Invasion In The Undertow // NIO Invasion of TSE Held Jaemus and Dubrillion

[Stilicho Drumarch]

Objective: Take down the snipers
Allies: NIO // Open
Enemies: TSE // Ruek Tast
​

As he drew his weapon, the alerted sniper charged him with her axe. Both their weapons crackled with power as vibro-weapons did. However there was not much he could do against a hatchet. They were dirty weapons, meant to hack and cleave, unlike the couthness a sword brought to a duel. Nonetheless they clashed, Sal sword managing to knock the woman's weapon away from hitting him. Unfortunately for him, it was feint. Her powergloved fingers latched onto him like an industrial vice. He looked from his captured arm up at her. The force of her squeeze brought him close to dropping his sword, not that he could currently do much with it in his position. He brought he free hand up and with as much force as the awkward position allowed he bashed his fist into the side of her helmet.

Unable to reach his commlink as he continued to flail his arm into her, he called aloud hoping his soldiers would hear. "Sniper...engaged!"

"Get... the hell.. off me," he grunted as he fought to wrestle his way out of the enemy's grip...​

 

[Commander Larkin]

Tags: Lucien Dooku | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Irveric Tavlar
​

As he made his way through the air with the rest of the legion, Larkin blasted several S-IMPS with deadly accuracy. Alone, his aim was impressive enough, not to mention it was coupled with his ability to dodge the incoming return fire. However, despite that, he was still haunted by flashes of past battles and the screams of fallen comrades in the back of his mind. He faltered for a mere moment but it was enough for a blaster shot to hit his shoulder guard. He let out a grunt. His jetpack sputtered and he started hurling towards the ground faster than intended. Not long after, he landed on the ground in a kneeling position, uttering a slew of expletives as he could feel at least one bone fracture.

Standing up, Larkin did his best to maintain his balance as he unleashed a torrent of blaster shots in multiple directions, hitting several targets. Taking up a position flanking near Luc, Commander Larkin took a deep breath and alternated between firing in the two trenches that he and the rest of the legion's command forces. After holding the position for a while, the orders came in that it was time to advance onward. Luc had drawn his blade and the rest of his men, Larkin included, all drew theirs as well.

Needing no further prompting other than Luc yelling to charge, Larkin did just that. Blade in hand, he did his best to ignore the stinging pain of his fractured leg as he pushed himself to charge forward and engage the Sith forces. Almost instantly he began clashing blades with Sith troopers, trying his best to keep on his feet. He gritted his teeth beneath his helmet as he engaged a particularly aggressive S-IMP. Larkin switched between clashing blades and trading fist blows. The altercation came to an end when the Sith trooper had knocked Larkin to the ground, thinking he had the commander where he wanted, he raised his arms to deliver the final blow. In that instant, Larkin pulled a blaster and shot the Sith troop three times in the chest. As the S-IMP fell to the ground, Larkin got up and staggered forward and mumbled, "That's all you got?"

 

[Errant]

// NEPHILIM //: Imperial Knight-Errant
// OBJECTIVE //: Operation Storm Surge
// TARGET //: BYSS
// ALLIES | NIO //: Rurik Fel
// ALLIES | TGA //: Bernard of Arca
// ENEMIES | TSE //: Heca Foliou

"Treasures are not won by care and forethought but by swift slaying and reckless attack."​

- Michael Moorcock​

​

Before an answer came to Errant's question, a dull thud sounded half a dozen paces to his right. He followed the sound with his gaze, drawn to a small spherical shape. A dim red light flickered on, then off, repeating itself thrice before the Albino realized the danger. He threw up both hands just as an explosion ripped through the trench, flame, and concussive force cutting through space towards the Imperial Knights. A translucent barrier took form between them and the explosion, shimmering momentarily, only for the shield to fall away, shattered. Unable to properly prepare for the ordinance further, Errant could only deactivate his saber, arms raised foolishly as if his limbs would prove strong enough to ward away the results. It lifted him from the ground, his body spinning rapidly through the air, only to come crashing down against the side of the trench. Clumps of sand and small shards of glass rained down on the Imperial's back.

Errant, now partially buried, lifted his head and looked back in the direction of the explosion. Smoke hung in the air, while even tinier bits of glass drizzled from above, barely noticeable if not for the beams of red and green they refracted. Silhouettes pushed forward through the grime, hurrying towards his position. His body twisted beneath the sand, his free hand clawing at handfuls of dirt. Through grit teeth, he heaved against his earthen restraints, struggling against the weight of the beach itself. His heart hammered in his chest, small beads of sweat forming on his brow as he heard heavy boots crunching glass as the red-plated legionnaire's marched ever closer. With one final pull, he freed his trapped hand and dropped his saber beside him, both arms hastily shoveling sand off of his chest and hips. With enough of the grainy substance tossed aside, the Albino climbed back to his feet, saber hilt in hand once more.

He turned on his heel, now face to face with a small squadron of Sith-Imperial soldiers. The silver blade burst from the hilt once more, illuminating the battered trench.

"I fear you will not have much luck with me on my feet," Errant did not wait for a reply, his feet carrying him across the gap before the leading trooper could raise his rifle. "In honor of your service," he began, a horizontal strike shearing the legionnaire's head from his shoulders. "I will make this quick," as if to hammer his point home, the Imperial Knight surged forward, his weapon striking out at the next. The white-hot blade of his saber cut through both blaster and the hands wielding it, the man behind the helmet screeching like a wounded animal as he fell to his knees. With a flick of his wrist, the Albino batted aside one incoming bolt into the kneeling man, catching the sobbing boot dead-center of his face plating. Errant stepped over the legionnaire's falling body, a downward strike cleaving from right shoulder to left hip on a third, the woman's body sliding apart in two pieces as the muscle, sinew, and bone meant to keep her together melted away. A thrust of his hand sent the last two to the floor. One sprawled out awkwardly against the trench-wall, leaving him dazed. The other managed a roll before impact, expertly finding his way back to a kneeling position, blaster trained on the Imperial Knight.

"Impressive," Errant admitted, a nod sent the soldier's way. He strode closer, his weapon flicking to the right, ceasing the squirming body's movements expertly. "Since I have you here, legionnaire, I must know," the Knight stopped a dozen steps out, his silver blade held between them. "What have your Sith Lords done to earn your trust? I have yet to see any of them upon the battlefield beside you. So many have found a place within our growing power. Loyal soldiers, disgraced Sith, and innocent civilians all-seeing reason enough to leave an Empire that has slaughtered their kind indiscriminately. I'm willing to bet hundreds, if not thousands of your brethren have perished to a crimson saber during some blabbering Sith Lord's temper tantrum. Surely you understand my confusion?"

"You are no better!" the soldier roared, the blaster level with Errant's head. "You act like you're better than them! But here you are, killing my friends! My squad! Crimson or blue lightsaber, black or white armor, you're all the same! Monsters!"

"I am no better?" Errant's helmeted head tilted to the side. "I did not come here to prove myself morally superior. I came here to slaughter the enemies of my Sovereign. I storm these beaches to wipe away the Sith-Imperial influence, so the galaxy can be rid of their horrendous practices," he reached up, a hand sliding to the base of his skull. "Look into my eyes, soldier," he dropped the helmet to the ground. "Do you see a man who seeks to condemn billions to death solely for power and territory?" he slowly took another step forward, disabling his saber. "Where is your Emperor? Where is your Dark Council?" the man, no, the eighteen-year-old boy took another step closer. "Why have they forsaken you and your brethren?"

"I-I," the stranger stuttered, what convictions remained falling away as he bore witness to the young man before him. "You're just a kid," his voice cracked, the blaster falling to the sand beside him.

"It is with a heavy heart I lift my blade to steal away the lives of good, honest Imperials. You needn't face me any longer, nor need you fear death at the hands of our legions," Errant knelt down and lifted the blaster, holding it out to the Sith-Imperial as he straightened. "You have thrown down your weapons, yet the fight is not over. Take up your blaster against those who've wronged you. Join our fight, and free not only yourself from the chains that bind you, but also our kin, still shrouded in Sith treachery. They need your guidance," the Albino set a hand on the taller man's shoulder. He squeezed tight, a smile offered in assurance. "Fight not with hate in your heart, but hope for a future free of the crimson reign."

Seconds ticked by, uncomfortably long as the battle still raged further up the beach. As Errant grew unsure of placing his trust on this variable completely unearned, the soldier surprised him, taking the weapon before stepping back, hand raised in a salute.

"Yes sir!" the legionnaire shouted, taking up a position beside the Imperial Knight. "What are my orders?"

Errant blinked. "Er, stick with me, we're pushing to establish a forward command outpost," the Knight climbed up out of the trench, the legionnaire following the Albino without a second thought. "If we can lay claim to this front before dawn, Dubrillion should be ours, soldier."

"Understood s- Argh!" the legionnaire began, cut off by his own started yelp. Errant turned quickly, just in time to see a gloved hand wrap around the trooper's throat. A crimson saber exploded from his chest, his struggling cut short. Now lifeless, this unknown individual fell away, crumpled up on the floor, seemingly discarded.

"You will regret that, cretin," Errant growled through grit teeth, his silver blade burning to life, its purifying light clashing against the piercing red of the Sith's own weapon.

"We shall see."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER //: Saber-1, Saber Leader | Saber Squadron | Vanguard Squadron
// FOCUS //: Aerarii Tithe | Loske Treicolt
// ALLIES | NIO //: Cheapshot | Jalter Volff | Arten Jinn | Tyrell Paxxus
// ALLIES | TGA //: Loske Treicolt | Olen Halcorr | Mordred B'Haran
// ENEMIES | TSE //: Thaelius | Aerarii Tithe | Nica Dakkar
// TARGET //: Longbow-class Heavy Artillery Cruiser -> Athena-class Shield Frigate
X-Wing | Flight Suit | Lightsaber

M A Y N A R D _ T R E I C O L T
W A K E _ U P

<Yeah, I think we’re up. >

<They can’t keep pulling resources out for their support. Vanguard –– you’re on cover duty this time. Those new escorts are yours.>

<"I think you're right, form up on me. Our friend here thinks he can fire off another round of that cannon. We're gonna put it out of its misery soon as that shield goes dark. We're going headhunting"> Maynard patched through the comms, double checking that the Shadow bombs were well and ready to lay down the punishment to put the Sith Cruiser out of its misery.

<"Relaying order, Vanguard is on escort duty. Saber 1-5 headed for another hit."> Maynard patched through as he pulled the stick to aim his starfighter in the direction of the Longbow, eyeing the shield finally powering down as he saw blaster bolts from one of Vanguard's X-Wings make purchase on the hull beneath with dull scorch marks baring into the armor. It was about a three second wind down and a three second rev of the gun before another hypervelocity round of punishment was headed pulse right through to a New Imperial star destroyer.

At his current trajectory, it'd be about a nine second trip before the shadow bomb was in kissing distance over the gun again. He needed to trim the fat off that time.

<"S-Foils closed."> He muttered between him and Saber-5 just in time for a pair of Dominance fighters to close in on his aft. With the power surging from the weapons systems and into the ion engines there was a glaring pulse of the pink emission before the craft surged forward, yawing right to cross between two asteroids with close enough clearance to let the X-Wing through but leave one of the Sith fighters bouncing between the rocks before exploding to join the rest of the aimless space hulks within the DSZ.

