Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction ILUMinate the Void | Junction of Ilum [GA], Pashvi [NIO], and Empty hex Northeast of Rhand [BOTM]

Auteme Auteme // Janos Sovv Janos Sovv

Always on the move, always going from one place to the other. Aeris was no stranger to controlling her temperature. Ilum one day, Tatooine the other, and sometimes it wasn’t even because her home was about to be ransacked by one Sith or the other.

“And if a memory fails, I find that thinking of warmth works too.” Aeris added. “Radiator, a bonfire, the likes.”

Her eyes fell upon Auteme who clarified what she had meant. The engravings on the inside of the temple, now those were a widely different beast. Many had no doubt worn down over the ages, but there was liable to be a great many more recent ones. Perhaps she should have understood that was what Auteme had meant.

Aeris nodded at her friend.

“Yes, right, those.” She rubbed at her neck. “Those we can definitely do.”

“Might even find my old engraving if we’re lucky.”
 




T A R O K
"We could have been long gone... but sometimes an example is better than a simple raid."
"Ah. You invite challenge. That is good."

Tarok walked with an uneven gait. The bag of crystals was heavy and full of sharp objects and the ceiling kept forcing him to duck down.

"Bold, for such small and repulsive creature."

Tarok managed to sound almost respectful, despite the observation. He cast a look over the marauders that followed. Their leader had been keen for battle. More brave than his strength and skill deserved, but he hadn't shirked away from violence. Tarok assumed his followers would be the same.

A small device at his belt beeped. Tarok drew the comms device up to his eyes. They had climbed far enough that his shop could establish comms again.

"Hmph. Many ships."
 
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Irizi'ro'kanto blinked, listening intently to the senator's response. Empathetic as she was, empathy didn't put food on the table, nor did it offer intervention when a bully tried to take your meal.

"You speak of Chiss systems falling under the jurisdiction of the Alliance. Should I take this to be a declaration of the Alliance's intent to annex our space?", he asked plainly.

Be the friction between states as it may, it sounded more and more like Chiss Space would soon be the battleground for some of the galaxy's major powers: the brigands from the galactic west, the New Imperials from the galactic west, and the Alliance from the galactic south. Irizi'ro'kanto gritted his teeth at the thought of the Ascendancy subjugated by foreigners, powerless to influence matters concerning their own home.

Annasari's soft approach was neither irrational nor unexpected. He had not expected a forthright commitment. Moreover, he expected the path to getting the Alliance on their side to be an uphill one. Why should the Alliance so readily turn on the New Imperials, one of their strongest allies, even if they were only united by common cause? That is what Fort Typhos was intended to be - the first of potentially many tangible reasons to stay true to their ethos. Even if their triumvirate was to end today, the Sith would remain a common enemy, and cooperation, or at least nonintervention between the two would continue unabated. While continued cooperation made sense to the Alliance, it was a concern for the Ascendancy. A termination of relations between the two was illogical. But that is not what the Chiss sought.

"I must ask, however, to prepare us fully for such a commitment: Will all Imperial reach within Chiss space be seen as hostile action by the Ascendency?", the Alliance senator asked. It was a reasonable inquiry.

"
The New Imperial Order has expressed a desire to maintain a dialogue with the Ascendancy, a dialogue which would serve as a means to assimilate our people into their war machine. They have proven to be bad faith actors, whom you would be well-advised to take great caution against. Military incursions into our systems and other actions which would usurp the authority of the Ascendancy to govern its own people would certainly be perceived to be a hostile action, as I'm sure it would for most other rational individuals."

"That is not the answer you seek though. No, would be my answer. War is not the Ascendancy's first or only response to transgressions. We are not so foolish as to reject a relationship with the New Imperial Order outright. Subservience, official or implicit, as they seek of us, is unacceptable. Ch'ahn basebas...", he trailed off as he struggled to find the words before an otherwise silent protocol droid chimed in to translate. "Yes, self-determination. I believe that is something of a fundamental right among democratic circles, no?"

"I am not so intimately familiar with Alliance foreign and security policy, if you would be so kind as to assist me in my understanding. If a foreign state uses their military to kill a native population in order to forcibly annex such a territory, and the independent government whom claimed sovereignty over such a system petitioned the Alliance to intervene, how would the Alliance respond?"

He suspected he knew the answer already. Something something Senate, something something vote, something something 'sorry it's not politically or strategically expedient for us to help'. Perhaps it would come across as a rhetorical question, but the silence that would follow all but confirmed it was not.


 
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JEDI TEMPLE
ILUM
UNKNOWN REGIONS
Auteme Auteme Aeris Lashiec Aeris Lashiec

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"I will be f-fine," the young sullustan stubbornly insisted, "Th-thank you, master."

Hero did not wish to dwell on his homeworld for he still missed it very much. Yet despite himself an image of Inyusu Tor's volcanic ranges flashed across his mind. It helped a little. Romantic notions of gallant duels and high adventure melted away like the temple's ice wall. There seemed as much need for Jedi scholars as grand crusaders.

"The water of the kyber..." he murmured, gazing in wonder as the transient cascade passed and light reflected off the caves' crystal luster beyond.

Eager to keep moving and coax some life back into his bones, Jedi Sovv activated his glowlamp and pressed on. While his master and their librarian companion examined each passage for signs of living history to record Hero found himself compelled to continue. His keen underground sensed warned him of a coming cavern before the tunnel bend revealed its vast glory. He would have appreciated such a sight were it not for the radiant light gleaming brighter than any other. A keening chime echoed in his thoughts.

