Junction In The Flesh | Battle of Yinchorr [ NIO+Yinchorr , GA+Wakeelmui ]

[Maijan Paisea]

TASK FORCE XESH

LOCATION: YINCHORR // TOL KACHORRN // SHIELD GENERATORS SECTION B
IN THIS TOGETHER NOW: GA // Viribus
ATTEMPTING TO MISLEAD: NIO // Kolson Vrask // Meko Sorrin // Jaeger Harrsk // Simon Meinrad // Gedeon Rath // Djorn Bline
O P E N TO ENGAGE
OBJECTIVE: PROTECT SHIELD GENERATORS - SECTION A
LETTER TO THE FIRM

“Stop breathing like that.” Maijan whispered, her voice tight and quick. It was the first time she’d spoken since the first report of Imperial insurgence on the planet. The Fallanassi was in deep concentration, with her legs folded and hands resting easily in her lap. Everything about her was as still as stone.

So unmoving that she was horribly attuned to the gentle rhythms of her partner’s breath. He wasn’t doing anything wrong whatsoever, but given his proximity and her anxiety, he got the brunt of her emotions that reacted to the unpleasantness of their situation. Once again, doing the shit work at the behest of The Alliance. Being exploited for her unique prowess over illusions and reality.

The trick she’d been asked to pull off was impressive. Mind-blowing, even. Make the true Shield Generators non-existent, and redirect their structure and everything about their presence to the opposite end of the city.

It was the sort of thing Fallanassi were rumoured to do so well, and she was finding a level of satisfaction in her accomplishments. As uncaring as she was for her personal plight –– the intangible reminder in the nape of her neck –– she had a glimmer of altruism still alive in her cold, gold heart. The Alliance had never been her enemy before her capture. It was less so a resentment to The Alliance themselves, but all the authority she was under. The government’s purpose to protect she could align with. Thus, there was care in her machinations this time. Moreso than she’d evidenced on Plexis. That had been careless.

Tol Kachorn’s Shield generators in their truth were concealed, looking nothing more than pillars as part of the structure’s anatomy. The Twilight Company had redistributed the physical thrums of the electromagnetic particles to permeate from the location Maijan and Vir occupied. They could make a last stand when the Imperials found them and buy more time for a proper evacuation.

Perhaps part of the delight she felt was sourced from the foundation of the plan. To steal time from The Imperials. And she loved taking what wasn’t hers.

"Please." She finally added.

Beyond their sanctuary was white noise. The Current retaliated now and then to the discord that threatened the City walls or the angst that burgeoned around the Grand Library –– only then would she make a gesture. Something that looked like a flinch as she redirected the strings of The Current.

A few Yinchorri were stationed alongside them, equipped with REC rifles. One let out a gravelly chuckle in response to Maijan’s almost affectionately irritated chiding to her partner in crime, but it was mostly their nerves that made the rumble in their stomach sound humorous.

{Do you..} The one started, then cleared it’s throat and lifted the translator to its toothy mouth. <Do you have readings on hostiles and where they are? Are they falling for this?>

“They’ll fall for it.” Maijan reassured, still aware of the conversation in proximity. Her tone was calmer now, reassured in the confidence of her technique. Silently, she wished for old times. Times where she'd actually be making a profit for her time and talents.

This would have bought her at least three weeks on Ord Cantrell. "They'll fall enough."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

HOW TO DESTROY ANGELS

UNDISCLOSED PLANET // OUTER RIM // BYOO
INTERACTION: Spencer Varanin // CLOSED
THE SPACE IN BETWEEN

---

---

​

The ground swallowed and shlucked around her heels, it’s soggy spread clutching with each footstep that drew her nearer the fatalistic beckon.

“I remember when you first starting making these messes.” The former grandmaster murmured to her spectral overseer. There was an inkling of fondness to the statement as she reminisced on days of yore. Former glory. The present had different demands than those days. The Empire was being pushed back, contained. The Empire had been born out of the One Sith.

Remnant spirits tearing asunder the mortal world wasn’t unfamiliar to the weary-eyed Jedi Master. She’d had deities in her blood, influencing her persuasion over the Force for several years until they’d been burned out. The triumph of the light forever burned into her eyes. Nature’s course bore her with blue, but the Force had willed them white.

She was alone here, save for the caterwauls of the storm’s residual impression and the ever lingering intonations of the Varanin. It was too hostile a land for sentients to try and live again. The locals had kept away, establishing their civilization on the outskirts of the unique ethereal tempest. They’d greeted her eagerly, regaling tales of the dark side that claimed much of their world –– but they were in no position to leave. Their propensity to build ships capable of bursting through the atmosphere and powerful enough to avoid the suction of the storm was severely underqualified. The former Sheyf of Kiffu was prepared, though. She’d brought a ship strong enough for an evacuation. Large enough too.

One she was certain wouldn’t be using again.

They’d been delighted, hooting and hollering their praise and eagerly going about to collect their belongings. Whatever they could salvage. As much as they trusted the mysterious legacy to do good by her promise, mortality didn’t understand the implications of The Force. It was safer for them to start their world elsewhere; somewhere more stable.

