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It took considerable self-control to keep from pulling the trigger the moment Kyell’s arm pressed his lightsaber emitter against his chin. If Hacks actually killed him, Miri wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for not taking the shot. At the same time, if she shot Hacks and he lived, she wasn’t sure if he would be able to forgive her for it.
"So ready to execute me in cold blood over a few silly punches? You think that's fair? After what you did to me? You burned me alive, you destroyed me, you brutalized me, you're not just as bad as the Sith, you're worse. I'm going to kill you one day."
Miri simply repeated her warning. “Let him go or I will kill you.”
Hacks did release Kyell, too afraid of death to maintain him as a hostage. Miri kept her gun trained on the cyborg for a few seconds longer before rushing over to help him.
Gloved fingers gently prodded the battered flesh along his face. <You can still breathe through your nose, right?> she said. <Looks like most of the punches hit your cheek…>
She was applying bacta and a bandage to stop the bleeding when he asked her to go in without him. Reluctance was visible in her expression. She didn’t want to leave him alone with a cyborg who had threatened to kill him mere moments ago.
<Okay,> she said. <Be careful.> Her hand touched the back of his briefly before she stood up and headed inside the hole he had cut with his lightsaber.
She returned a few minutes later, holding a datachip—and a detonator.
The structural integrity of the cave was impressive—even the aftershock of the ships's crash and Nida's outburst hadn't caused it to crumble into dust. Perhaps the crystals further into the cavern had something to do with it, projecting their esoteric roots into the earth in order to protect their home.
The cave was still shaking and shuddering around Sars and Nida, threatening to collapse. Boulders crashed around the pair as their sabers deadlocked, and the demure Zeltron now faced her opponent with wild eyes and brazenly grit teeth. Her demeanor had taken a suddenly shift after the explosion of her own doing, to something more primal.
"The Force wills my capture? To line your pockets? Don't make me laugh!"
She barked in laughter anyway, voice echoing along with the clattering of heavy stones around them. The cave wouldn't hold up for much longer.
Aware of the phase knife, Nida jerked her forearm out of its path, but neglected to move it much further. What goes up tends to come down, and Old Sin would find itself buried in the Jedi's right shoulder, slicing through the weak point in her armor like butter thanks to the momentum. A guttural yelp tore from her throat and she dropped her saber on reflex, leaping back instinctively towards the mouth of the cave.
Hunched over, Nida snarled at him like a wounded animal. Somehow, the small Zeltron seemed to take up more space than she had before, presence amplified.
"The only will you are following is your own."
Her free hand called the saber back, and she killed the blade for now. The right arm was oozing blood from the puncture he'd made in her shoulder, and already she could tell that nerves had been severed. Recovery would be a bith, if she'd even get the chance. First aid was the last thing on her mind right now.
The fingers of her left hand flexed around her saber hilt, pointed towards him. Crackles of azure energy flickered to life, sparking and twining around her fingers. Even facing down a strong opponent, injured, in a precarious arena that was about to give way. Nida felt strong. Unhindered. Confident, even. The little anxieties that kept her from making decisions did not exist here, there was only power, and her access to it. Flecks of gold began to shimmer in the bright violet of her irises, and the crackle of Force lightning grew more severe.
As Nida drew in the Force, so did she draw in a feeling of…hope? She couldn't quite tell, but it was a different feeling. Something just as strong, but less intoxicating and noxious than the Dark. She didn't recognize it as stemming from Iris and her battle meditation, but drank it in like a medicine all the same. The flickers of gold faded from her savage gaze, and the sparks leaping from her hand shifted from blue to green.
"You want to sell me to the Imperials? COME AND GET ME!"
Violent arcs of emerald electricity blasted from her fingertips, tearing aggressively through the confined space in their search for a conductor. The rumbling of the cave grew deafening, signaling the impending collapse.
Enyo felt a close approximation of a stab of satisfaction when the assault against her knee caused the Jedi to buckle, forcing her to kneel and compelling a loud gasp from her. She heard Togruta's teeth gnash together when she assailed her lekku. It was not that she enjoyed inflicting pain. That was puerile and illogical...which was obviously why Sith, being inferior, illogical beings, revelled in it. But she relished combat, finding an opponent she considered worthy and breaking them.
But then the Force roared at her. Abruptly it was awash with feelings of fear, despair, terror, and grief. Most of it was something Enyo was indifferent to. But through the violent blizzard, she perceived debris raining down from the heavens at an alarming speed.
The impact would be quite significant. No doubt it would generate significant casualties among both sides. Her own minions would no doubt be affected to. She had been buried by the wrath of the heavens and the folly of organics before, and endured.
Only this time a warship was not being commanded by a delusional Silver commander to rain down death on a city, but parts of it had broken apart and were on collision course. She felt death, and destruction.
She would endure.
Garnet was out there. It gave her very brief pause.
Electronic eyes darted towards the Jedi, whose arms were raised to the unforgiving heavens to raise a barrier of protection over the immediate surrounding area. No doubt a taxing manoeuvre that left her, briefly, open.
For the briefest of moments, the Cyborg considered taking advantage. A variety of scenarios flashed through her mind. She let the Jedi be. More and more debris was raining down upon them.
And she looked upon the presence that had manifested in the sky with much bombast, as clouds roiled and swirled about and lightning flashed in the sky. What was a 'Bendu' anyway? It hadn't been part of her education. She took a few seconds to access the HoloNet and pull up records, accessing everyone's favourite galactic encyclopedia, Holopedia. Allegorical myth, she thought dismissively.
Telekinetic energy erupted from Enyo, surging not towards the Jedi but debris on collision course. But even as pieces of detritus were blasted away or slowed, more came crashing down. Pieces of wreckage slammed into Enyo, separating her from the Jedi as she was knocked away and slammed into the ground. Debris slammed into her left arm, leaving it sluggish. Warnings flashed on her HUD.
And then she vanished beneath the wreckage. Grimly, Enyo began to dig her way out, doggedly hauling debris aside, relying more on her right arm as it was difficult to move her left. "Garnet, status? Are you online?" There was static and plenty of interference. "Status?"
"Taken cover...casualties acceptable. Scanning apparation in the sky. Real, but doubtful to be the actual entity. You?"
"Combat capable." There was a pause. "Be careful. Preserve assets." She cut the connection as her fist smashed through debris holding her down, and emerged from the wreckage.
Snow clung to her armoured form. The sight that greeted the Jedi was no doubt a bit grotesque. Enyo's helmet was badly damaged and cracked, revealing a face with burst and torn synthetic skin, plates of metal and an eye that flashed crimson and occasionally flickered wildly. Her body twitched a bit from the sheer kinetic impact. But she stood. Her crossguard lightsabre leapt into her dominant hand, and a purple blade sprang to life. "Organics always attempt to foil my plans. Rarely do they succeed," she spoke.
The boy brought his shield up, finding himself battered backward by the sonic attacks.