"I sense something!" Hero called out behind him, "There is...a presence down here with us."

Whatever its nature it was calling out to the young Jedi.

 
if they're watching anyways
Auteme grinned to her friend, knowing the librarian would've enjoyed studying whatever they found inside the Ilum Temple. In time, the ice melted away. While some headed within in search of crystals, Auteme stayed close to the exit. The long first hallway -- more like a cavern -- was frosted over as the rest, but underneath there were markings made by a thousand different hands. They'd been drawn over so many times it was difficult to tell where each started and ended.

Despite the difficulty of deciphering, she was enraptured by the engravings. Hero's voice broke her out of the slight trance as he headed deeper.


"Oh- yes, Hero, you can follow your instincts!" she called, before glancing to Aeris, a question on her lips.

"Am I... being a good teacher?" Her eyes wandered back down the hall, where the Sullustan's silhouette slowly slipped away. "Maybe we should follow him."
 

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Post #8
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE
BLUE-HEART BRIGADE


Objective 1: HEARTS OF KYBER

Allies (NIO): Dante Corvus Dante Corvus Rurik Fel Rurik Fel
Djorn Bline Djorn Bline Izoshi Izoshi

Allies (NJO/GA/RGO): Aurelian Sigismund Aurelian Sigismund

Enemies (BOTM/NSO):
The Mongrel The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren Maestus Maestus Caedis Umbrammor Caedis Umbrammor Irratar Hemstagon Irratar Hemstagon

Erskine's Loadout

Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)

Pocket-Weapons: Gifted Brass-Knuckles from the Guv'Nah (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry)
*Losses are always registered 1 post after the fact
93 Repulsorlift Tanks (-3)
9 Scout-AFVs (-1)
2 ACVs
1 Coy. Elite Riflemen
3 Plat. Quartermasters (Combat-Engineers)
1 Coy. Field-Medics


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Brand's Crucible III - Screaming God's Fury

Stiff resistance was stepping out and letting loose with their ordnance on Brand's uphill assault, but the Goliaths were still able to return fire and further their collective attempt to reach the top, and thick swarms of warriors, vehicles and weapons of all design were being hurled at the re-attaching mass of mechanised armour in answer. Everything was beginning to make sense to the otherwise highly-stressed brigade, and before long, their rate of fire would begin to increase with the intensity of the fight, even as the lines eventually clashed to slow both advances down; and though the Mawites pushing back had the high-ground advantage, along with that of momentum over the Blue-Heart, there was something savage about the unhinged abandon in which the defenders' line was treated, driving their wide mass into the most dense gathering of opponents. With all the crazed warriors then attempting to use the loss in momentum to their advantage, the LMG-gunners atop the Galidraani turrets would be forgiven for closing the hatches on their foes, but they didn't, electing to hold their own and let loose with the weapons they were paired with instead.

The infantry had two differing choices of deathly predicament, and though they were all willing to fight and die like true soldiers of the New Order, their outlook appeared very bleak whichever way they decided to turn; on one hand, they could've moved alongside and behind the vehicles to cover as best as they could, and on the other, they were free to face the marauder threat as they sat atop the same vehicles their rifle-toting colleagues were using as cover. Bleak were the circumstances, dire straits indeed to slog their way through, but the men of Blue-Heart Battalion would fight on, no matter what brutal hands their fates had dealt them; such resolve would make none prouder than Lord Erskine himself, but the Stormchaser wasn't there to see such resolve in action. Their charismatic leader would have quieter, seemingly-more important matters to attend to as the subordinates fought and died amongst the steel, fire, blood and snowfall, with their fresh-legged foes screaming bloody-murder in their faces every step of the way.

'All units, this is Brand! Keep fighting with everything you are, and the Maw's mountaintop fortress will be ours before long! THROW - EVERYTHING - AT WHOEVER, OR WHATEVER, STANDS IN OUR WAY!!! I DON'T CARE IF YOU 'AVE TO USE A BLOODY TRENCH-SHOVEL TO DOME 'EM, JUS' CLENCH YOUR JAWS AN' GET STUCK IN!!! AFV One out!'

Not knowing whether the words of encouragement were working for the Blue-Hearts or not, Brand had no choice but to trust the process as the depleted brigade pushed ever so aggressively towards their enemies' second trenchline, and to an extent that everyone looking up towards it could see the clear artificially-dug line in in the nearest plateau's horizon. Fewer than three-hundred metres away, with defenders at the barbed-wire perimeter doing their best to provide covering fire with distance and the elements working against the overall accuracy of their shots, more Marauders prepared to make their move, though whether they were opting to push downhill at a sprint (like the Athysians had just minutes before them) or not still remained to be seen.

Between the Commonwealth contingent or that of the Marauders, something, or rather - some-one had to give eventually, and Brand was determined that his advantage in armour (and in rear-engine repulsorlift momentum also) would see them safely to the second trenchline. Every smoothbore, LMG and blaster onboard the 2nd Brigade's vehicles were aiming uphill at differing targets that would otherwise present a whole array of challenges for the Blue-Hearts in their eastward ascent. With the crewmen focusing on the opposition they'd be facing eventually, all the riflemen, Quartermasters, medics and the general momentum of the vehicles they relied on would be the sole element attempting to push their foes back uphill in disarray; a harsh truth the unfortunate infantrymen had known long before landing on Ilum's surface, though it still enraged them enough to take all their anger out on those who were howling bloody-murder in their faces.

