digging meaning they had reached their destination. Though Khaos did call out to them for conformation. “Are we there?”


The droid confirmed with a simple reply. ”Yes. We are unto phase two.”


Khaos just nodded and propelled the mining rig forward a leapt into the kilometer deep hole. The ice sheet speed past her as she dropped before the repulsors kicked in and began to slow her fall. It wasn’t long before the durasteel frame of the mining rig landed on a durasteel surface that had been buried beneath the ice sheet. Indeed, they had reached their destination, and Khaos fired up the torch arm on the mining.



Phase two then commenced and the superheated torch began to cut through the durasteel in a circle around the mining rig. Phase two was a lot quicker the phase one it did require going through as much solid ground. As the durasteel beneath the heavy mining rig began to give way while the torch cut at it. The Mining rig with Khoas in it started to plummet once more for crashing to the duracreate floor of The Expeditionary Library.


Alarms immediately went off and security forces scrambled to the commotion of the mining rig that had just breached the capital city via making a back door. The rig creaked and moved a few steps forward as Phase three was initiated the droids on the surface began unloading the explosives from the Hot Mess into the library. Khaos moved the rigg forward her eyes flashing bright orange as she stared down the security forces.


War raged on the plains, cliffs, and Tundra’s of Csilla, now it had reached it’s main city. Darth Khaos touched a button on her wrist watch that sent an encrypted message to The Mongrel and the Maw leadership on the ground that a backdoor into Csaplar had been made with coordinates. Then all hell broke loose in the Library as the security forces opened fire as Khoas dodged for cover.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Command bunker, Csilla
OBJECTIVE: I - Hell Frozen Over
ALLIES: FN-999 | Alais Kaun | Jabez Melidoru | Tyrell Lockhart | Enedina Tal | Halketh | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Major Bennett Hall | GA | NIO | Chiss
ENEMIES: Maestus | The Mongrel | UX-0626 | Lirka Ka | Kyrel Ren | BOTM | Sith
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
POST: II

Tithe watch the battleholo as the Brotherhood forces continued to swarm the tenches. The initial assault of what they now knew to be cannon fodder had been a ferocious opening salvo, but paled in comparison to the armoured walked and bizarre beasts that followed in its wave. Gas plumes rose from a number of points where the enemy had deployed chemical weapons. Every few minutes a shot would ring out for a Sith sniper looking to take a long-range kill.

But the New Imperial Order and Galactic Alliance stood resolute. Soldiers on foot, in power armour, dropping from aerial transports or riding on battle tanks spread out along the lines, making the enemy horde pay for every inch in blood. Reports came in of undead defenders joining their ranks.

Among the enemy, he spied the towering Lirka Ka , his once-colleague from the Sith Empire. Tithe’s hand fell to the electromace clipped to his belt, a gift from the Sephi warlord. Was it possible that she could someone track the device?

Lieutenant Legion Commander FN-999 declared in between calling for artillery strikes that while they were savages, the Brotherhood should not be underestimated. Suspecting trickery, orders went out to fill in a gap in a crevasse that would have allowed the enemy to flank the trenches.

As was his Aargauun instinct, the Vice Chancellor continued to do the numbers, rapidly calculating the number of enemy personnel, the friendly loses, and the odds of the battle while controlling for variables such as the duration of the battle - a proxy for morale and exhaustion - the efficiency of their supply lines, and the battle damage reports coming in from orbit above.

If the battlefield were a stock market, the Brotherhood would be on an astronomical rise, quickly devaluing the otherwise blue-chip New Imperials and Alliance stocks. Things were not looking good.

The Vice Chancellor turned to the NIO commander. “If you have a grand contrivance in mind, ah, now would be the time…”

He was cut short by a deafening alarm that rang through the comm centre. Moments later reports started streaming in - the Brotherhood had fired their superweapon on the defending fleet in orbit.

“Zero balance!” Tithe exclaimed, the most terrifying prospect an Aargauun could imagine.

His close protection team leader stepped forward. “Sir, we have to get you out of here.”

