Junction Iron Resolve | Junction of Enclave-Excarga, NIO-Krownest

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

R E N E G A D E
New Imperial Order
Combined Fire Team of the former 193rd Infantry Regiment "Vindicated"
Father - Son

Dante Corvus Michael Barran Lachlan Sinclair

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It snapped like a strained muscle, the rip was ugly and a shiver crawled up her spine-Sybila almost stopped. Hearing a tear between both ears, sinew that wouldn’t heal easily. Anger, Sybila sucked in sharp breath-lips curling unable to settle on a smile or grimace. She had struck a nerve in the Lordling, too personal and erupting at the mere suggestion..the words had been flippant in part. Alas it was the volatile emotions that burned like flares and she had a hyperfixation to it, her own head tilted just so to spy the man past her shoulder.

The screw of his face, he was too inclined to it.. The woman had never learned how to adequately tailor the gift, if you could anticipate you could deflect. Empathy was a skill of survival so her Master had once said, such she had only had to touchthe surface of those around her like to know the lap of the tides. A lesson as old as time-he wouldn’t back down though. A brow rose wordlessly behind her metal shroud.

<“The Order in my experience has a funny way of drawing a line in the sand that simply..”> Sybila’s head turned fully as the dull thud passed as the Lordling’s hand made contact on Ban’s dome, sucking in a deep breath as the ventilators drowned her out. The woman’s words hung on by a thread as her visor locked on the Zabrak’s, waiting wordlessly for the man to answer-he flexed his gauntlet, dropping it back on the stock of his weapon. Silently taking the hit, it would not be forgotten easily. <“-fails to meet expectations. What a surprise..”>

This man..he as doused in loyalty and self, dangerous notions when left unchecked. Her lips twisted and she regarded it thoughtfully, she was hardly any different. Even now venom pooled on the tip of her tongue, her digits flexing restlessly as it became a pissing match, she had fought men at the dives for less. He spoke fondly of this agent and all she pictured was claws. Arguing with the chain of command seldom ended well, but it was endlessly amusing to watch a man removed from the Brass..try. Perhaps it was from a place of privilege he spoke, another bitter snort escaped the woman. She lifted her boot over mauled body of some S-IMP and she pitied the fool-it fueled her, the air likely was polluted by the heavy stench of copper now.

Her ego was a bruised thing and wanted to come out to play.

<“The second invasion of Borosk comes to mind,”> Sybila supplied in the silence following the Barran’s little proclamation. <“-the black scaled devils they unleashed on the hangars as we boarded...they possessed lanky bodies and natural armor, deadly claws for that matter. Their instinct was frenzied, to feed, and their loyalty to their master was astonishing-but they tore through a platoon worth of men..on both sides. Can you stomach looking at the handiwork of your man-I am curious?”>

She was teasing him now, no investment other then to drive a nail in deep and discomforting. A man with a tick was a liability, and she filed that away. What ghastly noises lingered around the corners of the corridor only grew louder, and Sybila’s thumb brushed the lock on the saber hilt. Ban pressed closure behind, barrel resting on her pauldron as the moved in sync, walking freely was no longer a choice. The woman unhooked the blade as the tension bled in to her own actions, she ignited the lightsaber-bathing the hall in a beautiful red. The weapon crackled violently, surging with the energy underhand and she adopted a cautious stance-keeping her blade low and near her breast. Sybila’s lens passed over the Myrmidon in their company as she moved slower, knowing the disconcerting as they waded further in the massacre. She had marked herself by blade alone as the enemy. She expected a strike sooner from her six than by any beast alike, she was carrying the torch after all. Time and experienced supplied her with a lofty step and the woman moved carefully down the hall, even as the Barran matched her stride.

<“I won’t pretend to understand whatever naturalist take of the Force you preach of. A beast is a beast-originating of or born by the will of, or crafted..well I frankly don’t care. A dog can be trained to kill, some enjoy it for that matter and I doubt they discriminate against anything..”> Sybila mused, voice growing quieter <“-so that said I will maintain this- I prioritize my men and those surrounding myself’s safety by any means, against anything. You say Sith-Imperials, fine but I see Imperials, and civilians. Touting spawns of anything around- academy students have better trigger discipline for goodness sake then loose cannons. I don’t think it’ll matter who or what's standing in front of your...body guard? I would hate to sour matters any further alas, but you could have just say he’s your friend and I’ll leave him alone respectfully.>”

It was a farce of humor that laced her words, forced and pressed from behind clenched teeth-gauntlet tightening around the hilt of the blade as the radar populated, tracking movement through the tunnels. The Barran’s presence prodded at the back of her mind, she had the mind to slap him truly-blow for blow, eye for eye.

