Invasion How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex

[DT-1966]

​

Coruscant – Upper Levels
Drop Pod Deployment – Comm Silence Active
Death Trooper Squad "Vanta Six"
Operatives: Sid Berik , DT-1966 , DT-7747, @others



Rain sizzled off his armor, steam curled in ribbons from the heated plating of his drop pod nearby, radiating warmth. DT-1966 stood motionless, E-11D braced tight against his shoulder. The green glow of his HUD flickered, interference came in everywhere.

Civilian chatter.

Screams.

Alliance emergency frequencies.

He cut through it all, isolating the squad net. Still distorted, but readable. He moved.

Taking corners, he made for the broken halls and shattered stairs. Making for the upper walkways of the Coruscanti skyline to rendezvous with the team. Movement. A figure advanced low, disciplined, his tag hitting the scanner across his HUD. Sid Berik , Vanta Six Actual, the Sergeant crouched beside him. Approaching, two fingers tapped against the temple of DT's helmet, then a downward point.

Signal clear.

DT-1966 gave a curt nod, no words uttered. Instead, the Death Trooper rotated his wrist-mounted data module, cycling a few frames before holding it at an angle for Sid to see. A blurred overhead scan from a last-second orbital ping before the planetary shields slammed shut. Dull red markers, possible pod impacts, most of them too hot to confirm survival. He pointed out smoke plumes and static signatures.

1966 tapped two points with a gloved finger, making his CO aware of the west alley, rooftop access. A potential route.

Then, finally, his voice hissed through the scrambled vocoder,"T̵̼̿w̴͖̓ö̸́ͅ z̵̩͒e̶͔̐r̴̨̋o̵̳͗. V̸͔̚a̵͓̓n̵͙̎ț̶͑ā̴̢-̴͓̀S̸̥̅i̶̛̼x̶͓̓, ̶͍̽i̷͇͐n̴̛̟i̶̠̓t̷̼͝í̴͇a̴̛̟l̷͓̏ p̶̢̛ö̶͓́i̴̦̋n̸͙͛t̴̜͂ h̸̯͛ĕ̴̳l̸̤̑d̴̜͊. ̵̡̊C̴̬̽o̵̻̒m̴̼̈́m̸̺̈́s̶͓͑ l̴̺̓i̷̺͂m̶̠͝i̷̠̊t̸̺̔e̷͖͘d̴̢͘." He turned slightly, aiming his carbine upward toward the higher levels, flickers of Alliance armor moving along a catwalk two stories up. 1966 leaned back into the alley shadow.

He kept still, awaiting orders.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Giggling and the pattering of little feet swept through the penthouse unit. A small, dark haired child ran through the rooms chased by a larger, finely clothed man.

"Oh, you can't get away from me!" the man said, as he pretended to prowl.

The child squealed and ran towards his mother, the pregnant redheaded woman that lounged on one of the couches within the living room, a datapad in her hand as she read from one of the Coruscant medical journals in an effort to keep up with the latest trends. He climbed up onto the couch and curled up beside her for protection from his father, who slowed down as he neared, and smiled, not even the least bit winded after the chase.

"I see how it is," he said, putting his hands on his hips. "You think your mother will protec-"

He was cut off as a sudden ominous feeling wafted over him. Something was wrong. Danger. The Force alerted him to the presence of those that should not have been anywhere near the world. Worse, their presence put his family in danger.

"What's wrong?" Anavi asked, looking up at him with a frown deepening on her face.

Her powers werent as attuned as his were. Kastiel, however, had started to cry, and he'd received no training at all by this point. Caelan didn't answer, instead motioning towards the guard near the door.

"Telc, take them to the nearest shelter with a full guard unit."

"Caelan?" Anavi asked again. "You're scaring me."

As Telc called for the rest of the contingent, Caelan looked to Anavi. "Sith are present on Coruscant, or, at least, Darksiders are. In numbers. I sense death and destruction. You have to take Kastiel and get to the shelter with Telc."

Anavi stiffened at what he said, but nodded and dropped her datapad onto the couch. She grabbed Kastiel by the hand, the boy continuing to cry as she drug him towards the door. Telc was the head of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Devit. If there was anyone that could ensure the safety of the Queen and Prince it was him and his team. Caelan had utmost confidence in their ability to do so. He wouldn't worry, much, about their safety unless whatever was happening out there went really poorly.

As Anavi and Kastiel moved through the door, they all winced at the sudden feeling of overwhelming malaise that was cast over them. Someone out there was using a dark version of battle meditation to try and control the populace of the world in their favor. Caelan did what he always did and focused on his reason for fighting, specifically his friends and family. Telc wasnt going into combat, just leading the Queen and Prince to safety so it didn't affect him too badly, but it didn't feel good. The feeling, however, was quickly counteracted by the efforts of someone that Caelan was very familiar with, the same person that had helped him defeat his mental block and who had promoted him to the rank of Knight: Grandmaster Noble.

With his pregnant wife and child now n their way to safety, Caelan went to his quarters and opened the wardrobe. Within, he pulled out a trunk and placed his hand upon the biometric scanner. It accepted his palmprint, and then Caelan used the Force to activate the secondary lock from the utside, which allowed the trunk to open and reveal his armor and lightsaber. He pulled it out and began to get dressed into his combat outfit, something that he had hoped he wouldn't need a nytime soon, but as usual, he did. The last time he'd worn armor similar to it had been on Woostri, and that had resulted in him losing an arm to Lirka Ka . He didn't intend to allow that to happen again.

Once he was properly suited up, and his lightsaber was in his hand, he reached out through the Force and felt for the strongest contingent of darkness he could. Moreover, he felt for the closest. The penthouse that he owned, well, the Kingdom owned, was not too far from the Senate building. There was a darkness there that surpassed much of what he could feel on the world, and because of its proximity, it posed the greatest threat to his family.

Since he'd felt the relief given by Valery Noble and heard her messages, he reached out to her through the Force. Master Noble, it's Caelan. I'm not far from the Senate building. Who do we have in the vicinity and would you advise I help them? I sense a large concentration of darkness there.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Ran Serys | Ren | Sahar | Darth Solipsis | Shannic Wulf ​

 

[Tayiji]

|| HOW LIBERTY DIES ||
Epiphany - Chapter 1
———
TAG: Allyson Locke | Drystan Creed | Meliant | Zaavik Perl
​

FEED YOUR HEAD
​

CORUSCANT

The Coruscant skyline was a maelstrom of light and fire. Imperial gunships carved paths through the smog-choked air, their crimson energy bolts lashing out at the defending Alliance crafts. Explosions rippled across distant districts, painting the perpetual twilight in stark, orange hues. It was war on a planetary scale, a symphony of destruction Tayiji had become accustomed to.

The aftermath of the prison break was a controlled chaos. Alarms still blared in the distance, but Tayiji and Zaavik were already a phantom presence in Coruscant's lower levels. If the street above is a battleground, then the underground is a bloodbath. The Dark Side Elite moved with an almost preternatural awareness, a dark silhouette weaving through the pandemonium. He bypassed skirmishes and slaughters, scaled ruined structures, and slipped through alleyways, his gaze fixed on the towering silhouette of the Jedi Temple.

The closer they got, the more intense the fighting became around the ancient structure, and there he felt the pulsating excitement of the Bogan’s strain entrenched in his blood. The infamous Ibaris Varanin Battle Meditation, just hours after she cut a dimensional rift for him to rescue the Zeltron, Bogan bless the princess of darkness. He uses the invigorating boost to establish a supernatural link to the Nexus; searching for a way in.

The Temple's interior was a discordant symphony in the Force; a mixture of fear, pain, and the stark, aggressive presence of the Dark Side Elite. Below, The Marauder had not simply walked. He had imposed himself upon the Force Nexus. It was a chaotic network, but one that, with precise application of will, could be navigated. He felt the Temple's every tremor, every shift in its power, and used it. He manipulated the currents, invading the spiritual architecture with a focused intent that bypassed the physical sight.