“But the shuttles, the… the flight path, yes the flight paths - they’re in abeyance, are they not?”

The close protection officer grimaced in response. “We don’t have a choice. The next thing that planet-buster targets won’t be orbital.”

Further alarms sounded as a tattooed, red-skinned Twi’lek was spied closing in on the command post. Another explosion rock the commander bunker, reinforcing that the politician had long overstayed his welcome. Time was running out.

“My good man,” the Vice Chancellor said, turning again to Nines. “Could I so bother you as to request a priority transport be summoned? I fear my time in your fine company is nearing an end.”

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Alars Keto Jayda Vanator​

It seems that his mechanical opposition was not going to be the only person of note to impede him today. His ear cocked to the noise of the door behind him opening, the growl from Kryll announcing his title was enough for him to get a rough idea of where the marauder was situated relative to everyone else. While for most, the idea of dealing with two skilled opponents at the same time would be worrisome. Aaran felt no anxiety or worry. His confidence reassured as Kryll opened fire at him from behind.

The marauder's disregard for his ally simply proved Aaran's reassurance to be correct. Their own disharmony with each other would lead to their defeat more than his own actions. Such was the nature of beings like this. With one smooth motion, his hand reached to his belt as he spun on his heel. Lightsaber coming to life just in time for the bolts of excited plasma to reach him.

With his mind emptied of all intent and emotion. He allowed the Force to guide his hands. His own blade moving to intercept the two bolts that would have struck him, acting as a perfect mirror to send them streaking back towards the aggressor. Allowing the rest of the volley to harmlessly fly past him towards Jayda.

"None of that please." He said, reaching out with one hand and calling upon the Force, attempting to grasp the pistol in Kryll's hand and tear it from his grip. Denying him the ranged advantage. Miniscule as it was against a Jedi Knight.

Moving smoothly, waiting for his opponents to get into melee with him, the Warden of Peace then shifted position, body flowing into the opening stance of Soresu. Inhaling deeply as he prepared himself in body and mind for the upcoming clash. Ready to turn his opponent's own reckless hate and aggression against them.

 

[Jayda Vanator]

Aaran Tafo Alars Keto

As her prey slowly walked to her, cutting off a majority of the lights around them, Jayda used an added gift from her Cybernetical Friend. Her vision suddenly lit up, a small HUD showing the most probable directions of attacks and color restored itself. Jayda chuckled, not looking at the newest being to enter this fray. "You'll have to do better than shrouding this hall in shadows to stop your death," Jayda jeered, her hand about to draw her lightsabers when her 'Ally' began to shoot wildly in their direction. Having Durasteel plating on top of her own Durasteel Cybernetics, she knew she was protected. The shots that weren't deflected by the Jedi, who was moving in a more peculiar motion than she had encountered before, simply hit the armour she was wearing under the cloak.

Jayda's eyes simply showed annoyance at her ally's actions, but with the Jedi ready she was at least going to have some fun. "Time to die, Jedi!" Jayda shouted, knowing he was relying on sound and volume to also identify where she was going to be. The white plated arms drew from her cloak twin sabers, each igniting their blue and green blades. "I'll cut you down with your kind's own weapons," her taunted, her metallic feet moving her closer, the talon like toes digging into the flooring with each step. Her hands moved to just enough in front of her that she began to rotate her wrists. The two sabers became spinning disks of blue and green as she slowly moved forwards. She had become a walking wall of a blender ready to cut down anything in her path.

 

[Subject 54 Havoc]

Objective: Prepare to fire again
Allies: Attackers, BOTM, Darth Solipsis , Aldo Garrick , Tu'teggacha , Talon Kyber , Derix Tirall , Kuric Taumin
Enemies: Defenders, Constantine Oliva , Teica Giraan , Gallius Orcana , Thale , Rahmmon Barkai , Albrecht F. Herlock

Havoc and the other gunners watched on the viewscreen as the shot raced toward the enemy fleet, and made contact with enemy ships, destroying them. A large number of enemy vessels had been destroyed, and those caught right in the center of it were destroyed instantly by the beam. It was glorious... Watching the vessels burn and explode was a sight to behold. And those that were caught in the center of the beam and killed instantly... well, the station wasn't called "Mercy" for a reason.

