Invasion Kill Them All and let God Sort them Out: AC Invasion of TSE held Ziost, Mirial, Ruuria

[Felix Aquila]

​

Tag: Starlin Rand
Location: the Grand Garden
Equipment:

• - Light-saber
• - Personal Shield
• - Armourweave Clothing

Felix had heard that yet again another city was being attacked within the Sith Empire, en route from dealing with an attack on a metropolitan area in which an enemy force puppeted the civilian population to uprise in the most reckless natures. The open channel distress call could be heard far and wide calling for aid. Felix wasn't about to ignore the call, his ship had been emptied of many of his weapons, he'd given them out before. It seemed that unlike the attack before, where they had recklessly led the people of a world to their deaths, the enemies of the Sith decided to go door to door and kill any that had ties with the Sith regardless of their overall innocence.

Friends, Family, Associates, Contacts and Contractors and their families. The Systematic annihilation of known collaborators and anyone else who got in their way or attempted to protect them. He thought it strange that it seemed that the opponents of those he had assumed to be monsters were being attacked in such a manner that turned those who warred with them into monsters of a much more insipid kind. To that ends he couldn't help but feel, was the history of the Empire of the Sith what bought them down like this? Could he have misjudged the strange religious order entirely? Could they have been pushed into the demons of the galaxy by nothing more than the pressure exerted against them, an infinite cycle of the desperation to survive pushing them to monstrous deeds, while the history of monstrous deeds continuing to push on their hunters.

When Felix landed he would all but storm out of the building into the chaos, explosions and blaster-fire resonating throughout the city as he would charge into some of the highest populated areas, clothing still scarred from his last combat no more than a couple of days ago, his gauntlet freshly repaired from its damage and his blade recharged and hungry for another round. Who knew that a weapon forged from a legendary Jedi would defend those it had once fought so hard against in the great darkness. Times were strange.

It wouldn't take long for Felix to steal a speeder and find his way to the front lines, people were running for their lives while downtown had the crusade plunging the world of the majority innocent bystanders. A building, with civilians attempting to barricade themselves in while a squad stood back preparing to detonate a charge to breach their way in. The explosion went off, and Felix could hear the screams, the slamming of meat onto hard floors and walls as the knights prepared to charge their way into the building.

Felix would open up a hand, shock and awe radiating from them all as they did not burst through the door. Felix had ensured that light, even within their armour would rebound from their eyes, an enchantment of sorts, quite unbreakable unless another had power over his very niche field. While they were confused his blade would eject, and with seven lethal strikes, the attackers would drop to the ground in unceremonious pieces.

Looking through the door he saw the bloodbath, it seemed like at least a dozen people had been caught by the blast on the inside of the room, but the building was expansive. They'd given their lives to defend several servants of the Sith, little more than clerks in the regime. "You lot, you need to get out of here! It's not safe!" He'd call out, people nodded and agreed. They were in shock, needing to be led, so he'd take control. "Do any of you know somewhere large? That can keep all of you and be defended?" There was some discussion, but in the end it seemed there was a mansion not too far away from the fighting. Felix would then demand that all of them get into contact with everyone they know. Loved ones, everyone. And make their way to that mansion. Felix would send the message to his men back at the space port informing them to move to defend it. To hold the streets around it, and keep it safe at all costs.

An hour later there was a convoy under the protection of Felix making their way to the manor, Felix would breach the building first, finding nothing as he would make his way silently around. Opening his eyes he would bend the light to see around the house and outwards. A single entity, one to be worried about... Felix would need to confirm that person, decide if they were a threat or not. But meanwhile the people with him would begin to move into the building, knocking over a pot plant by accident as they did as Felix made his approach.

Seeing him amidst a secret overgrown expansive walled garden within the grounds of the estate. He'd grip the hilt of his weapon in its faux sheath.

"You there, name yourself and your intentions. If you're nonhostile, you can stay here and seek cover with my wards. Or leave. " The noble lord would decalre, eyes melange stained red with apprehension and a lingering seriousness as he would scan for the metallic tint of weapons. But he was prepared, despite the engagements that led him here, he'd disposed of them with cheap tricks, and lost a few people on the way... he was in no mood for games.

Not today

 

[Sephi Karneh]

N O V A
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP;
ASSIGNED TO | 1st BATTALION 506th INFANTRY REGIMENT, ASHLAN CRUSADE
NEW IMPERIAL "DOGS"
ARMOR PRIMARY MAGCANNON GRENADES MELEE

L U S T F O R A T H R I L L
NEW ADASTA
JUDGMENT DAY
​

The drone of the war machine resonated distantly, that rhythmic crack and pop of the cogs breaking and meshing into one another, grinding upon the edges without any relief. Goosebumps flourished across her skin, spreading rapidly down her body as the icy wind of death swept through her; felt through the energy of the city. She pondered briefly, as she dug her heels in to fortify the approach with a hefty piece of scrapped durasteel, which brood it had belonged to before it came into her control. The New Imperials? The Galactic Alliance? The Sith Empire? A hull plate, it had been once before, and now revived, it would protect life behind it once again.

A quiet had settled on her as she worked briefly, daring to wander down the morbid path of what-if. What if something as unexpected as the bombardment happened again? What if a curtain of bombers descended upon the battlefield suddenly, like at Serenno? It wasn't her job, nor was it realistic for her to expect to be able to guarantee her temporary squad's safety, but damn if the look on their faces didn't make her wish she could. It was war, plain and simple; violence, men and women killing one another indiscriminately because they had been commanded to. Because there was no room for negotiation; no desire for it. This was human nature at its most basic form: kill to live another day. The new soldiers amongst the Crusaders hadn't had the pleasure of it, for many, this was their first real battle.

Nova didn't envy the nightmares they would have. She didn't envy the stake of agony that would be driven into their hearts once the wolves were at their door. The grief they would feel, clutching their rifles to their chests, when they realized how powerless they could be made out to be. That had been a hard swallow, but just like everything else had taught her, she had learned to chew it up, and spit it out. She could hear it in the voices of the Ashlan sappers she collaborated with, many of them familiar vaguely from the impromptu order she had been given to assist in their training. It was a fact she would have gladly forgotten, had she been able to let it go. <"Infrared is going to be your best friend while you're pushing through and clearing. Ears and eyes on the ground. Check your corners. If you aren't sure about something, if you wouldn't personally step on it, triple check it. There's no room for uncertainty. We've got time, there's no rush, remember that. Keep eyes on your brothers, watch where they step, stress that they match your tracks. And for the love of everything divine, don't get too engrossed to forget marking off the sectors you've swept and clean- we're opening the door for everybody else, keep it in mind.">

It was a summary of a summary, a footnote on a crash course, but it was all she could do now to remind them of what they had been taught as rapidly and as thoroughly as she was able to.

<"Can't forget, ma'am."> One of them stated, speaking up amongst the tangled webs of anxiety and fear gripping the file, <"We'll do it right.">

Nova had all the faith in the world in them- the world was hinging on it.

Chew it up, spit it out.

They finished fortifying and establishing the first of many forward fighting positions to come, each strategically placed along the path to guide the ebb and flow of firefights to come and serve as retreat cover should the need for it arise. Debris and rubble had been repurposed and reinforced by mounds of bagged earth and ash taking shape into a stomach high wall meant to stop just about anything thrown at it. With it done, the Crusaders rallied and split off, following Grunge's orders and regrouping with their own to branch off. The combat engineer strode to him, assessing the work he and the others were doing. <"Damn fine job,"> she nodded, grunting some as her knees ate the heavy weight of her equipment with a crouch, <"Need one more here, can tuck it in that alley to cover the western face."> She pointed, taking to stride to move toward the marked building.

An explosion rocked the block, sending the war drum packed in her chest to double-time, picking up cadence as the heat intensified. The wolves were already here. The blast was enough to shove her into the amalgamation of a wall they had swiftly erected, her armor eating the shallow impact as it scraped against the edges. The emeralds fixed in her tattooed face swarmed to the smoldering ruin of the speeder, then to Grunge, swimming over his frame. <"You good?!"> She shouted to be heard over the whine in her ears, reaching out to help him shove himself to cover beside her.

With a hand she swiped the dust from her visor and hunkered down, taking cover behind the pop-up infantry emplacement finished in the nick of time. She was thankful for that. Thankful to be pinned down with him, too, in a sick sort of way; her worry didn't bite her so hard with him in her sight. Nova wasn't one to sit still and allow her feelings to choke her up, not with the pressure rising so high it threatened to drown her. <"Hostiles approaching from the northeast, between echo-eight-four and echo-eight-six,"> she announced, mounting her ion disruptor into a niche between the bags of sand and ash.

She didn't wait for the order to return fire.

So it began.

​

ALLIES | NIO | AC | Kolson Vrask Zark San Tekka DECEASED Erskine Barran Ishida Ashina
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN FOR DIRECT ENGAGEMENT

 

[Dagon Kaze]

OBJECTIVE ONE | JUDGEMENT DAY | ASHLA WILLS IT
A SILENT GUARDIAN

I, JEDI

Sporadic gusts of wind blew against his unzipped leather jacket, its sides fluttering violently against the periodic blows. He brushed away the locks of raven hair the wind had ruffled as he scanned the ruins of New Adasta from the rooftop of a barely standing building. The windless forecast had been spot on; what blew against him in an eerie, methodical rhythm were the Ashlan's artillery shells exploding upon impact. Watching the remains of the city, Dagon swore he could see death itself prowling across the streets littered with ash and soot. In the evil throbs and hums of artillery pounding the ground lied a melody of regret and sorrow.

The last time he had been on Ziost with the forces of the Alliance and the New Jedi Order, he was driven by duty - compelled and bound by his service as a Jedi.

This time it was different.

It was his choice.

It was personal.

And much like nearly any choice he had ever taken before, Dagon couldn't help but reminisce the choices he had made in his life and their ramifications. All of which were laced to an extent with regret. One choice had recently stirred an unexpected storm in his mind. It sprung almost every night before he shut his eyes and he knew perfectly well the source of it. That damned day at the gates of the library temple on Krayiss II, that damned exchange of gazes before she vanished, it told the untold tale of Viers Connory and Dagon Kaze. And it had left him wondering, clawing at the back of his mind seeking an epilogue, an end, a closure but all it did was draw more questions; all of which started the same - what if.

Shutting his eyes in a wince, the raven-haired Jedi could only push the heavy thoughts in the sunken chest of burdens deep in his heart. There would be more sleepless nights full of questions and more endless days with fewer answers. Dagon threw a glance sideways hoping to see Yula beside him and reassure him with a touch on his shoulder or a peck on his lips but there was only a whirlwind of dust and ash. This path he walked alone. And as much as he missed his friends and companions, Dagon was well aware that this road was solely his. The consequences of this journey with the Crusade he would carry alone.