The training chamber was a spectacle of colors, the flash of lightsabers cutting through the gloom. Padawans fell before the ruthless efficiency of Zaavik and Meliant. The air was thick with the scent of burned flesh.

Tayiji stepped into the chamber, his arrival as silent and inevitable as a shadow. He did not announce his presence. He simply was there, a solid point of calm in the swirling violence. His gaze swept over the scene, registering the fallen, the Dark Side Elite and the initiate, and the last, desperate struggles. There was no judgment, no emotion. Only the cold assessment of the task. He had arrived.

“We are close, indeed…” Tayiji growled, ignoring Meliant’s quip on his late arrival, "Come."

 

[Domaric Mordane]

Allies: The Dark Side Elite | Imperius Indomitus
Enemies: Connel Vanagor | Magdalena Bloodscrawl | The Jedi

The wind shrieked between the towers, carrying the acrid scent of smoke and ionized durasteel across the ruins of Sector 401. Somewhere above, obscured by the vertical madness of Coruscant's skyline, Sunfyre roared. The dragon's shadow passed over a fractured promenade as its wings beat against the choking air, dislodging debris and dust in its wake. Flames trailed like scars. Buildings cracked, groaned, and collapsed under the pressure. But the beast was no berserker—it flew with deadly purpose. Mordane had seen that for himself. The 323rd Stormtrooper Legion was sweeping the skies clean, carving a corridor of ruin toward the Temple.

And he followed.

The ground beneath his boots was a graveyard of war machines and crumbling institutions. Mechanized columns from the 17th Expeditionary and 21st Mechanized Divisions crawled through shattered courts and abandoned transit hubs, marking progress in blocks, not klicks. Every meter was taken twice—once from defenders, and again from the city itself. Coruscant did not surrender its secrets easily. Its architecture wasn't urban; it was monolithic. Every thoroughfare branched into ten more. Every level stacked above another like some mad architect's fever dream. Every shadow concealed a rifleman, every ledge a sniper.

"We're losing tempo," growled Sergeant Major Trell Varo, the senior enlisted Stormtrooper overseeing Sunfyre's ground push. His armor was scoured from block-to-block fighting, the red pauldrons blackened by soot and ash. "Second Battalion's bottlenecked near the Galactic City Spaceport. They're supposed to be holding fires and covering our advance, but the enemy's collapsed the upper galleries around them. We're rerouting squads through maintenance shafts just to bypass a goddamn café."

The spaceport's skeletal remains loomed in the distance, a shattered labyrinth of docking bays and half-destroyed orbital freighters. Fires Command, Second Battalion, was caught in a deadly vise—pinned between narrow corridors and overlapping kill zones. Their blaster volleys lit up the night like violent stars, but without the ability to advance, their suppressive fire was increasingly ineffective. Each frustrated salvo echoed back as a reminder of how the city itself fought alongside the defenders.

Mordane clenched his jaw. Without his artillery, the entire advance risked stalling.

A lieutenant interrupted, voice clipped. "Sir, SIGINT is picking up patterned strikes. Electronics and comm relays—precise hits, surgical in nature. It's deliberate."

Mordane's gaze sharpened. "Omega?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant confirmed. "Small team, high skill. Targeting our supply lines, disrupting the link-up with the other Legion. Looking for you, sir."

Varo laughed. "They're hunting you."

Mordane nodded slowly. "Let them. Pattern strikes mean they're showing themselves. They'll slip. We'll find them."

He looked out across the shattered skyline, the relentless roar of Sunfyre beating the air like a war drum. "We clear the skies. We clear the streets. Every intersection, every sub-level. Every flare, every shadow. Open the lines. Alter our rear patrol routes. When Omega strikes again, we will be waiting for them."

Beneath that cold certainty, Mordane's mind was a calculating machine. He wasn't merely reacting to the parasite biting at his flanks—he was setting a snare. Supply lines would be left deliberately exposed and then sealed off like pressure valves. Burnt-out sectors were to be reopened, baited with false munitions caches and sabotaged comm relays designed to lure Omega out of hiding. Varo would see to it that disinformation was fed through hacked frequencies, sending phantom troop movements and supply convoys through channels the enemy could intercept.

He imagined them now, the ghost squad—small, lethal, and fast—drawn in by the scent of easy prey. Waiting in the narrow, crumbling corridors beneath Coruscant, blasters trained like hunting rifles. The trap was designed to snuff them out, to ignite every shadow they tried to hide in.

"No siege. No diplomacy. When you find that little gnat, bring them to me" Mordane said, lips curving into a grim smile.

 

[Zantra]

Post #2
| Location | Coruscant, approaching Galactic City Spaceport
| Objective | #1
| Allies | GE/DSE
| Tags | Talsin Lota & Tansu Treicolt

The silhouette of her figure could be made out under a lattice of scaffolding and beams -- some area that had been under construction; today the crew had been off perhaps, maybe that was for the best. She skirted the ledge. From up here, the city looked unchanged -- its usual gleaming sprawl of towers and speeders, too loud and too full of itself to notice what was coming. Or, maybe its people had just been preoccupied with their own woes to care; what could they really do?

There was a stench in the air, something sour and musky, and for a brief second she had flashed back to Lotho Minor. Burning coolant, metallic dusk, and anything that rotted beneath the junk, had conditioned her stomach to fight this stench -- they were all a lot stronger than this. But briefly, just briefly she remembered those moments of struggle, which left her hungry. A girl born into the life of a scrapper with no arms, she shouldn't have survived at all. Then she traded one identity for another. Limits were only temporary barriers to entry to her now.

Then there was that rumbling, droning -- low, resonant, like a distant mini engine or vibration; her probe droid had returned with intel. She cut a quick look over her shoulder, then promptly met it center of the platform. A holographic image of Talsin sprang to life, showering her immediate world in static-blues, breaking up the metallic oranges, and making the deep shadows even deeper. It had good news. He had been spotted.

Galactic City Spaceport, pretty prominent in its heyday, she hadn't a clue of its popularity now. Though, per the intel, she knew to expect crowds, and they'd likely break into a panic and create chaos once the invasion started --

A beat.

-- The first turbolasers lit the sky. Then the swarms of TIE's; the invasion had begun.

As tremors of the invasion rolled across the city, her probe droid pinged his location to the mid-sector spaceport. The projection shut off and she turned toward the lift. It was time.

Her lift descended from perilous heights, falling right into a underlay of the Galactic City, cutting between freight corridors and transit lines while the first signs of planetary unrest rippled overhead. Sirens were starting to rise. Air traffic had shifted, patrols were getting tighter, there was more erratic movement and sudden reroutes, the early fracture of routine.

And beneath it all, she felt it; the quiet pressure of something vast and unseen folding around the planet. A subtle alignment. Her reflexes feeling sharper, breath growing steadier. Someone was steering the tide. ( Ibaris Varanin - X)

Her route to the spaceport was mapped. Her window was narrow. And she knew exactly where he'd be when it closed.

----

Spoiler: Storyline Themes

Synopsis: War erupts across Coruscant, and a secret assassin closes in — but some destinies are always just out of reach.
Backdrop: A 'How Liberty Dies | GE Invasion of GA held Coruscant Super Hex' Story

• Identity being erased or rewritten under pressure
• Being "seen" or "acknowledged" in a world of deniable assets
• Duality of pursuit: emotional distance vs physical chase
• Ghosts of past orders (Jedi, nobility) vs instruments of a new regime

 

[Drystan Creed]

CORUSCANT: JEDI TEMPLE

A reply crackled through Allyson's communicator, deep and unmistakably familiar.