<“Oh and the next time you consider slapping the Lieutenant Colonel Arroyo here, we’ll see who gets to you first. Him, myself, or hopefully your bodyguard-? You are just a passerby, witness to battle Lord Barran, come school me when that condition changes,”> Sybila warned.

 

[Michael Barran]

6TH post
SECOND_SON
OBJECTIVE 1: FALSE FLAG
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

NIO: Lachlan Sinclair Dante Corvus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Kovacs
Shai Maji Chelenne Akaris Volgin Alto Nukth Kelga'an Delilah Jones

ENCLAVE: Kranak Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Alora Vizsla
Siv Dragr Lesha Priest

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 5

'The Order in my experience has a funny way of drawing a line in the sand that simply.', Lyra replied, making a valid point as Michael reached for Ban's gauntlet, though she was sure to understand it all soon enough, with Voi'Kryt seeing the ease it took to communicate with an monitor the transformations of the Wanderer's bodyguard. It seemed to distract enough to see where this gesture led, but in seeing that Barran was choosing a diplomatic route that night, the armoured Major-General said,'-fails to meet expectations. What a surprise..', continuing to test the young Woad's temperament, but this time in a way he was all but used to hearing from people who had not yet gotten to know him. A little morsel of what she was yet to learn of the Wanderer awaited his Imperial colleague, but first, a short sideward glance towards Ban would give ample warning of how far he was willing to go under such circumstances, and then, only then could Lord-Captain Barran return his attention to Voi'Kryt with his undivided focus and attention.

'The second invasion of Borosk comes to mind,', the Major-General recalled, interrupting Lord Michael's attempt to communicate telepathically as she gave her rationale for desiring better-defined lines between man and beast in the Imperium of the modern era. In a way she was right, but if Lyra had truly known that the 307th Stormtrooper Legion and the Highland Brotherhood accorded well on this matter, there was a likelihood that she may have seen the carnage at her feet with a much milder disdain than what was being expressed in that moment, pressing her foot on the dead Sith-trooper's helm with very little regard for the eviscerated remains that littered the hallway as they pushed further into the basement levels. Hell awaited them, only this time, they were all just guests, visitors to an oversized, subterranean house of horrors - at least until they'd found the newly-established obstructions further inside, working to keep the reinforcements from linking with Lachlan and the other Highlanders.

Turning her attention back to Michael, poised to make her point, Lyra's bitter revisiting of her memories continued,'-the black scaled devils they unleashed on the hangars as we boarded...they possessed lanky bodies and natural armor, deadly claws for that matter. Their instinct was frenzied, to feed, and their loyalty to their master was astonishing-but they tore through a platoon worth of men..on both sides. Can you stomach looking at the handiwork of your man-I am curious?', ending her revelation with a question put forth in what seemed to be the first showing of earnest, genuine curiosity. Michael's answer would be silent, but in seeing the sheer lack of guilt on his eyes as he sneered at the Sith-trooper's corpse with derisive apathy, continuing on past the Major-General with no discernible intention of weighing in on the carnage.

But then something unexpected happened, something the Lord-Captain never expected, the Major-General drew out and switched on what was obviously a red-glowing lightsabre, the most obvious identifying element of a Sith, and in this case, more-specifically the identifier of a supremely-powerful Darth in what felt like a slow change in the nature of her Force powers. 'I won't pretend to understand whatever naturalist take of the Force you preach of. A beast is a beast-originating of or born by the will of, or crafted..well I frankly don't care. A dog can be trained to kill, some enjoy it for that matter and I doubt they discriminate against anything..', Lyra pondered aloud, slightly trailing off to continue on to gradually speak quieter as she gave voice to her thoughts on the matter. The Woad was surely surprised, but his true reaction awaited the return of her sure-voiced commentary, continuing to patiently wait for the opportunity to communicate telepathically at the first opportunity.

'-so that said I will maintain this- I prioritize my men and those surrounding myself's safety by any means, against anything. You say Sith-Imperials, fine but I see Imperials, and civilians. Touting spawns of anything around- academy students have better trigger discipline for goodness sake then loose cannons. I don't think it'll matter who or what's standing in front of your...body guard? I would hate to sour matters any further alas, but you could have just say he's your friend and I'll leave him alone respectfully.'

​

Michael knew he would have endless challenges if he was ever dumb enough to attempt delving into the thoughts or memories within Lyra's unfathomably powerful mind, but Barran also knew that telepathic communication never required such effort or focus, being a technique of calmly, nuanced skill that he somehow knew deep down that he shared with Major-General Voi'Kryt. Like their powers were communicating with each other of the own accord, independent of the minds that wielded them, the power of his newly-acquainted ally was beginning to show nuances that differed entirely to those expected of a Sith; something far more pure and untamed than the Wanderer could have perceived until then, like there were layers upon layers to this fire burning in bright emanation from within the Darth's soul, like the fire itself was refined by the energy that continued to intrigue the Woad in ways he still couldn't articulate yet.