The raven-haired Jedi turned heel and the shadow of his form dashed from rooftop to rooftop. He had to pave the way forward for the approaching forces of the Crusade; chokepoints, ambushes, traps - he had to clear them all.

"Your pulse's higher than usual, Master. Is something bothering you?" his trusted AI companion's regal voice cracked smoothly through his earpiece.

"Something always is, Arthur." Dagon replied curtly.

"Is there anything I can do to alleviate your concerns, Master Kaze?"

I wish.

"No. Any sign on your scanners up ahead?" he asked, narrowing his gaze at suspicion at the empty streets.

"Actually, yes." Arthur said and a small hologram projected itself from his earpiece. It revealed a figure standing perched on a rooftop not far from here. Dagon's eyes lingered over it as he continued skipping roof to roof.

"Doesn't look like a sniper to stand out so easy."

"A Sith, Sir?"

"Most.. likely."

"May I remind you, Master Kaze, that your wounds are still healing from your last encount--"

"Not much of a choice here, Arthur." Dagon replied. A downcast smile tugged at his lips inadvertently remember his fateful clash with his twin brother Aeric Kaze on the spires of the Ziost Academy. "We're like dogs chasing speeders."

"I'd certainly hope not, Sir. Not many cases of dogs catching up to a speeder."

"Well, we've all gotta believe in the impossible sometimes, no? Sometimes it's all we've got."

Halting to a stop at a rooftop facing the unknown figure ( N Nyxeris ) on the other side, Dagon placed one foot on the railing, glanced down counting a couple of floors, then back up at the perched up figure ahead.

"You plannin' to jump?" Dagon called out at the mysterious person, a lady garbed in a robe and a hood. A stray rocket's explosion miles away behind him flashed to illuminate the raven-haired Jedi. The iconic New Jedi leather jacket, full of seams and patches, clearly indicating his affiliation.

"It's a broken foot if you're lucky." a jerk of his head at the staff in her hands, "Don't think that staff of yours would do any good cushioning the fall, if I'm honest."

"Absolutely brilliant, Master Kaze. Of all the scenarios I had plotted for an ambush, you've picked the most vacuous one." Arthur's voice murmured in sarcasm.

ALLIES | Ashlan Crusade
ENEMIES | The Sith Empire | N Nyxeris

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Ishida Ashina Eva Betrik​

"I don’t think the planet asked to have the Sith colonise it." Came the smooth, placid tone of the older Knight helping oversee the organisation of the New Jedi Order's efforts to monitor the current situation on Ziost. After two failed attacks the Galactic Alliance was understandably wary of committing to another assault on this world.

But that hardly stopped the Jedi of the Core for taking a look at the situation themselves and doing what they could. Be it looking out for civilians, hitting key Sith structures, or simply acting as support for the bulk of the Crusade.

He could not help the bitter taste form on the tip of his tongue as that word crossed his mind. There were many opinions that Aaran held towards the Ashlan crusade. The first and foremost was their notion of turning the ancient personification of the Force known as Ashla into an actual deity. Because that is what the Galaxy needed. More religious lunatics out to burn worlds. They may be a bit more organised than the Maw. But he could feel the similar fire of zealotry burn brightly in both sides.

It was hardly a notion he was a fan of. Nor did he feel that active worship of the Force was in any way a sensible course of action. To worship was to place a clear divide between the devotee and the object of their worship. By placing the Force on the pedestal, they simply removed themselves from it. They regarded it as something separate from themselves as opposed to simply attempting to commune with it in harmony.

He also had a particular bone to pick with Cedric Grayson . The man who acted as Ryv 's and even Loske Treicolt 's mentor, only to abandon them and leave the younger Jedi to pick up the pieces. There were many words he wished to say to Grayson. Many deeds he wished to perform. But that was neither here nor there. The trauma that the Crusader was indirectly responsible for inflicting on one of Aaran's closest friends could wait.

The hypocrisy of being angry at Cedric for leaving was also one of the core reasons as to why he did not act on those feelings. But that did not make them go away.

"These civilians are likely ignorant of what their master do." He continued to point out. Stepping lightly over some rubble. "And most of their soldiers are conscripts. Hardly told anything. Just instructed to point and shoot on pain of death."

"Is the victim blaming something Master Sardun taught you?" He mused, hoping that phrasing it in such a way would help the rather feisty Padawan have just a smidgen of self-reflection as she realised that she was willing to condemn an entire world for the actions of a few.

As he moved forward. He coincidentally stepped into the line of sight of Evalina's scope. Before pausing in his step. Supernaturally accurate empathic senses warning him of murderous intent.

And so his gaze looked up. Bandaged face staring directly at the young trooper through his visor. Somehow, noticing her despite the cover. Somehow aware of her intent without any warning. And even from this distance, his piercing gaze seemed to penetrate right through her helmet and into her soul.

"We have company." He whispered softly to Ishida, his own body shifting slightly to make himself a wider and more tempting target. "I will draw their fire. You try and get closer."

And with that, he moved. Inertia meaning little as he bolted straight towards the trooper's position. Going from standing still to the speed of an Olympic sprinter in the time it took a lesser man to blink. Barrelling towards their position. Golden blade extending with a snapping hiss as he made a seemingly suicidal charge in hopes of drawing fire away from the Padawan accompanying him.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

OBJECTIVE ONE | JUDGEMENT DAY | ASHLA WILLS IT
A SILENT GUARDIAN

I, JEDI

You planning to save me, Jedi?​

The answer would've been yes, but Dagon said nothing; instead, he simply kept his eyes examining her, the Jedi's investigative flair kicking in. Clues, leads, details - anything that could help him prepare in, perhaps, the inevitable clash. The Jedi recalled the fateful battle with his brother on Ziost and his stubborn belief that Aeric could be saved.

He could not.

Lost too deep in the darkness to find salvation.

The thought struck a cord of sorrow in his soul, much like everything that accompanied his return to Ziost.

Your people seem to have the killer instinct. How many innocents are you planning to murder today? Or are you one of those fanatics that believe they deserve death because they chose the wrong Empire to be born into?​

"You tell me, Lady." he shot back sharply. When the Alliance had launched its first dropships headed to the surface, the Sith had put New Adasta to the torch. Scowling, he recalled the billowing smoke in the distance when the guns of the city turned on it and the thousands of souls that fell to the slaughter burned a mark in his conscious. Ziost had become the New Jedi and the Alliance's baptism of fire and a cross they would bear for centuries ahead. "Look around you - bask in the ruin conjured by your overlords."

Dagon felt his fists had clenched involuntarily and sought the tranquility of the Light Side of the Force. He trod a thin line - a line between his emotions borne of his past and present failures and regrets, and the composure that his duty and calling necessitated.

Steeling his nerves, he spoke back at her, "Listen, turn yourself in-- we don't need to do this." his voice was laced with empathy through the Force, "There's always a way out of the darkness."

Or at least almost always.

But he had to try.

ALLIES | Ashlan Crusade
ENEMIES | The Sith Empire | N Nyxeris

 

[Dagon Kaze]

OBJECTIVE ONE | JUDGEMENT DAY | ASHLA WILLS IT
A SILENT GUARDIAN

I, JEDI

The occasional gusts of wind - shockwaves of shells falling in what remained of New Adasta - grew only stronger with each moment's passing. The front lines were shifting, moving, drawing nearer and nearer, tightening around the city like a noose. Tracing her long leap from her rooftop to his, Dagon slowly turned around to face her as she landed a dozen feet behind him. His eyes lingering on her staff for a moment longer before they locked gazes once more.

I am fairly certain the path away from darkness doesn't involve mass slaughter.​

Baffled, a brow was raised. Err.. yeah. That was supposedly obvious.

Dagon's hands fell to his sides, his fingers remained vigilant for the hilt of the saber but without moving an inch for it. Not yet, at least. It was not the leather jacket that defined them but their actions, their choices. He had learned that the hard way. The ghosts of past mistakes haunting his psyche - a constant reminder of that.

Something about her nasty smile made his spine tickle. Ominous, enigmatic, deceptive. A beautiful lie. It reminded him of the former Voivode of Dahrtag, Amelia Ardal. The Sangnir's web of lies had nearly costed his life; had it not been for Kai, Arlo Renard , Dagon might've not been here today. Kai - the one Dagon had helped escape and then practically abandoned on Coruscant. Yet, another specter born of his poor choices and failures.

This cycle had to be broken.

"Don't leave me no choice here, Lady. However they've twisted your mind, I can help- you just gotta trust me."

ALLIES | Ashlan Crusade
ENEMIES | The Sith Empire | N Nyxeris

 

[Dagon Kaze]

OBJECTIVE ONE | JUDGEMENT DAY | ASHLA WILLS IT
A SILENT GUARDIAN

I, JEDI

"There's something about her.. stay vigilant, Master Kaze." Arthur's voice broke through his earpiece.

"Yeah, you don't need to tell me twice, Arthur." he whispered back sharply at the AI.

Opening her robe to reveal no weaponry did little to alleviate his vigilance. The staff still concerned him, Viers used a staff and she used it damn well, too. And Dagon just couldn't wave away the semblance of vibe between the Lady before him and Amelia Ardahl. Something was just off with the red-haired woman, he just didn't know what.

He still had to take the risk. To try. To save.

Even if it had always been easier to jump straight to the action. No questions asked.

Suppose I were to trust you. How can you help me?​

"Well--" he gestured around, a wry smile on his face, "--getting you away from an active warzone might be a good start."

And as far away from the darkness permeating this Sith World.

ALLIES | Ashlan Crusade
ENEMIES | The Sith Empire | N Nyxeris

 

[Danika Leventis]

ALLIES: TSE
ENEMIES: AC | GA | NIO | Other Light Sided pansies
ENGAGING: Emiery Athelon (Soon)
GEAR:

Spoiler

In bio
Note: Only 21x Legion of Bone soldiers accompanying Darth Halōsis

o~~>WORLD GONE WILD<~~o​

Ziost. Again?

The Lady of Bone had not been able to contain her laugh when her little pets have brought her the news of yet another declaration of war against the Sith Empire. How many centuries and no one ever learned that you just can't suppress the Sith and the Dark Side. And to go after one of the Homeworlds? Time after time? Poor fools.

There was no Emperor that still held her allegiance. However, she could not just stand by and watch as yet another cult attempted to taint one of the sources of her power. And how could she pass by an opportunity to kick the stinking Light Side into the Nether?