"Oh... it's you," Drystan said. His monotone voice came through clearly despite the muffled chaos in the background—blaster fire, distant detonations, and surges of Force energy.

He moved between bursts of battle, saber still unignited as he tackled a Dark Jedi through a wall, rubble collapsing around him as he rose, standing over his now-unconscious prey.

"Forget the black site. We've got a situation at the temple. I need every hand I can get. And if what I saw at the Kaggath was anything to go by... I'm going to need yours specifically."

With that, he closed the channel. The situation demanded his full attention.

The wall he had crashed through opened into a hallway—now packed with Imperial forces. Blasters, red blades, and an array of weaponry all aimed at him in unison.

The losses had been heavy. Every second spent here meant more lives were lost. Drystan clenched his fist as he stared down the intruders.

He felt a presence brush against his mind— Ibaris Varanin 's battle meditation creeping in. His brow furrowed for a moment before Valery Noble 's influence pushed it back, shielding his thoughts well enough that he dismissed the interference entirely. He scoffed and let the psychic clash fade into the background.

His focus remained solely on the enemies in front of him—unwelcome guests who had long overstayed.

Screams echoed from the training chamber doors, laced with blaster fire and the hum of sabers. The noise grew louder... then quieter. Fewer screams. Fewer shots. Until silence.

Then the doors opened.

Waves of heat rolled in as smoke and fire spilled through the threshold. A Dark Jedi, bloodied and broken, crawled into the room—reaching desperately toward the trio of Dark Side Elite. His trembling limbs stretched as if begging for help.

And then came the bootsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Getting closer.

Drystan entered the chamber at a steady pace, his silhouette backlit by flame.

Without breaking stride, he caught up to the crawling knight and raised a boot—bringing it down squarely onto the back of his head. A sickening crunch echoed as skull met stone, followed by a crack of bone and the crash of rubble.

He surveyed the trio ahead with a single, steady glance, tilting his head slightly. His expression was blank. Discerning. Cold.

Then his right hand moved—pushing his black cloak aside, palm hovering over the saber on his opposite hip.

"So," he said, tone calm but sharp, "how do you want to do this?"

"We can do one-on-ones or you can all attack me at once. It doesn't matter to me."

There was no bluff in his voice. No hesitation. Just confidence—dangerously close to arrogance.

And he meant every word.

EQUIPMENT IN BIO

ALLIES: Allyson Locke

ENEMIES: Meliant Tayiji Zaavik Perl

 

[Talon Draven]

Objective: Corrupt the Nexus
Location: Jedi temple, Coruscant
Tags: Prowler II | Voldran Molf | Kaleb Sunwalker | Orran

He was dreadfully late.

Touching down where the chaos awaited, the release gate opened upon Talon's ship as the tall frame of the man stood there quietly. He could hear the sounds of war, feel the battle meditation from none other than Ibaris Varanin herself. It was darkness and madness seeping in such a calm and comforting way to the man. Still, he had business to attend. Lightsaber on his hip, he was prepared for any and all without a second thought, though he needed to connect with those inside.

Stepping forward and out, troopers nodded their heads as some held position outside as his ship departed and he followed into the temple. Like a hound sniffing for it's master, Talon reached out with every step looking for those he needed to rendezvous with.

The wave of light washed over in, battling with the constant darkness of their own forces. Talon could feel his mind swimming in disgust and comfort, like he was being pulled from both arms. Once he had entered the temple it was worst. He could feel the light pulsing from within. Had there been a time his family hadn't seen him as a monster perhaps he would have ended up here. Weak. That's what the Jedi were. Their temples so easily shaken when darkness encroached. He let out a half laugh at the thought of such righteous people claiming to be the protectors of good all the while subjugating themselves to nothing more than slaves to something that didn't respect them.

He moved forward. He could sense the traces of his allies making their way through and followed the same path. Quietly, slowly, like a cat stalking it's prey. Moving along the wall, a mutilated ventilation shaft and the traces of his allies' tendrils reached out. This was where they made their grand entrance. Looking around and entering into the hole, the form moved silently like the night. If he wasn't too late, he should have been coming up on them.

Forward he moved, listening and sensing. The constriction of the light was suffocating. Even though the temple was no longer at it's peak, it still sat upon holy grounds. Talon's jaw clenched. They would take this and they would corrupt it for the Empire. The people needed to understand the Jedi were not their friends, they were not there to protect them, the Jedi were around to protect themselves and their own teachings. A selfish group. Nevertheless, they would be exterminated like the vermin they were when the Empire ruled.

He stopped hearing the voice of someone he knew. Voldran Molf spoke quietly and politely like he always did. He was close! Surging forward with swift movements, he made his presence known with a small pulsating wave. Appearing behind his comrades, Talon gave a nod of his head.

"I have come to assist."

 

[Cesare Demici]

Engaging: Jonyna Si

March

The dropship was largely quiet, save for the brief, necessary communication. Those aboard were hardened from years of plasma and flame. Some were even recognizable from Cesare's days as a young, naive Imperial Knight. Those days now seemed an eternity ago, lost in a fog of distant memory. Yet, the son of the late Pietro Demici often found himself attempting to traverse that very mist, seeking some form of solace in what may lurk therein... but there was no solace to be found. No absolution. Just more darkness... more fear... more regret...

And then, suddenly... a blinding light...

His mind snapped to the present, his gaze shifting toward the pilot. Of course... there was no Light waiting for him, only the machinations of the vermin that lurked near the temple below. Some Jedi filth attempting to hold back the oncoming reckoning, with Cesare and his fellow Elite playing the roll of harbinger.

For a moment, it seemed to break his concentration, forcing him to feel alone for a moment, his connection to the Dark Side seeming to dwindle. His eyes closed, his face contorting in confusion and pain as he struggled to bash his way through the Jedi's assault. There could be no defeat... not here... not like this. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his lightsaber as the wave of light pierced the walls of the ship. The walls seemed to close in...

Then, a wave of strength and resolve washed over him, his mind clearing as the great abyss of the Dark Side once again filled his soul. Battle meditation... it had to be. No doubt the work of Ibaris Varanin and her unholy machinations aboard the Sepulchre. His eyes snapped open, a wicked grin upon his face.

So it begins...

The ship, rocked from the attack, began emergency landing procedures. It was an inconvenience, but thankfully they weren't far from their target. As the craft landed, the doors opened, and from within spilled a hail of plasma, the troopers immediately beginning their attack as Cesare led the way. His words were calm, his command simple...

"Kill them all."

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

COORDINATE​

Location: Coruscant
Attire: Phantom Assault Armor
Equipment: AT-NB5 | AT-SB10 | Vibrosword
Fleet: 10th Sector Armada

Allies: Valery Noble | Caltin Vanagor | Prael'rs'akinc | Balun Dashiell | Koyi Freetaa | Ysennia Lee | Gym Halpern | Mykel Dawson | Galactic Alliance

Enemies: Voldran Molf | Rannan Kol | Domaric Mordane | Artam Macek | Remus Adair | Flannigan Tagge | Galactic Empire

The building shuddered, dust and debris knocked free from the ceiling fell upon the consoles and floor. A hand brushed the debris away, clearing the screen as the individual just as quickly returned to work. Another strike shook the building, a ceiling panel was rent free, dropping upon the head of an unsuspecting communciations officer and knocking them forward onto their console. The individual groaned softly, pushing themselves up to return to their duty as they attempted to brush off the injury. Somehow, the Galactic Empire had returned, and though an attack was suspected, it still came as a surprise, not the attack itself; the swiftness.

A loud hiss filled the room as the blast doors lurched open, stopping short for a moment as they creaked and groaned. Hands grabbed the bulk heads, pushing the doors further open as an individual stepped into the room. The black armor shown only the minimalist of markings, a simple emblem of the Galactic Alliance upon the left pauldron. Stepping forward, the individual rose their hands up, pulling the helm free and tucking it under her arm; golden-yellow hues surveyed the room as she moved forward. She had intended to be upon her vessel, though with the arrival of the enemy fleet was she momentarily stuck on the ground - however - she was still able to just as much good here as she could in orbit.