Finally, an explosive round detonated, lifting the boy up and pitching him backward. Even with the weight of the powered armor he wore, Calix was lightweight division at best. His Jedi training kicked in, the boy dropping to a three-point crouch as he skidded to a halt against the rocks and ice.
Winded, the youth staggered back up to his feet.
He was Echani. He could do this all day.
...and then take a serious nap before dinner tonight.
As the dark-skinned youth looked to his master for guidance, his unvoiced question was met by a nod.
Now, Julius had a lot of nods.
There was the yes, you are an idiotnod, for example. This one was usually combined with a smirk that the old man tried to hide, but the real tell was his right hand tugging on his beard. Calix... Calix got this one more often than not. It was probably the first nod that the Thyrsian had learned. But it was better than the are you karking serious head roll. That usually combined a roll of the eyes and the placement of the hands on the hips. Then there was the this ramen is legit nod, which coincidentally tended to only happen within the context of their being at a noodle cart. But, but that was better than the this ramen is terrible, we're bailing out on the bill as soon as the chef looks away nod -- which happened a lot.
Finding good ramen in a universe of multiple galaxies and hundreds upon hundreds of planets was harder than it should have been.
In either case, Julius' padawan was Echani. Julius might not even know that Calix had a growing collection of non-verbal tells gathered from the Corellian master. Or maybe the old man did. Reading body language was intuitive to the boy.
The particular nod that Julius had given the boy was, to use an Echani phrase, jo'lun tru. He meant to take the offensive, with Calix in support. Shutting down his lightsaber, the boy returned it to the magnetic plate on his armor. In its place, the boy drew his blaster.
He tried not to feel dirty as he did so.
Ranged combat was so... cowardly. He suspected Jand Talo
might agree with him that one should look their opponent in the eye as they killed. Still, blasters and their use was of importance to his master, and so the Thyrsian found training with them had become a requirement.
The afro-headed youth fired two bursts of three shots each. Between his shots and his master's attacks, they would hopefully catch their target in a crossfire.
As the last of the red bolts shot out, the small tibana cartridge at the back popped off, its charge exhausted. He'd have to load a new cartridge before he could fire again.
In the enclosed and secluded location of the vast tunnels, the Imperial and the Jedi had become cut off from the outside world; the war that continued to fire off in muted, dulled and muffled thrums that shook and rumbled the caverns - the sounds of screams, blaster fire and explosions littered the surface of Ilum, in here... oddly tranquil. But the once immaculate crystal caves had seen far too much destruction had the hands of the Imperials, the same lot that had stolen all that was of use and allowed the rest to rot. Even the millennia old ice melted, reduced to mere puddles left across unseen stone. Each sound echoed on for seconds afterwards, from the fall of droplets into then rippled puddles to a footstep into them, the continued hum of a lightsaber to a heavy breath.
It was all the Jedi could hear. It was all the Imperial could hear, but his footfalls ceased some time ago.
Rakaan felt the cold touch of the slick, stone tunnel wall behind him. It seeped into his clothes, the fabric stuck to his skin in an all too cold sensation but one that offered a semblance of comfort in a most difficult time; two on one, double the effort and twice the strain and yet still Rakaan remained far from utter exhaustion - a much needed reprieve, however. He exhaled slowly in an effort to control his breaths, and dashed his face with the pooled water in a bid to throw himself back into the moment.
Then came the voice, one that almost made him smile in a momentary lapse of the mind. In some odd inability to comprehend or recall the situation at hand. Maybe Rakaan wished it was never the case, he frowned with the thought, to long for the chance to do it all over again. He felt himself again for a harsh few seconds, all with the reminder of how much that was someone he hated. He feared. There was no fear of loss or defeat, no, Rakaan had always been an indomitable titan in that respect. But the fear of failure, to become a failure to others, to himself. To Korvan. To Valery. Had it been too late to undo these wrongs? This conflict in him was a beacon in the Force, one he could not subdue, and it called out to them both.
"The Empire has done such terrible things," his voice echoed out from an unseen location, "I helped them do such terrible things."
The Imperials harvested all that kyber still, no doubt to make an example out of the Chiss that continue to rebel. Harsh, cruel. Punishments beyond severe, the same kind Rakaan never sat well with. Merits found in a tyrannical Empire, yet absent all morals.
"I never wanted any of this, this war with the Alliance. With the Jedi." It pained him to say, to confess. "I only ever wanted to stop the Sith."
He was always a soldier. Always on a mission. Korvan could attest to that. The typical life of a Jedi peacekeeper was lost on Rakaan, as most lessons often were if there was no immediate use to be made of it. A poor student of theory, rich in physical ability.
"It's too late for me now. This is what I've become."
"Great." His muffled voice carried less enthusiasm than ever once the Kel Dor materialised ahead of them, the dull sounds of warfare had become almost monotonous to someone such as Veno; familiar, too much one may believe. Dulled the senses, the mind. Even in his armour, there was a clear reluctance to make use of it - shielded behind the armoured Mandalorians, their bodies could withstand all that his own could not. His yellow-tinted visors peered over a beskar shoulder, "A Forcie."
The Imperial pushed ahead, a slender vibroknife held in his off-hand while the other blasted pointlessly into beskar. It staggered a foe, enough for the blade to slip through the gorget and into the neck. An accusatory finger reached out towards Rohak, "Beat him to death, Mando!"
He didn't care to learn his name. Or any of them, for that matter.
Objective II
Thanks for the grenade: Zoraya Ives-Ayres Equipment: In bio | EMP grenade
Aside from some minor scrapes and scratches, they were able to avoid any more significant consequences of the sudden cave-in. Amani gave herself a once-over, and stood up.
Zoraya gave her the go-ahead. The Jedi blinked. She had played along thus far but hearing that still brought surprise. The padawans were innocent, caught in a crossfire they had not asked or prepared for. On that much they could agree. And it seemed that would be enough to keep them from each other's throats this time.
Except, it was more than that. The agent offered her something else: an EMP grenade, and a weakness. Amani took the bomb slowly, and cautiously, as if just touching would set it off. She weighed it in her hand, and gave Zoraya a single, solemn nod. "You know you're not safe anymore. With them." It would likely just be a matter of time before they caught wind of her sedition. There was little Amani could offer her now, beyond an acknowledgment of her actions, "...Thank you." Simple, sincere gratitude. Now she just had to not squander the opportunity. Amani still continued to face Zoraya as she moved towards the door, then ran out in the direction the surveillance feed had revealed.
Amani's pastened only quickened as the sounds of conflict grew nearer. The fear of what was to come made her break out into a sweat before the exertion did. It was ever present in the Force here. Fear. But there was more than that. Hope. She felt it, too. And a familiar presence behind it all. "IRIS!" The revelation offset any efforts for subtlety. Collapsed rubble, no doubt wrought by the impact of the star destroyer. And that same colorful signature. She practically smacked herself into the debris on reaching it. "Iris?! Can you hear me?! Are you okay?!" Panic and uncertainty strained her voice.