The lonesomeness got to her on her voyage here. She refused to travel with a droid, still wary of their propensity to malfunction, and there was nobody she could call to help her. Marcello was long gone and even then she wouldn’t accept his help. For a Jedi Master, Kiskla had grown in the luxury of the Kiffex system’s throne. Living out her days overseeing the sister planets and it’s people. Part of getting her affairs in order was abdicating that throne to someone more deserving. There was no heir she’d bore that was worthy, and thus never mentioned. It would go to another house, breaking the lineage of Frey’s that had tenured for decades.

For half an instant, fear tightened its grip around her heart as she looked on the swirling nebulous of the darkside’s chaos. From her vantage point, she’d be staring at it for several minutes, learning from it, understanding it while walking to the centre. Into the eye.

Her promise to self was not to bleed — never receive death’s blow by the hand of another. Warrior’s tenacity had kept her going, and it would be the will of The Force for anything otherwise. Her meditations and foresight had given her a suggestion of what was to come, but it was as vague as it was ominous. The grim realities of a woman decades in the making.

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Zaavik Perl | Rurik Fel Allyson Locke​

The kid chose wrong. Honestly, it hurt Dorian just as much as his saber hurt the kid. A Jedi, so quick to attack. Weren't they supposed to be peacekeepers? That was what his mother had told him. Rurik was right. These people might call themselves the Light, but light cast a shadow. It surprised him that he felt sad; as if the last shred of optimism he had had been discarded.

The hand he had put forward dropped, taking hold of the saber at his belt. As the Jedi reached the apex of his lunge, Dorian stepped forward with his left just to the Jedi's right, past the saber swinging down to where he'd been a moment before. It was clear how desperate an attack it was. There was no roar of danger, only a melancholy calm. Dorian's saber ignited and came up through the Jedi's extended forearm. His right foot swung in, hooking and pulling the Jedi's right to send him tumbling into the dirt. Gladiator's trick.

Once such a clean and easy victory might've made him content. Now, though, he just sighed as he took a few paces from the Jedi. "You'd think, in 862, people would've gotten over that kind of bigotry. Especially a Jedi," he said, a belated retort to the Zeltron's comment. "Though, not gonna lie, I kinda miss it. Not that much. Just a little."

He shrugged and looked at the kid. "Sorry. That probably hurts like a queen."

Pause.

"Damn, that's kinda bad, too, ain't it..." He shook his head. "Alright, well, consider yourself captured."

Dorian walked over and slammed the butt of his saber into the Jedi's temple.

Written with permission from Zaavik to call a few hits.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: G L I T T E R & G O L D //:
//: Galactic Alliance //: Zaavik Perl //:
//: New Imperial Order //: Rurik Fel //: Dorian Sicarrio //:

​

No words escaped the throat of the Corellian; she knew her shot was going to be deflected. It was a bold attempt on the Imperial's life. The sniper was discarded; there was no use to use the weapon again. If the Imperials and the Knights were smart, they would have already begun trying to figure out where she had taken her shot from. There was one chance to do it the preferred way. Alas, she moved through the shadows, already knowing Zaavik had started his engagement.​

She could feel the emotions of the Zeltron. The ebb and flow of his passions, frustrations, and determination. It was overwhelming in a sense, then came the feeling of his pain, and Allyson gritted her teeth. It angered her that she had fought alongside the Imperials; she had gone against her best judgment and supported them with their war with the Sith. Join hands with the enemy of the common enemy - things never worked out that way.​

The Corellian moved quickly, her footsteps quiet hidden under the guise of the Force. She freely avoided any visual detection, drawing closer. As soon as she saw the tall knight strike the Padawan, her Padawan, Allyson felt something inside of her change. Forever she had only focused on her own well being on a mission. Working alone did that to you. She was reminded of the Rakghouls and finding Zaavik on the brink of death.​

Allyson crept up near the man who struck the Zeltron. It didn't take her long to know what she was going to do, and she quickly snapped a punch at the unguarded throat of the Imperial knight. As her arm snapped, the guise of camouflage fell, knowing that attention would be drawn to her if she appeared, which would give Zaavik a chance.​

"Get the Chaos out of here, Zaavik." her eyes flashed towards the Padawan; for once in her life, she sounded like a Master speaking to her Padawan - directing the orders necessary for his survival. Hopefully, his stubborn nature didn't cause him to disobey her. In her free hand, a lightsaber ignited a bright azure color. Exhaling softly, she turned her attention to the peacock of an executioner.​

"So is that armor just for looks?" Her conceited little smile spread across her face as she flexed the hand that had met the throat of the Lightning Rider. After striking him, she quickly recognized his face from the dossiers she had collected on the Knights. He had potential; too bad he was the type to play with his food for far too long.​

Allyson did her best to quell the burning anger in her chest; staring at Rurik meant two things. She had failed her initial attack on the man's life, and secondly, it put Zaavik in danger again. Not this time, she wasn't going to run anymore. "You Imperials are cowards, you know that? Marching around like you have any sort of importance in this Galaxy. At least finish the job you set out to do before running thinking one Captial planet invasion is enough to stop the Sith."​

 

[Kolson Vrask]

V A N D A L
VANDAL SQUAD 12/12
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TOL KACHORN
P L U T O C R A C Y
THE_BOYS | Simon Meinrad | Meko Sorrin | Gedeon Rath | Jaeger Harrsk
OPFOR | CETCOM | Aerarii Tithe | Lucien Dooku | Auteme | Jerec Asyr | Maijan Paisea | Viribus
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades

I'M IN YOUR AREA​

<"Let's not waste time then, on me."> He said in response to Meko as they ventured from their back alley, a brief glance of the city streets showed Tol Kachorn in Chaos. Riots, warfare, gunfire. Didn't matter, they had an objective. Flicking through his scanner display in the bottom left corner of his HUD he flicked to thermal, in it the phantom power source of Maijan Paisea 's illusion thumped from one side of the city in particular. Berik all but nodded in affirmation.