"Status?"

The woman said coldly, her focus falling upon the Holo-tank in the center of the room, stopping only momentarily as she kneeled down. Her attention fell upon the officer, their hand keeping a bandage pressed against her forehead as blood trickled down the side of their face. A quiet nod followed as she rose, a medic quickly stepping in to assist further.

"The Galactic Empire managed to strike before the Planetary Defenses were activated. An unknown number of enemy combatants have made planetfall and are making their way towards the Jedi Temple. Another group are apparently focusing on the Senate Rotunda - the Senate Guard is holding for the moment and reports are coming in that civilians have become trapped waiting for evacuation. Enemy vessels have arrived in Orbit, however, it does not appear to be the bulk of their fleet."

Her hands came to rest on the edge of the Holo-tank as she leaned forward, watching the points of light blinking in and out as they designated the movement of enemy troops and allied forces. She noticed it for a moment when she looked up, her eyes falling upon the Officer that stood across from her, watching the individual's eyes flash with a hint of doubt. Her attention was drawn to the others in the room, their movements had become sluggish, as if they were unsure of themselves or had a heavy burden placed upon them from some unknown force ( Ibaris Varanin ). Her fingers curled against the rim of the Holo-tank, nearly digging into the metallic rim before she saw the flash of hope reignite in their eyes, their speed picking up once more as their doubt and fear seemed to begin to slowly fade away as the ebbing flow of the tides.

"Valery..."

It was a hushed whisper, though it brought a slight smirk that tugged at the edge of her lips. She knew that Valery Noble had reached out - and though she, herself, would never experience the effect - it was still appreciated to have the support. Amelia's attention once more moved to the Holo-tank, watching the movements carefully, noting that Alliance forces were doing just as planned, making the Empire pay for every inch they took - and pay dearly. That smirk only grew as her golden-yellow hues seemed to flash momentarliy, becoming a vibrant and brilliant blue-hue.

"Get a message to Lt. Colonel Ysennia Lee - If she can spare a Platoon, we'll redirect them to support the Senate Guard and assist in covering the evacuation of civilians from the area. Direct any Alliance forces in the area to begin coordinating a tactical fallback towards the Jedi Temple while providing cover for Engineers and Sappers, I want enemy forces crawling through those buildings - ever second longer they take just to clear a building is a second we get to breath and reenforce."

The Officer to her right quietly nodded before stepping away toward their own terminal, the message being sent out on an encrypted channel to Alliance forces. For Amelia, this was the second Invasion of Coruscant that she would be involved with, and though the first wasn't much better - as the Dark Empire had somehow managed to build a secret Star Destroyer know one knew about beneath the Senate Building - She was sure they could reach the same outcome... Victory.

Amelia pushed herself up, her arms crossing over her chest as her attention remained on the Holo-tank, watching the movement of the fleet in orbit; she nodded quietly to herself.

"Send a message to Vice Admiral Thalu, its time..."

The Chaos on the ground was no different than the Chaos in orbit - albeit more silent than its counterpart. Those that stood defiant were not forgotten, nor would they have to stand alone for much longer. The speakers crackled, her voice coming through as the message was broadcast to the Alliance vessels.

"Commander Elrask, Captain Halpern, Jedi Knight Dawson... You've got friends incoming..."

Where sound possible to exist in the vacuum of space, the roar would have been defeaning as the behemoth arose from its slumber, the ANS Mon Mothma dropped from Hyperspace. Its movement slow as it lumbered into position only to be followed by another six dozen vessels as the 10th Armada arrived in force. Another voice crackled to life, softer - though nonetheless stern.

"This is Vice Admiral Thalu of the Galactic Alliance, all vessels form up on the Mon Mothma - our focus is to provide and hold an escape corridor for civilians to evacute from the conflict zone. Battlegroup Mothma will hold the line with Theselon Squadron supporting. I want Ascendancy Squadron to maintain the corridor while the Obsidian Skirmish Line will provide picket and escort duty for the civilians. All vessels launch your Starfighter Wings and May the Force Be With Us..."

The building shook once more, debris and dust falling upon the consoles in the room. Amelia turned away from the Holo-tank for a moment, her hand pulling out a small holographic puck as her thumb pressed against the side. She didn't need the individual to see the message, nor did she care if they didn't see it at that moment - she still needed to send it out.

"Thank You for the Assist... and May the Force Be With You Valery Noble ."

Amelia turned back toward the Holo-tank, her hand tucking the small holographic device into her belt pouch as she leaned forward. Those vibrant, brilliant blue hues fell upon the motes of light as they danced across the scaled-down dimensional grid of Corsucant.



​

 

[Remus Adair]

​

Objective III
Vexation, Rampart Class Dreadnought (X)
Coruscant Sector
Allies: Aldo Garrick | SCAR | Vireth | Innis Tarring | Artam Macek | Innis Tarring
Enemies: Prael'rs'akinc | Gym Halpern | Mykel Dawson

The Vexation and her flotilla began to fall under fire as Alliance naval assets pulled into the vector of Remus’ approach. For now the shields held up, and the longer ranged batteries began to counter fire, maintaining course and position for now. On the bridge, Remus scowled at Garrick. “As you’ve likely seen, we are out of position and under fire Admiral.” Adair coolly responded, “We have Alliance forces moving to split us up.” He continued, “As a start, if you could-“

“Admiral!” A call from the sensor quadrant, “Alliance strike craft on approach and in attack formation!” Remus scowled. But also acknowledged the interruption with a curt nod. Counsel with colleagues was critical, but so was ensuring subordinates felt confident to speak up.

“Order fighters to reinforce the fleet perimeter.” The Vice Admiral’s head turned to the crew pit. His tone was severe but not angry. He looked to the holographic display. The attack being formed was cliched but effective nonetheless, “They’re trying to make sure we can’t head off a bomber attack. Don’t let our pilots take the bait.” Adair barked to the fighter coordination suite. His analysis clinical. He had cut his teeth as a junior officer in coordinating such attacks, “Let the picket line screen the fighters. Concentrate our squadrons on intercepting their bombers.”

Remus’ attention returned to Garrick, “If you could ensure that your vessels can move and aid my formation, we should be able to skewer them as we advance toward the shield proper.” he looked to the display of the battle, “I would also request Admiral,” he was sure to keep his tone even and contrite, “That you lend some fighter support to us, the Alliance are going to try and distract our fighter wings. Leave us vulnerable to bombers.” Remus added, “If we could link up with the Sepulchre and it’s grouping, we might be able to envelope them. And hold out against their counter attack.” He snapped, “But till then, keep each other on priority one comms. I have the sinking feeling we are about to be in the thick of it.”

The fighters of the Vexation and her escort now began to fan out into defensive positions around the larger capital vessels in an attempt to use the larger hulls and their point defence cannons to weed out the errant fighter assault. The Escolta-Class Frigates supplied a tremendous amount of flak, an attempt to mitigate the oncoming assault.

“KriegsGeist activated sir!” An engineer barked. A boon to be sure. With the activation of the battle computer an additional layer of tactical support was added to the imperial naval element. Broadcast to all crews, pilots, subsystems and gunners telemetry data which would markedly improve their efficiency. A gift from Admiral Regent Rausgeber.

“Begin comms jam,” Adair ordered. The Vexation had a whole host of commmunications jamming equipment, “And before you say it,” he jabbed a finger to the jamming technicians whom he could just tell was going to say something insufferable, “I know the field of channels is too bloody large to capture it all.” The imperial snidely chided, “See if we can muck those fighters about, at least. Please.” The imperial captain sarcastically drawled.