The Knight in his armor towered over Gabe and his size offered him greater reach and much more powerful blows. Despite his vigor, Gabe didn't have the experience, skill, or sheer strength needed to overpower the older man. Now that he was close and engaged with the man he could feel him in the Force. He was like a white storm in the Force, his resolve and discipline keeping the raging power in check. While the Imperial Knights didn't claim the way of the Jedi as their own they were certainly not Sith, his enemy's absolute control over his emotions and inner balance proved that much at least.
A vicious strike from the Knight sent Gabe to his knees breathing hard. He barely had enough time to bring his saber up to meet the green streaks of power. Force Lightning?! Maybe his earlier assessment of the man was wrong. Maybe they were Sith. But no, something felt different as the energy connected with his blade, the force of the attack sending him careening through the air and into an ice wall. The air left his lungs and his blade fell from his hands, the lightning following it for a moment before it deactivated. With no blade to focus the green electricity sparked along the stone floor and arced up Gabe's leg.
Pain.
A pain he'd never thought he would or could experience racked his body. He screamed.
His eyes fell shut with focus, the callous scowl across his bloodied and beaten features had been traded for that of silent focus; crimson fell across his brow, into the eyebrow and over the eyelid as much as it poured from his nose and mouth - the distinct taste of metal was familiar, a reminder, as it both pooled beside his tongue and slid over his lips. Corin tried to reach out, to find Iris, and even if hopeless in the moment, found little more than a hopeful sensation that called for him. Beyond the bare essentials of what it would mean, Corin had no idea, whether Iris or not. It may well have fooled him, too.
In any case, the surge of Force that swelled into him allowed for an effect so similar to the stim the Imperial injected into himself. His physical attributes amplified, in strength and stamina; his once winded self felt alive, felt able to breath full breaths for the first time in what seemed like hours. He could then see little more than the violent fist thrown by the stormtrooper, thoughtless as to whether it was to connect or not, and chose the most sensible decision: run at the man.
Left in the blind side after Corin slumped into the snow, the Jedi Padawan bolted forwards and threw his entire might into one punch aimed at his head. He aimed to follow through completely, whether it connected or not, Corin was to sail past the man all the same. Undisciplined, to say the least, but the brief returned second-wind was undoubtedly short-lived and refinement could wait for another day.
As the battle in space dragged along, it was clear that the Imperial battle line was not immune to the strain being placed upon it. More and more shots were breaking through the taxed shield arrays of even the most formidable of ships, such as the Ave Imperator herself. Even still, one could not argue with the results. Nearly half of the Alliance fleet had either disengaged or crumbled under the firepower the Empire brought to bear. The remainder of the force had, as expected, launched waves of fighter craft to assault the vessel housing the superweapon. Imperial TIE fighters clashed in the void with the Alliance squadrons, serving as a microcosm of the onslaught the larger ships of the fleet found themselves engulfed in.
And in the midst of it all; the Reckoning remained intact. Despite the boarding parties which had besieged it within, its valiant Imperial defenders and hired mercenaries had been able to stall their advance through the winding passageways and hangar bays. The ship was still solidly well armed and operational, at least for now. She pivoted into bombardment position in low orbit over Ilum. Like a harbinger of destruction, the imposing form of the starship loomed over the planet-side engagement zone - easily visible by those on the surface.
“The Reckoning is in position sir - ready and waiting for your orders.”
“Any word from the planetside commander?”
“Negative sir, no response to our hails.”
Korvan observed the exchange between the tactical officer, Admiral Feros, and the communications officer. The implications of the radio silence were troubling, but the men and women of the Imperial fleet did not have the luxury of engaging in conjecture as to what it meant. “What is the situation on the ground?”
The senior tactical officer checked the sensor data from the Battlecruiser’s formidable tactical sensory suite, and before long responded: “There’s... a large construct moving about on the surface...” The officer’s tone carried a noticeable level of surprise. “It looks like... a massive tree.”
“A tree?” Korvan responded evenly, his brow arching ever so slightly.
“Y-yes sir. A tree. It appears to be... fighting our forces.”
“I’m picking up sporadic comm chatter sir. There appears to be some interference. That might be why our transmission was not received, or at least why we did not hear a response.” The comms officer chimed in. Immediately after, the secondary tactical officer chimed in.
“I’m picking up increased levels of energy discharges around the... tree, sir.”
“Curious...” Korvan mused to himself. But whatever time that remained for musings was quickly cut short.
“Sir, the ANV Wildfire is breaking formation with the Alliance fleet... and is on an intercept course with our flag--” Her words were abruptly interrupted with an intense rumbling, as several supporting Alliance ships focused their firepower upon the Imperator and her surrounding escort ships. Several Tirailleur-class Artillery Frigates lurched violently as they intercepted much of the incoming fire.
“Redirect power to the fore and ventral shield array. Do not let that carrier break through!” The fury within Rear Admiral Feros’ voice was unmistakable. As the Alliance carrier began its run down the bottom section of the ship, its opening salvos would break through the shields and impact squarely against the armor plating; causing streaks of debris to spill out into the void below. Within moments thereafter, the shields surged with renewed life, with the following volleys raking against the shielding instead.
Return fire was not far behind, as the ventral hypervelocity and mass driver cannons unleashed upon the carrier at point blank range, together with the overlapping fire of the Sturm and Iriad. As the Imperial vessels weathered the storm and unleashed their payloads, the comms officer’s voice pierced through the din yet again: “Sir, we are receiving another transmission from the Wildfire, but this time it’s via text.”
Korvan was able to maintain his stoic demeanor, but a very slight smirk could almost faintly be seen briefly upon his lips. He was not a man who engaged in idle threats, nor in grandiose exchanges of boasting. When he opened a comm channel with an enemy, it was usually with a purpose in mind - such as when he contacted Liedren Kathouse over New Aldera, provoking and causing her to lose focus in the midst of his space troopers’ boarding action. Clearly, this Commodore was fixated on him, and on ensuring he knew there was a vendetta to settle.
He dismissed the message, and stared out of the viewport. Although he did not respond, he knew well what this would come down to. She had threatened to kill him.
He would see her in hell.
Despite the beleaguered state of the main battle line, the left flank was deep within the depths of a full-on onslaught against the small but hardy Mandalorian fleet. The Vhipirheim and Niruaun were locked in a death struggle as both of their broadside armaments unleashed upon one another. The lights flickered within the bridge of the massive Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer, even as the lower decks of the ship turned into a cacophony of barely contained destruction.
“Change out the munitions clips of the mass drivers in section eight!” A gunnery officer wearing the rank placard of a lieutenant wiped sweat from off of his brow, only to smear a black, grimy film across his brow. Gunnery crews rushed about, ejecting spent canisters from the massive emplacements unleashing upon the hull of the Vhipirheim. They barely had time to perform the task per regulation, which involved placing the spent canisters in secure bins to the behind them on a conveyor down to the munitions compartment deeper into the ship. The air within the section was thick with the smell of sulphur and sweat.