'GOD SAVE GALIDRAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!'

Crashing through the center of the Athysian line would come at a cost, though it was a cost that every surviving member of the Blue-Hearts was willing to pay with their lives, even in the face of opposing heavy-ordnance, Moon-Children and Branchlurkers. The third wave of sallying enemies would be their hardest, spilling over the second-trenchline's dirt-mounds with unquenchable wrath spurring them down at their ascending foes. The brave men below did not know if they'd survive the encounter or not, but all were resolute in the will to drag as many abominations to the afterlife with them; a grim outlook to instil in themselves, but deathly determination was what they needed in those testing moments in the run up to the impending clashing of the lines, so all who would dare look uphill would smile knowing these hideous beasts, (and all the modified vehicles that drove astride them) were in for the fright of a lifetime.

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Another Ideal Battlefield X - Allowing Violent-Little-Dances

'I'm here.'

The recognisable, hoarse voice from the Kellas' recordings of their encounter on Csilla had spoken, making himself easier for the Stormchaser to locate and approach him; warily watching his foe as the Mongrel stepped out with arms held out wide, the Lord-Commander stepped forth to meet him in the middle, with naked steel still bared, gazing on as the highly-skilled marauder's facial features steadily became more pronounced with each metre of distance closed between each other. On one side, a depleted force of bloodlusting maniacs poised in wait, calmly anticipating reprisals for the losses inflicted on their contingent, and on the other, a wildly-outnumbered ACV crew had their weapons drawn with similar grievances against their killer-counterparts. If push came to shove, the Saga's crewmen were all calmly willing to drag as many foes as possible to Hell with them, something the Mongrel could see for himself, though all who were present knew how futile their deathly resolve could be in such circumstances.

'If you know my name, you know that I have little patience for words alone. Speak quickly. Glory comes from battles, not parlays.'
He's not wrong, an' he'll find plenty o' that in the footage on Birrell's black-box. An' by God, when all is said an' done the-day, I hope they do!

'Quite right, Mongrel.', the Brigadier-General started, pausing only to draw the marauder's attention to the ornate basket-hilted Vibrosword, singing nakedly in the freezing Ilum winds as it cut through snow and smoke in it's downward facing position. With eyes darting back to his opponent, Erskine found himself pleasantly surprised to see avarice in the Mongrel's eyes; not fear, disdain, not even a hint of concern for what Barran was capable doing with it in his grip. Adopting a more polite tone than before, the Stormchaser would relent, knowing the Mongrel could just as easily indulge in his silent offer to duel as he continued,'My apologies, but I'm sure you know the rule of the blade; can't exactly sheathe this beauty until I let her taste blood first, eh? Speaking of which, I've decided to let Gowrie fight you after all. Congratulations.'

Staring down the flat of his blade as it pointed to the brutal struggle uphill, Lord Erskine smirked as he took notice of the progress made since his last glance, then dropped it down to face the still-greedy gaze of the Mongrel as he marvelled at the craftsmanship of the basket-hilt, with gaze occasionally drifting to the ornate scabbard at his hip on occasion. It was almost as if the gifted marauder was imagining what he would do with it in his own hands, but the Lord-Commander didn't mind one bit, seeing it purely as a complement to his taste in rare Vibroswords, as both could tell without so much as a second-gander that this particular Basket-Hilted Claymore was something of an anomaly to the battlefields of the ninth-century ABY.
Aye, if ye can pry it fae mah cauld, deid hands, you're more than welcome to it.

'You fight very well for one with no formal training in Jedi-assassination methods, extremely well! The footage my men were able to record came in handy, especially in our sparring-gym on Archais.... Gowrie's suggestion, not mine. You see, my colleague & I fight very differently to each other, would ya believe it? Obviously you would, he's actually a very-powerful nobleman in his own right, but one with a very different breed of upbringing to my own. Woads are wild, but Tuaths are wilder, an' your opponent has the blood of the latter. Fights that way as well, but you'll be findin' that out for yourself soon enough, eh?'

 
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LOCATION: Celchu Starfighter Base, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: II - Business as Usual
TAG: Sssar Taszzn Sssar Taszzn | Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar | Enlil Enlil | Julian Qar Julian Qar | GA | NIO

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The briefing on the Outbound Flight project, recently approved by the Senate, came to a close. The dimmed lights in the meeting room returned to their normal levels as Tithe thanked the presenters for their explanation of the project.

“Our latest assessment is that Csilla is but the precipise,” the Vice Chancellor disclosed. He had no doubt that COMPNOR were tracking the growing threat in the Unknown Regions are closely as the SIA were.

“This risks becoming, dare I say, a movement.” The further the scourge of the Brotherhood spread, the more insidious elements were flocking to join their ranks. Tithe had already heard of sects of Sith and marauders swearing allegiance to the Brotherhood. The momentum that was building behind their murderous rampage was reaching a level of feverish loyalty and carnage the likes of which the galaxy had not witnessed the recent history.

“Military might may not be suffice. Alternative avenues of asserting controls, yes, even those beyond the normal realms of convention warfare, simply must be explored.”
 