“It will be done sir.” The Jamming Lieutenant affirmed with a salute. Comms jamming commenced in haste. The Rampart class dreadnoughts comms jamming was not a sophisticated matter. The vessel had been designed to be able to jam entire cities or continents during counter terrorism or planetary invasion operations. With how fast and quick the X wings and their associates bombers were coming, the best the Vexation’s crew could muster would be to be able to scramble comms between the strikecraft. As well as hamper their ability to coordinate with their tactical command.

“Sir,” The Chief Comms Officer remarked, “Captain Haine of the Prefsbelt. An additional formation of strikecraft corvettes are moving on her position.” Now this was curious. A squadron of corvettes guided by fighters. The X wing squadron dodged and weaved through the outer of the imperial fleet, past the gargantuan Reprisal-class battlecrusier, until they reached the eye of the imperial fleet. Narrowly avoiding the smothering barrage of turbolaser fire offered by the warship. As they approached the X Wing’s found their mark on the hull of the Rampart-class, managing to briefly override the shields and opening the way for a strike on Adair’s flagship. The ship shuddered briefly, but the resilience of the larger vessels' shields and armour ensured the impact was minimal. A bank of quad turbolasers rendered inoperable. But it was not a severe or crippling blow. That and the loss of a secondary battery did not inherently hinder the Vexation. Remus was hardly intending to slug it out ship to ship.

Adair glared as the strike occurred, “Order Haine to try and detain this force.” He realised it was fruitless to allow one dreadnought to try to assault the group, “She has authorisation to make use of Commander Banning’s Cacadore’s and Gurkha's, see if she can lure them into her tractor beams.” Prael'rs'aknic's daring raid into the heart of the imperial fleet was repaid in kind as a pack of cacadore class corvettes began to follow them, attempting to shepard her formation into the gaping maw of the Reprisal-class battlecruiser.

Remus stood tall and watched the display with an even gaze. This was hardly an ideal scenario, but this could be metered yet. There had been worse disasters to salvage. “Action Three!” The sensor technician shrilly screamed, “I repeat, action three, sector six!” Action three denoted that there was a high powered weapon being primed for fire. In this case, the charging done by the ANS __—- vessel name. “Projected vector of impact is us sir!”

Adair gritted his teeth, “Prepare evasive action!” He commanded, “Helm, move evasive thrust to starboard!” The Vice Admiral barked, stomping toward the helm control quadrant. Feet thudding against the playing.

“Move, move, move!”
OOC NOTES:

Spoiler

Vessels Present:

Flagship:
Vexation, Rampart-Class Dreadnought (x)

2IC:
Prefsbelt, Reprisal Class Star Destroyer (x)

Destroyers:
Adjudication, New Imperial I Class (x)

Carnivore, New Imperial I Class

Belligerence, New Imperial I Class

Frigates Present:
Escolta-Class (x)
Dragoon-Class (x)

Corvettes Present:
Cacadore-Class (x)
Gurkha-Class (x)

IMPORTANT ACTION
The Vexation has activated the KriegsGeist (x). This is effectively a sort of battle meditation-y buff for imperial naval forces on top of the morale boost provided by the lovely Ibaris Varanin . This doesn't detriment the Alliance, just gives our lads a lil moar juice.

​

​

 

[Damian du Couteau]

Damian du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: Coruscant, Senate Building
Objective Two: With Thunderous Applause
Equipment: Blaster pistol, Father's lightsaber
Outfit

Damian remained frozen, his hands unable to move as he listened to the Chancellor. His guards motioned for him and with a stiff nod of approval from Damian they marched back outside the doors. He glanced below to his hands and found them utterly useless as they shook uncontrollably.

“Is that all you see? . . . Rarely do I ever say this but I believe you are wrong, your grace, my Chancellor.” The great noble houses of Teta beg to differ in their opinion of me.

The question held no malice, only curiosity to the answer as Damian breathed deeply in to refocus his resolve. A twisted smile began to form as the corners of his lips curled, his hands had steadied as if whatever that had screamed at him to stop was silenced. Damian went to grab his blaster pistol with his left and the hilt of his father’s lightsaber with his right.

“The Galactic Empire under Darth Solipsis have set their eyes on the Core, I will not let Teta become a battleground once again. . .” Damian spoke, his voice resolute as his thumb gently brushed the activator on the lightsaber without igniting the weapon.

“Would you be so kind as to allow yourself to be taken as a political prisoner along with me? My deal with the Treasurer would also extend to Alderaan I’m sure. Our people deserve peace, not war, no matter the cost.”

Damian’s words felt sincere, well practiced and rehearsed, but his lone eye betrayed him. His eye had welled up with tears, regret, disbelief, uncertainty, most of all fear. Damian was afraid, more afraid than when he was captured by Maw or when he sat by his sister in the hospital after she lost her arm, greater than the fear when he learned of his father’s death.

I am afraid, Alicio. . . Sor- Damian couldn’t even utter an apology in his mind. There was no point. At least not anymore.

“I am certain. The Sith envoys I met in a vain attempt to hold a diplomatic cease fire held no regard for us, but the Empire is different.” Damian lied, “-I’m tired of fighting. So if you can do me this favor and choose peace.” He kept his blaster lowered along with his lightsaber to illustrate his point.

Damian wondered if his father was rolling his grave because of this act of betrayal. It didn’t matter anymore to him, the young du Couteau heir knew he was a failed son already. All that was left to do was to keep what was left of his home from further destruction and useless strife.
​

|| Alicio Organa ||​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

HOW LIBERTY DIES | GALACTIC EMPIRE VS GALACTIC ALLIANCE.
LOCATION: Coruscant, The Jedi Temple, Main Entrance Steps.
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Echo Stone, Lightsaber.
NEARBY ALLIES: Jonyna Si , Caltin Vanagor , Taam Moghul , Thurion Heavenshield , Rikuan , Kael Dane , Magdalena Bloodscrawl
ENEMIES: Imperius Indomitus , Wymar , Voldran Molf , Rannan Kol , Domaric Mordane , Khronas , Flannigan Tagge , Orran
[Open for PvP].

Unlike the holovids and databooks that younglings adored, there was no time to think nor plan once Balun had stepped out into the open air of battle with his Amber lightsaber ablaze, painting him and instant target for which garnered the attention of some of the Imperial Forces at the base of the Temple steps as they had started their approach towards the entrance with blasters raised, opening fire on the Order's first line of defense.

Balun stepped quickly off to the left, raising his lightsaber in both hands to catch one of the blaster bolts with his blade and deflect it back towards the Imperial Legion before bending to a knee and sweeping his weapon across in a horizontal arc, the blade whirling with a powerful and audible charge of energy before he felt the impact of a second bolt hit and then be propelled off of the blade, being bounced back against the invasion army.

Years of consistent training, repetition of lightsaber kata—A series of strikes, blocks, evasive maneuvers, and parries—had been drilled into Balun's subconscious, so that his weapon had today become an extension of himself. Despite remaining isolated for years from an Order following his leave from Coruscant for years, his continued training using the cirriculum that he had recalled from their teachings, had helped to guide him in his practices for hours within meditation, honing his connection to the Force, learning to move with it, to allow himself to distinguish the difference between the direction in which the Force led him, and his feelings which ultimately distracted him.

The skies overhead exploded with a force that rocked Balun to both knees, forcing him to glance back up over his shoulder, catching sight of the remains of a starfighter going down in a ball of flames, screaming past the front of the Jedi Temple and over the side of the City Skywalk. He cursed under his breath, words that he could barely hear against the sounds of battle around him, turning back to look towards the direction of the Imperials as he raised his blade cautiously in front of him, just in case he sensed a bolt nearing too close for comfort.