Around him, some of the gunners cheered. The shot had cleared a wide swath of enemy vessels, and some were now even retreating. Havoc smiled lightly, but he wasn't ecstatic like the other gunners. Everyone and their mother had seen the shot, and now they knew that the station was operational. This would make them panic, and become desperate. And when cornered, a wild animal will do anything to get itself out of the corner, even fighting to the death. The defenders would become desperate, and they would be wanting to do whatever it took before the weapon finally turned on Csilla itself...

"Recycle cells on Reactor B-16, have them reset and recharge." He ordered to the technicians. "Prep Reactor B-14 for firing."

They nodded and ran around, scrambling to carry out his orders.

As he watched the enemy fleets on the viewscreen, he noticed something odd... Some of the ships were racing towards the Maw fleet. Already, Havoc knew what they were up to. That thing about the enemies being desperate, well, turns out they were that desperate enough to charge head first into the Maw fleet, towards the battle station. Did they truly believe that hiding in the Maw forces would protect them? They had only seen a single-reactor shot, which was a fairly large shot. Did they not know that the station could make more accurate shots? Obviously not... Well, it would be their funeral. Besides... the station had weapons other than the main weapon...

"All batteries, open fire on that enemy fleet!" Havoc ordered.

"Yes, sir!" One of his gunners nodded, then turning back to his console and typing in the order to the gun batteries on the station.

Not long after, the gun batteries began opening fire. Turbolasers would fire on the fleet, lasers streaking towards the enemy fleet, pounding them with heavy, nonstop fire as they approached. He could also see some of the smaller batteries dealing with enemy fighters getting too close, shooting down the fighters while the larger batteries pounded the incoming enemy fleets with turbolaser fire.

"Status report on the main weapon." Havoc requested.

"Sir, 7 minutes until we can fire again! The main weapon systems are still switching over to Reactor B-14!" A gunner reported.

Havoc nodded. Once the main weapon systems had switched over, Havoc would make the shot from the main weapon smaller and more accurate, albeit with less power, to avoid hitting their own fleet.

Of course, Havoc didn't really care about hitting their own fleet. He didn't truly care about them. If they got caught in the blast, well, it would be a necessary sacrifice. Of course, with the smaller and more accurate firing, it would be very unlikely that allied ships would be hit. Unless, of course, they moved between the enemy and the main weapon's trajectory. But then, it would be their fault that they got hit, and even then, the shot would plow through them, and still hit the enemy. Anyway, it was a win-win.

Unless, of course, the enemy had a trick up their sleeve. And judging by their desperate charge, they didn't.

 

[Ziroka]

Location: Trenches/Local Landing Zone
Interactions: UX-0626 | FN-999
Allies: Chiss and Allies
Enemies: Invaders

​

Who knew? How could she have known? Calling out a sniper would get her team targeted? It was a good thing she told her soldiers to keep their heads down, since they weren't elite and as it's shown, they haven't been the best of the best at staying under the crosshairs. Other Chiss that filled the trenches started to fall due to that very special sound that Ziroka started to hate. But then a different sound gave her an idea.... the sound of artillery fire was sent off again, shaking the ground.... But it wasn't Chiss artillery, however the target is taking out NIO soldiers, as well... Did she even have the authority to make such a request? She was such a low rank... maybe her family name would save her and her soldiers, this one time...