Bernard Bernard

"Indeed, Padawan Bernard. It is often those that forget the past that continue to repeat the same mistakes. " A shrug there as he accepted his cup of tea and took a sip from it. Humming in clear appreciation as he inclined his head in thanks. "But, sadly, all sides in our eternal conflict are guilty of this feat. The New Jedi Order makes the same mistakes the old Jedi Order made. The Ashla Crusade is nothing more than a shadow of the previous Armies of Light that came before it."

Sardun sighed there as he allowed himself to relax a fraction.

At least here there was no clear threat. Not in the present... and the Netherworld, interlaced with reality, was calm here as well. The smoking eye that had filled the gaping maw made by Vaylin Vaylin never blinked and took everything in.

No threat... yet.

He nodded again at Bernard's second question. "Yes.... yes, few of us remain alive, that fought the old Sith Empire. More that saw action against the One Sith, but..." Michael shook his head sadly. "We have lost great people. Kiskla, Jorus, Kei- each year passing, our cause dims." Another sip as he studied the young Padawan.

"I see. Uncertainty can kill you in the heat of battle just as much as an errant crimson saber can, lad. Each time you step foot on the battlefield your eyes have to be clear. Your mind sharp and focused. Resolved. There is no room for hesitation or consideration."

These were the lessons he had tried to impart on Kaska Arden Kaska Arden . Sardun feared he had failed her in that regard. Or she would have struck down Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze the moment he had fallen to the Darkside. Hesitation... had almost killed them both, before he had stepped in. Michael had paid a price for it, yes, but paid it willingly.

Anything to keep her safe.

Ishida Ashina Ishida Ashina seemed to take his lessons closer to heart... even if he was concerned about her from a different direction...-

Sardun blinked and steadied his gaze on Bernard again, realizing he had been lost in thought.

"I see I must apologize again. Lost in thought. I think its Illum that brings it out of me. The Force is strong here... but what can I help you with, Padawan? What are you uncertain about in this eternal struggle of ours?"
 
Location: Celchu Starfighter Base
Tags: Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar Enlil Enlil Julian Qar Julian Qar

Sssar had been moments late though eventually the Filithar made his way through the clean sliding door to the meeting room. This was during the moment the Vice Chancellor was briefing them on the basis of their discussion. The mere mention of the Brotherhood of the Maw drew from the serpent a low hiss of disdain. As soon as the 30 foot long beast of a Senator cleared the doorway it slide shut. Sssar turned over onto himself again, and again, and again. Large purple coils stacked higher in wide circles until he was comfortable. He looked down at the rest of the group until he slowly adjusted his height to become more eye level with them.

Once the Vice Chancellor had finished speaking freshly arrived Senator gave a slow nod of his head "Thissss ssssentiment we sssshare. Thissss Brotherhood issss a mar on the face of the Galaxy. Barbaric murderssss. An affront to all civilized worldssss we, for whatever reasssson, sssstill ssssuffer to exisssst. I would ssssettle for the complete annihilation of their being. No building nor monument would sssstand. Reduced from mud to rubble lesssss ssssignificant than the ssssmallesssst sssshard of Cssssilla." Sssar's long bifurcated tongue flickered into the air then quickly retracted into his maw "Though I am curioussss, Vice Chancellor, what do you have in mind?" It was no secret that Sssar had taken the razing of Csilla personally over the days following its destruction. Having made a public address the day of as well. He was severe in his critique of the Brotherhood and had become uncharacteristically fixated.
 

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K N I G H T
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
ILUM
JEDI_GANG | Xashe Tistya

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"I read once, in a paper, that an old master theorized they could feel emotion."

"What does it feel like, when you're searching? How will I know I have the right one?"

"I'd argue that it is not a theory, but a fact," he answered to his Padawan, both Jedi stepping into the temple where it was less freezing. A rush of chills flowed down his skin from the change of temperature.

"Well, we all experience it differently, Xashe. It's a unique journey to the individual; some were afraid when entering the caverns, others were overconfident. I was very much afraid and anxious when finding my crystal," sharing a bit of his past to his Padawan, revealing he was not always the steadfast and strong Jedi he is today. "Ultimately, it is a test. The crystal and its user are intertwined, powerful as one. Your old lightsaber I could sense there was no synergy between you and its crystal and while anyone can learn to use a lightsaber, it won't be as powerful as its original master."

"But enough lecturing, I won't hold you back from this milestone. Remember, it will look into your heart and challenge you. There might be some obstacles, but I have faith you will overcome it."

"Now go, I'll be here."

 

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V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ILUM
STARRING | Izoshi Izoshi

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Well this was certainly new to him, but not to her. The caverns faded from the natural light produced by the crystals to a harsh, vibrant red with the middle being a clash that emitted a purple light. He had studied Jedi and Sith alike, notably their weapons, tactics, behaviors, and beliefs. He never cared for their history or how they built their iconic lightsabers, he only bothered studying them in order to defeat them. It was a wonder to stare at the crystalline walls beaming its current hue, though he did ask questions like a Jedi on how to reverse its effects. Snake only cared if they were of any use to him.

<"That's alright with me,"> although his greed demanded otherwise; greed of claiming all of it and process them into weapons. The Dark Side of the Force was said to have many unnatural abilities, granting such power to its user. Perhaps these crystals will give a greater yield of power than regular kyber crystals?