Closing in just as he witnessed the main coil gun roar to life again he sucked in a breath as the S-foils roared back open into attack position. Screwing his eyes shut he pressed his thumb against the pickle switch at the back of his stick, dropping two Shadow Bombs from the X-Wing's ordinance bay, sitting aimless for the faintest of moments before Maynard willed them into a hyper trajectory unto the coils of the gun, emitting a destructive and potent explosion on the bare metallic structure of the weapon.

<"Shouldn't be too much trouble now. I'm gonna assume the Vizier is too busy moving pieces to point the way again."> All the same, Vanguard was in the midsts of tying up the Sith fighter escort around the Longbow which by now, was just as Maynard swore to the New Imperial Head of Government, out of commission.

<"Six! You've picked up two interceptors! I'll try and take em out but-."> Vanguard Seven sounded through the comms before he saw a pulse of emerald blaster bolts short out and ignite one of the ion engines jutting from the craft's aft.

<"Yeah- shit...one of my engine's fried, I can't- there's not enough clutter to shake em."> Six replied, his voice clearly buried in layers of distress as his vision tunneled. Adrenaline.

<"Just hold on- hold on! I got one of em in my sights."> The Duro sounded out as he saw the reticule in the targeting computer hone in and ignite in the smooth crimson of a painted target before he squeezed the trigger on the stick to send out the cracking volley of the blaster cannons into the Sith fighter. It erupted in hell fire and once more descended into a death spiral. But all the while, his wing man was able to light up the Zabrak's X-Wing again and the comms snuffed out with a foreboding crackle of static before his blip disappeared in the multi-color display.

He was knocked out. Vanguard-6 was out.

<"No!"> The voice of Vanguard-2 erupted through the Squadron wide comms, tears. Anger. Defiance. Denial. It didn't matter. It didn't change the horrid reality, the disspersonal sight of the spiraling starfighter surging through the DSZ and toward the sapphire facing of Dubrillion's aquatic surface in a slow blaze. Another to the pile, another unfinished story added to the scrap heap encircling the world.

<"AAAagh!"> She sounded out in anger again, the sound of her fist beating against the dashboard of the X-Wing audible in the background of her feedback.

<"Hey! Stay with me, two! Let's make em pay, alright? Vanguard Squadron- next hit is marked in your display, Athena-class Shield Ship marked 'Pavise'. Let's open up these S-IMPs to the punishment."> He said, barking out in the command as he tried to rally the squadron together once more, the outline of the very vessel marked in red in the HUD displayed over the canopy of the starfighter. Wasn't any time to mourn or miss. It was time to buy low and sell high.

<"I'm sorry Commander...I tried to cover him I just-."> Maynard snapped back in interuption through the comms.

<"Hey- we all know the risks we're taking out here. No other way to make it right than doing our job. Understood?"> Maynard invokes through the squadron to a defiant reply.

<"Yes, commander!">

<"...Good to hear it...let's leave these escorts open to the TIEs, I'm sure they could use the work. We're diving down and we're gonna pop up behind the shield ship. Keep as tight as you can, watch your debris trackers. Payload to disruptor. We're aiming to take out the engines on this thing and make the formation stay in place to get the payoff from that shield."> Maynard said and soon enough, Vanguard was on the descent through the DSZ.

<"S-foils for flight."> Maynard ordered out, the wings shutting close with the hydraulic hiss as the fighters surged down through the enveloping field of space hulks and asteroids, the sight of the rolling oceans of Dubrillion bright in their visual scanners as they pulsed down. Saber 1 and 5 were quick to surge ahead of the pack with their X-02s more befitting for the enhanced control and comfort a Jedi could will over their vessel. And soon enough with enough ground gained to break from the DSZ, they traversed laterally a moment longer before surging back into the fray.

With Loske at his wing he could feel himself delving into that bond again before he saw the holofeed messenger light up with the offer, the bribe.

’136 million credits - my gift to you’

No message was sent back.

With the escort catching unto the maneuver and his vision lighting up the emerald streaks of Sith fighters assailing Vanguard in his sights he muttered to himself.

<"And here's my gift to you...">

<"S-Foils for attack, light it up!"> Maynard ordered out his eyes narrowed at the blue ion glow of the Athena's drives before he squeezed his thumb over the switch again to fire out two disruptor torpedoes into the engines of the ship before surging up and past the shield frigate back into the fray.

<"Mavericks away, mavericks away! Evac Aurek, pair back up and knock out these fighters!"> Maynard ordered through the squadron comms again.

 

[Hiram Voss]

Location: DSZ, NIV Carnivore
Command: Force Escort ‘Pride’, Ad Hoc Formation ‘Spear’
Allies: Mordred B'Haran | Cheapshot | Marlon Sularen
Enemies: Thaelius | Aerarii Tithe
Targeted Vessel: HIMS Oath of Allegiance
Objective: Operation Harpoon

Spoiler: Ad Hoc Formation 'Spear'

Squadron One:

Spoiler: Ad Hoc Formation 'Spear'

• 8x Caçadore-class Assault Corvette [x]​

Squadron Two:

• 12x Gurkha-Class Attack Corvettes [x]

Squadron Three:

• 7x Warrior-II Class Corvettes [x]
• 6x Vandal-Class Corvettes [x]

Remnant of Escort Force 'Pride'

• 2x Stalwart-Class Carrier [x]
• 2x Valiant-Class 'Star Destroyer' [x]
• 4x Nebulon-A Class Frigate [x]
• 6x Warrior-II Class Corvettes [x]

Strikecraft

• 16x TIE Outlander Squaadrons [x]
• 10x TIE Slasher Squadrons [x]
• 6x TIE Bruiser Squadrons [x]

Hiram's face sunk as the new orders came in. As if that hadn't been what he and his men were already doing! What they had sacrificed a great number of their cause to! Had the commodore even been observing? Sularen, that foolish moron. The Carnivore began to dodge and weave as the larger battlecruiser came into view, dwarfing the small task force as it scattered beneath the menacing fire of its heavy batteries. Voss' head turned up. He could see the concentration of his crew. Their resolve. They had worked wonders today. Slaved hard on a mission ambitious and foolhardy and yet here they were. They would be remembered. They would be either martyrs or conquering victors this day, and Hiram was determined the latter. Turning his attentions to Boars' who had delivered Commodore Sularen's communique, "We attack."

Boars looked a little confused and raised an eyebrow, "We attack, sir?" Hiram gave a slow and deliberate nod in response, as the Carnivore sped past another detonating driven mass. Hiram stood tall, and broached the datapad from the armrest of his command chair, he then gestured to Boars to lean in, which the latter did, and showed off the battlecruiser which had broken off the larger Sith force and was pursuing them.

"No more waves. No more strikes." Hiram snapped, "Total warfare at close range." He looked at the signals officer, "All captains, are to break formations." Hiram continued, "We are to set our sights on this, and this alone." Voss added, "The Sith have sent a shark to hunt krill," Hiram mused in a cool tone, "And now we will take out each one of his teeth, one by one." Voss thundered, "We attack relentlessly and without mercy. Without abandon. We will punish their short sightedness." Hiram clicked his tongue, "Begin engagement, now."

The corvettes broke from their tightly organised formations, and now began to raid the surface of the HIMS Oath of Allegiance. The smaller, quicker vessels out ran the heavy batteries with ease, and began to inflict casualties, slamming barrages of missiles and volleys of fire at point blank range, with little in the way of waves, but rather consistent attack. The attempt to crush the Spear which had prodded and goaded them with tour de force had failed, and instead reaped a whirlwind of hap hazard damage onto the Sith Imperial battlecruiser.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

DUBRILLION // BATTLE OF THE SHIPWRECKS // SABER-5
X-02 // FLIGHT SUIT // FRANK
GA // Maynard Treicolt // Olen Halcorr
NIO // Cheapshot // Jalter Volff // Tyrell Paxxus
TSE // Melia Siari // Nica Dakkar // FOCUS: Aerarii Tithe -- DOGFIGHTING OPPOSITION: OPEN
M I R A C L E ​

Vaulted wings hissed to tighten, sacrificing the iconic X shape for the sake of speed. Loske double-checked her sensor board to make sure she was correctly oriented toward their target.

There it was, straight ahead. Obstructed by a litter of metal skeletons that had once been a collection of starfighters. Twisting and weaving through either side would take too long.

<You’re about to get very hot again, Frankie.> Loske warned, seconds before thumbing over the lasers and riddling the drifting fighters, punching through canopies and fuselages. One exploded less than a second after she passed it. Extensions of the flames scorched the outside of her hull once again.

The stress of loss crackled over their comms and Loske grit her teeth in response. That last sharp breath drawn by Six would probably remain as a stain to the green Two and Seven indefinitely. Something Saber Three had to overcome on Brentaal, too. They’d all gone through it at one point or another. As pilots, it was easy to become desensitized to seeing explosions and mutually excluding the person within from that count. She’d felt that earlier in the hour too, until that holoimage had lodged against her glasteel port. A tragic reminder that less feet would touch the ground when this was over.

Cool focus intervened the conversation, their commander embracing and reframing the trauma with a forced crispness.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this, Blue...every damn time I try to do anything of worth, people I care about...I get em killed, I'm takin' one step forward two steps back..."

"I couldn't even make it out without trashing my own ship...I'm fuckin' useless...I'm not sure I should be leader of anyone..."

A notable growth to his character she hoped more than herself could appreciate. And a notable deprecation in her own. She couldn’t help it, she wanted to use his confidence to bolster hers; and selfishly she clung to that bond betwixt them to saturate herself in it. But Allyson’s residual breakdown was still niggling in the corners of her mind. Her decision to cut out Amea Virou after Borosk, her decision to cut Ryv down. It was plaguing her in ways she hated. It had been the mission first. The mission had gone too far.

Loss won out.

"Hey! It's not just me. I went out there and did my job - I did what I was ordered to do. I'm a good soldier."

Loske joined the comms in time to amplify the group’s Yes Commander, even if as the words left her mouth felt hollow. Good soldiers left people behind, left themselves behind, remnants and shells of who they were for the greater good. There had to be a balance.

"End of the day, this stuff doesn't matter. What matters is this mission. That's all that matters."

Several messages flashed over her comms relay. The first was the notification from Mordred B'Haran that their big-ship support was backing off. The fighters would have bombers as protection, which provoked an eye roll from the pilot. Those things were hardly capable of outmatching speed of the X-Wings, but they’d provide cover fire.

The second was the largest sum of money she’d ever seen written and slid over in a proverbial envelope across the desk. It was staggering. The pause didn’t stem from the supposed moral dilemma, she honestly wouldn’t know how to start spending it. Maybe The Renegade could use some repairs but...that wasn’t enough to fulfill anything she truly wanted. Her greatest desires weren’t from a wire transfer. She just wanted this to be over. And the only way for that to happen was for…

<"And here's my gift to you...">

<"S-Foils for attack, light it up!">

Yup. That.

Frank patched through a response to Aerarii Tithe on Loske's behalf:

Leading the charge, Saber-1 set course for the squadron. Her scanners indicated a collection of white silhouettes clustering in formation behind the Saber pilots. Loske stayed on Maynard’s wing, matching the speed until she reduced her acceleration at less than half a klick; collecting a few seconds separation between herself and the premiere drop lest she be struck with the residual permeation.