Standing on the bridge of the Fortuna, Danika looked out at the show playing out in orbit of Ziost. A sinister smile graced her haunting features.
"How cute. The fanatic wannabes wish to play with fire." she said before turning to look at her commanders. "Why would we deny them?" she then chuckled.
"Your orders, Mistress?" General Samron Gerron, a converted Falleen, asked her, the dread-mask of the Legion of Bone already on his face.
Danika gave him a coy smile before she started gliding past him.
"Meet me on the surface, edge of the city, with twenty men, Booboo. I'll race you there." she said, giving his breastplate a stroke as she passed.

Then she stepped into the Nether.

Materialising on the edge of one of the outer districts, she waited for her men to be dropped off by the dropship. As the squad filed up in front of her, she looked at Gerron again.
"You're getting slow, old man. Need to bask in the sun for a while before we go out to play?" she teased.
Gerron merely grunted.

Not far from them, the sounds of judgement could be heard as the zealots attempted to root out "evil" by shaking down civilians. A brow arched on the Lady of Conquest's brow as she glanced over at her General.
"How very Light loving of them." she snorted. "Let's reign the fire of Bogan down on them to help them look for the supposed Darkness." she then said, her eyes suddenly burning an eerie yellow-green.

Without a word, her squad fanned out into the streets like ghosts, knowing very well what their Lady wished of them. Danika wove an enchanted on them as they moved, cloaking them in shadow as well as the group of five that accompany her and Gerron.

An eerie breeze surrounded Danika as she glided forward into the fray, her group moving with her as one.
"Our objective, Mistress?" Gerron quietly asked as they moved.
At the edge of alley that would lead out into a main street where shouts now rang loud while locals pleaded for their lives.
"What better place to declare our intent to the Galaxy than on a sacred planet of my faith?" she said before turning to face him fully. "Complete and utter carnage, General. That is our objective. No mercy. Wipe the stink of these Ashlan scum and their lackeys from the surface of Ziost." she said, her tone suddenly echoing hauntingly, brought about by the power of the Nether that she started drawing around herself this time.
"Oh and Samron? Let them know who we are before sending them to the spirits."
Gerron bowed his head. "It shall be done, Herald."

Darth Halōsis smiled before stepping into the street, drawing both a Phrik sword and a lightsaber in readiness.

And the Lady of Night's specter moved with her.

Spoiler: Summary

• 15 soldiers of the Legion of Bone have fanned out into different directions to engage with Ashlan forces, but remain close enough to Danika to lend military support as they keep moving deeper into the city
• Danika cloaked them in shadow, making them harder to spot
• 5 soldiers remained with Danika and General Samron Gerron, a Falleen and commander of the Legion of Bone
• Order was given to them to show no mercy to Ashlan forces when engaging
• Danika is ready to face down Ashlan forces and their allies

 

[DarrVack]

Allies: The Sith Empire - Darth Strosius
Enemies: AC / GA / NIO
Objective: Protect the Bastille
Location: Prison - Head Warden Office

Spoiler: Equipment, Units and Ships

Equipment
Red Lightsaber
Red Light Whip
Battle Armour (Holstering: 75 Gallons of Dioxis)
Large Power Chair
Mindstone
EWR-52 'Purge' Flamethrower

Units
15x XF-72a
15x Sith-Imperial Probot
5x KS-05 Goliath Stampede
200x OMYN-series Battle Droid

Ships
1 Squadron Ajunta-class StarFortress

It was a ridiculous undertaking

Ziost, this entire planet, every patch of ground from one pole to the other, each flake that fell on its surface, all of it was drenched in darkness. No life grew here and non had for over a millennium. In fact, this was not a place of life at all, a spec of dust in the grand cosmos of the universe that refracted light like few others could. Instead kissed by the dark side, a gateway into the depths of one of the two energies that governed the fabric of existence. A spiritual site to which devout Sith Lords have been pilgrimaging too from every corner of the galaxy within timespans that extended comprehension of mortal minds. And an unholy gem to an Empire even older than that.

Yet despite this countless claims by various factions had been made to it, even recently. It really was a ridiculous feat to behold. Millions have died here in vain. Blind infants swinging far too large toys. This was soil that could lay claim to your very souls and torture them far into the afterlife. There just wasn’t space on it for any of their silly ideals or testaments of greatness. There was just the dark side, and it would be like this far beyond times where all present on it today would be nothing but ashes in the wind.

DarrVack himself had a complicated relationship with this place, he felt as if he should have his priorities elsewhere, there were greater battles to fight. Wars to be won on planets that should long be back within the grasp of the Empire. Nevertheless, he was a Sith, a true on that and he too would pay his respect to this holiest of sites draw his blade, and shed his blood here.

He would put himself on guard duty, a supportive role in a battle decided before it began. To protect notable assets, high-value targets both living and dead that would surely provide great service to the Empire when their time came. It was in the interest of Lords to which the Overseer gladly saw himself in service too.

Seated in his towering Power Chair hovering menacingly above the ground, the armored figure of the Detergent Sith dwelled inside the Head Wardens quarters. From here he was observing not just the ongoing conflict in the capital but also the multiple security networks that governed the prison complex.

Bolstering these were two hundred of his very own Omyn battle droids and over a dozen Probots. He far preferred the OMYN series to the Scourge, they were more impeding and practical. Equipped with heavy shoguns and power maces he was sure they would both be correcting those behind bars and those seeking to free them.

Beyond normal measures, he was furthermore directly under the protection of five Goliaths that acted as his second in command and were stationed throughout the faculties at key points. These magnificent war machines were able to supply themselves with intel as a closed network thus acting as eyes, ears, and fists to their lord. He had further contingencies but he was not assuming to have to make use of them if things went along plan.

With such thorough oversight, he felt confident to leave the result up to the force and used the time on a surface so sacred to their kind to indulge in mediation, it was sure to yield balance in body and soul for the Ugorian.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

G H O S T
THE RENEGADE | EN ROUTE FROM VJUN TO CONCORD DAWN
+00:74:39 BEFORE ZIOST
NEW SINS TO WRAP MYSELF IN

​

Written with Allyson Locke

​

A slew of old Corellian curse words filled the cockpit of the X-Wing fighter as its pilot ran through a fast systems check. The storm that had been brewing on Yavin was in full swing, and the pilot was unsure if she would be able to navigate through it. Finally, all systems flashed green, and the cursing subsided. Allyson Locke guided the machine through the Force and her inept ability to pilot through the dark clouds - forever leaving Yavin IV behind her.

The ship broke through the atmosphere and entered space, flying faster than she had ever pushed the craft. Time was far from her side, but when was it not? "Bait, take over." Her voice cracked over the comm between the droid and its partner. No response, except the craft switching to its autopilot. "Thanks, buddy." She smiled softly as a hand moved under her nose, wiping away any remnants of blood. A moment to breathe, to process everything was all she needed; Allyson knew she needed to contact Loske after everything had just happened. While the spy wanted to believe what happened to her friend was just an accident, a one-off - the Corellian knew better than to think the Lady of Secrets. Whatever was happening - it was just the beginning.

Placing her hand on the window of the cockpit, Allyson connected her starlight comm. Starlight and its siblings were the most secure line she had, more so than the cybernetic eye that was now deafened and blinded with an eye patch. The window became a makeshift holo call screen allowing the two to see each other if Loske decided to do the same. Allyson hoped but also hoped the Kiffar Jedi wouldn't open a video feed. It was apparent that Allyson was still in pain from the recent fight with the Sith Lord, her face cut and her body bruised, but it was something that couldn't wait.

On the other end, a small x-wing pin would begin to blink, showing someone on the other end trying to contact. Allyson waited, and when Loske finally found the pin, and answered. <Loske, it's Allyson - I just ran into Taeli; you alone?>

To say Allyson’s connection was unexpected would be an understatement. Unexpected, but not unappreciated. <I’m ––> she looked up from the pack where the pin had been stored under their bed. <Hold on.> It was just audio at first, and she ambled to the refresher a few paces away, pressing the connector against the cool glass.

Allyson’s familiar face was weary, bloody and bruised. A trill of regret spiked through her and she leaned in, as if coming closer to the screen would make the marring disappear.

The pleasantries of small talk and old friends were cast to the wayside, and the spy got straight to the point. Almost. Loske just had to confirm if she was alone or not. <Yes –– are you okay? Taeli? Where?>

Relief washed over the spy as she first heard the voice of her friend and then saw her face, although she wondered if it was Loske’s first time using the video function. <Loske, uh yeah I’m fine - just back away a little. I can just see up your nose.> She stifled a small laugh, a flood of simple memories filled her mind then cleared her throat.

<Oh..> Loske murmured, squinted, and then backed away from the mirror to about arm’s length –– still not sure if she had to keep touching the little pin or not for it to be fully active.

<Taeli, yeah. I went to Yavin to get some information - on what had happened and what she was doing.> A sharp twist of the X-Wing caused Allyson to wince slightly as she cursed. Bait’s short burst of trills and beeps could be heard almost scolding the woman. <From what she made it sound like - she wanted you to find some inner light, a trial?> Of course the whole thing smelled suspicious and Allyson shook her head and continued. <There’s gotta be more, it definitely wasn’t a fluke that you were exposed to the --> Allyson shook her head, maybe she had hit it a lot harder than she first thought. <Eldaah, who’s Eldaah and where do I find her.>

Allyson wished her call was more pleasant, she would rather talk about what was new, how life had been treating her friend. There was no way around this - once this was over maybe they could - she could find a way to live her own life.

<A trial..> Loske parroted quietly, reflecting on the splashes of memories from Upekzar where Taeli had established an empathetic link to the fallen Jedi. There had been so much expectation built into the interaction, she’d felt it then, but hadn’t realized the extent of it all. The idea that there was more to this was deeply concerning, and her expression fell into something more somber and pensive. Until Allyson distracted her with another question.

<Eldaah’s part of this again? She’s the Sith Maynard and I hunted on Felucia, who’d kidnapped some of the Wolfpack.> Loske tightened her lips together. Eldaah’s life was still her greatest guilt. She’d stopped Maynard from beheading her and she couldn’t help but keep wondering if all this would have happened if she’d just been less….altruistic.

Never again would she hesitate like that. That part of her had been burned away with the parasite; benevolence had been as much a poison as the symbiote.