<"We got our target, 500 meters out, upper north side."> Berik sounded out before he sped his pace along the city street, all but sliding behind the edge of a building when a Yinchorri patrol neared their position, the black stygian and reflec bathing their armor well enough to conceal them from the more primitive sensors, an explosion a block or two away granted them the reprieve enough to find another alley way to cut through, Berik's eyes constantly trained on the scanner as they honed in on the thrum and pulse of the faux illusion of the shield generator.

<"Hellion. We're moving in on the shield generators, as soon as we can down them that's all she wrote for their defenses, I advise your team hone in on the Council of Elders, my eyes will relay to you. If we snatch their leaders and down the shields...it's over."> Berik sounds out through the unit comms, boldly suggesting a course of action to the Commissioner as if he didn't know damn well what the situation was. More so speaking for himself, to affirm the stakes in their task and how little room for error there was.

That natural snake like movement through the streets let them slip below the fires and clamor the warfare around them as they approached the decoy shield generator.

Yinchorri warriors were the first to meet them as soon as they came in sight of the illusion of the shield generators. Pulling an explosive charge from the back of his equipment harness he glanced down to be sure it was primed, ready to be armed and detonated.

<"This is Vandal-Actual. We're at the shields, I'll relay before the music starts. Vandal out."> The explosives due to be planted on the shield generators. He took aim down the sights of his rifle, firing a burst down range into the center mass of a Yinchorri warrior before he slid through urban dust into cover.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

The Sniper At The Gates Of Heaven

307th Imperial Expeditionary Storm Legion ‘Red Riders’

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER : OPERATION : SAVAGE HAND

Maynard Treicolt

Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BR-212-'Jackal' ACR / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Light Saber (s)

​

The scant few seconds before her boots hit the city walls the woman had held on to her breath, the bitterness of reality unfolded and swallowed on her tongue. The tenebrae creaked and her bones ached on contact with the stonework, a harsh screech as her boots cut stone. The varying channels of battle blared in her ears as the company came crashing down on the wolves. Lyra hefted the rifle up, eyes flickering as the screen dimmed to accommodate the sights. As she rose to her full height, the jetpack sputtered out.

A series of shots erupted from her barrel as she pulled the trigger, golden plasma ate up the air and pinned the limb and chest of a poor marine swathed in the Wolfpack’s colors through the chaos. With one breath in and out, Lyra trained her sights on another. The woman wondered if she should have told Appw’rii that good soldiers ought to just follow orders. She could have expected a pistol shoved through the gap of her armor and counted herself good as dead for it just the same, there was no tomorrow. The recoil of the Jackal washed over her, a steady hammer and beat as the golden plasma singed the air. Something cathartic behind the recoil of the rifle, the reassuring grip of the stock of a weapon.

<<”Gooot ‘em, Jedi closing in on your position Colvy-”>>

<<”Mark him Goldie and continue on objective and secure targets.”>>

There was little more to do then raise her boot and slam it out as a trooper appeared, grappling with but another faceless marine. The heel of the boot snapped against the knee of the marine bringing the soldier toppling down. It was them or the 307th, but Lyra deposed it all the same despite the fruitless nature of the debate. Treicolt was Waylon’s blood, and she wondered if any amount of protest before their boots had touched the ground would have made a difference.

Top Brass didn’t care about sentiment, but anyone with eyes could see it was fucked up. Occupation and COMPNOR be damned, they were two sides of the same credit if they wanted to dissect it. Her trigger finger hesitated, refusing to gun down the marine in her sights-no the woman turned sharply with the rifle in hand leaving him to the others. She felt the first brush in the Force. Her senses casted out as she waded through the mob. Politics.

The map flashed across the screen and her eyes flickered to the corner of the screen as a yellow dot populated amidst the blocks of red.

<<”Lieutenant I’m moving in, call up Hades and tell the Mando’ade I want them on my position now”>> Lyra ordered, voice steady. She couldn’t stop the tide of death nor call retreat. What the fuck could she do? Frustration bled and Lyra pressed herself for an answer. She could only control the direction the battle took in the end, and maybe that was the closest respect she could Waylon.

<<”Relaying now, we’re on your six-”>>

<<”We’re bagging another target, we need to locate Treicolt and force a ceasefire if we can”>> Lyra shouted, her voice warped by the radio. It wasn’t a plan built on solid analysis-she didn’t know the commander. It felt like a poor attempt to soothe her consciousness. Lyra wasn’t going to let herself be fooled by the aspect of a Jedi, no the shadow that hung above her told her not to even consider it.

Defiance and spite mixed together like a violent cocktail.

She would only be able to say she tried, harried by desperation, a sweat broke out across her neck as Lyra pushed and shoved her way through the fight. The close quarters and shock trooping were far beyond her preference. Her finger brushed the trigger sparingly as she uttered the ninth shot under breath, the smoking remains of another marine hit the ground.