The same vertical angle he’d chosen, she matched. At two hundred meters, she fired. A gout of flame from her starboard wing. A fraction of a second later, she fired again and her port-side disruptor torpedoes launched.

The payloads flashed down to the crust of the ship in columns of fire. The first hit the and detonated. She could have sworn she heard a low, booming rumble from the ion capacitor’s discharge. The second shot through the first’s fireball. The fireball got bigger, the bass of the collision sounded louder. Space was supposed to be quiet.

Vanguard’s payloads dropped in succession. The fireball grew upward and outward with each hit.

After the initial peel away, Loske took a recon pass over the target, and couldn’t see anything through the smoke cloud but her sensors showed significant damage.

<That explosion’s about to get a lot bigger. You should put some distance between you and them.> Frank warned, his droid voice terse.

<Big copy.> Loske muttered, wrenching axially so her belly flashed against the bubbling explosion contained within the shared shields of the universal Sith wedge.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Dunes of Byss Beachhead //:
//: Consume //:
//: Equipment //: Lightsaber //: Saava Seeds //: Chocolates //: Armor //:
//: Target //: Hailyn //:

​

“Well, that’s a pretty neat trick.” Spencer stopped dirt kicking up as her speed was slowed down by the loose sand. Seeing the dark spears being whipped the way they were was interesting, was this woman a wound of the Force? Such an interesting and unique creature stood before her. Deep within her core, the hunger she had been able to stave began to beat against its prison. Delicious and raw was the woman before her, the force energy poured from her entire existence. Darth Alekto was quite the morsel, and Spencer sighed softly, knowing that it might come down to that most disgusting power she had learned. ​

​

“You’re not a good host, my dear. Where’s the tea? What about the conversation?” The monarch scoffed but continued to grin as the wicked creature bound towards her. One would expect the Master to draw her own weapon in preparation for engagement. Instead, she found herself centered in the Force, a hand grasping the small bag of Saava seeds. Spencer always had a few tricks up her sleeves. Her years of training under Ashin and several other Masters of the former Sith Empire had given her a plethora of toys at her disposal. She had her favorites, of course, and if her plan of attack didn’t work, she would have to resort to one of her greatest defenses.​

​

Spencer watched through her visor as the woman jumped blades and fire danced around her. Spencer exhaled deeply and summoned the Force around her. The comforting fury that the invisible power brought her was like a warm blanket. Pulling everything she had into her, she focused the attack towards the woman, hoping to blast her away with the Force Push. With one hand, she controlled the Force, and with a twist of her waist, her other hand was brought forth, throwing a handful of the Saava seeds towards the demon. ​

​

Fingers curled into a fist, her focus of the Force shifted towards the seeds that flew through the air. The Force fueled them rapidly, forcing them to grow and blossom into the parasitic plants. Their brilliant red flower heads opened up like small birds, starved, and searching for the feast their mother promised. They were given life from their Master and quickly chased the woman seeing her as their next feast. Vines whipped towards the Sith Lord, attempting to wrap around her limbs. ​

​

The Saava plant became one of Spencer’s favorite choices for her small affinity to plant surges, discovering them on Kashyyyk, and prizing them for their resistance to lacerations even from a lightsaber. They were beautiful and hungered, just like the dark yearning in her core for the essence of this demon of the Force. ​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

// Hellhound-Actual // 307th Legion //
// Objective II : Storm Surge : HOTH
// ALLIES : Irveric Tavlar Agrippa Lucien Dooku
// ENEMY : OPEN / TSE Forces
// Gear : Armor - Hand Of God - Melee - Rifle - Side Arm - 'Void' Grenades - 'Null' Grenades - Light Saber - Gunship
// Thematic : Fear

​

Across the HUD’s display, a tidal wave of forces flickered on the map-lifelines dropping around like flies as the regiment charged into the crossfire. The green hue projected by the night vision reacted violently to each influx of light. Her breath came in short bursts as they sprinted across the open sand, the pressure of the helmet suffocating as the ventilators worked overtime to cycle in air. She was half mad enough to rip it off to breath, the constricting pain in her chest fueling the nervous tic. Her gauntlets tightening and roaming over her rifle to fight the sensation.

Rational thought was give or take.

The taste of salt from her own despair on her tongue as Lyra inhaled, eyes wide as she searched the dark abyss cut through the sand. The A.I outlining the forms of S-IMP soldiers, tracking them. The stench of tibanna was strong, a distinct tang in the air. They were closing in fast like a pack of dogs upon the first trench and the woman trusted the unseen as bolts whizzed past her. It was selfish of her, to do this. It was like surfacing from the depths as explosions echoed tenfold around, she shouldn't be doing this. Lyra’s boots threatened to give under the sand as fast as they pushed forward, blaster firing ringing out all around as a thick cloud of fire was laid down to cover them.

It was impossible to turn back now. The rifle was pointed firmly ahead and her finger fluttered over the trigger. The S-IMP forces were well dug in and a scattergun opened on their position, bolts dancing across their path and their formation was dashed through by the heavy fire. The mobilization of the Turbo tanks drawing the worst fire as the heavy vehicles passed over the lines ahead, set to their task. The rockets stirred up hell in the S-IMP’s nest, explosions popping off as the vehicles roved over the S-IMP lines. The inferno rocketing across the fortified beach. The back lines descended upon by the armor; a relief to the infection of the S-IMP masses.

Only when her knees gave out and she had lost the will to raise her weapon, then Lyra would let herself go back; grieving in the face of the mission. There was no life to bring a child into here, in this galaxy-many more had come before and were laid out on the chopping block on this very field. She was beholden to her duty, and through the tide of emotion she let it synthesize into anger.

<”Dooku the calvarlys coming your way, follow up on the tank teams-get out of the heat,”> Lyra said scrambling for a semblance of order, the comm line switching over-her voice strained through the exertion. Lucien Dooku was far too good a man, and the ever looming mortality of war brought with it concern. She didn't want to imagine failing another with poor orders, not like Gladius, not like the 'Fife' boys. Her mind reeling at the weight of the losses-he now was one of the handful of people she truly knew on the field. <”I need you move in with the regiment on the tanks to aim for the facility, that is new priority.”>

She still couldn't cut away attachment, couldn't surgically remove her bloody conscious.

The orders could of been considered false, a lie even-they were a redirection from the blood bath. Force help her if the fool didn’t take the bait, he had a bleeding heart. She didn't want to insult him, but she didn't trust his place in command-it was good men who got themselves killed. Ducking as she veered left, dashing as she dropped her helmet’s visor to catch the sights of the scope. Lyra opened fire on the heavy repeater on the trench’s ledge, all but holding the trigger down as the the gun drummed out fire. Adrenaline put an edge upon her, threatening to send her into hyperfixation. The butt of the rifle recoiling, hammering in her shoulder; a dull thud against the armor as she laid into the line with a scathing of fire. The singe of passing blaster fire catching, nicking her pauldron and legs-they were chasing them all as the squad weaved through the firefight. The eight or so men left of Jenth around her unloaded into the opposition along the trench line if only for a moment of glory, a handful of them falling prey to superior fire power-blaster bolts eating them alive.

This was the bleak expectation they had predicted.

<”Keep charging, do not stop! Focus fire!”> Lyra shouted, catching her hand from shielding her mid from the surrounding threat. Her own voice sounded foreign to her own ears. In the uncertinity, the green boys fired ahead a mismagery shots trying to pin down the scatter gun. She stared down the barrel of her weapon and past the tip of the bayonet-the correction from the A.I blurring as her vision tunneled in upon the gunner. Another damning round opened up on them before she could fire. Lyra threw herself down, rolling out over the sand to weather the spray of blaster bolts.

The jolt washed over her as her shoulder hit the ground-using the momentum to throw herself back into the fight as she rolled over. Around her stormtroopers bled the lines, bolstered by more squads as their line evened out-but it only made for more targets. More bodies to build upon their victory, for Irveric's war effort.. Shaking her head, recovering-Lyra opened fire amidst the dust and heat. Their front line a canopy of suppressing fire-anything to get the enemy off their guns. The bolts clipped and caught the sand around the fortified repeater, as the red haze engulfed the kill box that was decimating the front.

In a series of desperate steps she and the 307th crashed into the trench, one of the soldiers lopping in a grenade ahead of them. Counting the seconds, she slowed her pace for a heart beat-flames engulfing the ditch and the rush of light made her squint. It would not cull the bulk of the fore all and she prepared for the clash..They poured over on top of the lines in the fire, bodies laid out and Lyra’s legs tensed beneath her as her body snapped. A series of red dots proliferated across the radar but she closed her eyes, hauling her rifle up blindly as she jumped into the trench.

Through the force she reached and guided herself, slamming herself down into the murky pit of the S-IMP line. The force reverberated as she landed atop the Legionnaire unscathed by the fires but unfortunate enough to be caught in her path. Men were shouting all around, orders from either side embracing the violence. In one swift lunge with the rifle, she kneeled over him in a flury-burying the bayonet into his chest. Choking..sputtering was picked up by the audio, as was his dying breath she opened her eyes. A reflection of her armored visage in his helmet as his body gave one final twitch as he died. There was a wicked and sour taste of death that followed through the forces engaging arms. Fire licked at the walls past her and one S-IMP crawled through it, voice crackling as he flailed; burning alive.

Ripping the bayonet from the soldier's body beneath her boots, eclectic components from the phantom armor sparked. She lifted her rifle, drawing on the burning soldier, firing off a series of shots to put him out of his misery. Her actions a blur, over looking the gore as she assessed her surrounding. Bodies fell around, and the dead mingled-she uttered command under breath, the map flickering off. One less distraction. Their presence had sowed chaos and Lyra rose up with the rifle trained ahead, trying to pick her targets through the Jenth boys.

Several stray shots caught her shoulder and thigh-eaten up by the thermal gel of the armor. Her only saving grace, the sudden onslaught sending her stumbling from the impact. Catching herself on the trench wall, her armor dragged down it as she sagged, a snarl bubbling from her throat as she froze. Her armor was blackened by each shot, the reflec scorched away. She couldn't keep up with the chaos, couldn't control it, but she threw herself head first in. Her finger never left the trigger, firing off several rounds-tagging limbs trying to control the crowd. When the gun jammed, her hand sought the power cell out. Ripping it out and dropping it carelessly to reload.

Around her men were back to back-struggling through the throes of gauntlet and guns. The troopers brushed around one another, the flashes from their barrels lighting up the enemy trench in a horrific scene. She didn't breath, her jaw slowly clenching tighter and tighter; seething as she weaved through the fight. Shoved and the skimming hand of a raised gun catching her and she fought equally to keep herself standing. They were outnumbered, the shock of their arrival quickly dwindling quickly and as she dropped another S-IMP with a three round burst across his torso into his head. They were surrounded and gauntlets flew, soldier and trooper alike barreling into one another. Trying to out match their opponent by sheer strength.

The ugly noise of a last shout dying, adrift in the fray. She followed the troopers as they called out contact and worked like a dying cell, they were caged in from either side by a long line of fighting. Throwing herself forward, she swung the bayonet toward the next soldier to step into her peripheral. The S-IMP batted it aside and she dogged the man relentlessly with another lunge until she stepped in, closing the gap and slashing it down; throwing her shoulder into him with the blade. Blood dripped as she stabbed through a gap of the armor, burying it in the soldier's thigh. Grunting as she threw one more step in-shrugging the soldier off and letting him slump to the trench floor.