"This is Officer Iʀɪᴢɪ'ʀᴏᴋ'ᴀᴍᴍɪ, Aide-de-camp to Irizi'ro'kanto," she said in a stern voice, pleading that Kanto would not be upset with her for such a dire moment as she spoke over a wide broadcast over the comms - hoping it would reach NIO, not knowing their specific channels - "I am guarding Evac Shuttle 2AA, and we're taking fire from an enemy sniper - hold the passengers back in cover before we deal with the sniper!" She peaked her head out, just barely, being forced to duck back down when she saw the muzzle flash of the rifle, "I desperately need Artillery support," she tried to ascertain in her head the snipers location without a proper map, "NIO and Chiss soldiers falling due to them..... request target on... Papa Quebec.... Zero Five Nine... Zero Nine Eight... Zero Three, eight degrees, two-hundred meters." These were Chiss coordinates, and Ziroka had to translate them on the fly. While the angle may be off, the sniper would be in proximity no matter what.

"Keep your heads down until we get some kind of support here!" Ziroka yelled, not on comms, "I say again, Officer Iʀɪᴢɪ'ʀᴏᴋ'ᴀᴍᴍɪ, Aide-de-camp to Irizi'ro'kanto, requesting target on Papa Quebec Zero Five Nine Zero Nine Eight Zero Three.... eight degrees, two-hundred meters. We've got an enemy sniper taking out NIO machine gunners and Chiss soldiers!" She broadcasted this on a wide frequency for the allies.​

 

[TK-818]

Location: Debris Field/ Battle
Tags: Yula Perl [ok u right] | Dagon Kaze [this guypunches babies]

He regained full mental composure, a weight lifted from the depths of his mind, a fog cleared from his senses. Shaking off the remnants of mental tug-of-war he narrowed his vision and focused in on the escaping star fighter as a massive crimson beam pierced the void.

Mercy had fired, the battlestation’s superlaser left a swath of devastation in it’s wake from the single reactor burst. The Knight of Ren could only look in awe for the brief moment of it’s bright luminance over the space battle before turning his attention immediately back to the Jedi. The engines screamed to life as the Vornskr sped back to the station, the target of the New Jedi Order.

The jet black vessel slowed to a crawl as it approached the hangar bay, the very same he witnessed them enter from afar. The scene of destruction from the crashed landing and Maw casualties only a confirmation as he pulled the Ren transport inside. The ominous frame of the stealth ship passed through the luminous blue shield wall and slowly lowered itself down into a clear area just wide enough for the vessel to land undisturbed.

The loading ramp dropped violently, steam and exhaust venting out, clouding the immediate area. Metal boots crashed down onto the walkway, heavy footed steps as the two marauder escorts came down weapons at the ready followed by the Knight of Ren, Sinh.

His visor snapped to, immediately facing the direction of his opponents with an emotionless veiled glare hidden by his onyx mask. Hatred bubbling forth, ready to be unleashed.

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

The Inferno
Ultrachrome Armor
Mor-Ghaash Rotgar

​

The sudden chaos outside the doors drew Vulcanus' attention, his molten gaze already fixated on the door as it burst open. A hammer swung through the air and the crunch of bones followed soon after as The Worm's door-side guardians were reduced to oozing piles of shattered metal. The Graug priests beside The Black Flame hissed and screeched at the intruders, their fangs dripping with green slime as they raised ultrachrome spears in defense of their living god. The hammer wielding lesser stood triumphant in the doorway as his men took to reducing more of the room's inhabitants to smoking corpses.

For a moment the darkside flared as The Worm's guards moved to strike - but it quickly tapered off as The Worm commanded them to cease. The Graug had no such reservations, nor did Vulcanus care to stop them. A priest from Vulcanus' right twirled his spear, the blind monk becoming a blur as he deflected the incoming rounds of the NIO operator. After bridging the gap between them by a few meters, the priest spun his entire body before launching the polearm with incredible speed and precision. The scream of pain came as a groan garble through blood as the spear punched through the neck gap of the armor, severing the airway and pushing out the back of his neck. The second priest did much the same, jumping from the platform holding The Worm and Vulcanus and running through the hail of blaster fire that plinked from the Tal'beskar like spit wads. The operator was dispatched with a quick spear sweep of the leg and a finishing impalement.

Their attack did not press onto Silas, to do so would be to stray much too far from the warmth of their God. Instead they offered the force-using trooper snarls and hisses as The Worm mocked him. Then the SIth'ari mentioned tests and mettle, calling upon Darth Vulcanus to step forth and bring upon the lesser-thing a glimpse of power.