They would always be here, in this exact moment, they would always choose a fight. The air was rife with stray shot and her back was pummeled bolts. The plate ate the heat but she felt the punch and Lyra ground her jaw tightly. The sharp ting and crack of metal hammered and stole her breath. Lyra staggered forward as she pushed through the mob, bolstered by the security force and the zabrak.

The fighting grew thicker within seconds and they combed their way through it with little more than half a hand between the next trooper and marine alike. Her blood rushed and hallowed out her ears with a roaring noise and Lyra felt herself pulled by the living Force, the wash of death around-a hiss escaped her as the ventilators kicked in, carrying the scent of tibanna and shit.

Lyra hauled her Jackal back and slammed it down across the shoulder of a marine who crossed her path. The butt of the rifle cracked across the blastplate and a fist flashed across her screen, torn away by another pair of gauntlets and lost to the likes of another trooper. The A.I recalculated highlighting enemy and friendly alike in neons across the HUD.

No less than a hundred yards lay between her and the target but their path. The woman heaved for breath as she pushed through the mob, no visuals read. In only a few more steps, they were hailed by a stray bombardment, the low screech and consequential explosion ate up at the base of the city walls. Beneath the soles of her boots Lyra felt the foundation shake and her heart dropped.

She only hoped the rampart they stood upon didn’t come crashing down. Was the destruction of world historical sites a crime? The woman casted out an unsteady hand-catching the arm of a fellow trooper. Her brows furrowed as she waited for tell the tale crack, A pale dust cloud rose up in a rush casting those at the top of the walls in grit and debris. It rained down upon them and Lyra wanted nothing more than to wring the neck of that woman Prahl. Under the cover of dust and through the violence of limbs and guns, there was already blood on the ground bodies that stretched the length of the wall.

Lyra’s eyes locked on the blue swarth that stood out through the haze like some mystic beacon. The A.I. highlighted the soldier who wielded the lightsaber-she wanted to scoff. Practicality, dressed in plate and not the soft robes of the eons past, but she picked out the one detail above all; the soldier’s emblem. Fortunate or by chance, Lyra stared down the rampart at who she safely assumed to be Treicolt. One gauntlet fell from the stock of the gun to her hip as she upholstered her saber in a single click. Her eyes picked apart the man and she felt the tension bleed through the unseen layer over the battle. Lyra wondered if he had been hunting her down just the same.

The woman gave one shove to the trooper at her side, clearing her path of bystander. Lyra turned her head to the trooper and jerked her helm before he melded back into the throes of the fight. Her servo wretched then and she felt the snap of the rifle strap against her back, the woman’s visor flew to the Jedi and she felt the gun slowly ripped from her fingers. So thats how it was going to be Lyra tested the pull and found only the Force.

Adrenaline flew through her veins and she clawed at the gun with one hand before she stared at the blaster and the soldier, in a split second she shifted her weight forward. If he wanted it so badly..The keen pressure on her boots activated the thrusters, the stems of fire screeched at her heels and she surgered forward. If she knew one damn thing it was how to cause a distraction. The woman rocketed toward him, servo barely clinging to her weapon and she drew the Force in close in a single breath. Now wasn’t the time to talk-

Her thumb brushed the switch of her saber and a hum stood out through the drudge of blaster fire, the crimson blade cut through the air. The A.I screamed as a red line highlighted the grappling line and she threw her weight on her right as the cord shot past her into the line of men. Lyra’s arm dropped and she brought her blade up in a single flourish, as the two swords crashed between together. The plasma sizzled and cracked, and her limb jolted from the impact as she skidded to a halt. She was weary-out matched by blade, and her servo shot out on instinct to try to seize the cerulean saber.

The layers of metal and alloy guarded her from the heat. Her anger surfaced and a shout tore from her lips, the fog addled her senses and the woman zeroed in upon the man's visor. Not yet.. Lyra’s hips twisted and she felt the click in her armor as her leg snapped up, all her weight forced back on to her left foot in a solid form. The thrusters activated again from the bottom of the boots and in a single woosh as she tried to catch his knee and buckle his own leg.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

S H A D O W
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
OPERATION SCREAMING VENGEANCE
Allyson Locke | Dorian Sicarrio | Rurik Fel

EVADE
​

Pain spiked through Zaavik's body. Nerve-endings cauterized instantaneously as his weapon hand was separate from his forearm just below the wrist. The blade of his lightsaber retracted as the severed appendage unclenched, the pair skipping against the ground, their momentum never halted. Zaavik stumbled, tripped, and fell onto his side.

He screamed.

Sputtering and sobbing, he clutched the smoking stump that replaced his once hand. Through the pain, he was unable to scramble away in time before the butt of a saber rendered him momentarily unconscious. He didn't even process the words the Imperial Knight had said to him beforehand.

"G- the Ch-s o- ...., Zaavik." ​

As he lapsed back in, dazed, head pounding, he heard a muffled voice. A familiar voice, but a majority of what it'd said fell flat on his dazed ears. Everything was spinning. Any moment could see him ushered back into the nondescript black of head-trauma induced sleep.

A saber flashed to life, illuminating the source of the voice. Allyson. It was hard for Zaavik to understand what was going on. The pain in his hand and the injury to his hand left him in a disassociative daze. He writhed and wriggled. Slowly, his feet kicked and scrambled against the ground scooting him away from the pair.

Slowly, like a slug, he tried to creep away. If he'd be lucky enough to stay conscious long enough to get anywhere was still uncertain.