Once more, he picked himself up and moved with his Lightsaber at the ready in his right hand. He walked sideways along the stairs of the Temple entrance, watching and waiting, not meeting the Imperials but choosing to let them spend their energy making their way up the stairs. In contrast, he would make the most of deflecting their blasterfire back at them, and hopefully sparing some of his allies from being harmed in the process.

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Soontir Barvel]

SHADOW SQUADRON

Shadow Five: "Whisper"

Tags: SCAR , Artam Macek

Mighty Wings

By the time the order came, Whisper was already in his cockpit, commencing last minute checks and running quick diagnostics. He had already done the same the day before, but he was nothing if not methodical. Once the TIE cleared his personal standards, his fingers flicked toward the controls, bringing the fighter to life as his masked gaze looked toward the stars beyond the containment wall of the ship. Time had only made him more stoic... more calculating... but even on the eve of battle, there was always that small moment where the great vastness of space sunk into his very being. The endless, open black, waiting for one daring enough to traverse its never-ending abyss. It was all Whisper needed in order to lock in... and lock in he did.

His TIE shot out into the great vacuum, joining the rest of Shadow Squadron as they left the safety of their destroyer behind.
​

"Shadow, form up. Wing pattern Theta. Advance with the fleet. Protect the Foederati vessels."

His own modulated response shot back, his body relaxing as he took his place in formation.

<<Shadow Five, standing by.>>

At the mention of the Foederati, Whisper did all he could to hold back an audible scoff. The denizens of the Mawsworn were little more than barbarians of a forgotten time in his eyes. Yet, if the Emperor deemed them a necessary bit of chaos, he certainly was not one to question the logic. Such points of discussion were far above his paygrade, and as long as he got to fly his TIE, he could care less. At least, so long as it didn't get in the way of Shadow Squadron lives.

<<Copy that, Shadow Leader>>

With that, his brain kicked into overdrive, dodging oncoming bolts of plasma as his TIE screamed through the infinite void of space. His mind was sharp, and his weapons at the ready...

All that was left was to find his first target.

 

[B1-173 "Omar"]

Objective: Operation Cinder - Defending a orbital gun
Location: Upper levels of Coruscant

Suddenly the attack came, the droid didn't realise the tenacity of the Empire, they were determined to attack Coruscant again, and for what? You'd think they would learn the first time, but they didn't. And B1-173 was yet again thrown into the fold, as he scrambled to gather his weapons and prepare himself to battle Imperial forces, he was pressed to defend an orbital gun, a strategic position for the GADF forces to help the fleet against the Imperial vessels above the planet. B1-173 would rush outside, the scene was full of chaos, there were starfighters clashing above the city, and they were dangerously close too, furthermore he observed in the distance blaster fire being exchanged between two large formations of troops on both sides, he couldn't make out which aside from blaster bolts flying everywhere, and the sound of battle was deafening, hence why GADF troopers were shouting at each other giving orders, that and the direness they are currently facing, the odds didn't look too good from where he was, but it was better to die fighting than fleeing. Then, an officer would pull him aside.

"What are you doing droid? Get ready, we're expecting them to come!"

Omar was pushed into a defensive position, the officer shoved him behind a makeshift barricade the troopers created to take cover behind, Omar turned back at the officer, looking at them with distain, but it wasn't time to have an argument, and realising the gravity of the situation, the droid would position his E-5 blaster rifle above the barricade, resting it against it, preparing to fire at any Imperials which were coming there way, he stared down to the long street which was in front of the gun, you could see the enemy come from miles away, but the street for now, was oddly quiet, looking further out, Omar noticed there's been fighting occurring there beforehand, destroyed speeders and starfighters were scattered across the street along with the debris from the nearby buildings which fell upon the road. Even some corpses too. Making sure there was no enemy presence, he took out his electrobinoculars and looked through them, zooming down the street. There was fire still lit from the destructive fighting, but there was no movement, at least not yet. He put away his electrobinoculars and then sat down behind the barricade, looking at the two troopers which flank both of his sides, then taking out his datapad to see what exactly was going on this planet.

"We're being attacked again? These guys don't know when to give up, do they?"

The droid would remark, looking at the holonet which was mentioning the ongoing battle for Coruscant, and he was in the thick of it. The two GADF troopers would look at B1-173 when he mentioned the situation they were currently in, but both of them didn't decide to speak to the droid, and they remained focused on their task, continuing to aim down the sights of their blasters awaiting the enemy to pop out so they can fire upon them. Omar noticed their fixed gazes and decided to keep his thoughts to himself from now onwards, not wanting to distract the troopers. The shadows of the buildings started to be casted upon their positions, which made it more darker than usual, seems like the time of day is drawing further on. Omar would then stand back up and would grasp his blaster rifle, waiting to fire upon the enemy if they ever show.

 

[Khronas]

NEW JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
Dark Side Elite Armour | Sith Sword

Klar

Khronas watched in disdain as Klar described herself as being without a master, a purpose, or, most perversely, without a destiny.

“While the Jedi may have left you without guidance or direction, know this - we all have a destiny,” he replied. Khronas continued to stalk down the darkened hallway toward Klar, his boots falls echoing off the course stone walls each time they made contact with the floor. The noises of death and destruction on the surface were a world away; only the whimpering of the younglings and the hum of the Jedi’s lightsabers punctuated the stillness of the tunnels deep beneath the New Jedi Temple.

“The threads of fate surround you; they bind your existence to the rhythm of the galaxy,” the Siniteen explained. He tightened his grip on his Sith sword. The heavy metal blade was alchemised with Sith sorcery and runes to resist a lightsaber strike, a placeholder until he could source a crystal and craft his own weapon. While the blade had been proved in battle and drawn the blood of Jedi, it was but one sword against his foes' four lightsabres. He would need to strike swiftly and surely to end the battle quickly.

“That you have no master is a lie. Unknowingly or not, we all serve the cosmic rhythm, the unseen patterns that guide our fortune and determine our future. Even now, I see a hand of time guiding you, leading you toward…”

Khronas half stumbled as he felt the dark influence of Ibaris Varanin falter. The Jedi were projecting their own battle meditation, intent on nullifying the darkness that had engulfed Coruscant. His mission was to corrupt the Force nexus beneath the temple and ensure that the will of the Sith’ari consumed the planet. He must not fail in this undertaking.

He felt the fabric of fate continue to shift. The visions of victory he had borne witness to during his meditations were slipping away. Time was against him.

“Your destiny has become clear. It is to delay me no further.”

He took another step forward toward Klar and raised his Sith sword, mindful of her four lightsabers. One of the younglings panicked as he drew closer and let out a scream as they ducked the young Codru-Ji woman's lower set of arms. Seeing an opening, the Dark Side Elite warrior thrust his blade forward to impale the Jedi youngling.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Allies: //: Drystan Creed //:
//: Enemies //: Zaavik Perl //: Tayiji //: Meliant //:
//: Attire //:
//: Equipment //:
//: Bow & Arrows //: Cybernetic Eye //: Jacket //: Arrows of Absence x 25 //: Bag of Absencite x 5ea //: Sword //:
//: Ava'kash Brand //: Emperor's Echo //:

While the Corellian had stepped away, the terminal she'd prioritized for the archive download hummed steadily. Data flowed rapidly into Allyson's black site server, its progress displayed in real time across her cybernetic HUD.

Unfortunately for the slicer trying to hide from the chaos, time was already working against her.

Allyson glanced up, her eye tracking the upload percentage. She tucked herself into a corner and pulled out her comm device. Through her encrypted line, she began working to establish a connection with this " Mauve " character.

Whoever they were…They liked to read.

The moment the link was established, Allyson rerouted the connection through her firewalls. She checked her trap—still active. Smirking to herself, the cheeky Corellian injected a message across the slicer's screen:

<Wanna play a game…?>
<y/n>​

If the slicer Velis Arden said yes, a contract window would open, offering to split the bounty, so long as they allied themselves with </uShadow>.