<”Genny Boys reporting ma’am, the Captain sends her regards,”> a familiar voice floated over the comms, the zabrak trooper if she remembered.

Down here in the trenches, one lost sight of the greater picture, the looming facility-the mission. She looked past the contrasting arms of the Order, through the swarm she did not need to look far before she found the eye of Genesis painted on the arms of the troopers around her. It wasn't salvation but next best thing. The green boy were saved and Lyra laughed-it sounded depraved and she swung her rifle around. Throwing the weapon against the black clad Legionaire, pushing back. The end of the black stock slamming wildly around to clear a space amidst the brawl.

Lyra let the rifle slip from her grip not a moment later, the strap snapping against it’s weight as she reached up. Ripping the saber hilt off it’s place on her blastplate in one fell swoop. It produced a desired affect as a hum followed, something outside the noise of war resounding as the blade ignited in her hand. The S-IMP soldier before her cut in one swift arch of the blade, the moment fluid. There was no voice that had to beg her, to urge her on now.

<”Shit it’s tru-”> a voice floated over the team’s channel, outweighed by another burst of fire and the skirmish.

The saber sung as she turned it in hand with a flick of her wrist as Lyra stepped forward, slicing through the stock of a rifle another soldier wielded. What lull there had been in the battle, the startling realization across the handful of men-evaporating. These were nameless men to her and they scattered around as the battle waged. In another breath, she hefted the blade up a a shot barreled flashed before her, slapping it aside into the sand-leaving a scorching mark behind.

The echoes of the force and the fear rife around, and Lyra’s shoulders shook letting herself slip-the last scraps and concern for command left behind and she gave in to the innate task of killing. Time dwindled, and they fought tooth and nail to push over the line. She was sent careening in one turn, sand pouring down over them. A bad grenade eating up the passage ahead. They had to step over the bodies of their own. Orders lost on her tongue as the cleared through a dug out, her body aching from the punishment as she picked herself back up from the dirt. Wash and repeat and the carnage began to blur until there was blood on all their boots.

<”Ma’am-ma’am wait!”>

The noise on the comms lost on her and the woman soldiered through the fight. There were a rangers shadowing her, as they pressed ahead through stray detonation. A crossroads lay ahead, they were fighting through the web of trenches pushing toward the second line.

<”What,”> she barked, risking a glance back over her shoulder.

The fighting had grown thin here and she heard stray shots ahead. Setting a hard pace, saber in hand as her servo ghosted over the vambrace-the last stimulate injecting as she caught herself on the trench wall. A sinking feeling threatening to drag her down, Lyra could feel the bruises litter her body and the kiss of the needle was nothing. It was something to keep her going, to feed the furor; her heart pounding. They'd push through this sector, sweep and clean up and then prepare a second charge and she brazenly stepped forward. Her grip on the blade tightening, they did not need any interruptions now.

<”The reports-the Imperator..He’s looking for you?”>

Glancing back, she had lost track of who accompanied her now. It wasn’t one of the Genesis lads, and she was almost surprised to see the Jenth trooper; no she was impressed. The horrifying ramifications of being a sole survivor whispering in the back of her mind, he was scared shitless just the same. Though he was shadowed, out ranked, even out classed by others around..he had managed. Lyra jerked her head-a silent nod to keep up the charge. The mix of ranger and troopers jogging ahead, coated in the day’s wrath surging past with weapons drawn to secure the aera.

<”Is that all?”> Lyra scoffed, gaze trailing around the helmets before looking at the Corporal. Her thumb brushed the switch of the saber, killing the blade as she hooked it back on to her belt. Waving down the rest of the party that shadowed them, an explosion rocked the earth nearby and Lyra dropped to one knee gathering her rifle back in her arms. Had something changed, she was loathed to slow the assault. Her servo hovered over the vambrace, it was difficult to bring herself to open the link..How was she going to look Irveric Tavlar in the eye..not now..no she couldn’t see him.

He forced her to relive the horrors of war, subjected her to visions of Irveric Tavlar betraying, and even killing her, gave her nightmares of-

<<”Enigma Actual, do you read?”>> the woman tested, waiting for a response..she had been beguiled but not by Avernus alone. It only served to feed her disgust, how fucked the galaxy was. Her words faltered-doubt circling her...Confusion. She activated the map on the screen searching..searching for him. Their position had changed drastically from the initial front. Her vision blurred and something primal, something utterly violent warning her against..against.

He wants to grab her by her neck, to pull her to the ground with him and shriek in vexation, to dominate and hurt her as a true Sith. To send electric judgement into her cranium and heart and diaphragm and make her feel what he feels. He cannot do that for he is still weak, and she is maintaining her stren-The Devil stops in his tracks mere inches from the woman.

A cold sweat breaking out over her body and she felt suddenly ill. If he found her..but it was a ludicrous thought. The barrel of a Durin was pressed to her helmet, and she was clutching it-keeping it firmly pointed there. Who was it this time, was it her father or herself? No, she remembered the feeling-she knew Irveric..Not now of all times, he wouldn’t dare. Lyra flinched to herself, the memory passed over like a shadow-her helmet swiveling around. How long until her use had ran out, until his sick affection turned, she was following her orders. She was just-short of breath, she had been so easily lost to the vision. It was just the trooper, the soldier shifting nervously at her side in the wake of her silence. She motioned him down, exacerbated-now wasn't the time to get caught out. There was no blaster to her head, Lyra reminded herself sternly but she the tell tale signs of mania. Turning her attentions back to the map. It was inevitable truly, she’d look him in the face one day but..Lyra needed to focus upon the mission. Her fist balled at her side and Lyra knocked her blast plate, steeling herself. To finish the fight, callous to self and condition. If she kept reminding herself every shit stain left across the stars, reminding herself why none of it mattered, she might actually finally believe it and be free.

<<”Why are you looking for me Irveric?”>> Lyra snapped over the line, demanding answers. Her gaze followed the decaying trench wall, past the soldiers taking up point at the crossroads. Shifting as bouts of fire opened, the officer on hand directing the squad of troopers. The woman reminded herself of her the dirt under her boots, grounding herself. They had a long night ahead of them, wondering if the men could hold up to the long test. The Legionaries were unending and they were simply the thorn in the side of the Empire. There was no absolute domination, but a bitter game of give and take.

Their respite had come to end, and there was something there-like a whisper egging her on.

Her senses curdled-a terrible feeling and her visor peered past the troopers, a storm of blaster fire opening on them from above. Her lips parted-her heart leaping to her throat. A flank-the trooper from Jenth raised his blaster as a squad of S-IMP forces descended upon them. There was five..then there was..there was just too many more of the scum. The question was who could reach for their rifle faster, a slight of hand and draw. Gritting her teeth, a shout tore through her throat as she raised her gun. Her visor engulfed by one flash of searing heat.

Her head snapped back as a single shot caught her helm silencing her.

Her neck burned from the blunt force of the hit. The woman's luck had run out, impact gel expanding under the tenebrae but Lyra's consciousness waned there in the dirt; flung back and sprawled out. Pain reverberating through her skull, her temple felt ready to burst. She didn't dare open her eyes, all there was..the ache like someone was splitting open her skull. A fire fight breaking out over their position. The woman had once had her helmet crushed in, had found the full weight of a mandalorian descending upon her..but she had yet to be shot in the head.

Maker..Force..fuck.

Her ears rang and red neon warnings flashed across the screen as she cracked open her eyes and she was dumbfounded-aware though. There was movement around and Lyra dug her heels in the soft ground, pushing herself painstakingly back. Seeking cover, hand slapping across the ground to pull herself-trying to grasp anything as her servo scraped down her armor to unholstering her own pistol. The Durin presented messily, firing down the range blindly. It was panic that fueled her, each shot joining the growing symphony of blaster fire. Her gauntlet flying to her helmet when she could move no further.

The coursing adrenaline turning against her, the screech of the critical warning in her ears..The trench was gone, and her chest heaved erratically. She was crawling through the fields of Folende, they were surrounded. She wasn’t dead yet, but something was pulling her down-she felt she like she was slipping through the sand. Her blood ran cold as she huddled there, her body hauled in to the dug out by the Jenth lad. Survive scrawled behind shut eyes beset by confusion, by phantom scream and whisper-each movement from the woman erratic and alone until her vision darkened. Unaware as the troopers kept up the fight, no option for surrender. The handful of them making for a tenacious pack, panicked, but blazen with fury trying to hold it together; to keep the trench from falling.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

Location: Bridge, HIMS Venality, within the Debris Shoal Zone (DSZ)
Objective: I - Battle of the Shipwrecks
Kit: Skystas Rieve iv Tave Daboti Dvasi | Sith-Imperial Military Uniform
Assets: Thaelius | TSE
Liabilities: Marlon Sularen | Hiram Voss | Mordred B'Haran | Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | NIO
Post: VI

---

31st Blockade Group Departing the Debris Shoal Zone Venality, Preventor II-class Interdictor Battlecruiser Provocation, Tormentor-class Star Destroyer Spoliate, Harrower-class Cruiser Destroyed by debris Arbalest, Longbow-class Heavy Artillery Cruiser Disabled by Sabre Squadron Pavise, Athena-class Shield Frigate Disabled by Sabre Squadron Lucid, Vigil II-class Corvette Daze, Vigil II-class Corvette 156/208 Dominance-class Fighters 52/64 Tuk'ata-class Interceptors 5/8 Jurgoran-class Bombers Fusillade Line Aurek Returning to the 31st Blockade Group Temerarious, Audax-class Cruiser Destroyed by the Predator 14/24 Jurgoran-class Bombers 6/16 Tuk'ata-class Interceptors 5/16 Banshee-class Shadow Droids 0/12 Chariot-class Missile Boats Consignment Section One Fleeing toward Braxant Run hyperlane Accrual, Usury-class Treasury Ship Reassigned to Superiority Force Chimera Trance, Vigil II-class Corvette

Reports came in that Fusillade Line Aurek had succeeded in both inflicting considerable damage of the flagship of Commodore Marlon Sularen and drawing more than 120 fighters away from the attack on Superiority Force Chimera. Navarch Princeps Thaelius would now have more room to breath, though the corvette force led by Captain Hiram Voss did not look to be letting up.

While he had not wholly crippled the Predator, Tithe found himself proud of the maneourver. A bureaucrat, unskilled entirely in the art of war, had struck a significant blow against a more experienced enemy.

By comparison, he had spent the Invasion of Kintan cowered inside an armoured tank, and his attempts to be a military commander during the Battle of Mygeeto had failed miserably.

Things had gone much better on PL-40112-CE-021105 - he’d successfully negotiated a lucrative contract for the Sith-Empire, and his capture by a bounty hunter had only occurred when he left the safety of the compound. Tthe Defence of Mandelore had started well enough, and only turned for the worst when he left the propaganda studio from which he had been working.

In all of these situations, Tithe had found success when he stuck to being a bureaucrat. His attempts to be a military officer always ended in disaster. While things had started poorly here at Durbillion, when he stopped and considered the situation around him as an economics problem rather than a military battle, he had gained an insightful clarity. The error of his ways was starting to reveal himself - no longer would pretend to be something he was not.

“Recall the Fusillade Line,” he said to Trierarch Komo. “No point over-investing in a drying-up market.”

The Moff opened a tactical channel to the Chimera. “I ah, I’ve done what I can Navarch Princeps,” he explained. “May your exquisite tactical prowess carry you to victory.”