<"You think we can use them? Make something out of it?"> Maybe he revealed too much what he was thinking about, but he did so because of the trust between the two Imperials. If there wasn't any, they wouldn't be familiar with each other.

He, too, heard a sound out in the distant. Something was walking on the crystalline floor. Zealots? If so, it would be his first encounter with them. Much more dangerous than the Sith he had faced from the many campaigns against the Sith Empire.

<"Hurry with that, I'll lookout for you. Take as much as you can and let's get outta here, before we blow this ice cube stand.">

And take a shipment of the harvested crystals.

ALLIES | NIO | Izoshi Izoshi
ENEMIES | MAW | GA??? | OPEN FOR DIRECT INTERACTION
 
Janos Sovv Janos Sovv // Auteme Auteme

A weak smile set on Aeris’ lips as the padawan ran off. He seemed keen, quick on his feet and curious to seek a way forward. A bit like herself when she was still in her early days within the Order, as a Padawan that is. He sensed something and Aeris gave Auteme an equally amused glance as she tried her best to keep up with him. While the apprentice ran off and Auteme found a moment to breathe, a question that surprised her shot into the open.

“Would you have been chosen to be his mentor if you were a bad teacher?” Was all that she asked in response before she too pressed on into the greater chamber of the caverns, a distance behind Hero.

The room they entered seemed to be a greater part of the caverns, a wide open space carved out of the very stone and ice that made out the temple they had come to explore. The walls were ornate with artistic, sculpted surfaces the retold pieces of the history of the Jedi, from the very early days to the Great Purge, and then the restructuring under Skywalker and finally more contemporary pieces, all carved by distinctly different artists with different styles, a piece of both culture and history.

A sense of ease fell over Aeris at the sight of it.

“I see the protective wards are still in place.” She said and raised her brow. “The carvings look practically untouched.”
 
"It is," he murmured.

His gaze fell to the cup in his hands, boring into the off-coloured water. It was now his turn to be lost in thought, but not in reminiscence but in fear. The future was uncertain for him still. He'd resolved to remain with the Order, but without the Force, he'd be little more than an imitation of a Jedi. A mortal walking in divine boots much too heavy for him.

He sighed away his doubts and looked back up. Those were matters for another time. His mind turned instead to the memories that had gnawed on his conscience since the last time he'd seen combat against a Dark Sider.

"You've no doubt heard about the Alliance attack on Korriban. I had a part to play there, a mission to destroy Sith knowledge. I, uhm, I succeeded in my mission, but things didn't entirely go as planned, Master. There was...," he wanted to say a Sith, but that wasn't what came out, "a woman there, and a few acolytes. She tried to kill me, dissuade me from completing my objective."

"She failed. The bombs went off, the knowledge destroyed, but," he recalled her face, eyes filled with desperate terror. The pleading to undo the bombs. The concern for her peers had made her voice quiver with fear.

He shifted in his seat, taking a sip from his cup. The bitter taste rolled over his tongue and down, warming his chest.

"Master, she was a Sith, but she seemed different from the ones I know. She showed concern for her peers. Genuine concern, Master. Sith are creatures of selfish desire. Little more than destructive forces that consume for their own benefit. I know this, but, she was Sith," he had to repeat it to himself, as though the label still didn't fully fit, "unmistakably Sith, yet, she didn't share their hunger for power, or their disregard for life," the moment inside the escape ship's cargo hold played out in his mind again.

Mere moments after the explosions, he'd sat defenceless at a trial for his actions. She'd held him at gunpoint, the murderer of all her peers, a demon in her eyes, no doubt, but she didn't fire. She let him go.

"She had the chance to kill me, Master, for what I did to the other Sith in that academy. But she did not," he said.

He looked up at Sardun. His gaze held steady, fixed by apprehension about the Master's reaction. His shoulders had slumped slightly, and his back curled, barely, in defence. He felt there was a question that hung in the air that he couldn't ask. A shard of doubt stuck in the light's guiding hand, running with black ichor that blinded the Padawn's sight.


 
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Bernard Bernard

A soft raspy chuckle in response to his tale and the hesitant gaze offered to him.

It was not a reaction one would expect from Michael Sardun. He had forged a reputation for himself. Stalwart and unyielding force against the Darkside in all its forms. This was the last man from who you'd expect mirth in response to a tale like that. Did it not show hesitance on the part of Bernard? Doubt, the same hesitancy that Michael had only just warned him about?

"If only every single Sith was a baby-eating maniac and every Jedi a stalwart defender of the Light." Sardun murmured quietly as his humor dissipated while studying the waves in his tea cup.

"It would make everything easier, no? There is no guilt in executing a genocidal mass-murderer. No hesitance in taking down a serial killer. Stopping a cultist from enacting a blood ritual offers no second thoughts." His knuckles rapped against the icy table. "This is not the world we live in, lad."

"The exhausting inconvenient truth is that Sith are sentients beings. Among them you will find a spectrum of personalities. Maniacal, genocidal... and persuasive, quiet and personable. The same goes for the Jedi Order. On one hand we have strong warriors that protect the weak, on the other we have those that think fire-bombing quarters filled with children, who are as much the victim of the Sith as any else can be, is the right approach to this war of ours."

This was something that Kaska Arden Kaska Arden had failed to see.

She had often accused him of not seeing the nuance. The grey in between black and white. The Galaxy is not as simple as the Lightside and the Darkside! It is complicated sometimes!

No, Sardun, had always known this.