The Black Flame scoffed, stepping down from the platform with fiery eyes fixed on Silas.

"Test? No, this is nothing more than an annoyance" The great beast mused in a voice like thunder, "this lesser-thing knows nothing."

Trophies swung freely from the Great Khaan's belt - a lightsaber from Allyson Locke, a cybernetic arm from the Jedi Ryv and a helm from a Mandalorian slain on his recent escapade. Casually Vulcanus reached for his belt and unlatched the massive sheath of The Inferno from his side - handing off in passing to one of his priests who took a knee and bowed its head. "He will live only if I find his screams amusing. Die if I so demand it."

Reaching out with The Force, Vulcanus focused on the handle of Silas' hammer and willed the metal to heat. Assuming nothing stopped him, the metal would becoming glowing hot - enough to cook the flesh of the hands holding it. "Let us give you a fighting chance" Vulcanus mocked, pulling the spear from the neck of the first operator with a wet clap. The spear was still short in the behemoth's hands - but when he called for the spear of another priest and threw it to Silas the weapon would appear to be almost too big as it was meant for beasts much taller than a human.

"Attack, lesser" Vulcanus demanded, stamping the butt of the spear against the durasteel floors.

 

[Syd Celsius]

Syd cursed as Tegan Starfall enacted her ritual. Most parts of her ritual were serious but it was the chaos portion of the ritual that had her concerned the most...she knew even Tegan would be affected by it.

It betrayed her hidden desperation, in Syd's mind. If you're willing to use a ritual that puts even yourself at risk, are you really in control of the situation?

Obviously not...rather than try to engage them, Tegan had booked it for the turbo lift.

Starlin Rand went for the children but this was a dangerous ritual. She could also feel his growing anger as one of the reactors fired, killing thousands in an instant. But it wasn't the same as a planet blowing up. Just typical Sith Cruelty. Starlin would know when a planet exploded.

Syd, used to that level of death, only winced

"Starlin, be extremely careful...she's enacted a chaos ritual...among other things...and get control of your emotions...don't feed that anger in you..." she advised calmly, going up to to the symbol in one corner, controlling thd chaos magic, greatly irritated at this point. The gravity shifted from making her steps toward it ultra slow, to flinging her upwards.

Syd tried to fly, but the chaos magic sabotaged that, and her whole body unexpectedly let out a Force push that flung her into a support beam. Painfully. Her side slammed painfully into it, nearly cracking a rib, the magics in her suit providing some resistance to the effects of the magic by still alowing her to heal from the injury, but at a vastly slower rate. She let off a Force push again, this time by will, and it propelled her bizarrely slowly to the location...before gravity shifted again, flinging her painfully back to the ground.

She looked at the symbols. Ordinary magic would be too dangerous to try on this. She needed to use an especially dangerous, pernicious magic. The very magic that she was partly composed of, that still bore traces in her flesh.

She needed magic not typically bound to typical laws. Magic bound to the very forces that gave order to the Universe itself.

Syd cut open her palm, flesh shuddering on her everywhere disgustingly as she traced algebra-like runes over the chaos symbol. The Magic of the Kolda-Bratha Calculus began to constrict and "pause" the effects of the chaos magic, allowing Syd to use her powers again, albeit requiring much more focus than usual...Tegan's chaos magic was truly a pernicious thing to suppress. At the very least Starlin would be able to use most of his powers without too much difficulty. She hoped he had been paying attention to her tutaminis use.

Don't give into anger Starlin. she called telepathically. Center yourself. Push emotion out of it and focus.

She flew with great effort to the turbolift, conjuring a pool of flames in the shaft above Tegan, than another pool of flames in front of her.

"Ashla, transport me through my element..." Syd whispered, diving into the flames, and exiting out into the shaft above Tegan. Syd had made sure to keep a tighter scan on Tegan's aura in the Force than she had previously, to avoid getting caught off guard by another escape.