<It was her mind I tried to read above Ziost when the Galactic Alliance first attacked it..and how Taeli bridged a mental link with me. She’s some..shadow lackey of Raaf’s.>

Allyson chewed on the inside of her cheek listening to Loske explain things. <Again? She seems to be a crucial part of it. Taeli doesn’t seem to give much thought to her - name dropping her.> The entire thing was driving her insane, everything was a huge web of lies and secrets when it came to Taeli. <I’m going after her. I have a few leads and with the information I was able to glean from my previous involvement with the Empire - a few planets pop up.>

Another wave of her hand, information would appear in the corner of the screen for Loske. Ziost and several other planets would appear and Allyson sighed. <Knowing Taeli though most of these are going to be dead ends. Either way, I’ll search them - when I find Eldaah, I promise she’ll no longer be a problem. Looks like Ziost is the closest - should start there.> Allyson smiled, <I’ll take care of this.>

Ziost was just at the end of the Daragon Trail, connected by Concord Dawn. Chewing her cheek, Loske considered the time it would take to travel there. The mathematics weren’t easy, and she closed her eyes to try to better visualize. In amidst the hyperlanes and stars, there was something more sinister there. Something shaped like responsibility.

<This isn't an isolated problem. No-one person owns it.> Loske muttered. When her eyes finally opened, they didn’t look angry –– just filled with a heroic grief. <I–– your connection to Taeli is too useful for The Alliance. I’m not attached to them anymore, not attached to anything other than this loose end you’ve found.

Ziost is close to us and..if this is something bigger, it’s a shame to admit but..I know more about this Shursia thing..this trial.. than anyone else.>

<Loske…> Allyson started and then stopped. A part of her regretted calling her now, dragging her back out and away from her home. The woman had so much more to live for and yet danger still loomed. Allyson leaned back into her seat and nodded, this was their fight. Going against her gut, the Corellian nodded. <I know. I didn’t want to drag you back in, but - I need your help on this.>

It was an uncomfortable feeling, but she pushed through it. <Just investigate Ziost, if anything bad comes up - call me. I’m going to see if the leads I have on Eldaah are good. Just check Ziost out please - I can’t help but feel I’m sending you into a trap or something. Just- Just be careful okay?> Allyson’s brows furrowed as she hated this, but it was what had to be done.

<I love you okay? You’re the closest to family I got - so you better not get hurt.>

The spy’s words passed through the fabric of time and space, just to project through the tiny speaker of the X-Wing pin she’d given Loske and Maynard as a wedding gift. In Loske’s grip, it slipped – and for the helpless moment of it falling, the blonde’s video connection showed nothing but convoluted interference.

When she managed to reconnect it, the former Jedi swallowed and nodded solemnly. <I know. I love you too. And..don’t worry.> that sincerity stretched across in a grin that exuded the same level of confidence she’d had as a Padawan. She’d remembered who she was now..through all that pain and all that misery. She might have been a shell of her former self, but in the likeness of a bullet-casing. The aftermath of something lethal. An echo of inflicted evil. <I’m doing the hurt now.>

G H O S T
THE RENEGADE | ZIOST | NEW ADASTA OUTSKIRTS | PRISON
LIGHTSABER | MODIFIED JSTP | LEATHER JACKET SANS EMBLEM
I'M OVER THAT, I'M TAKING YOU OUT

​

Despite her big talk to Allyson, Loske couldn’t shake the uneasiness that hung around her shoulders as they approached Ziost’s atmosphere. A sort of haunting that no measure of bravado could overcome through sheer will alone.

Ziost exuded evil and pain, and invoked a sense of breath-blocking indisposition in her chest. Thick and aching, and she looked up from her co-pilot’s dashboard to the back of the pilot’s head. This planet was as damned for him as it was for her.

She’d never touched down on its surface, but she’d experienced all it had to offer through Maynard’s interpretation. Blinded by the fog of war and deceit, everything had been vague and lineless. He’d lost more than his arm here. He’d lost men under his command, lives and faith –– and for a few terrible moments, his heart. What hurt the most was the toxicity of his hatred toward her in the moments he’d felt her façade of betrayal, a vitriol he’d sharpened into a blade to use to cut down all that stood in his way.

Beyond that horrible history, there was the leading dread of Allyson’s implications that whatever they were about to find connected Shursia to something much larger than the one-off experience they’d supposedly overcome on Serenno.

At first, she’d tried to be apathetic. Exercise the newfound choice that it was up to them where and when they activated. Whatever was best for them, whatever was best for Concord Dawn. Revisiting the remains of Shursia didn’t immediately fall into either category, so when he asked what was wrong, she’d tried to articulate the uncaring reaction. Trying distant unfeeling on fro size. But the fit was wrong and easily seen through. It was too tight, too uncomfortable. Too uncharacteristic. It threatened to rot the honour of their quasi-retirement and jeopardize the foundation of their vista. The ghost of What-ifs would leer around doorways, in the shadows, always clinging as a reminder of their terrible purpose.

While they had some element of advantage, they had to use it. Whatever was going on had to end before it got the chance to start and ruin other lives –– or worse, theirs again.

Loske cleared her throat, forcefully pushing past the clutch of disinclination in her person and focusing on calcifying responsibility and ferocity. The little residual beast that Shursia left behind was just vying to exact some measure of revenge. She could feel it roaming about within –– as if it was another untouched void within that flashed a beckoning grin at her.

The Ashlan Crusade has fortified around New Adasta’s walls. Frank relayed, intersecting the comms from their temporary allies. The prison’s security will likely be responding to their presence in some manner.

The irony of the coordination for this assault was not lost on the Treicolts. Much of it was accredited to Cedric Grayson. It was his Ashlan Crusade, his dream, his calling, that brought the (hopefully) final hammer down on Ziost. She felt a nostalgic sort of clemency to know he was getting the chance to lead an army dedicated to his vision, but that was it. There was nothing coordinated between Concord Dawn’s protectors and The Ashlan Crusade other than serendipity.

If anything, The Treicolts were using the distraction on New Adasta to their advantage for a tertiary objective on the planet’s prison.

Allegedly, within the confines of the jail, was a lead. An undetermined number of scientific ne’er do wells associated with The Lady of Secrets. Or..to some extent moderately aware of what Taeli had implied to Allyson about Loske’s infection as ‘only the beginning’.

Their touchdown had been a ways off from the primary objective, the speeders they’d loaded into The Renegade would help close the distance with both efficiency and subtlety.

“Here we go again..” Loske murmured, reviewing the schematics Frank had delivered to her vambrace one final time. The small blue projection rotated to display the external fortifications: Turrets poised to dissuade orbital strikes, guards..the usual. And once they got in, she wasn’t sure yet how many they’d be taking out. Would it be just them, or would these prisoners be worth liberating?

Again and again and again – but this time, it was on their terms. Flashing a wry grin in Maynard’s direction, she repeated the mantra “Together.”

---

---

ALLIES | THE ASHLAN CRUSADE | NIO | NJO | Maynard Treicolt
ENEMIES | TSE | Taeli Raaf | Eldaah Aderyn

 

[Ulrich]

Objective : 1 Judgement Day

Equipment : Plattenpanzer , Kriegertod

Opponent : Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

Breathing in the sickly sweet sent of charred bodies begin to intone the words of a spell. The crusade are using fire to cleanse and it is befitting of such symbolic properties. However this is far from the only connotation that flames bear, for fire is the element of hell and also of punishment. Ashla does not have a monopoly on sin. For the dead have their own judgement and those whose houses and bodies have been ruined by this blaze rage with a fury every bit as hot as that which ended their earthly existence.

" يخرج ميتا ملتهبا ويحرق الاحياء"

And so they rise from their funeral pyres figures comprised of both bone and flame. It was a folly to believe that flesh was the only vessel in which the spirit may inhabit. Should the necromancer be creative enough he might devise other mediums for which to embody his spectral charges. So it was that I had modified the spell. Revenants were my stock in trade. Unlike many necromancers I tended to work with the dead rather than simply force them into servitude, meaning that my servitors possessed a greater degree of autonomy and awareness than a simple zombie puppeteered by nothing but magic. The exception to this was Mandalorians of course. Their souls saw no emancipation under my charge but an eternity of thralldom denied free will even as they had done to me.

The flame teams are the first to notice. With their protective gear they ward off the worst of the initial attack but the spirits of those whom they have just killed are furious and with preternatural strength the purge troops are ridden to the ground, their gear stripped from them even as the bonfires of unlife gouge their flesh with skeletal claws. The Ashlan crusade is varied in its troops however and more uniform squads of soldiers bearing blaster weaponry begin to fire on the animated cadavers.

I instruct my forces to engage. The skeletal forms rushing forward to close the gap between themselves and the crusaders. Some spew fire from their blazing skulls whilst others simply grope with clawing hands ready to tear and rend the fats and muscles of the quick. For my part my attention is taken by the crash-landing of a shuttle nearby my position. I have recently had a brush with force light and ever since this incident my senses towards strong concentrations of Ashlas power have been in something of a hypersensitive state. Still remembering the pain from my prior confrontation I will my body into motion and start to bound forward towards the building into which the ship crashed.

The old mantra replays in my head. I am no beast. I do not give in to my instincts. Should my ID that primordial part of myself tell me that I must not engage with those whose force powers are strong. To run and hide from the searing light I mush quash the desire. I am my own master and today I have made a point to show my prowess in battle. If I am to lead my own crusade on Mandalore it must become undoubtedly apparent that I am as gifted a general as any royal must hope for. This means control and defiance of any inherent cowardice in my being.

The shuttle has struck hard. The building itself was a solid one. Brutalist architecture combined with common but highly stable materials meant that instead of simply turning into a pile of rubble the structure was pierced as if by a great arrow from above. No question as to the shuttles inhabitants the power of the light-side was present and in one at least strangely untamed. Surging to my hindlegs I kicked off wings beating in a steadily rhythm. Taking to the air I hover for a second eyes level with the forth floor of the building.

"Steel your hearts against the darkness"

The elder member of the group speaks as I draw the krigertod from my back. The weapon is a great mace, forged to crush soldiers wearing beskar but it will also serve nicely to demolish a wall and the jedi who even now stand behind it. With both hands I bring the club down exhilarating as the outer layer of the building gives way to the maul which even now speeds towards the lightsiders before it. I don't hate them. I don't feel anything for the lives that I am about to end. But they are what stands between myself and the aspirations of vengeance I have. Should their end serve as a stepping stone so be it.

 

[Amadeus Blackwood]

Eclipse Actual

Location: Asteroid field above Ziost

Engaging: Lilanna Kelamvor

Loadout: Double-bladed lightsaber, blaster pistol, vibroknife

Allies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana , DECEASED Erskine Barran , Cedric Grayson

Enemies: TSE

Part One: Alone in the Dark

Ziost. A planet of death and darkness, battered time and again in the fires of war. There was a time, years ago, when Amadeus would have gladly given his life for the defense of the planet. He would have cut every single invader down if he had to, just to prove himself worthy of the Sith. Had he been the same man, he would see every one of these so-called crusaders burn to ash just for the approval of his master. But he was not the same man...