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
A SQUADRON, 1ST SOD
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TOL KACHORN SEWERS
T H E _ H E L L I O N
Kolson Vrask | Djorn Bline
Astraea Tagge | Gala Geert | ANYONE ELSE?

​

<"Copy, Vandal. We're oscar mike."

The labyrinth carried them further through the sewers until one of the commandos notified them they were at their target destination. Utilizing a torch, they made quick work with the grating before climbing out one by one. Artillery pounding, screams, rounds fired were all heard in the distance - A squadron had popped out behind the enemy front as planned. The large street seemed abandoned, as if a relic of the past. A gust of wind picked up various clutter.

Far too silent for comfort.

"Two files: Alpha left, Bravo right." The ten soldiers split into two columns of five, each fireteam on one side of the street. "That's target Yavin west, confirm?"

"Confirmed, Sir."

Westbound they advanced cautiously towards target Yavin; there where the Council of Elders were supposedly at.

"Djorn, keep your eyes open. This silence is abnormal." Harrsk said to the other commissioner. This was not reason or logic speaking, just a veteran's gut. Primal instincts forged in the most critical situations of black operations.

 

[Auteme]

Daros Karmann | Lucien Dooku Aerarii Tithe Djorn Bline Jaeger Harrsk CETCOM Kolson Vrask Meko Sorrin Jerec Asyr ​

The Yinchorri guards took a bit of convincing to get past -- it wasn't until Auteme arrived at the Council Chamber that she realized what it was. The Council of Elders appeared at less than half strength; it tracked that half their guards left as well. As intimidating as the Yinchorri were there were startlingly few left in the capitol building. The evacuation was going well. Yet, she didn't think these ones would be leaving anytime soon. Their gaze was hard. She'd hurried through the halls as quickly as she could.

Shouldn't there have been more Alliance forces here? Where were the advisors to Yinchorr? If anything they should've been the people trying to convince all of the Yinchorri to evacuate. It was likely they'd taken those who were willing to come with them and left in hopes to escape with their lives. The Yinchorri were a stubborn people. Perhaps she should've been grateful that even some of the Elders had realized the dire nature of the situation. Still, to abandon anyone in danger...

One of the remaining aides introduced her to the Council. They didn't acknowledge her in the slightest. "We've made up our minds," one said. "You cannot convince us otherwise. To retreat would show weakness."

"And being captured by the New Imperial Order would show strength?" Auteme surprised herself with the sharp retort. She couldn't get them to listen by telling them that it was the right thing to do or that it would keep them safe. In truth, they would be endangered no matter what action they took. The New Imperials had landed their forces; escaping through the streets would be difficult. Staying, too, put them and their subordinates in harm's way. There were no easy answers. She could only hope to compromise.

"Staying here does not make you mighty. You asked for the Alliance's help, and now-"

"The Alliance's help? Where is that now? They have an army, where is the Alliance's?"

What was so different? She'd just calmed a crowd of Yinchorri, but here she was powerless. She tried to reach to them only to be blocked by those demeaning gazes and hardened hearts.

"We should never had asked for their help. It only escalated things."

"There is no turning back now." He looked to Auteme. "Jedi, if you truly wish to help, you will destroy the invaders. Now leave us."

She left, shaking, and stood outside, attempting to collect her thoughts.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

F O R C E _ C O R P S
Objective: Infantry Protection & Anti-Jedi Warfare
Engaging: Amon-Olu

​

'That damned Jedi armour' he thought to himself as he grazed his opponent. As the Jedi raised his saber to strike, Hans instinctively jumped back. He'd been subject to hits like that with training sabers, and shield or no that would be hard strike to hold against. The force carried him back, out of the way of the strike, if only barely. He couldn't tell the difference between the heat of the lightsaber going past and the searing wound he'd already sustained.

As he readied himself for the Jedi to approach again, Hans looked around. A few bodies were strewn, but the opposing squads had entrenched themselves well behind whatever cover they could find on the street. Hans also realized he'd soon be backed against a wall and, with the ferocity of this Jedi's attacks, he wouldn't last long there.

In his desperation, wincing through the pain, he dropped his lightsaber to the cold duracrete, pulled back his arm, and then pushed it forth. He channeled the force towards the Jedi, hoping that even if it didn't knock the man backwards it would at least stagger him and give Hans a moment to move into a more open space.

As Hans lept aside from his opponent and repositioned himself, he pulled his lightsaber back into his hand with the force and ignited it. He might not last against his fellow combatant, but he would fight as long as he could...

 

[Shaka Sunstar]

Alliance Jedi Guardian Armour
ENGAGING: Hans Rennagen

---

---

​

The calm fury that was Amon's assault was evaded.

The rapidly adopted Djem-So counterattack was one the Imperial Knight had no want to even attempt to halt.

The saber dropped from his hand. What?

Before he could even understand why, the Force lurched out to slam into the Jedi Knight, throwing him backwards with a surprised groan. Off of his feet, he triggered the jet boots through his helmet HUD. The burst of flames as he tucked into himself the only thing to save him crashing into the wall unceremoniously.

Unused to their stabilization, he wobbled, hovering just before hitting his back on the wall.

"You can't keep going. Your shoulder will get worse." The jet boots sputtered out, and Amon dropped back onto the ground. The sapphire beam of plasmatic energy disappeared back into its hilt, but he still held the hilt in his hand.