'Oh and the next time you consider slapping the Lieutenant Colonel Arroyo here, we'll see who gets to you first. Him, myself, or hopefully your bodyguard-? You are just a passerby, witness to battle Lord Barran, come school me when that condition changes,'

Interesting development with the lightsabre anyway, must be said - an' duly noted by the way....​

Looking into the dark glass that hid her eyes, Michael's brazen nature was there for Lyra to see with ease, letting his lack of self-preservation loose in a smirk that almost became a grin as they continued to walk into the gory madness of the Ursa's Redoubt sub-basement levels; caring little about his chances of surviving a fight with such a power, nor for the carnage his bodyguard had been inflicting on the Sith-troopers' ranks further in, displaying something of an eerily cold visage as he continued towards the deep, guttural roars, approaching the distant screams of horror and agony without a single shudder or hesitation for his own safety. Barran was finally in his element once more, understanding that all the misgivings were purely on account of previous traumas and of being completely new to the Goidelic ways and traditions of the Cairnsman in particular, as many had been before them, but the Lycanthropic carnage would be new to many for some time yet.

I know you can hear me.​

'As for the,"Passenger", matter.... Not so sure the Dathomiri would agree very much with that - after all, passengers don't enrage entire covens of Nightsisters as I have. Blood-feuding food for thought-'

Hearing the sounds of conflict, pain and death growing noticeably nearer, the Wanderer would draw his own lightsabre as he walked out in front of Sybila, still clueless as to who she really was, the person she had been before the death of Irveric Tavlar. But judging by the shade and the steel-hearted nature of the Major-General, it would seem respect and reverence would only be treated with greater disdain than that which Lyra held towards the barbaric practices of her latest Woad-born acquaintance in that moment; though neither knew it then, the things that seemingly irked one and the other would become subject to the slow and steady process of endearment to their counterparts, perhaps even coming to rely on the wrath, the back and forth (almost) sporting trade of insults and the trails of bloody carnage in good time. They would reach an understanding of each other's capabilities in time, but Lord Michael would be cut short by a comm-link transmission from Caulen Pinely further within the redoubt's lower-basement levels, timely in nature and vital in conveying the Highlanders' need for their backup to arrive with haste.

<"Pinely te Barran, we found him! We're keepin' on him; hurry yer arse up, I dunnae ken how te control him, over!">

<"Excellent news, Cairn Six! Just keep yer distance an' keep any an' aw threats aff Sinclair's back for noo! We need 'im gaining as much momentum as possible, mind? Cairn One out!">​

'Shall we have some fun of our own, Lord Dante? Won't take much to fight our way through the complex in any case.'

 

[Siv Dragr]

S I T H B A N E

Objective: Liberate Camp Gideon
Enclave Tag: Faison Kelborn | Obran
NIO Tag: Chelenne Akaris | Cromwell | Ghalric Rau

The sewers were dark. And Siv was alone.

It seemed that the others had gone with the New Imperials, which the Mandalorian couldn't blame them for. Even with a rebreather, the smell of day old rotten sewage and decomposing organic matter permeated through the air, unescapable. The fumes were so noxtious that SIv couldn't help but wonder if they were combustible. It made no matter, though, as he drw his blaster; he was here to liberate the camp, especially the Mandalorians that had been enslaved for a near decade inside.

A rotten smell was the least rotten thing here.

After what seemed to be hours, but was more likely only a couple of minutes of wading through the much, Siv found a maintenance hatch to clamber out of. It took several tries, but he managed to twist the archaic revolving lock open, pushing the hatch outwards to clamber out of the pipe and into the underground base. It was some sort of treatment center, and Siv used a nearby hose to wash the unpleasant substances from his lower greaves before checking that his blaster was in gunslinger mode. He'd need fast firing if he were to make it through these imperials. Moving to the doorframe, he ducked his head out to gather the situation. According to the map he had, he was somewhere near the high-security detention center, which by convenience of location would be the first place he would liberate.

A lone Sith Imperial trooper stood at the far end of the hallway, facing away from the Mandalorian. Siv had an intimate knowledge of the armor design -- especially its weaknesses. He underhand-tossed a small piece of metal to the opposite direction of him, making a loud, reverbrant impact that drew away the trooper's attention. Using the momentary distract, Siv crept up on the trooper, and before the Sith could even register the presence of a Mandalorian behind him, Siv's knife had slashed through his exposed throat. A choked gurgling was the only noise the trooper made as they crumpled to a floor. Siv held the knife in one hand, blaster in the other as he continued down his way to the detention center.
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