Amadeus missed the last battle here, when the NIO had lost so many of their own upon the cursed soil. So many brave souls... snuffed out by the treacherous machinations of the Sith war machine. If Eclipse Company hadn't been taking care of Sith incursions along the borders of NIO space, they would have likely fought alongside those courageous individuals that gave their all to liberate the planet from the clutches of the Sith. Perhaps they would have turned the tide... perhaps they would have perished as so many had.

Amadeus pushed those thoughts away from him as he navigated the perilous asteroid field. The past is the past, he would tell himself. What mattered is that they were here now, ready to give their lives for their people. Amadeus was no lover of the Ashlan Crusade; their fanaticism against the darkness meant that he was, in their eyes, a demon of the Bogan. The thought didn't trouble him, as he was used to being an outcast. His years as a traitor to his own people was enough to make him a pariah; something that he wished to atone for. The first step would be helping to bring down his former masters, and taking their home back. If that meant that they had to align with the fanaticism of the Ashlan Crusade, then so be it.

The rest of Eclipse Company had been assigned to the assault on the planet itself, under command of Roland Thorne, Amadeus' right hand. The man was a capable soldier, and an experienced commander. Amadeus had full faith leaving his men in Roland's hands. Amadeus, however, was not destined to touch feet on the planet today.

The intel provided to the NIO had stated that there was a place holding relics of the Sith somewhere within the asteroid field. The Ashlan Crusade wanted to see it wiped from the galaxy, along with all of the artifacts therein. Unfortunately, the complex was well guarded. The shield protecting it, along with the surrounding asteroid field, would likely prevent any sort of bombardment from reaching its target in a meaningful way. Amadeus had volunteered to find a way to bring it down from the inside; a task he refused to let his men partake in. He knew that there was a good chance that he wouldn't come back, and he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn't himself. And yet, that wasn't the only reason...

Something called to him from within the asteroid field. He wasn't sure why he felt so drawn to it, but he meant to find out.

Amadeus finally came upon the hidden station, and luckily, had avoided detection. His fighter was built for this sort of infiltration, and as such, had been able to avoid the sensors that likely guarded the complex from intruders. He would have sent a transmission out with the location of the station, but his comms had gone to static upon entering the asteroid field. He would have to wait until on board the station to send a message out.

He approached the landing bay at full speed. He knew he would have to move fast to enter before they could activate the ray shields. He flew into the landing bay, his interceptor cutting left and sliding along the floor as he opened the hatch. As soon as it came to a halt, he leapt from the hatch, lightsaber at the ready...

Part Two: An Unexpected Reunion

The Leaving Song

Amadeus pressed his way through the halls of the complex, trying to locate the shield generator. His double-bladed lightsaber roared with searing crimson light as he cut down trooper after trooper. The Sith had left this place heavily fortified, with a relatively large garrison of troops. It was to be expected. After all, the Sith clung to their precious artifacts, as if they would lose their very identity with their loss. And lose it, they would... if Amadeus had any say in the matter.

Corpses of those that attempted to keep him at bay began piling up within the halls. Amadeus was no master, but he was a killer. The Sith had taught him everything he needed to know about their military... troop movements, tactics, arms... he knew them all. They intended it to be used against their enemies; against all of those that Amadeus was sent to cut down time and again. But now, in the wake of the wrath of all of those wronged by the Sith, those same skills were turned on them...

Ironic.

They made him into a killing machine. They created this vehicle of death that now plagued their halls. Such violence was where he found focus. His inner peace came from the death of every Sith he cut down. Such would be his atonement to those he had raised a hand against in the name of his old masters.

His blade found purchase within the chest of another Sith trooper, when suddenly, a familiar signature within the Force came to him. He had felt the same energy on Ilum recently, in the halls of the old Jedi temple...

Could it be? No... why would she be here? She couldn't possibly be defending this place... this Sith sanctuary...

Time for a change of plan. Amadeus altered his path, heading toward the source of the Force signature. He had to know why...

Roland Thorne: Eclipse One

Location: New Adasta

Objective: Support the armored advance

Roland took one last drag off of his cigar before placing the helmet on his head. He wasn't much of a smoker, but he always enjoyed one before a fight. It was a method of clearing his head, as well as a little slice of comfort before the inevitable trek into the depths of Hell. There was a tap on his shoulder as he fastened the helmet into place. Turning to the trooper, he tossed the cigar to the ground as he spoke.

"Status report?"

The trooper produced a small holo-map, displaying the battlefield as it currently stood.

"The advance has begun. Lord Barran and his armor have begun deploying here and here. Looks like they're looking to coordinate with the Ashlan vanguard."

Roland inspected the map for a moment before activating his comlink, sending a transmission to DECEASED Erskine Barran .

<<Eclipse One here. We have been deployed by order of Amadeus Blackwood. I hold command until his return. We have been ordered to support your efforts on the front. Just tell us where you want us, and we'll get it done. Eclipse One out!>>

It's a shame, Roland thought to himself, that Amadeus would have to miss out on coordinating with the legendary Lord Barran. To say that the man was a legend was an understatement. Any new recruit could tell you about the exploits of the man, from Bastion, to Ziost, to countless other engagements. Amadeus would have to settle for Roland's regaling of the tale, provided they lived long enough to tell it.

Roland checked his blaster rifle one last time before turning back to the trooper.

"Make sure we're all set by the time we hear from lord Barran. I want to be ready to head out as soon as possible."

The man gave him a salute before leaving. Roland let out a sigh as he looked to the stars above. Their leader was out there... somewhere, being the damn hero. He wouldn't accept the title, and Roland would never bother convincing him, but in the end... that's why they followed him so dutifully.

He just hoped that it wouldn't get the man killed.

 

[Arlo Renard]

Somewhere in the Coruscanti underworld, taking shelter in an abandoned building, Kai raised his head, startled.

<I sense a disturbance in the Force...>

Somebody was... thinking about him? Eh, whatever. With a shrug, he went back to eating a captured drug dealer's mind.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

OBSCURING GLARE
ZIOST | NEW ADASTA | THE NEW JEDI ORDER
THERE ARE TWO KINDS OF LIGHT;
THE GLOW THAT ILLUMINES
AND THE GLARE THAT OBSCURES
HEY, LITTLE TROUBLE DON'T YOU KNOW I BELIEVE IN YOU

​

"I don’t think the planet asked to have the Sith colonise it."
"These civilians are likely ignorant of what their master do."
"And most of their soldiers are conscripts. Hardly told anything. Just instructed to point and shoot on pain of death."​

Ishida sniffed disdainfully at the medley of excuses Battlemaster Tafo spilled out. Always with the words. She'd seen him on Krayiss, reduced to inaction and luring the alleged Black Knight into a war of wits. It would have been a much more efficient entanglement if he'd just gut the woman straightaway, without entertaining her.

She'd had her own problems in that courtyard though, and couldn't have intervened. Which was fine. Laertia Io had nothing Ishida wanted to make into a mask or armour. There was no trophy to be cultivated from that duel.

Nevertheless, each suggestion he gave introduced two descriptors from her, both starting with p and they balanced precariously on the tip of her tongue. Left unsaid: Pathetic and pity.

"Is the victim blaming something Master Sardun taught you?"​

Hotly, her grey gaze snapped in his direction and she tightened reflexively. His suggestion was far from subtle, and with his blindness, the intensity at which he might have stared at her was delivered instead with the richness of his intonation.

Aaran's eyeless glare left her feeling exposed and uncertain, but there wasn't a way to step back from this. Rage swelled up in Ishida's breast, filling her head with heat and fumes. She could smell it like plasmic ozone. Her jaw set on edge, and before she could say anything back (wise or otherwise), she felt a prickle around the crown of her head.

Such was reaffirmed when Aaran pointed up in the direction of the source.

"We have company."
"I will draw their fire. You try and get closer."​

Company?

She squinted up, unable to see with her naked eyes. Such a pathetically mortal limitation. Why dare she try to see in such an average way when Ashla had blessed her with so much more?

Her father would have been ashamed.

The Force extended from the young Jedi. One hundred and fifteen times a second it reached out; fully aware of the echoes of the chaos building at the city's walls, and the consciousness bound within the soldiers on both sides. It knew people were dying, and going to die, but it's consciousness only manifested in the comprehension of the girl that was wielding it. She was aware of what it was feeding back to her, and she was parsing the information to see what was useful versus not. The Force was constantly feeding information of life and death, of history, present and glimpses of the future. The balance in dichotomies.

It hit her like a thunderclap against the chest. Something was wrong with the atmosphere, and she had half a mind to lift her rebreather up over her nose. She wasn't getting enough oxygen. Her heart was beating gast, her breath coming faster.

Realization gripped her throat, building at the base of her trachea and blocking the airflow.

"No.." her voice slipped, and what was shock turned into something more akin to mutual respect and glee. This would not be like Muunilist. This would finish. Aaran had the Force where Bernard of Arca had fallen victim to his own mortal limitations. This was redemption personified, and her eyes flashed a delighted glitter of wickedness. Something wild roamed behind her irises. "Oh..yes."

Aaran volunteered to take the position she'd been assigned within the bazaar, to act as the central distraction and target, and for a flicker of an instant she felt a pang of jealousy. She wanted to be the one to cut down those that dared mark them from above. Such a cowardly way to try and engage.

Ishida swore to get far more intimate.

She'd been denied the opportunity on Muunilist to see the trooper's life drain from their eyes –– she'd burned Ishida instead –– but this time..

For no purpose other than intimidating aesthetic ( Aeris Lashiec had been correct) the Bryn'adûl's jaw concealed her own, swallowing up the sneer that curled at her lips as she looked up in the direction of the shooter.

Imbued with the Force, the youth darted speedily to the right. Then, like a cat, she zig-zagged while tiny feet sailed across the ground with superhuman speed. If anyone were to try and mark her, they'd have to constantly readjust their scope with all her movement.

But part of her hoped the Trooper saw her too. And not just her, but the skulls and ghosts of her fallen Sith comrades that travelled in Ishida's wake. Unholy reminders of the Padawan's power and all The Force could provide. What did their skulls looks like next to hers, floating alongside her shoulders as she ran, ran, ran in the direction of the fatal outcome? The Trooper's final calamity?

Relying entirely on Ashla's direction, Ishida focused on the anchor of her senses –– drawing her nearer and nearer the SICA collection through a series of maneuvers for scaling, dodging, and running. Mostly a lot of running.