And blood.
This was but one of many such sections experiencing such taxation in the line of duty, but he knew this was only temporary. They had Grand Moff Korvan in command of the fleet, who had commended himself well back during the battle of the Tion Cluster, and prior to that during the Western Campaign. They just had to work a little longer, and the battle would be over. He would be back in the arms of his--
In an instant, the bulkhead not but 20 meters down the line erupted in an explosion of energy, with the turbolaser emplacement within bursting in a brilliant flash. The devastation from the weapon detonation was stifled, if only by the far more urgent explosive decompression occurring milliseconds thereafter. The crewmen in the immediate vicinity of the weapon were lost before they even knew what hit them, their bodies writhing in the vacuum of space in a hopeless plea for salvation.
Lieutenant Voss felt his body heave off of his feet and pull toward the gaping wound within the ship, his screams being pulled from his lungs as quickly as the air rushed past him. His fingers found a handhold near the command station he was manning; a construction feature intended for such a rare occurrence. His mind had briefly succumbed to panic, but his training had taken over. With every fiber of strength he could muster, he inched himself closer to a massive red button at the edge of his fingertips. Resulting explosions racked the entire section his compartment was a part of, which threatened to shake his grip loose and cast him into the oblivion of space above Ilum.
He closed his eyes, and pushed himself past the limit he once thought himself capable of. His palm gained purchase, and suddenly he fell ignominiously to the deck of the gunnery compartment.
“Commodore, decks 13 and 9 are experiencing hull breaches and emplacement loss. Shields are steadily declining!”
“Is the Triumph in position?” Commodore Chrias replied, steel in his voice despite the increasingly volatile rumbles threatening to cast him up and out of his command chair. The massive silhouette of the NIV Triumph came into view on the opposite side of the Vhipirheim before the tactical officer could even respond, with the New Imperial Star Destroyer unloading its armament into the secondary hull section of the Mandalorian flagship. The tide appeared to begin turning in their favor just as the seemingly unthinkable happened. A massive piece of debris, likely a hull section of one of the fallen ships of the battle, began barreling toward the neck of the Triumph’s bridge.
When the ship’s crew realized what was happening, they desperately began unleashing secondary fire upon the hull section - yet it ambled along relentlessly due to the inertia placed upon it by the Mandalorians. Whether by divine providence or pure luck, one of the detachment’s Gurkha-class corvettes had maneuvered in the wake of the debris. The mass of the hull section crashed into the starboard side of the corvette, clipping the engine cluster of the smaller ship and causing it to suffer massive damage. It soon lost control of its trajectory, with the vessel spiraling into a collision course of the the Mandalorian Star Destroyer Fury.
Even as the ship plunged to what would presumably be both its death and the mass-crippling of the Mandalorian warship, the Imperial fighter wave deployed by the main line arrived and writhed through the confusion of the space-borne melee. Clusters of bomber craft began breaking off and targetting the Rancor-class cruisers gut-checking the Imperial capital ships. TIE Outlanders and Drones began screening the larger vessels and engaging Mandalorian fighter craft that had attempted to distract and disrupt the Imperial formation. Commodore Chrias observed the situation on his tactical readout display, and wasted little time in capitalizing on the situation. “Order the Ouroboros and Lament to unleash a wide-band salvo of missile barrages into the rear of the Mandalorian formation against their star destroyers and interdictor, and relay the Bastion to cut off the Rancors from the rest of the fleet. Our bombers should take care of them once cut off from support, and their Interdictor and Star Destroyers should try and push against us. Signal the main fleet to lend us whatever support they can.”
The impossible was about to happen once again. But rather than being aimed at the titanic ships engaging one another further out of orbit. A bright, multi-pointed glow began to dominate the skies of ilum, with a singular point of convergence blazing angrily like a volatile star about to turn nova. Within moments, the superweapon would discharge again - this time the beam slicing the very molecules within the planet’s atmosphere downward toward the massive tree-like ‘Bendu’ tearing through both Imperial and Alliance forces alike. The smell of ozone would fill the air, with the sound of a thousand thunder claps occurring at once as the beam surged forth.
A god had seemingly arisen from its deep slumber upon the planet; intent on protecting a legendary planet of old from being pillaged of its natural bounty.
And another god forged of metal and imbued with unimaginable power...
Would see it dead.
The Reckoning looms over the planet of Ilum, preparing to fire.
The Ave Imperator. Iriad, and Sturm redirect shields to compensate for the daring attack of the Wildfire and concentrate fire upon the carrier
The battle between the Mandalorians and Imperial-left flank intensifies.
The Niruaun faces off against the Vhipirheim, with the Triumph attempting to flank on the other side.
The Triumph and Wasp sustain significant damage from the debris launched toward it, with the Wasp barrelling on a collision course of the Fury.
The remaining Gurkha class corvettes unleash a surprising salvo of missile fire against the Mandalorian rear, meant to destabilize and hopefully catch them off guard.
The Bastion maneuvers to cut off the Rancor cruisers from the remainder of the Mandalorian fleet, unleashing with its full complement of weapons on either side against whatever targets are in range.
Aboard the Convor-Class Corvette ANV Starwing
In Hyperspace En Route to Ilum
Pryce paced back and forth in his cabin. The captain had been gracious enough to offer up the Captain's quarters for the Vice Chancellor on this last minute trip into the middle of what all reports said was a battlefield. A battlefield that sported the largest Imperial fleet since the Sith-Imperial Civil War. He knew they'd been dealing with their own problems back home- Rebels and the like, but he'd never suspected that they'd been sandbagging this war with the Maw for so long.
"Letting us bloody ourselves and come for us when we're down eh?" The new Lord Regent was a ruthless man. He'd seen the reports. If he had done half the things his record said to the Alliance in a war they'd have him for execution inside of two heartbeats. But that still begged the question. Why Ilum?
"Damn it Osarla," he muttered. The Padawans going alone to Ilum was something of a tradition for the Jedi Order going back eons he was sure. It was supposed to be safe. Relatively unimportant save for the Kyber crystals the Alliance had left the system be in respect to the Jedi. Now his son was smack dab in the middle of the largest Imperial assault in a decade.
"Karabast," he cursed, "May the Force be with you son. Osarla." He sighed heavily and fell back into the comfortable chair at the captain's desk. He would be there soon. They just had to hold on. He would get them out of there.
They dropped out of hyperspace just as the weapon fired. On the bridge Pryce watched with horror as energy coalesced and fired on the planet's surface. The place once honored and revered by Jedi, the home of their legendary weapons, was under attack by some preposterously powerful weapon. He could see the debris all around him. Had that thing been the cause of all this destruction?
He screamed. He screamed for the Jedi. He screamed for his son.