She dived, her Lightsabers activating as they bit into the top of the turbolift, trying to kill Tegan inside, whispering a foul curse on the turbolift to make it extremely difficult for Tegan to escape via phasing as she had before...

 

[Kaleleon]

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

Secondary saber wound to the shoulder, and a nasty daze of the conjoined headbutt. We were fighting with all of our might to try and get control of the now active saber. The weapon was in the same situation as the pistol was earlier. "Our" saber. Even mentioned directly by the Maw Warrior. Now given the chance to use my own saber against me. I had hoped the blade would have activated directly in the center of his chest. Leaving a mortal wound instead of just shoulder burn it did now. Both of his hands were gripping over mine. Attempting to push the blade into me. He had two hands, while I had, in reality, one. Even if I tried to use my right hand. It had hardly any strength in it at all. Broken probably in multiple places, and missing a portion of the skin and muscle where my thumb was.

This situation became extremely dire. Instead of just fighting over the saber like an empty blaster, I decided to turn it on. Making the danger so much worse. Any focus I could have used for the force previously, was now taken by the fact of trying to resist the pushing. As soon as he started to push off the trench wall with his foot. Using the backing against me. I had no such support. Just the middle of the trench. Fighting with my own single-armed might alone. My hand and arm shook with strain. Feeling, and watching the blade drawing closer and closer towards my face. I did everything I could to move it to the side, away, or even just move it elsewhere to no avail.

I was going to die here. Adrenaline, and anger could only help for so long. Every shallow breath I took was being taken from me. My wide stance trying to hold the ground upon which I stood. Even using my right hand on my left wrist. Hoping to brace it in any form. Even if blood was still dripping from the wound. Every little bit helped. The one thing I had forgotten about was, not something about myself, but my ally.

Narma, the entire time of this fight, had been trying to tend to her wounds. Doing what she could to keep from moving her front limbs. She watched with fear that her master might perish. Something had to be done. She wouldn't be able to draw power from the bond they shared. No. She had to do everything she could to keep her master alive. Even if that meant doing something as painful as it was. She wasn't like other Tuk'ata. She could stand on her hind legs. Doing so, it took mere steps in rapid pace to close the distance. All the attempt, was to take down the being that sought to end the life of her Master. Throwing her still badly, nearly severed arms around this mongrel of a being.

Her attempt to yank him away from Kale. Even if that meant he lost his saber again. Even if that meant her arms would no longer work.

 

[Alars Keto]

Objective 3: Duel of the Fates
Location: PK-1 “Mercy”
Tags: Aaran Tafo | Jayda Vanator

The beam of light flashed up and down, dangling from the front strap of his back mounted sheathe. Moments of illumination, bolts of plasma excluded, showed the Jedi as he reacted in kind with preternatural speed and farsighted movement. He had no time to react as the lightsaber sprung to life within his sudden grip, deflecting back the first two shots back into Kryll.

The marauder was caught unawares, thinking he had gained the element of surprise or at the very least caught him somewhat off guard. The Lieutenant should of known better.

This was not the first time he had gone toe to toe with a Force-User or let alone a Jedi at that. He carried many scars from his past fights with the religious monks of peace and a deep seated hatred for being placed in the bowels of the Osseriton Penal Colony at their hands. The humiliation of his greatest defeat drove him to learn, to fight harder.

Sent on his back, the savage swordsman felt the searing pain on his shoulder from the shot that grazed him, peeling away flesh and melting it all the same. The second shot had hit his chest plate, he could feel the smoldering heat of the nearly burned through piece as the bolt hole simmered and drew small traces of smoke.

Unclipping the plate from his chest, he slid the piece of armor off and stood once more free from the weight. His arm was tender and sore, the pain from the burns immense. He would still fight under the burden of pain, this was nothing compared to the trials one entered as a slave soldier. The Maw had taught him to fight or die, there was nothing else that mattered.

Kryll readied himself into stance with his filament edged Atrisian war blade at the ready and approached slow, weary of his opponent’s next move as the cybernetic Jedi killer lashed forth.