ALLIES | ASHLAN CRUSADE | NJO | NIO| Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | TSE | Eva Betrik

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Leader of the Dawn of Hope
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Objective: Protect the civilians and hospitals
Location: Farther from the battle, EE’s camp
Equipment: 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Cedric Grayson || Tags: Arctus Silmar | Geiseric

[ O Fortuna ] ​

Ingrid looked at the holographic interface, tiny probe droids flew around her troops and the city, constantly sending data on how the teams movements and the fights in the city were progressing. Based on the data, sometimes the woman said a short and a quick command. Now her full attention was drawn to studying and analyzing the battlefield. She also learned this in the military, and programmed such tactical and strategic programs to train officers.

However, life turned out for her that she didn’t have to sit in the High Command much in a fighting situation because she was always on the battlefield. Not today. In fact, she also had the charm of it, Ingrid was finally completely able to bind her mind and wasn’t thinking about the myriad issues that had happened recently. Or she didn’t look for answers to the why. Instead, she watched and analyzed the different images with her entire mind, more at the same time. This was disturbed by the voice of one of her officers.

<"My Lord, incoming transmission!"> said the communication officer.

<"Turn on the call, captain!"> she said

The next moment Ingrid heard a familiar voice. Truth be told, she did not expect the man to contact them in person. In any case, it was respectable in the woman's eyes that the man had not tried to avoid the battle, but was present in person, and it is likely he is leading the attack.

"Lord Grayson! This is Ingrid L’lerim of the Eternal Empire. An unexpected surprise to hear your voice!"

She spoke politely and respectfully, but in her usual military and cold voice.

"Lord Grayson, the Eternal Empire, as usual in the Third Civil War, performs only defensive tasks. I have units in the city, near civilian warehouses, hospitals, art buildings, humanitarian buildings, orphanages and shelters. We consider you and your allies to be neutral, my troops will only shoot at your army or allies if they are attacked, otherwise no Eternal Imperial unit will have permission to attack. If necessary, we will also start evacuating the civilian population. After the recent wars, where neither side cared about civilians, all that was needed. Lord Grayson, the entire planet is a war zone. I will be satisfied if you treat us as neutral, as we consider and treat you and your allies. We are not here to seek any conflict with you or the Ashlan Crusade, Lord Grayson!"

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

II
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE
BLUE-HEART BRIGADE

KILL THEM ALL AND LET GOD SORT THEM OUT

OBJECTIVE 1: JUDGEMENT DAY
ZIOST, 865 ABY

Commonwealth Forces: Amadeus Blackwood

Allies (NIO): Noel Strasza Julian Qar Kolson Vrask

Allies (AC/GA/FO/SJC/): Cedric Grayson Sephi Karneh Zark San Tekka Dagon Kaze

Enemies (TSE/CIS): Ingrid L'lerim N Nyxeris Laertia Io

Lord Erskine's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Myles' Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapons: Berach's Brass Knuckles (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry)
220 Cataphract Tanks
32 AFVs
6 ACVs
1 Battalion of Riflemen
1 Company of Combat-Engineers
1 Company of Elite Combat-Medics

The Hell of New Adasta: Part 2 - RUEFUL RECALL

01:19:26 Elapsed
​

Left alone as the others set to work outside, all with orders and tasks to complete, Barran would stare out the front viewports as the saline drip and scheduled blood-transfusion did their work, propped up on a comfortably-inclined gurney as the medical compound's protective walls and anti-air installations were constructed all around the 2nd Brigade's wary defensive stance. Even his trusty crewmen would go for cigarettes and snacks at the Lord-Commander's behest, needing every last one of them to keep their energy-reserves as high as they needed to be; but this period of silence to himself was putting him in the precarious position of drudging up repressed memories, post-traumatic flashbacks and other mind-rending issues in the process of recalling what exactly happened for the later-on events of the Second Battle of Ziost.

'Keep it the-gither, man. Just twenty-four hours o' this, an' it's back ti Archais! Keep it the-gither!'
The death o' yer firstborn's on you, but the rest of us chose t'die like men, Milord.

With head in his hands, emotion took the reigns for a while, solidifying Lord Erskine's loneliness with an intensity he'd never known before; and even with reliable, relatable people that would be around him throughout, that feeling felt like it was drowning him despite the war-torn dry climate beaming light around him, bursting warmth and life through the side and front viewports as his head bowed lower than before. No such sobs followed, only long, loud inhalations, shuddering exhalations and teeth-grindingly difficult attempts to snap out of it. Barran, as far as he knew it, hadn't felt that low since his family were escorted off Galidraan III with bayonets poised for action at his back, but this time it was worse; instead of losing all his friends to betrayal, all the friends he'd made since had either died, shipped-out on medicals or had moved on to spearhead their own efforts with autonomy. This loneliness was something worse than that of the spurned patriot from before, and cut much deeper than Barran would ever dare to admit, but the Lord-Commander was infinitely more glad of the latter, knowing the joys he'd known with these people before fate swept them away.

'I almost shot myself last time, didn't I?'

Almost? The trigger was passing it's threshold when Tavlar's comm-link response made it through, ya dafty!

'Though there's no much opportunity for any o' that this time, eh?', Erskine shot back, caring not if people outside saw him arguing with himself. The flood of emotions was beginning to change it's flavour, drying his eyes in moments as he clenched his teeth using more torque than before, slumping back on the reclining gurney as he glared disdainfully at the Sloane-door's temporary substitution; with the voices, hallucinations and unchecked psychiatric imbalance becoming noticeably more intense as the time alone to himself passed by. Fortunately for Barran though, tempers would cool a little when Yorunarr returned, complete with all of his Lord-Commander's loadout for personally engaging in combat; though the young Novanian understood by the look of the Woad's eyes that the latter had just struggled his way through a rather troublesome manic episode.

'Everything alright, Milord?'

The Hell of New Adasta: Part 3 - WHAT WOADS ARE MADE OF

​

After talking for a while with Yorunarr, getting about a year's worth of hardships out in the open at the young Novanian's request, as the well-armed Lance-Corporal was in dire need of understanding as to what was slowly-but-surely cracking the mind of his aging mentor. Before long, it became obvious that Barran had been cracking since long before then, but was making a great showing of fooling others into believing it made no difference when the bodies started dropping; how the Stormchaser was holding it all together, Yorunarr had no clue, as everything he had been told would break better men than both of them combined. The fact Lord Erskine really did live for combat obviously helped to considerable degrees, but the Novanian had no clue as to how deep that lifelong conditioning was engrained in the essence of Erskine's being, no idea that the training made the Free-State's warriors so difficult to break with lasting finality.

'So many have tried to break us, though many among them claim victory over the Woads, but tell me - what do your Novanian eyes see, Yorunarr? Do I look, perhaps, broken to you? Just remember this before you answer, the war-weary are still dangerous.... Why? Simple! The war-weary, at least, remember how to strike out in anger when it's required of them. You would do well to remember that fact, as would Ajaya!'

The guilt he felt for the death of his firstborn, the rage he felt at being unable to defeat those who'd killed his best and brightest with an air of collective Sith-wielded impunity, the disappointment in himself for allowing such folly to stand; and yet, even with all this self-affliction, the Brigadier-General of the 2nd Brigade still point-blank refused to let it break him, point-blank refused to accept any of it as anything definitive like victory or defeat until Erskine knew the the job had been done with finality. The young Novanian could feel that this determination gave strength to his commander and the other Commonwealth subordinates alike, gave them courage and a curiosity to see if Erskine really could get them home and beyond; and in that moment, all of Yorunarr's concerns were put to rest, silently vowing to aid the Lord-Commander's recovery, and silently vowing to see his mentor to whatever ends the old man saw fit to lay eyes on.

'So what's the plan then, Milord? Can't have you hollering with directionless babble all the time now, can I?'

Laughing away as the Novanian helped him down to the seat by the map-holographic plinth, Barran saw it as a very deft attempt to cheer him up a bit, and accepted it for what it was, patting Yorunarr on the shoulder when the youth knelt down to power the device up, muttering,'Thanks, laddie. I might've needed that more than I'll ever care to admit.', as the entire New Adastan war-theatre came to multicoloured, blip-filled life before them. Kolson Vrask's units were already pushing deep into the broken city as according to their strategic methodology, the Ashlan Crusade were getting quite busy in the eastern inner-city sectors, (giving the display a far of view of the fireworks that were expected to follow upon their own arrival to New Adasta's bone-filled urban districts) and the landings of Zark San Tekka's forces in the near-west of their positions gave Barran a perfect view of their overall strategy. Smirking with an endearingly derisive snort, the Stormchaser looked over the Yornuarr and made eye-contact before concluding,'Well, it's hardly gawnty be rocket science the-day. We've got quite a few heavy-hitters with us this time, an' ti be fair, just like last time an'aw! It's all gawnty be freeform as feth until we're ordered t'leave, Yorunarr.'

<<Eclipse One here. We have been deployed by order of Amadeus Blackwood. I hold command until his return. We have been ordered to support your efforts on the front. Just tell us where you want us, and we'll get it done. Eclipse One out!>>​

'Yorunarr! Jacket pocket - go, go, go! Good! underhand- I SAID UNDERHAND now.... Phew, good pass!'

<<Comm-channels are safe so far, but if you insist - I can communicate through datapad until we link comm-channels on arrival. I've yet to meet Blackwood, so hopefully this sets inroads to meeting Amadeus in the near-future. Powerful New-Imperial Galidraani belong in the Free-State Commonwealth, and your company are no exception to this either. So first I would have you bring your company to our vanguard, currently preparing to push off from the medical-compound due north. I would meet this Eclipse company so they know me not for a fool. Solidifies cohesion, no better way. Blue-Heart Alpha out!>>​

'Must be said! I much prefer seeing that look on your face, Milord.'

 

[Julian Qar]

Medbay Stats

Doctor	Julian Qar
Resident	Hazel
Medical Staff	500
Supplies	100% Stocked
Universal Plasma	1000ml - 60 units
Bacta Spray	20 Crates
Bacta Patches	3 Crates
Wounded	0

FIELD MEDICAL REPORT
Protected Document: █ █ █ B-10070 █ █ █

Obj I: Judgement Day
- - -
Field Hospital | Triage Ready
Medical Narrative

Ready to serve NIO + Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Cedric Grayson | Sephi Karneh | Dagon Kaze | Kolson Vrask | + Others

Bad Guys: Red Boys betta not show up.