Pa'Kar Sang walked on blackened earth as he surveyed the damage the Courageous had caused upon crashing. He wasn't worried about being attacked or ambushed by any Imperials here on the surface. Most of the fighting was fighting hundreds of meters away from him on either side or beneath him in the caverns and the scar. He wept for this travesty. Ilum should not feel this pain, this destruction. On this thought, he heard a sing-song chime, or rather he felt it, in the Force.
"Curious," he said. His second in command, Commodore Pyek turned to face him.
"What sir? Is your vision returning?" They both knew that was preposterous. He would be blind until he found the time to get cybernetic implants. Even then, he wasn't sure if he should.
"No, it's something else." He stretched out his hand and from the blackened ice a crystal flew into his hand. It was warm to the touch, its jagged shape the color of amber. He didn't know how he knew the color, but he could see it in his mind's eye.
"A kyber crystal! Sir...What...How?"
The ground rumbled and a powerful voice shook the very planet itself. It was a scream. Agony. Such agony he could feel in the Force.
"What have you done to my children?" The Bendu shouted, anguish flooding the Force. The Bendu watched from atop his tree in horror as these men forced energy through his dormant child in the stars. It hissed and wept in the Force, sobs only he could hear after spending nearly a thousand years with the crystals. He could see now. The small Jedi, the Padawan he had met just before this began in the caves (Jasper Kai'el
) was right. The Jedi could not do such a terrible thing, even if they had lost their way. No. This was someone else. Someone unknown was taking his children and wounding his planet.
The beam of energy was coming. Straight for him. The light refracted off of the clouds in the sky, burning the air in its green splendor. They sought to destroy his world. Well, he would not let that happen. He closed his eyes, the bark creaking and groaning.
"I leave this place to you then Jedi," he said, his voice echoing in the minds of the Force-sensitive on this planet. He was unknowable, unkillable by the likes of these. He had ascended past being a Jedi Master long ago when he came to understand the truth of the Force. Even still, it would be a long, long while before he would see this place again he knew.
The Bendu Neti, once a scholar of the Jedi and crafter of lightsabers drew on the Force as he had never had before. The tree he made to attack the Jedi and the Imperials shuddered as it expanded and grew and grew. Yggdrasil who had given his word to the Jedi that he would protect Ilum as it replenished its store of kyber, Yggdrasil who promised that a thousand more generations of Jedi would be able to partake of Ilum's bounty, Yggdrasil once Jedi Master on the High Council now of the Bendu reached and channeled a tutaminis never before seen.
"Ah," he said to himself as the energy of the blast spread through his now many limbs and trunk. "I am, unknowable, unkillable by the likes of you," he said. "But my children, my children are another matter." The energy was far too great. Much greater than he'd anticipated. Maybe he would die. But that would be alright. He'd lived a hundred lifetimes, and he would live a thousand more like this one in the Force.
"Get down sir!" Pa'Kar was tacked to the ground as the weapon that had destroyed most of his fleet fired on the planet's surface. The wind was powerful, far too powerful for the weight of a single human body to stop it from flinging the blinded admiral into the air. This was how he would die. He felt the warmth of the blast. It was a familiar warmth though, like the one in the palm of his hands, the warmth of Kyber. A deafening sound like a thousand claps of thunder resounded through the open air of Ilum. There was a flash from the tree and then nothing. The powerful presence in the Force was gone and was no sound. For a moment he thought he'd lost two senses to this Imperial weapon until the wind rushed past him and the enormous thunderclap sounded once more as the shockwave fell in on itself.
The back-to-back shockwaves had kept the admiral and his commodore in the air for what felt like days. Now he could hear Pyek screaming.
"Worry not Pyek," Pa'Kar said, his voice surprisingly calm. "The Force will provide."
"Provide!? With all due respect Admiral, we're going to die!"
And so the Force did provide, if only to prove Pyek wrong it seemed. The tree maintained its glow from when the weapon struck its apex and now as the light began to fade the once barren branches began to explode to life, the only lush green on the entire planet. The leaves rustled as he andPyek landed among the newly life-abundant branches.
"What happened?" Pyek sputtered between mouthfuls of leaves and twigs.
"The Force gave us a miracle," Pa'Kar muttered. He could feel in the Force that the damage had not been fully contained. The initial shockwave had likely been strong enough to send tanks and hundreds of people in the area into the air like they were. Unlike he and Pyek, they would only have the cold icy earth of Ilum to greet them. Explosions in the distance confirmed his thoughts as tanks and walkers began to fall from the sky. He could smell the ozone as well and he knew that munitions fires and heat flash fires from the initial heat of the blast likely raged across the surface of the Hallowed Scar. Machinery above the surface could be slagged or otherwise made inoperable. The mess the Courageous caused on the surface was...Well, it was nothing in comparison to the aftermath of whatever weapon the Imperials were using.
And they were using Kyber crystals.
"Get comfortable Pyek," Pa'Kar said. "We will likely be up here for a long while."
MEMORIES ON ILUM: FLASHBACKS ON A FROZEN LAKE - PART 6
Tellan Lake, The Kyber Range Mountains, 5km West of the Hallowed Scar, Ilum (Early-Spring of 877 ABY)
Just the slightest tremble had given away the truth of the fear.
Shai did not wish to die this way, however - nor did Erskine for that matter.
But the fight was over, and Maji's caring side had seemingly taken precedence once more, holding her mentor close as her jetpack bore both their weight in it's effort to propel them to safety, heralding the duel's end with finality as Shai and Erskine landed without much trouble on the Tellan's east bank. The thing of wonder that dazzled him, and all the dangers it presented under Shai's influence before, had become their timely salvation in a dazzling flair that contrasted greatly to that experienced from all the dangers before. Mandalorian equipment, no matter how simplistic, had once again proven to be creations of warfighting wonder, and especially when wielded in the right hands.
Feeling the crashing tremors still rippling through the valley, with the cracks still seen and heard on the ice from the eastern shoreline, and as they looked out towards the dangers they had only just evaded together, it was clear to both warriors that the wisest choice had been made on the matter. They would be safe enough from the debris, the tremors, avalanches and the frozen deeps, at least for a while as the weight of the crashed Star Destroyer was sure to have seismic implications on it's own, much like those that came with the application of the superweapon and the Bendu all at once; but in the cavernous alcove to where the champion had moved her mentor, they'd be neatly tucked away from the madness that awaited the region around them, shielded in their escape from the insanity of Ilum itself. For once in both their lives, the simpler, safer choice, the dull common-sense option had prevailed, though both Barran and Maji alike understood in their moment to consider what a death under the ice would have been like.
They were safe from it all, safer than most in their situation on Ilum.
'I'm sorry.'
But alas, Ilum would be safer for some than it ever could have been for others.
'What are you talk-'
CRACK!!!!