 

[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 Mongrel was winning. Bit by bit, he could feel the injured Jedi's strength fading. Bit by bit, the bright blue blade drew closer to his enemy's face. He knew that Kale was truly desperate when the other man tried to brace his overwhelmed left arm with his broken, blood-slick right; the pain of it must have been intense. The marauder had to admire his foe's strength and discipline. "You will be my worthiest kill yet," he hissed, shoving harder against the wall as he tried to push the lightsaber that final few inches into Kale's flesh. His muscles strained, and sweat trickled down his back despite Csilla's cold. "The trophy I take from you will sit in a place of honor."

He hadn't decided how to display the azure blade yet, once he pried it from Kale's cold, dead hands. It would be awfully heavy and bulky to wear on a necklace, but if he didn't display it prominently, for all to see, what was the point? He supposed he could keep it on his belt, but it would need something else attached to it, some additional ornament to draw the eye. Perhaps he would hang the Jedi's ears from the bottom of the weapon... but it might be better to use his fingers. Ears rotted, after all. Bones would last much longer, and they would make a clattering noise when they struck each other as he walked, a macabre set of wind chimes. Yes, that sounded promising.

The Jedi was shrinking back now, trying to find some way to evade the laser sword that was steadily inching toward his head... but there was nowhere to go. If he tried to jump back, he would have to let go of the lightsaber, and he would still be in range of The Mongrel's swing. The tight confines of the trench forced them together, to be parted only by death. Breathing hard, maintaining his iron grip so that his sweaty hands would not slip, the marauder took a step forward, forcing the mage-knight back. He would back Kale into the wall of the trench, pin him there, and force this pretty plasma blade right through the Jedi's neck. His little invisible headbutt shield wouldn't help against that.

In the excitement and desperation of the struggle, however, The Mongrel had forgotten something... or at least misjudged it. He had watched Narma fall into the trench, front limbs nearly severed by the monofilament trap, and had immediately counted her out of the fight. Since then she had been beneath his notice, save in his momentary fantasies of forcing Kale to watch as he tortured the worthless creature in her last moments. A shuffling from down the trench caused The Mongrel to realize that he had made a terrible mistake, one that might cost him his life. Before he could turn to react, several hundred pounds of wounded but living Tuk'ata crashed into him.

The Mongrel yanked hard on Kale's lightsaber as he went down, but couldn't keep his grip; he could only hope that the jolt of Narma's sudden impact had torn the weapon from both their grasps, sending it spinning off down the trench, because he was definitely dead if the Jedi kept ahold of it... or managed to get it back before he could rise. The tuk'ata, walking on her hind legs, had wrapped her injured forelimbs around the marauder and shoved, forcing them both down into the muddy slush at the bottom of the trench. He knew he had scant seconds to save himself before her powerful jaws closed around his head and crushed it like an overripe melon.

The Mongrel hit the ground hard, jarring his cracked ribs, but forced himself to focus through the pain. Though Narma was on top of him, her weight pushing the breath from his lungs and trapping his right arm against his side, he could still move his left. So he reached down, fingertips straining, scrabbling in the filthy snow... and managed to reach the vibroknife he kept in his boot. He grinned, his mask knocked askew to reveal crooked teeth stained with his own blood. There was nowhere for the wounded beast to go. So he stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed, his serrated blade finding the gaps between the plates of Narma's armored hide over and over.

Finally, the wounded creature let out a long, low whine and lay still.

Gathering his strength, The Mongrel pushed her body off of him and struggled to rise. He was covered in the tuk'ata's blood, even more battered and bruised than he had been before, but there was no time to pause and catch his breath. He had no idea what Kale had been up to in the twenty or thirty seconds he'd grappled with Narma, and he needed to find the Jedi before he figured out where his weapon had landed. "Now, where were we?" he hissed, flicking thick arterial blood from the end of his blade. Winded, he almost stumbled sideways, and had to brace himself on the wall of the trench. He had to finish this soon, he knew. He'd given almost everything he had.

Note: permission to strike Narma was given by her writer.​