The Fusillade Line had taken a beating, including the destruction of all Missile Boats and their escorting cruiser. Yet for all the loss, they had succeeded in putting the enemy on the back foot.

“The, ah, the treasury ship,” Tithe asked in a low voice. “Did it receive… any patrons?” The blue-skinned naval officer shook her head. “Shall I signal it to return to Bastion?” The bureaucrat nodded in agreement. A pity - he had hoped to go down in history as the first person to bribe someone during a space battle. Still, the treasures of Durbillion would go some way to keeping the economy of the Sith Empire afloat even if the world was lost.

The tactical holo updates to show a new enemy fleet entering the Debris Shoal Zone. Brigadier Mordred B'Haran and his Combined Task Force Bridge Arrow had begun to carve a path through the DSZ which would cut off Tithe from Superiority Force Chimera.

“I take it if they…”

“Yes,” replied Komo.

“…then we’ll be...”

“Yes”.

Another economics problem. The enemy, seeing the competitive advantage held by the Sith, had chosen to shrink the market. Cut off from each other the two Sith fleets would be denied the scale of economy that was currently allowing them to thrive. He needed to divest his stocks before the market came crashing down around him.

“Reorganise the ships. We’re pulling back.”

The enemy X-Wings were not about to let them go without a fight. The nimble craft, armed with their ion bombs, hit the Pavise from it’s weakened rear and disabled the shield carrier. Without its powerful shields, pushing their way back out of the DSZ would be a much more difficult undertaking.

“And can we do something about these vexatious fighters?” The two Vigil II-class corvettes turned their attention to Maynard Treicolt and Loske Treicolt and opened fire on them with their anti-starfighter weapons.

“Tighten up, more fire on the starboard flank,” Komo yelled to the bridge officers as she orchestrated their retreat through the DSZ to the safety afforded by the far side of Dubrillion. The abject fear which the Moff had experienced on their way into the DSZ was gone. He watched the debris as it drifted across their path, using his natural talent for spotting patterns to identify objects which would have the highest likelihood of striking them. “That one, no no, the round one. Yes, very good.”

They were almost to safety when Komo was summoned to a nearby comm station. After a short conference, she returned to the tactical holo with a look of mild confusion on her face. “Sir, message from the Admirallis. She... sends her regards for the strike on Predator and is... recalling us back to Bastion for new orders. Sub-Fleet Nern is sending the Third Fortification Group as an escort.”

Tithe nodded and allowed himself a proper smile, something he had never before done during combat. While the bureaucrat much preferred the boardroom, today had shown him that with the right attitude, he wasn’t entirely out of place on the battlefield.

 

[Agrippa]

GLADIUS COMPANY, 501ST LEGION
COMBINED JOINT TASK FORCE - OPERATION STORM SURGE
TARGET ISLAND HOTH
NIO //: Irveric Tavlar | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Del Lovruc | Ravraa Vyshraal

Spoiler: Target Beach HOTH | NIO

Irveric Tavlar
Ravraa Vyshraal
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Lucien Dooku
Salvor Thul
Spencer Varanin
Aerith Castiella
Lunafreya Solidor
Ra Vizsla
Strain
Isaiah Priest
Junda
Grigory Tallis
Zsuzsa
Vilaz Munin
Isaiah Priest

TSE //: Ruek Tast | Lark | Tykar Valkroin | Sith Empire | OPEN

<<”Blondie really? That's the best you got? Don’t start thinking you can tell me what do with that tone Agrippa,”>>

I wish I could. I'd tell ya to go back, stay down and let it all sort itself out.

I knew I couldn't.

My fatalistic inclination took over. In the midst of the terror of all guns blazing and the world falling apart, I found how much I feared loss. Not the loss on the battlefield, hell, I had lost many battles. Forced to retreat, lick my wounds and carry off dead brothers. It bothered me, sure, but you got used to it, more or less. Yet, the loss of someone rather close in that different sense terrified me; shivers went down my spine, frigid cold rock formed in my throat and legs turned to jelly. Muscle memory would carry me forward as any other good soldier but the mind - the mind was elsewhere and that's what killed you nine times out of ten on the field of battle.

I praised the anonymity of expression and feelings that the stormtrooper armor and helmet bestowed upon me, it would've been embarrassing to see the bloodless face under the visor. She held herself far better than I did, at least she demonstrated so. Maybe we were both great actors. I wondered how she felt but despite her outgoing character, Nima was as mysterious as the depths of the ocean. Or I was overthinking? Not my style but this feeling just drew out things that never were my style in the first place.

Looking up from the trench I saw the insane zealots of the 3rd Battle Chapter charge at the enemy like immortals. Sometimes I wished I was a fanatic like Salvor Thul - no brains, just heart. Lion's heart. But I wasn't. I was a dirty scumbag. A death cheating scoundrel in a soldier's guise and an officer's degree barely passing the graduation mark. And when that levee breaks, I don't think I was man enough for blondie.

I gave the suicidal order but I had zero interest to follow it myself. Belisarius would've had my head. All my life I've ran. A quick footed survivor. I don't think I would've been here if I had one ounce of valiance in me. Morality was a word scratched out of my dictionary so why was it suddenly boiling up in my guts every time I glanced at Nima on this gods forsaken trench on this damned planet fighting a war of ideas I hardly shared. The mercenary in me wanted to stay behind cover, let others die for their cause and then swipe the trophy like a true vulture.

One more look at her and I jumped out of the trench and I charged at the Sith fortified lines.

I wanted to be a man enough.

I wanted to be the man.

Agrippa was felled by an accurate sniper's ( Ruek Tast ) shot straight to the heart. The same heart which had carried him forward.

​

 

[Thaelius]

Location // HMIS CChimera, DSV //
Objective // Perfect the Art of War...Again //
Focus // Aerarii Tithe Hiram Voss Marlon Sularen //

"Good. Very good" He was the first to speak as the bridge bore witness to Captain Voss' attack on the Oath of Allegiance. Battlecruisers would have been a liability, espically considering the current battle and yet, the Chiss was very much aware of all of his assets.

"Captain, order the Intercessor Line to attack and have the Allegiance focus it's point defense weapons on the attacking force. It should prove to be more effective"

The Captain simply nodded and within a few moments, the twin Intercessor Class Star Destroyer's, began exercising thier destructive potential. As neither ship had any turbolasers, they fired all of thier Plasma Railguns and Solar Ionization Cannons, focusing on the Valiant Class Star Destroyers of the enemy fleet.

The Longbow Class Heavy Artillery Cruisers attached to the Line all fired thier main cannons, targeting the individual the ships of the Ad-Hoc Formation. Firing several rounds each, a large amount of time passed as seven rounds were fired all together.

The Battlecruisers, despite thier size and slowleiness, would use thier tractor beams to throw pieces of debris at the Line as well, before charging towards Marlon Sularen 's Wraith Squadron where they be better utilized.

 

[Olen Halcorr]

Objective I - Battle of the Shipwrecks
Location: Debris Shoal Zone, Over Dubrillion, Myto Sector
Unit: Twin Suns Squadron
Starfighter: X-Wing
Allies:
NIO: Jalter Volff Cheapshot Arten Jinn Hiram Voss
TGA: Maynard Treicolt Loske Treicolt Mordred B'Haran
Enemies:
Jihun Kim Nica Dakkar Aerarii Tithe

"Copy that Brawler 3-1, we'll cover you."

Olen hoped his words had not fallen on deaf ears as Captain Volff and his flight moved off from the attack. Not having much time to check if it was successful, Olen nudged his stick to the right coming around the husk of a dead Sith Interceptor. Boosting his thruster output, he put up his display to check the status of the battle, seemed like things weren't going too badly for the NIO-GA Taskforce, it was time for Twin Suns to join in some of the action.

One more mark had decided that the bout was not over yet as their frames came into view, emerald points of light heading straight towards them. This fighter seemed erratic and pretty green, even for a Sith Imperial pilot, pulling off turns that had no execution or flair as one might mention. "Alright that's another one looking for glory people, Five on me, when he moves to point six play fleethund."

"Affirmative Leader, he'll regret it."

"That's what we like to hear Twin Suns Five."

He watched as his compatriot shot forth into the flight path of the lone fighter, the enemy, taking the bait tried to tail Five but he slammed the fighter to port as his HUD went red and he hit the trigger, vaping the fighter. Cutting through the debris, he opened up coms with his Imperial allies, flying in formation with Five.

"Oldest trick in the book." He assured himself. His droid was quick to knock him off his perch as words materialised onto the screen. <"Don't get too cocky."> The droid snarkily informed him. "Let me have this okay."

"Brawler 3-1, Slipstream, we've got some targets for you boys, follow us." Plotting his course, he made a wide bank before heading back into the thick of the debris, a large taskforce of ships seemed to be moving in, if they could deal as much damage as possible that open up a whole. He was almost salivating. Jinking past an angular piece of rubble, he juked back into position trying to get a look at what they were dealing with. Seeing the shape of X-Wings, he recognised that their Alliance allies were already on the chase.

"Twin Suns Squadron form up on me, we're going to assist our friends on the intercept."

"Copy Leader, targets sighted at bearing five-six-oh-niner."

"Got it Eleven, approach with caution."

The ships were his sights, around six or seven klicks away. They'd need to approach from inside the thickest part of the debris field as to lower the possibility of detection. He danced through the maze-like path that was set out for him as his squadron followed on. Timing was of the essence of the moment as more friendlies started to move in on their position as instructed by Admiral B'Haran.

Their load seemed to lighten just as the debris did. "Keep it tight now, almost there.." his chronometer had been set as the countdown had started. He watched the meter intently as it approached the desired time. "Now!"

He moved the yoke sharply to port, bringing his X-Wing into a 90 degree snaproll as it shot out of the cluster along with the other ships who'd made the perilous decision to join them in the final assault on the enemy.

"Twin Suns Leader to Saber Leader, hope we're not cramping your style." A nascent grin formed at the corners of his mouth as they moved in, Dominance fighters quick to react to their makeshift surprise attack. Powering on through the thickest concentration of fighters, laser blasts soon followed, keeping his frontal shields busy. He swore to himself, going into a nosedive so he could get better sight.

"Enemy fighters approaching, heavy fire boss!"

"I got a lock on, that got him!"

"Scissor left I'll cover you."

His headcom was kept busy as chatter from his pilots came in droves, thundering in his head, he switched down the discreet dial on his helmet, hoping he could lower the volume and properly concentrate on the task at hand. Watching the engine of an enemy, he pulled up and tailed it, the speed eluding him just a bit, he'd meant the manuever mostly as a feint knowing they'd try a trap. Just then, an alert came from the system that another fighter was pulling in to tail him, surprisingly, his plan was working.

He pushed down on the stick, softly descending as the one that was tailing pulled up and roll to port so that it could follow him. Breaking hard, he pushed the throttle up to 96 percent performing a close turn before cutting his speed to pull behind the fighter. He opened fire, disintegrating the solar panels and vaping the fighter's tail before moving off. Trying to assess his situation, he watched the two corvettes who were attempting to protect the others.

"Alright people, we're on those corvettes, form up on me and get set up for the run." He watched as his squadron and some other ships came to meet him for the assault. A bead of sweat started to form as anti-starfighter fire was not too far from them, a green dart just passing by his cockpit. Nevertheless, he pushed on towards their main objective which was the corvettes. He switched his firing mode to torpedoes as his droid bleeped his concerns which this time, he ignored.