As the Lord-Regent's eyes had drawn level with the Mandalorian's T-Visor to inquire, a pale flash then suddenly lit up the small space between them, and in the process of pondering on the nature of her apology, the shock of the moment delayed Lord Erskine's reaction to Shai's sudden assassination-attempt. But when Maji took of her helmet and vambrace, the tears flooding her red, glowing eyes seemed to illuminate the very weight of her choice, Barran looked down to see for himself what had just happened, finding blood in abundance seeping from the charred circle burned into his jacket and shirt beneath.
'I… I'm so sorry…'
First was a look of disappointment, then came the understanding, then came a peaceful smirk as the Steward of Imperium replied,'Heh! Poetic.... The things we do for a better future, eh?', finally sheathing his sword in a stout-hearted acquiescence to the demise he should have expected. Always knowing never to let one's guard down in combat, the old Woad should have known this, especially with all he had endured in his life; but all the Lord-Regent wanted in these moments, and as much as it kicked his pride and his self-esteem to the ground to admit these faults of himself, was to make amends for all the wrongs that resulted as consequences of a defeated General's drunken complacency. The forlorn defence of Nirauan broke him by the end of it, but Barran knew that the worst thing to do was to deploy again, and in the reconquest of New Carannia, and throughout the battle for Citadel Caelitus most specifically, Lord Erskine had ignored every warning sign at the cost of the lifelike honour in his soul.
This was the Woad's burden to bear, and of all the fates that told of uglier ends than that he was landed with, Lord Erskine found himself quite glad that the ideal warrior's death was occurring before his very eyes. However, adding the bitter to the sweet was the fact it had to be by the hand of a warrior who would never be the same after that, death by the blaster shot of one who's heart was breaking by the sound of the shot, the look in the Lord-Regent's eye at the time, and the fact he was still being kind-hearted through all of it.
'But still, I understand.... Mind as I said, we both know that none of this is your faul-'
Spitting out blood first, the Woad reached into his coat pocket but his standing, warlike strength had failed him just as his fingers reached the top button; fortunate enough that there were arms there to catch his fall, Lord Erskine would land slowly after his legs gave out, and only then could he reach into his inner coat-pocket without the worry of hurting himself needlessly in his final moments. Erskine had been lowered towards the ground with slow and caring deliberation, lying in the arms of a distraught Shai as his hipflask and cigarra-pack were brought out to make the most of their brief time of peace together, and all whilst the side of the Lord-Regent's head leaned with comfort against the abdominal plating of the Mandalorian's Beskar'gam - calmly looking out to the lake together as the blood continued to flow.
Shai would try her best to stem the bloody tide, applying Bacta-patches to the entry and exit wounds whilst Erskine lit two cigarras, one for himself and one for the champion who crossed a brutal threshold in her own growth as a warrior, though the old Woad's right hand had failed in it's attempt to flick his lighter into action. Though fortunately for the Lord-Regent, the wonder of Alora's making would achieve what the flesh-and-blood counterpart had lost the strength to do, thus granting him some last dignity in negating the need to ask for help in this matter. Then as soon as the Mandalorian was done with the bacta-patches and painkiller stims, the Woad passed her his neglected hipflask along with the cigarra that was lit with Maji in mind, then sat in silence with her for a while, enjoying the peaceful snowfall as they both smoked together in wordless serenity.
'Make me proud, Shai. That's all I ask.'
And there they slumped in the bloodied snows together, finishing their cigarras and stubbing them out whilst in the process of enjoying the view in silence, enjoying an eerily calm bliss as the fight between Galactic powers continued to intensify around them. And in the following minutes, the biggest of Blue Hearts slowed to a complete, flatlining halt of lifelessness, with his cold-blue irises looking out to a lake that looked much like those on his home-world, and with a blissful, contented smirk across his lips - assumed to have made his silent prayers and farewells to the Galaxy before the end.
For Tal, for Tavlar, and for Fel - the one true Emperor.... I bled for the New Order.
Wracked by grief and depression in the moments following Lord Erskine's death-rattle, hearing and feeling it in the teary-eyed embrace of her mentor, Shai would close his eyelids and opt to remain with the Woad for a while; trapped ever more in the moment with tunnelled, seemingly manic focus, almost defiantly oblivious to all the madness unfolding in the distance, as any with respect for Barran would in Maji's situation. The unthinkable had been achieved, and thus the end of an era had not only been proven plausible, but also possible, passing down the mantle from generation to generation, heart-breaking though the consequences were expected to be. The Mandalorian knew that such implications meant irrevocable escalations of hostilities between the Empire and the GA, such that abandoned any considerations for treaties and peace-talks of any sort in the unfolding war between them, as any hope of such had just died in her arms like the old warrior just moments before.
BORN OF BRIGHT STARSI: SURVIVING FORMER ALLIES - PART 5
FOB: Reverence, Western Kyber Mountains, The Hallowed Scar, Ilum (Spring of 877 ABY)
'Interesting....' 'Interesting....'
Despite the old Woad's reputation, the Lord-Regent had proven himself a reasonable negotiator time and time again, even negotiating past old distrusts with other factions to tackle the Mawite menace more effectively shortly after ascending to Imperial leadership; there was no doubt the shrewd Imperial custodian had shown to be a handy bridge between Emperors, but in the understanding of deteriorating relations with the Empire, the Galactic Alliance were sure that the Lord-Regent's adversarial competence would become an existential threat before long. The old man was a problem, but unlike Rurik Fel, Erskine Barran was far more assailable in comparison, even with the Woad's sword-fighting abilities considered, the old man was easily assumed far too warlike to be allowed to live. His days were numbered from the moment he willingly rose to Imperial leadership, a marked man from the moment he laid his sword across the Imperial throne, though this was one of the many end-fates he was gladly marching towards in life.
But then, all of a sudden, it seemed the hands of fate decided it would be kind to inflict some more torment on Lord Erskine after all, apparently not quite ready to let the old man off the hook just yet.
A masked figure, covered in blue, swirling ethno-patterns had been watching from the cliffs above, standing silently as he observed what he also assumed to be the Lord-Regent's final moments, but being forced to drop down with a jump, forced down to the shoreline by untold, secretive obligations. Whether those were to the clan or to the gods he was trying to honour in combat, not even the observer could say. Michael wasn't there in the mind of the watcher any more, and knew he would black out for hours in surrender to this part of himself, leaving both the Wanderer and his father's killer at the mercy of an entity that was far too enigmatic to predict or control for that matter.
Whatever would happen by the time the Wanderer's entity landed, the Mandalorian was almost completely powerless to stop or stall his advance, and when Michael's boots thudded against the snows just a few metres away from all the blood, Maji would have no choice but to observe from her own perspective. Though what was making it all the more confusing was the fact the masked figure was giving no indication of friendly or malicious intentions either, tilting his head in an investigative appraisal of the situation but looking wilder and more untameable than before, and as occasional twitches and tics revealed further hidden shades of the unnatural, the glowing blue of the paint, the hand-tattoos and the Druid's irises began to pulsate more obviously than before.