"Drop your hilt and shield and find yourself a doctor." He knew the demands would seem otherworldly, impossible terms to be met. He was a force user, likely constructed his own saber. How could Amon, a stranger and enemy combatant, expect him to just leave it there, to save his own life? Amon was certain of the sentiment, for it'd be one that he would feel too.

Imagine if a Sith had made such a demand of him.

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION 'IMPERATOR'S FIST'
M O B _ R U L E S
FOCUS | Allyson Locke | Zaavik Perl | Dorian Sicarrio

ORDER OR UNDOING
​

So eager to strike. And so eager to take the bait. Undisciplined. Disorganized. Faulty at the foundations were the Jedi. Ever the crusaders of virtue and temperence, they were so willing to give into emotion. The very beast that rot their psyche and subconscious in steep repression, the same beast that the Sith let rampage its horrid march in defiance of its masters commands. Emotion is discipline. Rurik would rule the day here.

She lurched into the fray, interdicting Dorian from his assault unto Zaavik, Rurik slowly turning to take her into view with a placid gaze beneath his metallic visage. There was little urgency in his pace, his movements toward her as if every step was measured and each movement calculated.

Dorian would best the Zeltron, of that Rurik could only feel certain. His mettle was tempered, his resolve evident even if his convictions were...lacking. If the Padawan was so eager to lash at the Lord Executor, he was doubtful of the boy's ability.

Allyson Locke was a persistent foe. There was evidently nothing which could kill her, having survived a bout in the flesh against Kaine Zambrano.

Rurik would make due that she was reminded of her mortality. Dorian was struck and Rurik replied only in tightening his sole grip around the argent blade, his vessel of crusade and retribution. Of reckoning.

"Cowards?" Rurik nearly laughed at the claim by the Corellian. Her initial attack immediately deflected to draw them squarely at odds once more.

"Was it not the Imperial who brought the Sith to their knees? Who stacked their putrid corpses until the carnage eclipsed the sun in Sith blood. The Jedi stood aside at the Sith and their demonic rotting of the Galaxy's foundations. They stood idly as world by world fell to their tyranny, at the reckoning of Mandalore. And now you stand before me and speak of virtue? Or cowardice? After you ran." The Imperial Knight questions with the raise of a brow beneath his metallic visage.

"The Alliance nestled in golden laurels within the Core as the Imperial bled and died on the Braxant...and they have the audacity to spit at us for our crusade, for Kyber Dark. The Light casts a shadow, Allyson Locke. I can sense that darkness, that chaos, that boiling anger inside of you." Rurik taunts, swiping his argent blade toward Allyson's abdomen in an upwards cut from his left hip toward his right shoulder, casting the blade out in his right hand before jutting it toward toward her collar bone should the first attack not make purchase.

"You lack discipline, Jedi. It will be your undoing...it will be the undoing of the Galaxy. Our future must be reclaimed from the cults of dark and light who have taken it from us. I offer you this sole chance, Allyson Locke. To redeem yourself in our crusade of order...or perish to the bloodied wheel of stagnation and false virtue your cult continues to turn and turn until all between is brought to ruin." The Lord Executor offers.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

HOW TO DESTROY ANGELS

GHOST MOTHER
UNDISCLOSED PLANET // OUTER RIM // BYOO
INTERACTION: Spencer Varanin // CLOSED
THE FOOL

---

---

​

At first, she was dazzled. Staring at the dark monstrosity, breathing hard, she found it difficult to articulate anything beyond appreciation.

Over the years, the warrior of the light had become complacent. Spectacles such as these were few and far between on Kiffu and Kiffex. The Force Storm that raged was a potent example of The Dark side’s hunger and the necessity for wan destruction to fuel itself and grow and kill the planet entirely.

But the time for philosophical appraisal and observation was long past.

The closer she got, the more saturated the extraordinary environment came with the shadowy miasma. It was cold and unnatural, the darkness so thick it weighed heavily against her. Volatility was a difficult thing to measure. The shadows manifested, stretching and grabbing, whipping and ensnaring at her garb and loose hairs, obscuring mortal vision. The exposed skin on her hands and face burned from the hyper pressure, prickling and stinging in response to the wind’s burn. If the darkness wasn’t so piercing, she might have felt the heat from the unnatural hurricane.

Margins of the space flashed in gloomy puffs and streaks were bright without illuminating anything. Everything looked desaturated or cast shadows, sharp and terrible.

Approaching the storm’s nucleus, she could sense a structure within it. Layers interpenetrating like shadows casting shadows. It throbbed with inhuman power, tidal, deep, and painful. Within the eye of the storm, darkness swirled. It was more than an absence. It was as tangible as the weapons strapped against her lower back. And it was calling.

As Kiskla pushed through the blackness, it responded to her with each step she took. The closer she drew, the more her sight refined. Metaphysical awareness burned her vision, pearlescent irises thrumming with an incomprehensible glow. The technique was second nature by now, accelerating and hyperbolizing the focus on the spaces between molecules in the air like the atoms themselves had become a thin, dark fog.

Beneath her feet, the planet’s crust trembled and spiralled in tendrils of dust, being consumed by the rolling clouds that crashed and rolled overhead. The earth and sky absorbing one another and growing into something larger until critical mass burgeoned and they split to repeat the cycle once more. An evil cycle she was intent on breaking.