He pushed his throttle up to zero as the corvettes were now visible. "Switch to targeting computer." He watched as his monitor switched to targeting as he got closer and closer to the target. "Let's give these sithies a parting gift, courtesy of the Galactic Alliance!" Hovering his hand over the button, he hit the trigger, sending out his payload of torpedoes which shot out of the launchers, heading straight for their targets. His face intent, he pullled off as impact was imminent. Grinning like a madman, he pulled off, happy with the job well done.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

A E R I A L S
THE MYRMIDONS | KAL'ORITSOR | DOOKU-PATTERN JEDI ARMOR
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Irveric Tavlar​

---

---

Carnage. ​

All across the battlefield, the Myrmidons enacted both vengeance and wrath upon an enemy who many had come to despise on a level that surpassed ideological. The embodiment of their suffering was presented to them in the form of a sea of black-clad soldiers who styled themselves as Legionnaires. The indoctrinated and war-equipped proxies of the Sith served their masters without question, it seemed, and so too would they fall the same. He could assume that the men and women of the S-IMP Military had expected what would amount to nothing more than their white-clad analog in battle. An even fight? Perhaps not, given the circumstances, but the heart and soul of the New Imperial Order's military had won them the day on multiple occasions before. They were always outnumbered, always outgunned, and always facing odds that were stacked against them. Tactics and strategy could only bring these men so far against a foe who was just as prepared to fight and die for their caue.

The 307th were among those within the Order who carried their burning hearts on their sleeves. Storming forwards with no disregard to the defending Sith ahead of them, they fought bravely in order to achieve their next objective. Luc never doubted that the men beneath Lyra could not get the job done themselves if needed. His trust in her abilities, and in the ability of those she'd cultivated for war, was without question at all. Yet in the process of doing so, people were going to die. People were already dying-- they had died, and there was nothing he could do to prevent that. War was the worse hell that a sentient could experience, in his opinion. Friends and acquaintances could lose their lives, and the decisions of a Commander were directly reflected in just how many of their people would come back alive. Lyra was doing her best, given the circumstances, and the actions he'd took that seemed reckless and without cause at first, had hopefully played their role as well.

She was his friend, after all. No matter what he'd been told, Luc would never give up his attachments. His feelings and emotions were as much of a weapon as the blade that now cut through the surrounding Legionnaires around him. She had been the only person who'd treated him not like some outsider, but just as a normal person when they were together. Friendship was a rarity for him to come by, and he would never forgive himself if somebody he cared about was forced to throw their lives away when there was something he could do to help them. Even if it meant putting himself in more harm because of it, Luc didn't regret the action at all. He wouldn't sacrifice himself for nothing, no, he never planned on dying in the first place. He'd survived being alone for years before abandoning his friends to go fight the Sith with the Order. He'd spent so many days alone that his instincts to just survive were still ingrained within his conscious.

A survivor fights to live another day, even when he must risk it all to protect another.

- ​

From his advanced position on the crest of the plateau, the scene bestowed upon him and his squad was one of pure chaos within minutes of their arrival. Vibroblades sung through the air, carving through their enemies with as much proficiency that the veteran warriors of his Legion could display, given their exhaustion. A sea of black bodies covered the ground around and beneath them as the Legionnaires of the Sith threw themselves at them, pushing harder and harder to break them where they stood. Doing so would have opened up the way for the trapped S-IMP's on the ground to either retreat or be reinforced, but even that idea proved futile by the time Armored reinforcements were in a position to start rolling forwards. The beach was lost- that much was evident to both sides, yet with no place to retreat, the remaining S-IMP's were caught between the hammer that was the 173rd and the anvil that was the 307th.

Death awaited them. It was simply a matter of when.

Yet still they fought on till their last breath, and Luc didn't blame them. It was a fool's errand to simply accept your fate when there was even a sliver of a chance for you to turn that path around. The same couldn't be said about the S-IMP's ahead of the crest he was on, who found themselves throwing themselves into the grinder that was Lucien and the elite Myrmidons of his command squad. Several of his men had fallen whilst he was occupied, yet still they had to push on. Lyra radioed him to fall back towards the advanced armor, yet still he had to push on. There was no stopping the Myrmidons when the directive was to shed the blood of your enemies by all means possible. To breakthrough the lines like a Rancor punching through a wooden hut. Blood and Sweat mixed together with the sheer exhaustion brought about by the assurance needed for Lyra and her men to avoid the grinder that awaited them at the refinery.

He wanted to listen to her-- to regroup backwards and let the others take some of the heat, but the mission for them was far from finished. Breakthroughs were necessary across the front, and further into the S-IMP lines ahead of their own position as well. He needed to do the job right now, right when the blood was pumping the hardest and his men were at the peak of their desire to fight, kill and shed the blood of their most hated foes. So much so were the 173rd absorbed into removing as many of the Sith in their path that he didn't even bother replying back to the message she sent his way. Kal'oritsor weaved through his enemies without pause, right until his command company had perched themselves at the base of the plateau which overlooked the beach below. A lapse in the killing brought about a moment of pause for those veterans who accompanied him to that point. Adrenaline still coursed through Luc's veins as the weight of his arms set in on himself. The mixture of blood and sweat which covered his armor and clothes was allowed time to settle for just that brief moment of peace. Ever so brief it was, yet still it brought to him tranquility, much like the men around him.

Until the veil was shattered once more.

Eyes darted down to the beach, the swivel of his head instinctively bringing his gaze down upon a squad of stormtroopers who found themselves flanked and outmaneuvered by the remnant squads of S-IMP's who remained between the first and second line of trenches. Something tugged at him-- he could feel it not within his bones, but deep within the recesses of his mind. It was a rare feeling for him, and his eyes remained fixated on the scene for a moment as he tried to process what was happening. It was the Force, the feeling reaching across the battlefield and latching onto someone who stood out among the chaos which the Order's legions brought about down there. Vulnerability set in as his eyes closed shut, and Luc accepted what may come as a result of his lingering presence standing on the edge of that ridge.

He reached back across to that area, to that person, and let the force guide his thoughts where they needed to be. A rare occasion to be sure, but one which he didn't regret upon his eyes opening once more with a newfound determination present within them. Everything on his body ached, but none of that would matter as the pieces to the puzzle had finished putting itself together. " Commander Larkin , Take command of the Legion and assist the 307th in taking the refinery. I'm putting the command squad under your authority for now." Luc didn't bother glancing back towards Larkin, a man who he knew would finish the mission, regardless of the lack of his presence or not.

His gaze moved to the fuel guage on his jetpack. "Almost empty." He muttered, his body bending at the knees, his focus shifting inwards once more. His thoughts overshadowed the chaos that was the ambiance of war around them as he tuned out everything around them. He jetted off the ground a moment later, not even bothering to wait for Larkin to give him a reply before the Jedi had leaped off the edge of the plateau, the force-assisted move providing him almost enough momentum to reach the point he had in mind. Activating his jetpack right before he'd lost all momentum, it gave him enough leverage to land on the ground just a dozen feet away from the Dug-out that the stormtroopers were holed in.

Luc crashed against the ground with zero regard to subtlety, landing on one knee but quickly bringing himself to his feet by the time the surrounding troopers had shifted their attention his way. The black hilt clipped to his belt was drawn and activated, right as the first volley of bolts were brought to his position from the surrounding S-IMP's. The energized blade danced through the air, catching the bolts before they impacted and sending them careening away from his body. A hand reached out towards the closest of the soldiers, the open palm shutting in an instant as he dragged the hand towards him, sending the Legionnaire flying towards him, only to be impaled by the aqua-blue blade in his opposite hand. His free hand grabbed the lifeless body before it fell, holding it against his own by wrapping his arm around its neck.

Bolts that needed to be deflected were now being absorbed by their dead comrade's armor, with Luc deactivated his weapon and letting it fall to the ground whilst the S-IMP's attempted to outflank their newest foe. The dead trooper was thrown forwards, his lifeless body falling on top of two of his squad mates whilst Luc reached out to drag another S-IMP into his grip. The trooper was pulled half-way, a handful of bolts coming from the remaining troopers who took the initiative to lay their fire into the Jedi having a field day with their friends.

While most of the shots hit center-mass, smashing against his chest-plate but overall not effective., one in particular had aimed low. A handful of bolts found their way onto the outside of Luc's armored clothing. It barely penetrated, from what he could tell, but the force was enough to knock him backwards momentarily. Adrenaline flushed the pain away as he recovered from a staggered position on one knee, his eyes moving towards the man in question who'd just pinged him pretty good. His rifle was still aimed at Luc, and the familiar flash of a blaster being fired was all it took for the Jedi to once more act upon instinct. An arm was brought forwards as the bolt was brought to a halt, then whipped right back at the trooper as Luc got back onto his feet. His hand lingered off to the side, an open palm accepting the lightsaber which floated off the ground and back into his hand once more.

Dashing towards the remaining troopers, they were summarily cut down before the rest of them were capable of firing off another connecting shot. Silence overwhelmed that little area once nothing remained in his aftermath, and Luc's attention returned back towards the dug-out which had caught his attention in the first place. Clipping his weapon back onto his belt, Luc winced as she stumbled into the hole in the ground, a hand pressed against the wound on his abdomen that was hidden beneath his clothes. His eyes moved between the stormtroopers present, silence following as they realized that death was no longer on their doorstep.

But none of them were what brought him flying across the battlefield, and their relief was unimportant at that moment. Eyes fixated upon the officer in their center, and Luc staggered to a crouch next to her with concern evident in his visage. "Lyra." He spoke up, but winced and gritted his teeth as another wave of pain pulsated up through his core. Luc was nearly ready to tap out, and the appearance of a dark stain beneath his hand would signal that his armor had not fully stopped the multiple shots that railed into his abdomen. The pain he was feeling meant nothing to him, aside from the fact that his abdomen hurt like hell. Lyra had been in trouble, and he was happy that he'd chosen to listen to the winds of the force for once, instead of letting the breeze blow past his face.

"Secure the perimeter." Luc commanded to the surrounding stormtroopers, who exited the dug-out a moment later. He reached down and pulled the woman closer to him, a hand still clutched onto his abdomen whilst he removed the singed helmet from her head with one hand. It reveal that the force had indeed been good to him that night. A hand gravitated over her face, his eyes closing shut once more as he channeled the force from himself and into her. It was a skill he picked up a while back, and one he'd never considered important up until that moment right then. Fighting through exhaustion and the growing stain that pooled beneath his armored undershirt, he pushed himself to use his last bit of strength to make sure that she was okay. His Legion had looked out for her own, and now it was time for him to do the same for her, even if it meant he needed to lose a bit of blood in the process.

It only took a few moments for the trauma to dissipate from her flesh, both externally and internally. She'd make it out alive, and for the first time that night he actually managed to let a genuine smile creep onto his face. He was happy that she was okay, and even as his vision blurred, and blood seeped from between his fingers, Luc achieved a moment of satisfaction in knowing that he'd done something other than killing that day. Even as his consciousness finally slipped away, the smile remained planted on his lips, a feeling of calm absorbing his slumped over form. He might have just saved a life, instead of only doing nothing but taking one. And if what he felt through the force was accurate, he might have just saved two.

He could die with that knowledge-- or sleep for a long time with it.