'You....' 'You....'
Using the antlers that adorned it as grip-holds, the entity slowly pulled off the Druid-Mask to reveal the bearded face of Lord Michael Barran, setting the item aside and politely nestling it in the snow before turning back to Shai with his lasting, undivided attention. Edging closer, it didn't take long for the entity to note recognition in the glowing red eyes of the woman sitting with Lord Erskine's lifeless body huddled up in her arms, but in his honesty, the entity's eyes pulsated with otherworldly life, then slowly shook his head from side to side before any wrongful recognition could get in the way.
'Michael sleeps.... But if I told you I could bring his father back - what would you say?' 'Michael sleeps.... But If I told you I could bring his father back - what would you say?'
The old Woad's heart was no longer beating, of this the entity knew for a fact, but what was also known was the assurance from the gods that time still remained to bring the old man back - but the window of opportunity was far too finite to wait for long.
The entity needed to act, and to act fast if he wished to bring something back that resembled the Erskine from before.
No sooner had she vocalised her advisement to fall back on the heels of the visions that still clawed at the back of her mind, that the superweapon’s emissive hit, causing her to crouch and shrink with her free arm curling over her head and tip of her blade dug into the ice at her feet. The cave trembled and icy debris shook loose, the ice groaned wearily, but the cave did not fail, and as the shaking began to subdue, she tentatively uncurled, her heart hammering its way down from the shock, and she swallowed hard, pushing down the fear trying to wriggle its way in. Despite knowing what was potentially to come, visions didn’t necessarily give a bead on precisely when.
[That wasn’t all of it… ] she thought warily while lifting her blade and wiping it clean in one swipe, the flat of the weapon against her layers, eyeing her companion in this assault, as the helmeted girl nodded. The agreement was short-lived, however, as the imperial recovered and was on them again, and Daisy moved, catching the few bolts that found her position with the short blade of her freshly wiped wakizashi, the vibrations of the splashing impacts making her hand feel momentarily fuzzy.
“Itai…”* she uttered sharply, but there was no space to sit in that discomfort, with a less familiar projectile rushing through air towards and over them, impacting at the threshold of the passageway they sought to escape through, “...kuso!”** she spoke in surprise. Moving with the other girl to evade the spray of ice and rock caused by the rocket, she listened as the other Padawan spoke her plan, to which the half-zeltron gave only a short nod, her attention on their one remaining armoured attacker. She wouldn’t take her eyes off of him so carelessly again.
<"You're not going anywhere Jedi."> And for now, he was right. She frowned as he moved towards them once more, her eyes momentarily narrowing to slits, “Then neither are you, Imperial,” she replied as flatly as she could manage with a slight shake to her voice, bringing up another short-lived barrier to absorb the remaining sonic blasts, as a longstanding barrier would wear down her power faster, and she had no view to an end to this. Not yet.
When the helmeted Padawan made her move, rushing the Imperial again, Daisy waited the scant seconds in preparing for the right time, energy of the Ashla gathering in her legs, and in the moment after the Tetan’s foot shot out, the Atrisia-raised padawan surged forward as unexpected, unbidden hope washed over her. She breathed out as she stepped off, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes in response to the feeling… what had she already done, and would do, for hope?
Bringing her blade up with both hands, she vaulted up off the ground as she reached him and invaded his space, sending the knee of her left leg into his chest, the blade of her wakizashi rushing down at the intersection of where his neck met his body. Seeking, perhaps, to carve out an end, just as the Courageous hit Ilum, the shaking started anew, and slowly their area of the cavern began to crack and groan louder than before...
"Move forward! Vilun, fan out to the next line with your squad and hold this flank."
The Alliance assault was making steady progress, even with reports of renewed Imperial resistance, and Sara was about to bring up the rear when the roar of a shotgun blast from the parallel trenchline drew her attention.
Gritting his teeth, Sid pushed forward, turning a corner to a communications trench. An Alliance soldier with a chaingun stood there. He leveled the shotgun at her, and fir-
Click.
"Shit!"
Sid threw the shotgun at her, and withdrew his fighting knife, and charged- the blade pointed downward. He went to push against her, prevent her from using that terrifying weapon in her grasp, and engage her in close combat. The young man charged, screaming beneath the helmet. Around the pair, the war raged on, in the skies, in the heavens, and all through the trenches they found themselves in.
Swinging her weapon around, a Stormtrooper burst from cover and charged at her. Before she could spool up her blaster, he tossed his evidently empty weapon at her. The Marine reacted, swinging her weapon up and batting aside the shotgun just as the Stormtrooper closed the gap, knife in hand and screaming.
She reacted, drawing her pistol and Combat Knife. At close range she fired, but the Stormtrooper rushed onwards still, and she blocked his knife strike by intercepting his forearm crosswise with her other arm. Grunting, she pushed forward, her armour straining to push back at him. Dropping her pistol, the Lieutenant used her now free left arm to wrap around the other side of the Stormtrooper's knife arm (blocked by her right) and levered forward and sideways, aiming to twist his arm away to force him to disarm.
As they struggled in the melting ice, she could just make out the sound of the superweapon firing again...
Lily hated rookies. A lot. Especially when that rookie stood between her and a target and drew away the Reaper's attention.
In answer, a crushgaunted fist struck sideways to hit her comrade's helmet without Lily even looking at Katja. It wouldn't do any real damage, but her bell will sure as shit ring. <Someone just did.> she deadpanned before picking up the pace after that target.
Before long, the sharpshooter caught sight of the two they were pursuing. In a fluid motion, the precision rifle was removed from her back and she dropped to a knee and took aim.
Everything fell away instantly - her comrade, the quakes in the ground, the shouts, blasterfire and humming lightsabers all disappeared into white noise. There was only the scope and the young woman running for her life.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Then the Verpine-tech whispered out a high-velocity answer into the young woman's leg. It would have the desired effect - it would definitely take a few heartbeats before the Padawan's body caught up with the slug lodged into it. And then the world came flooding back al at once. <They won't go far now.> Lily said, clipping the rifle back onto her back.
Katja rushed forward, but a violent quake prevented the SCAR Trooper to follow through on the hunt as the tunnel collapsed in front of them. The Reaper sighed and looked around. She saw the entrance to a side tunnel not far behind her. Checking her tac-map, she realised it would loop around to an open area further ahead. <There's another tunnel her that will enable us to cut them off up ahead. C'mon.> she told Spectre before turning to head into the side-tunnel.
After some quick pacing, the two SCAR Troopers reached the open area just as the Jedi boy was whimpering at some rocks.
"I'd be surprised if she's still alive kid." Lily said behind him with an emotionless voice, Streiter in hand. The once-caring farm girl from Lorrd was no longer around. In her place stood Death.