It was just their conclusions that they differed.

"We are not at war with a single Sithling, Bernard of Arca. Kill one Sith Lord and another one takes their place. Fire-bomb a quarter of scared children and they will just raid another planet for new recruits." There Sardun tapped his head. "We are at war with an ideology. Against a teaching that can warp the minds of those we hold dear and that will rationalize any step in the pursuit of becoming more powerful."

A shrug there as he took another sip and put the cup down.

"You say she is different than the ones you have encountered. I say- of course. Because they are all different in personalities. But tell me this- how many will she teach the ways of the Sith? How many souls will she touch with the corruption of the Darkside? Understand this." Leaning in there and keeping his eyes on Bernard's.

This was the lesson that Kaska had failed to learn. It was imperative that Bernard would see.

"We are not just responsible for the things we do, Bernard, we are also responsible for the things we fail to do. Every Sith that we spare in the hopes that they will be better? Their actions are on us. The actions of their followers are on us. If we have the means to act and to forestall more suffering, then we must take it."

Sardun smiled wryly at his own pontification. "I used to talk a lot. I thought I put those days behind me, but it seems I got just a few more words in me. But do you understand what I am trying to tell you, Padawan?"
 
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Objective I
Hearts of Kyber

Part 6B: Fury of the Fallen

Location: Ground War

Allies: The Mongrel The Mongrel Maestus Maestus
Enemies: Aurelian Sigismund Aurelian Sigismund DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran


The skies tremble above the almost faded blizzard. By the dozens, the roaring engines of the Hoplites push the tainted starfighters forth. Swarm after swarm, the endless wave of war descended to the atmosphere. Bombers trembled, most being split by the main formation along with a Buzzer fighter screen, ready to launch their strike upon the White Flame. And so, the air was shrouded with the thick beams of proton cannonfire. The bombs unload like a river of black water, striking against the shields of the warship before the blast in a proton explosion. "Burn them dead, brothers!" the pilots shouted in the comlink. "Let the carcass fall upon the fools' armies!"

Starbanes vomed their deadly load, while the buzzers sacrificed themselves in wide screens, protecting the bombers from the AA fire of the warship, engaging the remaining forces in the air the foe sent at them. But there were no Hoplites... None of the infernal starfighters joint the assault... for they had a score to settle....

The pilot's body shakes, unable to tame the energy flowing through the wired, cable-bound body of him. Lightning sparks blazed the cockpit, as his twisted yellow eyes pierced through the very transparesteel of the Hoplite as it descended to the battlefield below... A sea of fiery metal and bloodpools between the frozen glacier and the burning liquid of the fuel. A hell spawned by the Athysian first strike of the Umbrammors, of which any could number them down in the burning debri of the crashed starfighters and bombers, still breaking the shroud of the blizzard with their wildflame blaze. Several vehicles of the enemy were already turned black by the bombing matching the ground on which they stood. Blood flowed like river, as the remnant starfighters made their turns over the hellscape. And so, the accelerating Hoplite vanguard leads the fighter swarm down in a piercing wedge...

Their proton cannons spit beaming fire across the battlefield, initiating the second coming of the Athysian shock-warfare. One after the other, the Hoplites picked their marks within the chaos. The enemy fighters... Those who downed the Umbrammors. Those who could offer the insaned pilots of the Hoplites what Athysians called "Crimson Star". To their eyes, as the battle joint, the very light turned red; Unrecognizable, to them, whether this was due to the flames engulfing their ships, or blood dripping in their eyes from their skulls, pierced clean by the enemy counterattacks to reveal the very brain, still sparking by the lightning that plagued them, or by the shadow of the great Ancient Ones, looking at their champions as they performed the rites to the Dark Patrons... Rites, of Battle Deed and Bleeding flesh.

The Buzzer squadrons, careless of protecting any bomber this time, unleash themselves in a rivalry between them and the aces of the Hoplites. For every enemy tailed by a Hoplite, three more Buzzers pursued, relentlessly trying to claim the glory of the kill.

Meanwhile, the remaining Buzzers turn their attention towards the Galidraani vehicles... The Goliath vanguard and the infantry behind them. With narrow flights, dangerously low achieved by sharp dives, they barrage the troops with cannonfire again and again, coming as roaring dragons spitting hellfire upon the mortal realm. Those who were eventually shot, they turned their hulls intentionally in horisontal and vertical dives against the Goliaths, using the final resort they had as the final blow upon the foe: Fuel-ignited carnage.

As the thin buzzer armor turns into paper-ike accordion upon impact, their flaming tails unite with the fuel tank in a violent explosion of hell-blazing flames, reaching out like the souls of the dying demons roaring across the battle. The Athysians felt rather determined to halt the enemy advance to the trenchline. Alas, unlike the Umbrammor strike, these pilots were much more careful, led by their Hoplite aces into a wild dogfight as they persisted in sharp maneuvers and spins, to avoid enemy fire. Their attacks were all but reckless; All calculated, with their volleys followed by mass barrages from their serpent-like formations meant to force supressive fire against their chosen targets, as the buzzers and hoplites split in smaller squardons, to cover the frontline, while also battling their main target: The enemy crafts.
 