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

O B J E C T I V E | Storm Surge
L O C A T I O N | Hoth Beach
T A G S Lark |

Spoiler: nio tags

Agrippa
Ravraa Vyshraal
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Lucien Dooku
Salvor Thul
Spencer Varanin
Aerith Castiella
Ra Vizsla
Strain
Isaiah Priest
Junda
Grigory Tallis
Zsuzsa
Vilaz Munin
Isaiah Priest

T H E M E | Here.
G E A R |Armor, Gloves, Scythe,
Sword, Necklace, Lightsabers, Pistol.​

Life was funny. She was once the proud example of her species in Kaikielius, third in the line of succession as according to their ancient laws, but that never stopped her from desiring power, she could always have her eldest brother exiled, the degenerated creature, or even run a sword through her big sister’s back as she choked Ashelia to death. Or perhaps she wouldn’t do nothing, killing her family wasn’t her favorite topic as to where to begin her day, although there were too many Solidors in the galaxy already. But anyway, there she was, a Warlord of the New Order, princess by birth, Duchess by her own merit, fighting those despicable creatures in that forgotten shore in that useless planet. Useful only to those in power, as a route perhaps? All the way to Bastion, the Sith capital, their little center of eccentricity and hate, well, there was that and the other place she forgot the name, Korriban or Moraband, whatever it was called. A dead planet, occupied by a doomed cult, ruled by a dying emperor.​

And now standing above her own little Sith almost made Lunafreya laugh like a madman. How she had dreamed of that moment, to bring back the heads of a hundred Sith lords to her home and nail them to the ancient trophy room in the Royal Palace of Enfer, to enrich the Solidor tale and make her own name be feared all over the galaxy. But instead, she saw a boy that first had a deep expression in his face now looking straight at her, with a smile in his cocky lips with just enough to make her wish to have her teeth all around his neck and bite him off as she smiled at him.​

‘That is…’, was all she had time to say before her mind warned her about what was coming, like a rush going through her spine before what came to be. For the Force was the pathway to many abilities, like an endless myriad of reflections in front of a room full of mirrors. With little time to respond, Lunafreya chose the best course to act, letting herself be pushed by the Force and going back to where she came, but not exactly the same position, for she landed on top of a walking Sith soldier, right above his shoulders, forcing his body to fall directly on the sand, almost crushed by the weight of the elzeri. "... a surprise." ​

"How interesting.", she murmured to herself, the soldier beginning to struggle under his feet. The elzeri rolled the scythe in her hand several times, the enchanted steel emitting musical notes, gentle and sweet, but none as sweet as the moment the blade at the bottom of her Auksifas was driven into the soldier's throat under her feet. Letting him suffocate in his own blood, while she had used that golden scythe sound to disconnect from the others so she could hear better. But it was not the battle or even a link that she wanted to hear, but it was the sound coming from her opponent that Lunafreya wanted to hear.​

And ever since the beginning of that clash she had noticed, those whispers, like a cramped room full of people talking all at the same time. And it made her smile under her helmet, smile profanely as she chose another path. The cacophony of sounds that echo in that creature's head was almost familiar to her. It was not just darkness and hatred, there was no trace of it, but it all just indicated that the human in front of him suffered from madness, and if there was one thing about madman that she knew was that they never saw it as madness. ​

"What is wrong, boy? Afraid of getting too close?", She pulled the tip of her weapon from the soldier's throat, letting a stream of blood drip and splash down his foot. "Rejoice! The glory that I bring goes beyond mere sensory happiness. I am Lunafreya Solidor, Warlord of the New Order and you, human filth, should lick my boots. Especially a small, filthy, insane little poor kid such as yourself.", lashing out with the scythe forward again, snarling as she did so and let a fireball leave his weapon like a dragon's breath. "For that's the only thing you're worth for anyway, crazy boy!", As the flaming ball dropped its weapon, the other hand lifted the lava pistol from its magnetized holster again, aiming the weapon at the path to Lord Sith's right, pulling the trigger twice, once for five steps from his position on the right and once for eight. And when she was confident that the fire and the color of her shots would cover up her actions, she turned the weapon five steps to Lord Sith's left, shooting shortly afterwards. Her idea was to cover any potential escape route and if he didn't succeed, at least the surrounding ground would burn with lava from her weapon.​

The left foot on her legss came off the ground, bending behind her leg, with its metal point on the back of the dead soldier he was beating three times on top of it. An anxious gesture, predicting that she would soon leave that position after that.​

 

[Errant]

// NEPHILIM //: Imperial Knight-Errant
// OBJECTIVE //: Operation Storm Surge
// TARGET //: BYSS
// ALLIES | NIO //: Rurik Fel
// ALLIES | TGA //: Bernard of Arca
// ENEMIES | TSE //:

"Treasures are not won by care and forethought but by swift slaying and reckless attack."​

- Michael Moorcock​

​

The Imperial Knight stared his challenger down, pink eyes locked on burning orbs of pure malice. Red flesh peeked out from beneath the hood, small barbs, and other fleshy extensions hanging from beside the challenger's nose and chin. Errant's fingers flexed, tightening around the lightsaber hilt as he stood unmoving, waiting for the opportune moment to engage the Sithling before him. A wind rolled over the coastline, sand shifting beneath their feet as explosions sounded from behind them, the very beach rumbling in response. The Albino blinked, eyes shooting open as the red-skinned Sith was missing from his sights. Baleful intention roared in from his right, an intense heat washing over Errant as a red-bladed lightsaber swung out to end the engagement quickly. The Imperial Knight dragged his blade up in a two-handed grip, meeting the downward strike with a horizontal block, his upward momentum locking the Sith in place.

Not slowing, Errant reared back and swung out with his left hand. It slammed into the side of the Sith's cheek, the staggering backhand sending the individual off-balance, feet shuffling through the sand to regain footing. Booted feet carried the Imperial Knight closer, his silver saber thrust out to skewer his foe. The Sith twirled on one foot, the hood falling away to reveal black hair cascading down along her back. She pulled her lightsaber across her body, parrying aside the stab with almost brutal efficiency. Her twirling sent her into Errant's guard, his weapon misplaced. The crimson saber bit into his armor, carving through the dirty plating, leaving behind a trail of molten orange in its wake. Unable to bring his blade up in time to stop her second strike, Errant pushed outward, a wave of telekinetic energy-carrying her half a dozen steps back. He corrected his footing almost immediately, the weapon held between them, with the tip of his saber pointed skyward.

"Not bad, Imperial," the Sith eyed her foe, a smile creasing her lips. "Your blade work is calculated, not unlike the Order you willingly bend to. Imagine what you could be if you gave in to the hatred you feel for me," her hand reached up, tucking raven-black locks behind her jewelry laden ear. "You must feel it, bubbling up inside you, threatening to break that calm you zealously latch onto," she stepped closer, head tilted to the side as she began to circle to Errant's left. "You aren't strong enough to beat me as you are. Just as your Order isn't strong enough to defeat the true Empire."

"Do not waste your breath, witch," Errant mirrored her movements, his dull, gray cloak shifting in the coastal winds. "Your words, laced with trickery and deceit, shall never sway me from my path. I know how your kind work. You lie, you cheat, and you steal to overcome those who stand against you," the Imperial Knight spoke in earnest, his head held hide, pride burning within his pink gaze. "Honorless beasts, each and every one of you. We've bested you upon Mygeeto and Muunilist, just as we shall best your force on Dubrillion. In mere months we shall border your capital, ready to lay claim to Bastion, the birthplace of my Order," he stopped, blade pointed forward, locked on the red-skinned Sith before him. "I will offer you this mercy once, witch. Surrender now. Lay down your weapons, and I shall make your death quick."

Her shoulders bounced as she laughed, a hand raised to cover her mouth. "You should've been a politician child. You speak far better than you fight," she slowed to a stop, knees bent as she fell into a crouched stance. One hand held her blade aimed back and away from her, her grip on the hilt reversed. The other reached out towards the Imperial Knight, her slender red fingers pointed up, palm facing him.

"So be it," Errant dashed forward, leaping into the air in one fluid motion. He took the hilt in both hands and slammed downward with the silver blade. She stepped to the side, lifting her sword parallel to her head, guiding his lightsaber away from her once more. He cursed as her blade shot out in a series of blurred thrusts, dancing backward as she pushed forwards. The silver saber jerked from left to ride, catching the Sith's strikes right before impact, scorching heat emanating from the weapon as it shot past his cheek. With a snarl, Errant reversed his direction and stepped forward. Before the Sithling could pull back from her last strike, he slammed his back into her front, wrapped an arm around her extended arm, and kicked out at her right leg, sending her up and over him to crash down into the sand. He took up his saber in both hands, twirling it in his grasp before driving the blade down, burying it through the stomach, and into the grainy sand beneath.

Pain, shock, and confusion welled up in her eyes. Tears begin to roll down the sides of her face, her hand weakly reaching up as if to strike Errant. He looked past her, his attention settled on the one man he'd managed to turn away from Sith's machinations. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and slowly carved up her body, a hardened gaze falling on her bloodshot eyes as she screeched in pain.

"I told you," Errant muttered, his long white hair falling down around her raven tresses. He knelt low as he slowly dragged the blade through her core. "You didn't listen," he slowly stood, turning the weapon within his hand, watching with sheer apathy as her body spasmed, animalistic screams continuing to echo from her. Errant took the silver blade in both hands and carved the remainder of the way up, splitting her in two from the stomach to crown. He looked back in Rurik's direction, marching forward without even a backward glance at the ruined corpse. His dull, gray cloak caught in the wind, whipping out to the right as he gazed further up the beach.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //: 501st Legion | 12th Armored Assault | Sons of Mandalore
// OBJECTIVE //: Operation Storm Surge | Target Beach HOTH
// ALLIES | NIO //: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Lucien Dooku
// ENEMIES | TSE //: The Sith Empire
Armor [Shore/Tropic Climate Adjustments] | Rifle | Pistol | Melee | Grenades

​

I R V E R I C _ T A V L A R
S C H I S M

<"You're not going anywhere today, traitor!"> One of the Legionnaires shouted in defiance and boiling anger, pulling his power mace from the caved in skull of a 501st Stormtrooper only to turn and find the barrel of a scattergun looming near his face.

The hollow blast and crack of the gun served as the lone conclusion to that exchange before the trooper racked the slide again to continue the assault. War. Bloody war. It was one way to reach out and touch the adversary from afar. The Navy was always used to that. The dehumanization and de-personalizing of the war. The ships across from them were just that, ships. The radar ticks and target grids on the planet's surface beneath were just that. Targets. Here you could see the preverbial whites in their eyes each time you looked down the sights. A living soul, a man or woman with a family, friends, a life left behind, a career forsaken all for the war. The war took everyone. Fighting men or not, it took everyone.

That trooper turned the corner down the trench, posting himself up to take another shot down range into the center mass of another Sith Trooper. Around him, Troopers of the 307th continued their push. He was one of Enigma. If that silent fury didn't reveal enough, the cobalt skull painted into the right side of his helmet, the indomitable gaze of the Stormtrooper would be the next tell along with the black command pauldron would be another. Ever aligned with the callsign, they kept quiet in the rage.