☤
✚ P R O P H Y L A X I S ✚

[+++]​

The task at hand would be met with sweat, with hope, with mourning, with meticulous precision like everything he'd ever laid his hands on. He would have wanted to be out there, stand amongst those that carried the Iron Sun on their chest but instead, he did as was expected of him now. He found solace in the fact that he was at least there and not back on Carlac, pacing back and forth expecting someone to send a feed of what was going on. He trusted his team more than any other to be the ones to bring back the wounded, to aid, and to mend...even if the parts that he'd help built were crumbling due to their recent loss. Julian didn't sit on the sidelines with the others, his metal onyx hands touched every piece of equipment, every tent placed on the ground of the field hospital - silently.

​

The doc crept through the landscape one last time, head held high, ebony boots striking with the earth with some confidence he had tucked away. Here he would remain silent, riding on the emotions carried by those that had been there before. He wore their colors today, feeling the energy of their sacrifice power his very being. A black band had been stitched tightly around his arm, their names etched to the underside. He could feel their hearts beating through the rustling wind, he could hear their voices, their laughs with every step he took. Julian didn’t think after that fight that they’d be there again but he wouldn’t stray away from the call to arms at New Adasta. No one could take him from returning back to the place where the original Watchmen became one with the soil.

“Hey Doc, we’re almost finished.” Her voice cut through static thoughts that covered him like a swarm of bees. Julian still didn’t speak, instead of looking towards the resident, he nodded acknowledging her words with that gesture alone. She understood his reason for silence. Today they were honoring the loss of family, giving their fires another chance at scorching the earth they had bled for before.

“Sir, if I may…” A new voice wavered, thrusting itself into the position once held by chaotic yet joyous energy. He was expecting her voice to cut through his coms, make some joke about the food rations and call him out for being ballsy. But this voice carried a different note he wasn’t familiar with...one he wouldn’t grow attached to.

“Speak.”

“The RTs are ready sir, we have our primary para ship grounded, cloaked, and ready to be dispatched at a moment’s notice.” The new coordinator thumbed through his datapad as if looking for clues and notes that would make him better at his job. Julian waved a hand, hoping he got the hint that he didn’t want to speak to him right now. “Good, you are dismissed.” The doc pulled himself away from the bustle of people, retiring to his makeshift office to sit in silence for a few moments.

“You’re worried about her aren’t you?” Hazel had followed close behind him, acting like a shadow that tailed his every move. “When am I not? Especially here...She lost her family here.... I almos' fucken lost her here....Yea, so’s I guess you can say I’m fucken worried, Haze.” Julian peered around the tent, plucking a cigarette from inside his coat pocket to slip in between his lips. He took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs until he couldn’t any longer. “Sh*t never gets easy...but I trus'er. Is the only way any of this can work...Heh, jus happy that everyday I get to wake up to her grumpy ass…I wanna keep it that way." Julian pulled his datapad and the prosthetic eye from its housing, slipping into his socket while he input a few codes to get the uplink started. He took one final drag and dropped the cigarette on the ground below his feet to stamp out. He made one final call, just like he’d done several times before, for what felt like years now into the encrypted channel linked to his wife. Even if she wasn't as emotional as he was.

Noel Strasza
< “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika. Haa'taylir gar Nusujii.”>
I love you, Darlin' - See you soon.

He took a deep breath, brushing aside the white locks that covered his face, and headed back to the central room where all the medics had been standing at the ready.

“I’m gunna keep this short an sweet, cuz after this y’all are gunna be tired of hearin’ my voice. I picked y’all cuz you were the best of the best. Y’all are soldiers just like the rest of them, cept we’re fighten a different war. I need y’all to be alert, be prepared, and fight with all the courage and heart you got in ya. We’ve got lives to save people.”

✚ ✚ ✚​

█ █ █

 

[The Battalion]

Wearing: Warrior's Skin (Armorweave catsuit)

Armed with: Elaine Tear's Lightsaber (Corrupted)

Heart of Edges (Single Bladed Synth Crystal Lightsaber)

Objective: 1

Ession.

She had fought them, and hard. Gutted ten of the damned Witches for every cut they inflicted on her.

They had shot down her Hyperdrive Equipped Tie Reaper in transit over Denon, where she had been going at great expense of fuel to treat a deadly Force Disease that had erupted amongst an Isolated Community, and to preach the word of The Goddess, Ashla. But the Cult of the Brain Demon had been waiting.

Being the diligent Pilot she was, she had managed to crash-land with only minor bruising, She was armed only with her Lightsaber. It had been a glorious battle she had given them, Her blue blade dancing through the heretics, swatting aside a pitiful display of Blade Work.

She had always been blessed by Ashla with a gift for The wielding of a Lightsaber. She had done her best to avoid drawing a Lightsaber unless necessary, so as to not abuse the gift. Today, she had drawn generously from the well of her knowledge.

It would not save her. Inevitably, the injuries accumulated. A blade tip had burned through the back of her ankle, and a punch to the liver sent her to the ground in agony, barely able to breathe.

She knew of their cruelty first hand. She knew there would be no mercy.

Especially when she saw the red headed Witch herself, The creature that would eventually be forcibly converted into the Master of Starlin Rand leered over her in that shiny, metallic white and gold catsuit.

"It seems our anonymous tip was valid. A pity I cannot reward such an invaluable informant." Darth Phyre sneered, gloating over Elaine's injuries.

"Get it over with. Kill me."

"Kill? My so eager to become one with the Force!" Phyre chuckled. "Elaine, my dear, I'm not here to kill you! I'm here to offer you glory! I'm here to induct you!"

"I'll never join you!" Elaine snapped, praying for the Goddess to show favor and mercy this day.

The Goddess remained silent. Elaine wondered why the Goddess chose to forsake her. Had her old mistake really, truly been so terrible?

Elaine lay in the dirt of a Desert on Denon, her crashed TIE Reaper in the distance, next to dozens of slain Witches. She knew, staring at Phyre's face that Phyre had something way worse than death in mind.

"You misunderstand. There isn't an option where you refuse." Phyre replied with a shrug, placing her hands on Elaine's face.

"Goodbye, Elaine."

Elaine screamed in soul rending agony as Phyre consumed her breaking her mind down atom by atom, drinking her life force and the disassembled soul into herself, Elaine's corpse rapidly rotting and turning to dust.

Phyre's terrible power began to reassemble Elaine's torn apart soul within herself, rebuilding it as a complete perversion of its former self, flesh shuddering hidiously everywhere as her face pulled itself off a skull covered by leaking white blood and muscle, the reassembled, perverted soul forced into the detached flesh, now supercharged by The Dark Side into growing into an entirely knew body, infused with a few dozen choice minds from Phyre's own Internal collection, her face rapidly regrowing, just as the piece of detached flesh finished becoming a whole new body, completely nude.

It bore Elaine's guise, but it wasn't truly Elaine, Not any longer.

The creature made from a destroyed Light Side Evangelist rose, smiling a cold smile. The Dark Side surged, and she thirsted for battle.

"Command me, My Lady." The creature that had once been Elaine Tear said to a cackling Darth Phyre.

The red headed Sith picked up Elaine's lightsaber, ancient and skeletal, with an exposed crystal chamber displaying it's blue Kyber Crystal, and handed it to the Sithspawn she had created.

The creature that had once been Elaine Tear focused, and in seconds of forcing the corruption from her body into it, the Kyber began to turn red in suffering.

The Sithspawn activated the light scarlet blade.

"I dub you the Battalion." Phyre said. "Your first official task is to sever all ties to your past. Kill all of Elaine's students."

"It will be my pleasure, Lady Phyre." The Battalion said agreeably as an entourage of Phyre's witches held out a stark white catsuit...


Present...


The Battalion eyed the Ashlan Crusade soldiers fast approaching in the distance, felt the love of Ession in them as she walked alongside Darth Xiphos in the destroyed streets of New Adasta, Xiphos followed by a 200 strong Column of Model 2's, four Century Tanks and two of The MZ-8 Tanks, and dozens and dozens of heavily armed Sith Legionnaires, fascinated by the insane woman who kept trying to throw a wrench into the plans of their Enemies...and many times succeeding.

It felt strange for The Battalion, going up against what would have once been her fellow Essionians. She felt nothing for them obviously, but it's so strange she would awaken in an era that would put her directly against them. It felt strange because of the Familiarity with their beliefs.

She understood them more intimately then she did most Enemies. She knew the firey zeal that burned in their chest, for it had once been her own. It sickened her.

To think she had wasted her time once, attempting to spread their faith.

"They will not stop. They are driven by a Fanaticism that surpasses even your own, perhaps." The Battalion said to Xiphos. "They will fight to the very last, for they believe that if they succeed, heaven will be ushered in across The Universe."

"And people say I'm fethin' crazy." Xiphos muttered. "What a load of Utopian crap."

"Do not dismiss the power of faith, Darth Xiphos." The Battalion warned. "You yourself could never have gotten this far without unwavering faith in your cause. This is a war of weapons and tactics, true, but it is also a war of faith."

"Their faith shall waiver." Darth Xiphos said authoritatively as she marched to the eastern section to Battle The Ashlan Crusade

"Do not be so sure of it. An Essionian is not easily shaken from their savior complex any more than you are." The Battalion teased.

"I do not have a Savior Complex." Xiphos replied angrily.

"I'm not criticizing you. I think it's wonderful you have passion for your objectives. But you're lying to yourself if you say you're not taking this all a tad personal." The Battalion said plainly.

"It's always personal. Every bit of it." Xiphos remarked bitterly.

(Cutaway of Fredo getting shot at the lake.)

"Y'know..." The Battalion mentioned, moving a little close to her as they walked together.

"If you would convert to a true Sith, rather than this strange halfway state you're in, you would command vastly greater resources than what you enjoy now. The Empire would kill to have you truly amongst them."

"I'm not after power." Xiphos said.

"Too bad." The Battalion replied. "Because you will have to obtain power to achieve victory, and break the chains your enemies would place upon you. It is the way of all Sith, whether Dark, or Heretical, like yourself."

Xiphos said nothing at this, merely continuing to walk to the enemy, not yet in range.

"Ah, so you know I'm right." The Battalion concluded from Xiphos's silence.

"I know you believe you are right."

It was not long before they came across first contacts.

"Would you like to go first?" The Battalion asked.

"Oh, please after you." Xiphos muttered dryly.

The Battalion smiled.

"You're a peach when you're so dismissive, my little cracked kyber." The Battalion teased gently, moving forward, holding out her blade, once polished, now worn and scratched. It was Elaine's blade. She had never ceased using it, even after her fall.

It's Light Crimson blade snapped to life, and Xiphos watched, actually...

...intrigued...

(Character Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "Tomorrow Never Dies." By Sheryl Crow.)