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Objective I - Hearts of Kyber

Location: Ilum, Frozen Plains
Allies: Maestus Maestus | Caedis Umbrammor Caedis Umbrammor | Irratar Hemstagon Irratar Hemstagon
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran | Aurelian Sigismund Aurelian Sigismund


Battle raged across the frozen plains, both within and without the Maw's mining base. On the slopes leading up to the complex, Athysians fought tooth and nail against the Galidraani and the descending skytroopers. In the skies above, Doomsayers continued to pound the White Flame with everything they had, launching a storm of ion fire at the enemy frigate again and again. Inside the towering walls, marauders prepared themselves to receive the landing Paladins, opening fire with heavy weapons from the safety of the mine tunnels. Hidden beastmasters waited along the walls, ready to unleash their charges.

It was an odd mix of raging warfare and hushed anticipation, a storm with more than one eye... for just as there was an oasis of comparative calm within the base, awaiting the descending Stormeagles, there was another around the ruins of Birrell's mechanized detachment. Beyond the circle of wrecks, standing unafraid in the open, The Mongrel felt the planet's frigid wind tugging at his furs. He was bruised, battered, and tired, but he'd been through worse. The last time he'd parlayed with a Galidraani officer he'd been near death, slowly bleeding out, his insides a jumble of broken bones. This was painful, but nothing by comparison.

The Mongrel stared the Lord Commander down as the older man approached, appraising him. There was a strength to him despite his age, steel in his spine that ensured even the passing of years left him unbowed. There was a blade in his hand, and it looked comfortable there, wielded with the familiarity of a lifelong warrior. He stepped out to face the veteran marauder, and the exhausted but entrenched Bloodsworn hiding amid the wrecks behind him, with fearlessness to match the warleader's own. It wasn't Gowrie, the officer from Csilla, but the two men had clearly been cut from the same cloth: amiable, but fiercely disciplined.

The Mongrel's gaze fell on Barran's vibrosword; it was a fine piece, beautiful but deadly. It would make an equally fine trophy, a reminder that he had conquered a powerful foe... for he had every intent to slay the Lord Commander given half a chance. Killing the leader of the NIO force would certainly throw them into disarray, and it would earn the veteran marauder much glory besides. Barran might not be a Jedi, but he had fought across countless worlds, forging a name for himself and his Galidraani forces in this bloody era's annals of war. The one who finally killed him would surely gain a similarly-glorious place in history.

If he died by his own blade, so much the better.

It was intriguing to hear mention of Gowrie; evidently the officer had not forgotten their confrontation any more than the marauder had. Of course, he didn't need Barran's permission to face the man again; after the challenge, the promise, that had passed between them, their second meeting was predestined... and it would end conclusively, one way or the other. Aye, if ye can pry it fae mah cauld, deid hands, you're more than welcome to it. "That is the only way to earn it," The Mongrel replied, clearly looking forward to the attempt. "She will taste blood today. We'll see whose she drinks the most." He grinned, a hungry, jagged-toothed smile.

It was... interesting to think of the Galidraanni studying the way he fought. The Mongrel was not a formally-trained warrior. In the distant past of the life he'd lived before his dark rebirth, he had been a mechanic, and never engaged in so much as a bar brawl. Since then, he had learned to fight through a combination of imitation, innovation, and desperation; he'd watched what others did, put his own spin on it to make up for his lack of drilled discipline and lesser physical strength, and simply never given up no matter how much he'd been beaten down. He was good at fighting Jedi because he'd never been taught how.

It meant that he tried things they never expected.

"The mage-knights think their invisible power puts them above us," The Mongrel finally replied, meeting Barran's gaze. "We both know better. They are powerful, but they can be made to bleed." The marauder shook out his arms, rolling his recently-relocated shoulder with a wince. He was far from fresh going into this, but he often did his best tactical thinking - and dirty fighting - when he'd already taken a beating. "We'll see how different your fighting is from Gowrie's. I'll tell him all about it when I show him your head." His grin grew wider, a jagged smirk that pulled at the corners of his scarred face.

The Mongrel pointed at Barran... then beckoned him.
 
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Maestus moved through the snow and debris covered area. Sidestepping to avoid tripping. Her eyes remained locked on the two before her, The Mongrel The Mongrel and DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran .


She stopped walking towards them after a couple moments. She wanted them to feel her presence. To know she was near. When The Mongrel The Mongrel spoke of space wizards being made to bleed, a cruel smile curled her lips. Oh yes, she could bleed. But she had no intentions of doing so today.

Her eyes turned to the Commander, unabashedly examining him. Drinking in every detail. She noticed the strength of will, and she was impressed. Such strength was rare, even in the Maw. A strong will was what she required from her followers, and the Commander was a prime example.

But strength of will alone was not enough. He must be strong in body and swift with his arms. He must be sharp and sure with his decisions. There was no room for second guessing. That lead straight to the netherworld. And followers in the Netherworld were, for the most part, useless to her.

She needed living followers, and living followers she would have. Her eyes drifted to The Mongrel The Mongrel next. She knew the beast well. She had been through countless battles with him, and somehow, the damned thing was still alive. A testament to his own strength of will. He would make a fine addition.

Catching the gaze of The Mongrel The Mongrel , she gave him a slight nod. Folding her arms over her stomach, she made it clear she would not interfere in their bout. She had a vested interest in the outcome, after all.
 