If she hesitated… or said no… the pop-up would replicate endlessly, obstructing her entire interface until she couldn't do a thing with the archives.

Allyson didn't wait for the answer. With the connection secured, she started transmitting the encrypted data along her private line. Once accepted, the files would begin their journey into the hands of the Black Sun.

Most of it was automated at this point, which was just the way Allyson liked it. She had more pressing concerns.

A voice crackled across her comms—curt and annoyed. But not hostile. Allyson chuckled and tapped her mic twice. A quiet signal only another Shadow would recognize. I've got your back.

His comments about how she performed in a fight made her smirk. At least someone enjoyed her actions in the Kaggath.

She pocketed the device and drew her bow, following the signal's origin. Slipping back into the dark, her presence faded into the Force. She paused the moment she heard a familiar voice—Drystan.

She should've guessed. After seeing how he fought during the Kaggath, it was inevitable. In another time, he might've made a good partner.

Allyson crept low, keeping to the ground, searching for a better vantage point. Just as she moved, a disturbance rippled through the Force—sharp, undeniable.

The scent hit her first. Rain. Blood. Memory crashed into her like a tidal wave.

She saw herself again, driving a light-blessed blade through his eye. Felt it again—how he'd nearly gutted her with that ridiculous toe blade.

Still stupid.

Zaavik.

Why was he here?

His body had been recovered after their last fight. She assumed he'd crawled off to die somewhere quietly. After that, he vanished. No whispers, no sightings. Nothing.

Allyson had grieved for her only apprentice.

Her back pressed against the wall. From what she could tell, none of them had seen her. Not yet. But he was her responsibility.

She ran her thumb along her gloved fingers, manifesting new arrows in the quiver. Drawing the first, she imbued it with her own energy and anchored it behind her—her retreat point.

The next arrow pulsed in her hand. Explosive-tipped. She reached up, lifting the eyepatch from her cybernetic eye, focusing in. Three signatures locked.

Even if Zaavik cloaked again, she'd see him enough to track his movements. Even without the help, Allyson was confident she could still read him better than anyone else. But he could also read her; they were too similar.

This time, she wouldn't fail him. Not again.

She had let him fall. Now she would be the one to stop him.

Standing from the shadows, Allyson took aim. Her bow crackled faintly with enchantments—Asha'Kurat brand active, cloaking the attack from danger sense or precognition.

The explosive arrow loosed, arcing toward the feet of the three men.

No longer bound by fate, Allyson aimed to cut another chain.

 

[CT-312]

//: Koda Fett Velis Arden Zark San Tekka Quinn Varanin Braze Tobi Sharpe //:
//: Jedi Temple, Coruscant //:
//: Attire //:
//: WEARING: GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor//:
//: EQUIPMENT: GABB-15 Talon II | GSIA-83 Stinger | AT-SB10 Scatterblaster | AT-SH4 Holdout Blaster //:
//: DROID: AT-XV BATTLE DROID - AT-XV/i (GREY) - CRESH PATTERN //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Taozin amulet | 1 x Arrow head of Absence //:
//: 2x Ion Grenade | 2x Flash Grenade | 2x Incendiary Grenade | 2x Smoke Grenade //:
//: Objective 1: KING OF THE HILL //:​

A message blinked across her encrypted channel HUD. A familiar tag.

<omw to the archives, hole on the eastern side of the temple if you're not already here – Q>

CT-312 clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. A quiet tsk of annoyance. Recalling back before transfer, she did respond to an ally. Another bounty hunter. If Q is here, that means others are too. Her grip on the rifle stayed firm as she advanced.

As Ashe shouted through her vocoder for identification, she had a hunch. No answer. A big hunch. Bounty hunters. Ashe advanced a few steps. Another signature popped up in her HUD. Next to the one she asked for identification. As she was about to shoot, a faint sound echoed behind her.

Click. Click. Click.

Halting. It was a familiar clicking… ‘Heels?’ Ashe’s stance shifted. Back leg dropping. Rifle steady. Familiar or not, whoever it was wasn’t close enough to trigger her HUD’s radar yet. Left hand released the foregrip and dropped to her hip. Unholstering the pistol and trained it behind her without turning fully. Watching both directions. Ready to pull the trigger. Her finger froze.

The signature flared into her HUD. CT-312 blinked in disbelief. A visual sweep confirmed the absurdity as the figure settled behind the right flank of the battle droid. The Princess. Q is Quinn. Of course she is. And even carrying a blaster. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Clearly. Whatever God out there in the universe liked to kark with CT-312. First the Kaggath tournament. Now this.

Lowering the pistol. Holstering it. Her voice flat through the modulator. “...Q...” Her body turned back facing the stairs. Rifle back to center. “Ashe.” She advanced forward just enough to be able to identify one of the figures. The armor, familiar. It was Koda Fett from the Kaggath tournament. Mandalorian. Bounty Hunter. Before Ashe could issue a command to the battle droid. Two floating masks drifted towards them.

One faced Ashe. The other turned toward Q. Speaking in unison.

"Don't make me destroy you."

Ashe addressed the mask like it was alive. “I am with the GA. You got two unauthorized hostiles en route to the archives. We’re here to stop them.” She wasn’t lying. They did have to stop them. Words were cut short as a sudden roar from a jetpack cut through the silence. FWOOSH.

‘Chit.’ Ashe watched as Koda Fett grabbed the girl, the slicer, and launched himself from the stairwell. Ashe broke into a run. Rifle up. Trigger pulled. Three bolts shot towards the fleeing Bounty Hunter in flight. “Q. The girl.” Ashe snapped her support hand out. Pointing after the runner.

Cursing under her breath. Ashe knew her current loadout wouldn’t pierce beskar. Except… Her eyes flickered to the battle droid. She elbowed the side of the droid’s leg twice. Signaling. “Feel free to target the Mando with extreme prejudice. Have fun with it.” The battle droid’s shots may not pierce Koda’s beskar. But it will surely hurt like hell or at least knock him out.

Ashe paused. Better yet… ”Target the girl too. Doubt she’s beskar proof.” ( Velis Arden ). In a drier tone. “Whatever is down there. Keep it down there.” A low hum rolled out from the AT-XV Battle Droid, [Consider It Done].

THUD. The droid’s heavy frame repositioned. THUD. A whirring and air cracked with power could be heard emitting from the armaments. THUD. [Engagement Mode: Hostile Neutralization]

E-Web Blaster Cannons and LJ-Concussion Rifle roared to life as blaster fire and concussive waves tore into the lower chamber. Shredding marble and imploding the stairwell. A 16 foot radius turned into a hellstorm down below. Targeting Koda and the splicer’s direction she ran off too.

Ashe turned back to the floating mask. “Do we have permission to enter? To stop them?” ( Zark San Tekka )

Suddenly, staggering back a few steps. Wincing beneath the helmet. Her jaw clenched. It felt as if something was pressing into her head. Into her mind. Wrong. Intrusive. A low growl built in her chest. Instinct. Rejection. Her muscles locked. ‘What the hell–’... What was going on? Ashe looked at Q. She looked irritated. But other than that… she was fine. How? Was this some kind of Force nonsense again?

Her hand snapped to the utility pouch. Grasping the arrowhead she picked up from the Kaggath fight. Ashe was a breath away from triggering it with a squeeze. But just as the pressure suddenly came. It vanished. Like it had never been there. Her grip loosened. Exhaling through her nose. A twitch of her helmet shook off the remnants. Another low growl stirred. ‘Not now. Focus.’ Ashe’s hand squeezed the grip of her rifle. Irritated. Her stance reformed, sharp and centered. Breathing steady. She looked at Q.

“Q. We may need to jump down. If this mask doesn’t say anything or denies us. We can’t wait. We need to stop what they are doing.”