The Emerald Lightning had done its job as Gabriel Pryce
flew back from the immense kinetic force into an icy wall. It was a shame that the padawan had chosen to fight him without support from an experienced jedi master. "You did well, my friend. However your mistake will cost you your life." Aschwin said without mercy nor doubt. Reaching out with the force to grip the padawan's blade; tossing it aside with a simple hand maneuver out of reach while putting his own blade back on his belt. The flow of the force shifted around him as it seemed to gather within his hands like a whirlpool. Gathering within his hands of a Force Burst. "You should have stay in the temple now no one can save you." Aschwin said as a final taunt before sending the gathered orb of force energy forward to send both him and Varen Ardos
through the icy walls even further.
The Imperial Knight would have heavy breathing as he took a minute to regather his energy from using the force and the intense lightsaber combat previously. His gaze followed through the sound and mist of the battlefield as his stormtroopers engaged with the kyber plants. Then all of the sudden the sound got drowned out by the unknown to him at this time firing of the superlaser on the planet. He didn't have a minute to even think before the heavy winds and debris flowed down the cavern; slamming into him and the stormtroopers. Shrapnel pounded into his form as he slammed backfirst into the mining drill as it slowly whirled to a stop. Even with the heavy armor on; his lungs lost all of their oxygen in an instant before returning. Crimson Blood ran down his face from the pieces of rock currently imbedded within.
Lifting himself from the drill rubble with a groan; Aschwin had no choice but to stare at the stormtrooper corpses that now littered the ground. He reached over to pull the helmet off of Commander Peck who had landed beside him and saw nothing but the white stare of death looking back at him. "Goodbye my friend." Aschwin said with a somber tone; moving away from the body and walking through the battlefield of dead plants and corpses surrounding him like a blanket of unfathomable destruction.
With the drill destroyed and the mining operation ground to a halt because of the immense damage caused. Aschwin had failed to follow through with his orders. But he would not be disgraced completely on this day. Reaching down to grab his curved lightsaber once again and turned the crystal within it to an Incineration one. The organce hue of the blade would shine brightly against the blue undertone of the icy atmosphere.
Objective 1
Allies: The Empire
Enemies: GA; Nida Perl
Equipment: Armor; Duster; Lightsaber; Old Sin When Nida Perl
leapt backwards Sarad's assault did not cease. While she withdrew to the mouth of the cave Sarad pressed forward, unwilling to relinquish the pressure after he'd landed a blow to her shoulder. He smelt blood like a shark in the water and there was nothing that would stop him from attempting to capitalize on it even as the cave rumbled and shook, threatening to collapse overhead.
In hindsight it would probably be beneficial that he pressed the attack as he did.
As Nida called the lightsaber to her left hand Sarad was whirling his own back around behind his head so that as he came at her his weapon came over his left shoulder and back around in a diagonal blow for the inside of her left arm...
"Not so."
...he'd correct her as he brought his lightsaber down in its blow...
"The Force is what brought me here, it willed this confrontation. The credits are simply a bonus."
...perhaps Nida had a point but it would be the same as a Jedi and a Sith debating the philosophical differences of their own traditions. Regardless Sarad hadn't even noticed the crackle of electricity, the azure energy springing to life across her fingers and through her eyes and around her.
The Lightsaber blow was meant to both deflect and deal a telling blow to her still functional arm though Sarad did not finish there. Drawing on his own momentum he actually turned his left shoulder forward as he ran at Nida, moving with the lightsaber strike he meant to deliver so that he could drive himself into her chest and throw them both out of the mouth of the cave and down onto the snowy, ice covered landscape that was beyond.
A sudden pain enveloped him though. Electrical discharge ran across his and throughout his torso as Nida unleashed the 'electrical judgement' she had been building towards. Whether or not his attempt to shoulder her, coupled with the lightsaber blow would diminish some of that was another story but the pain was quite severe in that moment.
He didn't blackout but his vision blurred and surround felt himself tumbling. As his mind cleared and his vision with it he'd soon find himself prone on the snowy incline that had initially lead him towards the mouth of the cave. Heavy snowfall surrounding him along with the sounds of battle; blasterfire, explosions and the sounds of men shouting orders to one another or dying. It would take a moment for him to regain his senses completely.
And they shall know no fear. As the planet gave away and shattered around them- there was no abandoning this sacred duty. To eliminate the threat, slay the enemy, forward the ever eternal ironclad march of Imperial progress.
The words of a killer. They all were in these caves. Those vaunted virtues fell away into dust at the soonest opportunity. The nature of the Jedi would've been to preserve, leave these Imperials to die for certain- but to preserve one's self another day. Instead, they stood their ground to garner a cry of vengeance against the crying of Ilum's final dawn. A long tortured world screaming its death rites to violent tune of Imperial war machines. Kriegan ultimately didn't care for the music, at this point- the Empire would salvage what they could from these caves and Tavlar's duty was to salvage what he could of his platoon. Too many names in his HUD had flashed red with signs of critical or fatal vital statuses across his unit.
They delved into this frozen darkness with about fourty. He'd be fortunate to leave with twenty. He could already hear the beratement from General Vandron from the casualty rate. The 501st took pride in its ability to survive the absolute worst, a trait that led back Kriegan's father's command of the unit- with the best of the best surviving total annihilation on Ziost twice over. And here- Kriegan was seeing his troopers drop dead to padawans in ice caves.
Kriegan's trigger finger squeezed down in five violent pulls of his pistol to impact against and break Ariana's force shield before firing a last round to make purchase on the Padawan's form in the hopes of ripping her away from him before she could deliver that kick to his form. Immediately after he saw the threat of Du Couteau set back for the moment, his gaze and body snapped in the direction of Daisy. His characteristic stormtrooper gaze staring down her own with cold vengeance.
Wordless, her knee slammed against his chest with a violent crack of muscle and bone slamming into duraplast with tremendous force. Another trauma alert rang through his ears as the impact gel beneath the duraplast plate formed and molded to shape to the impact. His eyes screwed shut for a moment, opening only to see the icy gleam of her wakizashi swiping at the air before him. With speed and determination he abandoned his pistol to the clatter on the floor beneath, reaching both hands for her wrist clutching the blade as he set his weight back toward her assault. It swiped at his collar with a violent streak of crimson emerging from the cut as he sought to pull the blade away from him with a fully extended arm clutching her wrist before wrenching her toward him and delivering a knee toward her abdomen with the closed distance.
In that closeness, she could see his eyes through the tinted lenses and glint of the HUD display over it. Eyes of hatred, of a mortal man dancing with the Galaxy's blessed. Young and burning with defiance, a dance of death of which he would not so easily drop. That streak of cobalt through his right lense his show of fierceness and contempt for danger, contempt for the fear of such a close, gnawing scrape with death.
In that open hand he summoned the wrist mounted vibroblade from the vambrace before he sought to slam his fist and the blade itself into the side of Masudo's abdomen, his eyes never breaking from hers as he defiantly sought that coup de grace, that impossible twist and reversal of fates cast from a mortal to one blessed in the Galaxy's very fabric.