Beyond the physical tumult, the ethereal realm quivered and shook. Extending and exchanging moments and objects through time and space. The continuum was interrupted here. Ghosts of the past, present, and of the future passing through time seamlessly in this self-contained orbit. Familiar with her own mortality, Kiskla took a moment to remind herself to observe and marvel. In doing so, she felt the passing emotions of each container as they exchanged without consequence from one timeline to another. Most were anguished, dismayed and despaired –– human reactions that fed the inhumane catalyst of their odyssey.

Anger and hatred triumphed to self-sustaining emotions that crawled over her skin. When the Varanin had created this storm, she’d been dark and in pain. This stretching, wretched shadow was testimony to the gratuitous emotion that was as alive as the light manifesting around her fingertips and stretching up her arms, shoulders, throat, chin, face. The light side of The Force flowed here, from her centre outward to contest the imbalance. It was hot, painful but peaceful and serene at the same time; managed by a mistress all-too-familiar with its impracticalities and nuances.

From the distance, one could perceive a single glowing dot in the middle of the rampant chaos.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

H U N T I N G
Prey: Maijan Paisea ​

Rexus looked down from the plateau, gazing down at the gathering storm. He'd been watching and waiting for a moment to strike, like the patient predator he was. There was a click indicating command wanted in. Reaching to his helm, he patched himself in. "This is Remus." Rexus drawled, "What's the sitch?"

"Remus, this is Stoss Command," A cold voice drawled back, "We have potentially located a shield generator on the surface within a few clicks of your position." Stoss Command reported, "Our sensor readings are sporadic, but we believe we have a confirmed concentration of hostiles there. Proceed to their location and eliminate any assets and personnel present. Transmitting coordinates now. Over and out."

Rexus felt deflated. A few hours of waiting for some call to join the slaughter, and now a simple sabotage op. It riled with him something fierce. Still, Stoss Command's orders were orders. He needed their stimulants to think straight and he would be damned if they took that from him. Plus, if this really were the simple operation Command believed, then Rexus would have fun seeing how a Yinchorri head splattered beneath his boot.


"Alright ladies," Rexus snapped to his cohorts, "Get ready to hump some miles. We're leaving."

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TOL KACHORN STREETS
THE_BOYS | Jaeger Harrsk | Kolson Vrask | Gedeon Rath | Meko Sorrin
OPFOR | Jerec Asyr | Lucien Dooku | Auteme | Aerarii Tithe | Gala Geert | Astraea Tagge
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY
D E L I V E R I N G _ T H E _ G O O D S

SERPENTINE​

Uneventful was their march in the sewers, finally arriving to their entry point that would lead them to the surface of Tol Kachorn's streets. From the grate they could all hear the familiar sounds of artillery shells and blasters screaming through the air. They were far away from the front lines it seemed, just how far were they? Every Imperial commando knew that their cloak and dagger tactics would be discovered by some lucky lookouts. Not every black ops mission went smoothly as they liked it to be. Inserting in? Sure, that was most likely to be a success. During the execution of the mission? There was bound to be some guns going ablaze, so long as they were short and quick firefights then they could manage. Their evac? Well, then it was alright to break some eggs and leave a ruckus.

In lines they formed; Alpha to the left, and Bravo to the right. Djorn took point on Bravo while Jaeger led Alpha, both of them leading their Commandos where the Council of Elders was supposedly located. Everything was quiet in their area save for the violence from the battle they were away from. Only the dust kicked up from the wind in the streets; it was too quiet. Too much for his tastes. His eyes targeted alleyways and doors in case they needed to find cover or evade if they encountered any group of hostiles.

"Djorn, keep your eyes open. This silence is abnormal."

<"Sounds like all the civilians are being escorted for evacuation, Jaeger. You know how Jedi and their dogs are,"> he replied back to his fellow Commissioner. The Jedi were morally ethical unlike Djorn and Jaeger. Both men knew how much dirty work they've committed before, and there was more to come in the future. This would be another tally on their plate. Hell, even if they wanted a clean slate there would always be a taint on their mark.

<"Those in the rear, make sure you're aware of everything we pass by. I don't want to be clowned from behind,"> if their foes weren't in front of them, they were surely behind them.

<"Did Vandal see any hostiles in our path, Jaeger?">

 

[Hans Rennagen]

F O R C E _ C O R P S
Objective: Infantry Protection & Anti-Jedi Warfare
Engaging: Shaka Sunstar

​

Hans gritted his teeth through the pain. His shield was weighing heavier on him now. He wasn't surprised that the Jedi's battle armour had protected him once again.

"You can't keep going. Your shoulder will get worse."

"Drop your hilt and shield and find yourself a doctor."

Hans was taken aback. He had hardly expected his opponent to best him, let alone do so with honour.

"You're... letting me go? Is that it?" Hans was of course skeptical, but he wanted to believe. He needed to believe, because the Jedi was right: his arm needed medical attention.

"The shield... it stays. Not much I can do without... this." His voice was weary and strained, quickly losing the vigour he'd had only minutes before as he dropped his lightsaber to the ground again.

Losing his lightsaber wasn't ideal and he dreaded the thought of having to synthesize another crystal, but he knew that a lightsaber was only a tool to a Knight.

Hans took a couple of small steps back from his lightsaber, still within reach of the force should the Jedi be feigning his offer...

 

[Shaka Sunstar]

Alliance Jedi Guardian Armour

---

---

​

His eyes slowly began to settle into a squint, as if he were scrutinizing the Imperial Knight before him, trying to determine whether he was genuine or not as the tension began to settle.