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Objective I: Hearts of Kyber

Location: Ilum, Brotherhood Crystal Mine
Allies: Tarok Vassket Tarok Vassket
Foes: Ishida Ashina Ishida Ashina | Izoshi Izoshi | Djorn Bline Djorn Bline | Aurelian Sigismund Aurelian Sigismund



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"Ah. You invite challenge," Tarok had said. "That is good." "Of course," the Taskmaster replied smoothly. "Challenge reveals our strength, and gives us the opportunity to increase it. Nothing is given, only taken." The Ebruchi laughed wetly at the hulking alien's follow-up statement. He - and most of his species - had been called much worse than 'repulsive', and he could not deny that he was small. Indeed, he wielded the revulsion he inspired as both shield and sword; the connotations of kidnapping, torture, and brainwashing that came with the title of Taskmaster granted him an aura of fear (and respect among the Brotherhood) far beyond what his small stature would normally inspire.

Tu'teggacha nodded at Tarok's next observation. "Yes. Our enemies have come in force. This world is sacred to the Jedi, and they resent our intrusion. And after our victory at Csilla, we have earned many other foes, all eager to take their vengeance." As he'd said, each of the forces that had come to Ilum to drive out the Brotherhood had their own specific reasons. The Jedi wanted to retake their holy place. The Galactic Alliance sought to sweep away all threats to their Outbound Flight project, colonizing and stabilizing their northern frontier. The NIO intended to strike a blow against their rivals in the struggle for Chiss space, on their western border.

All three of them were full of vengeful horror after Csilla.

But there was no time for philosophical musings; there was a disturbance in the mines, a potential threat to the Maw's evacuation. Tu'teggacha reached out with the Force, sensing the agitation of the skitterwings... and the presence of two other beings, minds he did not recognize. "Beware," he warned Tarok, "advance agents of the enemy are among us." Wielding the Dark Side, he stirred up the minds of the swarms of spiderlike predators, sending them crawling and leaping along the dank walls of the tunnel... directly toward the two NIO agents. Djorn Bline Djorn Bline and Izoshi Izoshi were in for a surprise when dozens of the creatures rounded the corner to attack them. They scrambled over each other, chittering, hungry for blood.

Their powerful mandibles and neurotoxic venom were deadly indeed.

"The enemy is above, as well," the Taskmaster continued, sensing the approach of the sky troopers and Paladins from the White Flame. "This base will soon fall... but perhaps you can earn glory, and further plunder, if you break their skulls on the way out." In the hangar caverns just above them, cargo shuttles were receiving their final crates of kyber crystals and beginning to lift off, ready to make a run past the invaders and their (hopefully soon to be disabled) frigate. If Tu'teggacha and Tarok wanted to be on one of those ships, or any ship with a chance of making it past the tightening blockade over the base, they would have to hurry...
 


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B L O O D S P I L L
W I D O W M A K E R
EXPOSED
// SURVIVE \\
Djorn Bline Djorn Bline
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She set to work, chipping off ample specimens from the corrupted crystalline wall and tucking them safely into the pouch on her belt designated for such precious cargo. The chiss focused on this for the time, tapping the chisel carefully to ensure she didn't break any larger chunks off that would be cumbersome for the pair of them to transport. She trusted Djorn to cover her, however, the growing sound of irritated beasts stirring in the depths was deeply concerning for her and she kept an ear on that situation, feeling the adrenaline of fight-or-flight rising throughout her body.

"Unfortunately,
" she sighed, casting a clouded breath into the chilly cavern, "I fear our time grows short." By the time she had finished packing away what she wished to take the source of her concern had reached them. Vicious, spidery creatures appeared from the bowels of the tunnels, rabidly scuttling after she and her partner. They had been made, it seems, their cover exposed.

"Chit," the chiss spat, drawing the blaster holstered on her hip and sending the first strobing charges into the wretched beasts that encroached too close for comfort, "time to go!" She shouted, twisting herself to run and fire behind her at the same time, gunning down the lunging creatures to blast them off their tail. "We should be passing a transport off-world on our way out, I say we take it! It'll net us good crystals and trap these bastards here."



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ALLIES | NIO | Djorn Bline Djorn Bline
ENEMIES | GA(?) | BotM | The Mongrel The Mongrel | Maestus Maestus | Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha | OPEN FOR DIRECT ENGAGEMENT
 

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LOCATION: Celchu Starfighter Base, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: II - Business as Usual
TAG: Sssar Taszzn Sssar Taszzn | Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar | Julian Qar Julian Qar | GA | NIO

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“Their economic apparatus is frankly…” Tithe shuttered at the thought of the Brotherhood’s economy, unable or unwillingly to put into words its chaotic nature. While they were well funded and well resources, even the most powerful enemy could be brought to its knees if it became unable to pay its retainers. Unfortunately, the unstable nature of the marauders and their lack of central government made them difficult to target with sanctions or taxations, his preferred weapons of statecraft.

“Attempts by intelligence to infiltrate are likewise been, ah, otiose,” he added. The SIA had lost contact with numerous operatives dispatched the implant themselves within the blood cult. It took a special breed of agent to adopt cover identity needed to fit in which some a violent and barbaric group. By whatever means, the Brotherhood seemed effective at weeding out actual recruits from double agents.

The Alliance and NIO could not afford to fight the ruthless Brotherhood from the shadows. They needed to meet them head-on.

“We need to dissemble their recruiting apparatus,” he explained. “Yes, so long as the Brotherhood has a willing stream of criminals, cultists and degenerates, we stand little chance of enervating them.”
 

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