The Ashlan Crusade soldiers, upon sighting her, noting her skintight white catsuit marked her as a member of the Cult of the Brain Demon, immediately opened fire, The Battalion sliding into combat, her use of Shien so beautiful it actually made Xiphos's breath catch in her throat and her blood run cold with discomforting lust as The Battalion expertly deflected blaster bolts back upon their source, violently cutting one in half as a field of red energy enveloped her body, allowing her to tank multiple amounts of Blaster Fire as a display of her great power in the Force, hand clenching as she Force Choked a trooper, drawing her to him telekinetically, feeling his Essionian life rip away from him in a fatal instant, lazily batting aside shots to their source, sprinting towards her victims as she continued to be pelted with not just blasters, but slug throwers as well, yet her red Force Armor held as she manuevered her blade around her in swift, yet heavy two handed slices and chops.

Xiphos was dumbstruck at the raw beauty of her skill on display. Damn The Amalgam! Damn her!

One of her large, Skeletal Sons tapped her on the shoulder.

"Um...Mom?"

"What, what is it---oh, right! We're trying to kill everyone! ATTACK!" Xiphos yelled, tearing her eyes away from The Battalion's beautiful, linked blade work.

A Sith Legionnaire passed by her, obnoxiously making a whip cracking motion, mimicking the sound with his mouth as he did.

"Feth you!" She snapped angrily at the Soldier's expert level trolling.

The Model 2's began to flood the streets ahead of her, letting loose seemingly unending streams of weak, yet highly suppressive laser fire due to range, ammo count, and rate of fire, while others let loose on the Ashlan forces, spearheaded by the Battalion, eager to bathe in the blood of her former people.

The Battalion's enjoyment grew with each slaying as she put these fanatics to the sword they intended for her, and she grew more fierce, howling in delight as she hacked and chopped through Fanatical throngs with a cold blooded Darth Xiphos who refused to indulge in enjoying it the way the Battalion did.

At a twich of Xiphos's eye, dozens of the little crab droids fitted with grenades sprang from their hiding places, all crawling as fast as they could to the rear of the Ashlan soldiers as they all focused their fire on the Battalion, who reflected dozens of bolts at a time back on their source, sneering mentally at their gun play, toying with some victims cruelly by slicing their weapons in half. The Century tanks fired into other tanks, Xiphos conjuring a twister of Cryonic blue flames that rushed out to consume and freeze whoever was in their path. Her sons began dying around, her, shredded by heavy fire, and this only outraged Xiphos.

Wanting to be supportive, The Battalion, after cutting down another victim, concentrated, her flesh shuddering as she conjured a large ball of Purple lightning, which traveled slowly towards the offending ranks that had shredded some of her sons, the Legionnaires sticking close to other intact Model 2's firing from behind them as her sons were used like a wall of advancing armor.

The Battalion soon found herself fighting next to Xiphos, laughing in delight as she watched her butcher a people she once would have given her life to save...

Meanwhile, in the North, Model 1's began setting up a surprise for their old nemesis Erskine in the form of Multiple roadside IED's and Sniper perches...

DECEASED Erskine Barran

Cedric Grayson

Heinrich Faust

 

[Eva Betrik]

​

Location: Ziost, New Adasta
Allies: TSE
Foes: AC | GA | NIO | Ishida Ashina | Aaran Tafo

Beneath her helmet, sweat beaded on Eva's forehead as she waited to take the shot. She was lying prone on the walkway, the rifle raised to her shoulder, her finger carefully kept just off the trigger to avoid accidentally firing early. She had killed before, had shot people in the frenzy of battle, but this felt somehow different. It felt like an assassination, a strike from stealth and at range, with no chance to defend against it. That put a pit in her stomach... but then she remembered that her target was the pale-haired Jedi woman, and her distaste dropped away. What chance had her squad had to defend against the Jedi's powers? This was justice.

Snatches of conversation drifted up to her; the two were talking as they walked, or at least the man was. Eva couldn't make out the precise words, but his voice seemed calm, patient, assured... hardly the tone she'd expected from a man walking into a city-turned-meat grinder. But then, that was Jedi for you. Apparently they could be perfectly serene while they hacked you up with their lightsabers. As much as the young corporal wanted to get revenge, and as much as she knew that her mission was vital to the outcome of this battle, she couldn't help but feel a little thrill of fear running through her each time she thought of hunting these living gods.

And then the man looked up at her, straight at her, and that little thrill became freezing terror.

"We've been made," Eva whispered, and by the time the words even left her mouth the Jedi had already sprinted half a block. He was moving impossibly fast, sprinting at a rate no one should have been able to keep up for long... and looking calm, collected, and un-winded the entire time. His lightsaber snapped out, a sword of shimmering gold that could cut through anything, a category which certainly included the SICA squad. Just seconds behind, the pale Jedi woman sped toward them at a different angle, clearly trying to ascend to their position. The young corporal knew exactly how dangerous she was, too. But the pair of Jedi were far apart now.

Who the feth did she shoot at? Wrong answers would surely get them all killed.

Eva's three squadmates - Derenkov, Karalensky, and Lebedev - didn't hesitate to make their choice. They opened fire on Aaran Tafo with their blaster rifles, spreading out across the footbridge to try to open up on him from different angles. Every SICA trooper went through "anti-Jedi drills" to practice this technique. Fanning out not only made the incoming blastefire more difficult for the Jedi to deflect, since the lightsaber couldn't cover all sides of the body at once, it also limited the damage Jedi could do with their Force powers. A telekinetic push could incapacitate an entire squad at once if they were bunched up, but only one trooper at a time if they spread out.

Hearing advice like that had made them all chuckle nervously to each other. Now it was real.

For her part, Eva kept her eye on Ishida Ashina . She told herself that they needed to react to both threats, and that the Jedi woman was the one obviously preparing to climb up to their level. In the back of her mind, though, she wasn't sure whether that was why she took the shot, or if it was the ghosts of Irinov and Kafka guiding her aim. Whatever the truth, she opened fire as soon as the woman came into range, the steady thump thump thump of the weapon somehow reassuring as she unleashed several short bursts at her target. The two-stage "bunker buster" system of the "Force Breaker" rounds saw her misses smashing into, then through duracrete facades.

If any one of them hit Ishida, they would smash through armor and pulverize bones.

Each explosive round also had a secondary effect: throwing out a cloud of material in a small radius around each impact. That material was void stone dust. It worked best, Eva had been told, if it got into the target's bloodstream, where it could sap their mystical powers in an endless feedback loop until it was somehow purged from their system - or until they died. But even misses blew out a cloud one meter in radius, a cloud that acted as a tiny Force-nullification field. With any luck, passing near those clouds - and Eva was sure she was a good enough marksman to at least score near-misses against a Jedi - would disrupt the Jedi woman's swift approach.

If both Jedi reached them at once, even with all the fancy toys they'd held in reserve so far, they were dead.

 

[SF-3335]

Location: New Adasta, Ziost
Allies: TSE ( Eva Betrik The Battalion ) │ EE ( Ingrid L'lerim ) │ CIS ( Laertia Io )
Enemies: AC ( Cedric Grayson ) │ NIO ( DECEASED Erskine Barran Amadeus Blackwood Kolson Vrask Sephi Karneh )

“The Black Knight is here.”

Her commanding officer’s assertion was met with palpable relief as the nature of the seemingly ancient vehicle designs present in the city had initially been a mystery to a few of the arrayed Sith-Imperial armor groups. However, in hearing that they were controlled by the skeletal sons of the infamous Darth Xiphos, it was all but confirmed that once more, the mysterious, yet friendly Light Sith had taken the field, accompanied by her retinue of Nuetralizers, Witches, and Knights. By now, the woman and her droids had developed a cult following, with pictures of Legionnaires and Nuetralizers flooding the HoloNet, taken on the battlefields of Ziost, Generis, Serenno, and yet more. Not to mention, her contributions to the war effort had been publicly acknowledged by the new Emperor, opening the door to official collaboration between the two seemingly disparate actors. While there was still lingering suspicion regarding the Black Knight’s motivations, at a time such as this, the Empire could not afford to be stingy.

The desperation of the enemy, which now included the Ashlan Empire, was apparent in going after Ziost for a third time. New Adasta was now almost entirely reduced to ruins. However Ziost itself represented a crucial artery in the Empire’s territories, which could very well lead to every sector to the west of Ziost being severed from the capital, thereby being effectively isolated. SF-3335 and many other newly-created strand-casts would be the latest to be thrown into the grinder of the war, to either die fighting for the sacred Darkness or survive in order to continue the everlasting struggle of life. Bred not to avoid fear, but rather to embrace it and the associated elements, such as pain, suffering, and adversity, as facets of life, SF-3335 was created to live in the way of her Dark Masters, inflicting and engaging in ritualized violence, bloodshed, and terror.

She knew no other way.

The diminutive Morellian breathed deeply upon receiving the next directive from her commander, to link up with the forces of the Black Knight in the city. With naught but a mental command, her speeder bike howled to life, the turbocharged repulsorlift engine vibrating beneath the fairing before settling into a low rumble. Then, shifting the bike into gear, SF-3335 accelerated her machine ahead, following closely behind her commander’s bike as he led the squad towards the Nuetralizer lines, which were already flooding the streets as they fired on the advancing Ashlan forces. The bikes of Tempest Squadron did so in turn, casting forth white-hot bolts of magenta fire onto the enemy. Before long, SF-3335 scored her first kills, wrought by a salvo of bolts fired from her axial rotary cannons, vaporizing the heads of two soldiers, while punching a burning, melon-sized hole into the chest of third.

As their bodies collapsed in her wake, the mechanical groans of friendly personal walkers echoed out as the agile machines moved to flank the Ashlan forces, adding an additional element of mechanized support for the Nuetralizers.

So far, the initial stages of the battle seemed to be going well. However, looming to the North on the sensor readouts, the Galidraani armored formations steadily rumbled towards New Adasta, as the Sith and Nuetralizer forces engaged the initial vanguard of Ashlan crusaders...

Spoiler: Loadout

• FAE/V-07 “Atroxa” Attack Speeder Bike
  • Modular Gun Hardpoint (4)
    • FAE/W-05 “Kopa Khan” Rotary Particle Beam Cannon
    • FAE/W-05 “Kopa Khan” Rotary Particle Beam Cannon
    • FAE/W-05 “Kopa Khan” Rotary Particle Beam Cannon
    • FAE/W-05 “Kopa Khan” Rotary Particle Beam Cannon
  • Modular Launcher Hardpoint (2)
    • Izumo Man-Portable Energy Torpedo Launcher
    • Izumo Man-Portable Energy Torpedo Launcher
  • Universal Chemical Projectile Launcher (2)
    • Pink Vapor
    • Nagnol Gas