Irveric had just buried his feet in the bottom of the trench. Flanked and enveloped by the Sith again he might've held himself back. To command. To control the slaughter but...he couldn't. Something had wavered and snapped clean the emotional rigidity and fortitude he'd always had. He could see her blip on the display of the HUD integrated into his helmet and he somehow slowed to a slow and heavy walk as the war continued to rage around him. The firing of blasters, explosions, screams. All of it drowned out, all of it calcified into a narrow vision of the cold and ugly reality. The sensory envelopment of the carnage waned in favor of illusionary stimuli.

Force or not, he had that churning pit in his gut that she was near. He fixated on the feeling all the while the eroding grasp at the back of his mind yearned for the forefront.

"She...is falling. Do you know that?"

"Diving into the endless, miasmic, oceanic abyss that we Sith soak in. But of course you know. How could you not? You told her to stop. You told her that this power she was born into is evil and corrupting, and you will not have her use it like we do. Oh no no no. That would be terrible, would it not?.....You failed, Tavlar. She has used it and will use again.

Each word, a stab. Each inflection, the twist. His head rung from the internal voices, The Devil himself in his ear only to be replaced with another machination of truest evil.

"Rise and shine, Imperator Tavlar. Rise and shine,"

"IRVERIC!"

“Of course Lord Imperator, a good soldier follows their orders,”

Searing loud and violent screams from the Pureblood invaded his mind in a nauseating illusion. Soon enough his slow walk degenerated to a crawl as he collapsed into the sand beneath, his hands grasping at the earth and curling into fists. No physical wound had ailed him saver for the shard. That jagged horn which continuously protruded from his skull and prodded at his mind. Its searing pain drove about another seething clench of his teeth before he slowly raised his gaze to take the view of a Sith Juggernaut into his vision. Though in that moment the hulking knight that it was shifted to him again. Avernus.

"Why...look at the gift I have been bestowed this day, the Imperator weak and groveling before me. I will strike you down and end this!" The Sith shouted before cleaving his crimson blade down toward the skull of Irveric Tavlar only to be met with a crackling snap mid air as he raised his cybernetic arm to stop and grasp ahold of the lightsaber.

In a violent retort, the Sith Knight kicked at Irveric's chest, drawing a pained grunt from the Imperator as he dug his fist further into the sand beneath, bringing his other hand into his view to peer upon the searing glow of the orange mark the blade had imprinted into his hand.

"An example needs to be made."

The deeply foreboding voice of the Anzati General dug into his mind as he willed himself unto his feet once more. Just as the Sith reeled back and lunged forward for a thrust of his blade toward Irveric's abdomen he twisted his body to the side, closing the distance to bring his left arm down and around the clasped hands clutching the hilt of the saber before his other hand pressed against the Sith's left elbow to establish points to will him from his feet and manipulate his weight to throw him against the wall of the trench as he made purchase with a headbutt of composite armor into his temple, bloodying him instantly before he was stunned enough for the ignition of the saber to power down and for his stance to falter.

"The true way is one which is difficult, Tavlar. It is ugly, it is brutal, and it has no satisfaction in the steps one takes to reach the end of its course - for it is a road that is defined by its conclusion, not the journey that was taken to reach it."

The words of Braith Achlys took hold as he looked over the ugly and brutal bloodied face of the Sith Knight as those amber eyes peered back to Irveric in defiance...the very same defiance Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt had given to him after Muunilinst. That same hatred and disgust.

"Go on then...you've bested me...end it." And so he did. The vibroblade activated from his knuckle and shot up under the arm of the man before he twisted the blade and dug it through to the base into his chest. Releasing his arm around the bound wrists of the Sith, he dropped the saber to the ground as the lack of will, lack of life compelled him to save his strength for the end. Then Tavlar drew his pistol, held it to his head, and ended it rightly.

Pressing onward, the Sith Knight trembled into the muddied sand below him. He turned, walked and turned again to find her. His pistol snapped in the direction of Lyra as he felt a nauseating sear of pain from the beskar horn embedded into his head before he aimed down the sights at her. And then...another...another illusion invaded his mind. Another reclaimed memory to will about his penance again. His penance for the sins he'd committed for the Empire he sought to fell. He continued in tolerance of it. Because for all he cared, it was well deserved in the self hatred he'd invoked upon himself.

”I can’t fix you."

"I know what they’ve done to you and I am sorry."

"You need help."

Peering between the Prince in-exile and the Legion Commander he collapsed into the sand once more, his knees being the only thing to brace the fall as he relinquished his grip of the weapon, wrenching his helmet free from his head he took in a heavy breath, sucking in the ashen air of blood, gore, smoke and anger around him.

Looking back up to them he took in another wavering breath.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I couldn't stop them...I'm sorry...I never wanted to hurt you." He speaks up in his moment of rare fragility.

"Just...just stop this. Please...as I told you it- it's time...time for...for what you're doing to end. I'm sorry...I'm sorry." He said, himself unknowing if he was dictating to the remains of the fallen or not as he grasped for forgiveness from her unconscious form before he felt tears well up and tremble down his face. The first tears he'd let hit open air since the last they'd spoken as soldiers of the Sith Empire. His repetitive evocation of apology in no doubt meager attempts to stave away the pain that he felt sear and dig into his skull again.

Soon enough reinforcements where there to meet them as the ranks of stormtroopers swelled around them to continue the assault and press the advantage. A Mandalorian and a trooper of the 307th marked as a Medic were quick to bear down unto the two collapsed at the bottom of the trench.

<"He's good...they're both good."> Trajan Fett muttered from beneath his Beskar'gam beneath the rage of battle around them as he slung his disruptor rifle over his shoulder to take the unconscious Prince of Serenno into his arms.

<"I'll take him back. You take care of the Legion Commander."> The Mandalorian spoke up as he slowly marched Lucien Dooku back down toward friendlier territory in the lines, the blasts of artillery and whistling shock of blaster bolts be damned.

<"Yes sir. Ma'am? Where are you hurt?"> The Medic sounded out as he knelt by Lyra to assess her wounds, seeing her disorientated expression.

Tavlar slowly began to ease back unto the calfs of his legs as he peered toward Lyra, his lone gaze matching with hers for the briefest of moments before he heard a voice over his shoulder.

<"Sir."> One of the troopers of Enigma sounded out before Irveric turned to peer into the gaze of his own helmet, offered up back to him. They'd garnered enough context to know. But they needed to keep moving, to keep pressing the assault. The closest of his retinue in Enigma knew he didn't want to be seen this way and thus didn't arouse any unneeded faltered speech over the sight of the Imperator entrenched in a moment of weakness.

Pulling the helmet back over his head he felt himself enveloped in the battle again. All the voices, all the horrid whispers snuffed out in favor of the chaos around him. It was a dreaded symphony but one he wanted to hear more than anything else right. If it did anything, it washed away anything else he ever needed to worry about in favor of survival. The objective. The mission. The end.

<"Keep up the advance. Go."> He ordered, motioning a hand forward only for his close subordinate to nod once before consolidating the troopers around him.

Slowly he walked toward Lyra just as the medics were about ready to take her back as well, her defiance be damned.

<"Please..."> Was all he muster as his gaze was barely visible beneath the tint of his visor.

 

[Jalter Volff]

Location: Dubrillion Orbit
Objective: Battle of the Shipwrecks
Allies: NIO Cheapshot Arten Jinn | GA Loske Treicolt Olen Halcorr Maynard Treicolt Mordred B'Haran and other fleeters
Enemies: Nica Dakkar Thaelius Lily Kuhn and other fleeters
Ship: TIE/HB Bruiser
Forces: x7 TIE/HB Bruiser x2 TIE/OTx Outlander

As flight 1 moved to regroup with flight 2 Jalter checked up on each fighter. So far they'd only lost Bombshell who was adrift somewhere near Thaelius' battlegroup. It seemed as if Slipstream had better luck than them but there was no point on dwelling on that now, they still had a job to do. "All Bombers form up on me." he said swinging his bomber around, angling them towards the enemy fleet. He watched as Hiram Voss made his attack runs on the enemy fleet and Marlon Sularen engaging Thaelius with massive pieces of scrap metal. An effective but unorthodox tacitc. Jalter liked it. Before he could speed ahead and make another attack run Olen Halcorr 's voice chimed in over the comms.

"Brawler 3-1, Slipstream, we've got some targets for you boys, follow us."

"10-4 Twin Suns Leader, we're with you." he said before switching over to squadron comms. "Alright Bombers, we're moving with the Twin Suns. Seems like the navy has got those Sith ships handled." he said while turning his bomber and engaging his thrusters to 100% to keep up with the Twin Suns into the debris. "Got a lot of debris here Sir." Crater chimed in. Jalter checked down on his shields before responding. "Our shielding is good enough to knock off the small bits. As long as you don't fly like an idiot you'll be fine." Jalter's bomber zipped through the debris, he worked hard on steering the lumbering craft out of the way of the ruined and destroyed ships of the battle. Looking out of the cockpit he saw a few bodies of doomed pilots and crewmen and he could only wonder how much longer until he ended up like them.

His attention was brought back as he watched the Twin suns make a sharp turn out of the debris field and towards the enemy fleet. "Alright lads we're moving in. Arm missiles and heat up those laser cannons." he said as he burst through the edge of the debris field. The Bomber wing stuck in close formation, the shields of the TIE Bruisers absorbing any incoming blaster fire. Jalter begun targeting the enemy starfighters and he waited for three words to appear on his HUD. "TARGET LOCK ACQUIRED." appeared at the centre of his HUD and he let out a small smile before squeezing the trigger. Five missiles shot out of his missile pods. "Times FIve Brilliant Missiles away." he said, with each bomber mimicing him, letting off a total of 35 missiles straight towards a swarm of enemy fighters. The missiles slammed into a mixture of countermeasures and enemy fighters causing mass chaos to any fighter lucky enough to survive the volley.

After the initial volley Jalter pulled off. "All Bombers break off and begin engaging targets." he said pushing down hard on the yoke causing him to head straight down, right towards the path of a damaged Sith interceptor. Jalter lined up his shot, letting off a few lasers to establish how much he needed to lead his shots. Once he got a hit on the interceptor he held down the trigger, shredding the interceptor to pieces. "Looks like those 'X-wing commandos' are targeting enemy corvettes." he heard Boxer say over squadron comms followed by Crater. "I see some long necks among them. Shall we engage?"

Jalter checked his onboard computer, confirming the positioning of the long necks. "Split into groups of three. Boxer, Crater with me. We're engaging the lead long neck while the Twin Suns are taking out those other corvettes." he said, pulling on the yoke and aligning him towards the lead corvette, at the same time he began targeting lock, this time with a few concussion shields. Jalter felt his entire bomber shake as the corvette began engaging him with anti-starfighter cannons but he stayed on course. "Boosting bow shields, target lock confrimed and..... missiles loaded." he said to himself as he completed the various tasks. As he got closer he saw Boxer and Crater approaching the corvette from different angles and once in range all three bombers fired off their concussion missiles, slamming into the Pradeux-Class Corvette's middle section, fracturing it in half. Jalter smiled as he flew past, moving into formation with Crater and Boxer.

The battle was well underway and as much as he liked taking out corvettes he was dying to hit a star destroyer, this time with all his Bombers. He proceeded to open up a comms channel to the GA pilots ( Olen Halcorr Maynard Treicolt ). "Brawler 3-1 to Twin Suns Leader and Saber Leader. Me and my Bombers are ready to start hitting some heavier targets, so if you got anything that needs some heavy ordnance send the coordinates my way and we'll hit it."