 

[Taam Moghul]

Equpment: Kta Dom Lya, Lightsaber, Cathar Armored Jacket, Cracken Survival Kit, Jedi Utility Belt

Tag: Wymar

Taam had fallen into full battle mode. The Force flowed through him, it rang out along the blade of Kta Dom Lya. Fighting Sight triggered instinct and reflex, sensing each blaster bolt, each shard of shrapnel. Not that the hulking Cathar could deflect every one. Many glanced from the highly-customized armored coat Jonyna Si had meticulously crafted and imbued with the Force.

The four and a half foot greatsword swung in savage, reaping swathes, cleaving plasteel armor and bone in its deadly arc. The songsteel blade did not offer the mercy of cauterized wounds like a lightsaber, and a wake of blood followed the Knight, himself splattered with it. Taam was in immersed in Battlemind, focused, calculating, devastating. White fangs bared and gnashed as Taam met the Imperial ranks, the GADF defenders taking inspiration from the Jedi, fighting with renewed vigor. But in the fray, Taam had lost sight of the caped Darksider he sought.

Then it struck. Not as a thump, but as an oozing over his being. The brutal blade lowered. A blaster bolt whizzed by his head singing his mane. A nearby explosion made him flinch, a searing piece of flying metal lacerating his exposed neck. Amber eyes glanced about. Endless ranks of stormtroopers, jolting explosions, burning starships falling to the ground. The enemy was in the Temple. So many, so many, how could they prevail? Despair threatened to take hold. Doubt whispered nefariously in his mind.

Wait. No... this wasn't right...

"GRAHHH!" The embattled knight roared. It was Darkness, and the Knight saw it for what it was. Powerful, but his knowing gave him power over it. Valery confirmed the Darkside attack, and with renewed resolve he began a battle within, embracing Valery's strength, and rendered the Dark influence impotent.

Though he was able to overcome the mental assault. Others did not. The line behind him wavered. The guns of supporting armor fell momentarily silent. An explosion down along the side of the temple had suggested a wall breach. They were losing hope.

Another swing of the mighty sword, this time emitting a near blinding golden light, as if the sun was channeled through the blade, and the attackers momentarily cowered back. Taam returned to the defensive line. Their captain had sounded retreat. They had to move back, but Tamm wouldn't let it be a route.

"Up! Up! The enemy cowards attack your minds! A new line, a new defense! " He roared, calling on the Force in an attempt to give them all courage. The forces withdrew with thier blasters blazing, hastily setting up a new line, nearly against the temple wall. It did look grim, it did look bad. on the ground and in the sky above. On their heels again...

But to stop fighting betrayed everything they all stood for.

It was then that he again spotted, or felt, the Darksider. A crimson-armored figure who matched the Cathar Knight in stature. Taam tightened the grip on the greatsword and surged forward to meet the foe. Gripping Kta Dom Lya in both hands, Taam began the engagement with a testing stike against the Dark Jedi.

 

[Wymar]

P E N I T E N T
THE GALACTIC EMPIRE
Battle Armor [MODIFIED] | Lightsaber
Taam Moghul​

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BEWARE​

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GALACTIC CITY
902 ABY
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE​

The 501st moved with a certain proficiency that could only be compared to the slice and cut of a well balanced and master crafted blade on the battlefield. They had a tradition of excellency paired with a brazen and ruthless approach to warfare that stemmed back to the very first time they marched into the Jedi Temple. Grimm, a long with many troopers clad in argent and cobalt were veterans of the Old Empire, fighting to the bitter end against the once hosts of Solipsis in wars long ended. As soon as their proverbial line on the map swayed and met resistance, they dug in to power through.

Crew served weapons were hastily positioned atop and amidst cover and chokepoints, delivering pure hatred into the Alliance’s valiant defenders. They were in close exchange, urban warfare. A chaotic but necessary school of battle that required more than anything, cover and communication. There was the most razor thin of margin between what could be a decisive victory or a gruesome, horrid defeat in these situations and it hinged on every trooper down to an individual level being able to communicate position, intent and action.

<“Phantom this is Appo-Six. Standby for target brief.”> Grimm piped up, slinging his blaster rifle over his shoulder as he pulled down the macrobinocular visor propped atop the black brow of hIs stormtrooper helmet. He slid it into place over his vision, a temporary blackness before it came alight with a reticular and several displays of system information in aurebesh. Distance, direction, grid and composition of whatever element he scrawled over, a highlight of mint green for friendlies and one of bright orange for enemies. He centered his gaze on a fortified position of Galactic Alliance troopers set to hamper the approach of the 501st until the target information populated in his binocs.

<Line four…4078 feet, Aurek Aurek 8-8-7-2, 9-9-3-5, infantry platoon, no mark, advise danger close, initials approved.”> He patched through to the interceptors who echoed the relevant information back.

<“Final attack from north to south.”> A last bit of information to the pilots to ensure they didn’t see any overflow from the strike head on. Within a minute, theee of the interceptors screeched overhead from the direction of the advancing stormtroopers, a rapid burst of laser cannons followed by a pair of concussion missiles from each TIE screamed into the battle before breaking away.

Wymar was well ahead of them, the simultaneous bursts of the warheads slamming into the Alliance positions in the wake of the approaching Cathar as he burned forward, intent with its great sword to strike him down. The Crestfallen paused in stride, his left hand held open with fingers splayed at his hip with the saber clutched in the other, presenting himself to be struck with the approach of the hulking Feline.

The first swing of the Cathar’s great blade was met with a surge of the force through his body, as if an invisibly hand pushed himself away from the strike so that it might make purchase into the metallic surface beneath, his boots grinding as they slid back against the broken earth beneath. There were few who were users of the force who abandoned such a noble weapon and he’d use the weight of the sword to his advantage, his left arm reaching out to pull the sword downward within the Cathar’s grasp with the aim of planting the steel firmly into the ground once more before he swiped at the Cathar with his crimson blade, joining his other hand at the hilt as he carried forth with a well honed combination of cuts, strikes and jabs of his lightsaber toward the Jedi.

 

[Kain Aldore]

Obj: 2- Senate Rotunda
Nearby: Ran Serys Ren | Darth Solipsis Sahar Shannic Wulf | (Open to PvP)

This is what he got for taking Valery Noble 's offer to stay on Coruscant. The Empire had found its way through space to strike the ecumenopolis. Yeah, he could've bailed before the assault, but he was never one to run from bullies.

The airspeeder thrummed as he weaved between skyscrapers, dodging stray turbolasers. He'd figured the Jedi could handle protecting the Temple, but a pit had formed in his gut anyway. Something was wrong at the Senate Rotunda, he could feel it. He just wasn't sure what. So when he'd stolen the speeder, he'd made like a lawn dart and aimed straight for it.

And there it was. Imperial forces had already reached the building.

Kain knew he had to make sure no one was left inside who couldn't fight.

He punched the throttle and dove for the landing pads outside. A few dozen men in black armor patrolled the outer walkway. A perfect landing target.

Crashing into the group, Kain braced for impact. The moment the speeder's momentum died, he launched himself out and over the wreckage, pulling his saber free midair with a snap-hiss. He came down hard, impaling a trooper as they tumbled across the durasteel floor. He looked up just in time to see the survivors raising their blasters toward him.

Scrambling to his feet, he caught the first bolt on his blade, then began deflecting the rest. As the barrage intensified, he backed toward the pillars, ducked behind one, shut off his saber, then spun around the far side. With a grunt, he threw both hands forward. The Force ripped through the corridor. The troopers were lifted off their feet and flung over the edge of the building, vanishing into the city below.

Kain stood still for a second, scanning the landing pad. Clear. He bounced on the balls of his feet once, twice. Like a fighter shaking off the bell. Then sprinted toward the inner halls of the rotunda.

His sense abilities weren't worth much, but even he could feel the darkness bleeding from within the Senate. "This is gonna be a long day..."