With his deactivated hilt in hand, the Jedi Knight did better than respond to Hans Rennagen right away. Instead, he hooked it back onto one of the belt hooks that hung from his belt, where an assortment of lightsabres could rest. When the New Imperial's hilt hit the ground, his gaze dropped, watching before looking back at the cautiously retreating man.

Finally, he shrugged as he began backing away too.

"Did you expect me to kill you?" His hand reached out slowly, summoning the discarded Knight's saber to his hand, analyzing its design before hooking it onto his belt beside his own constructed hilt. "There's a greater threat in the Galaxy than Imperials. I've no intention of slaying recent allies." Turning his back, careless, he started off to return to his team.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

F O R C E _ C O R P S
Objective: Infantry Protection & Anti-Jedi Warfare
Engaging: Shaka Sunstar

​

"That was... noble. Thank you, I guess..." he said as the Jedi took his saber and turned to walk away. The Jedi was right: there were far greater threats to the galaxy than this strange dance between formerly allied nations.

Hans' mind began to wander to another world, a world in which he had one this duel. Would he have killed the Jedi who so graciously spared him? In the moments after the duel he wanted to believe he would have, but he also knew what the order demanded of him. If things had been different...

'No' he thought, stopping himself from going down that road. He knew it better to be thankful for his life and leave it to rest.

"Kurga! It's time to go!" Hans yelled across the street to the lieutenant.

"Urrggh," the Yinchorri released a strained and angry sigh, "what about the factory?!"

"We've lost, Kurga, but we can regroup if we leave now!"

Hans could tell Kurga was displeased, even if he said nothing. He gave a hand signal to his men to turn and retreat, and the surviving Yinchorri gladly obliged. As the group left the area, Hans looked back to see the Jedi and his own squad leaving. He had learned a lot in the few minutes they had engaged. About the Jedi, about himself... He had learned what losing feels like, yet the feeling of great gratitude towards his opponent remained at the forefront of his senses.

 

[Shaka Sunstar]

ENGAGING: NO ONE
​

The Imperial Knight didn't get another verbal response from the Jedi.

He was already jogging off ahead once his senses had determined that the submission of the Imperial wasn't a ploy. Inwardly thinking, he wondered how his Master would've felt.

Humming thoughtfully, he waved at the Marines he had been accompanying.

"Where to now, Master Jedi?"

Behind his helmet, his brow arched and he nodded towards the city walls - where the sounds of battle echoed down the road to them.

"We'll engage any Imperials that get into the city."

And then they were off.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Tol-Kachorn, Yinchorr
OBJECTIVE: Operation Screaming Vengeance
ALLIES: Auteme | CETCOM | GA
ENEMIES: Kolson Vrask | Djorn Bline | Daros Karmann | Jaeger Harrsk | NIO
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Taxman's Embrace | Visions of Gold | REC-LA/02 Combat Armour
POST: III

His second piece of evidence came from a pedantic droid.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch all that,” Tithe explained. “Let’s try again. And slower this time.”

The municipal maintenance droid, little more than a collection of repair appendages and a tiny processing unit mounted on a robust set of treads, again issued a string of indecipherable warbles at Tithe. It’s dozen or so frail-looking arms, each tipped with a different tool, waved around in the air as it tried to make what the droid believed to be a very important point. Was there not a New Imperial Order invasion going on around them, it would have been a comedic moment.

The Senator for Aargau looked to his Yinchoori allied. “I don't suppose any of this mean anything?”

“A vandalised sewer cover,” explained one of the saurians as he pointed to the opposite side of the street.

Tithe took a deep breath. He’d asked the locals to let him know if anything out of the ordinary was detected within the city. Agent provocateurs had attacked a hotel and were on the loose, trying to stir up the locals against the Galactic Alliance. Tithe had hoped to be informed of a security patrol who had failed to report in, or a security hatch found propped open, or unexplained movements at the spaceport. Bored Yinchoori youth with nothing better to go but break a sewer cover was not what he had in mind.

“So, I don’t think you, ah, understood when I said ‘out of the ordinary’. I meant…”

“It is you who don’t understand,” the Yinchoori interrupted. He grabbed Tithe by the sleeve and hastened him across the street. He stabbed his clawed hand toward the vandalised sewer cover. “Look.”

Shaking his head, Tithe knelt down to examine the cover, screwing up his nose at the smell. Sure enough, the cover had been vandalised. Someone had cut it clean open… too clean. The Senator leaned forward the examine the cuts as he narrowed his eyes. The cuts had not been made by the tools of a worker, they were too precise. Only military hardware could make such clean cuts.

Tithe stood back up and dusted himself off. “Well, you've got my attention. Where does that, ah, lead to?”

“Far, are beyond the city.”

Tithe felt his stomach drop. He looked around, calling up a map of the surrounding area on his datagoogles. Shield generators, main holonet downlink, the Council of Elders headquarters. Dozens of key targets were within striking distance of whoever had emerged from the sewers.

“Ohh my.”

The Senator darted back toward the up-armoured ground transport, his Yinchorri escorts hurrying to catch up. He retrieved his commlink and switched it to a secure GA military frequency as he clambered into the vehicle. “GA forces, be advised, we have enemy infiltrators within the city walls.”

“I say again, enemy infiltrators are within the city walls.”