Junction Last Hour | EE/AC/BotM/Empire Junction of Farboon/Thule/Altiria/Tammar (SGHW)

[Elysium Dusk]

​

Post: 2
Objective: Reaper
Location: Outposts, Canthar
Equipment: Dusk Reaper x2 | Hair Sticks (Concealed knives) | CrushGasunts | Explosive Knife | Throwing Daggers | Double-bladed boot | X2 Laser knife | Neuronic whip | Multi-weapon | Smoke Bombs | Morturian energy disk | Echani light armor
Allies: Heinrich Faust | Ingrid L'lerim | Victor Vel Aath | Myri Dara | Aron Gowrie | Tyrell Lockhart | Scipio Kaarz | Bex Tarring | Saul Vandron | Hiran Avola
Enemies: Thomas Barran | Keilara Kala'myr | Kyrel Ren
Tags: Kyrel Ren

​

Her Target only took a few more steps stopped and siphoned the remaining life from his own dead men. Elysium grimaced slightly as she could feel the dark energy steal the life that remained in the fallen soldiers. Though she was a harbinger of Death that did not mean she like seeing or feeling people die in such a horrific manner no matter how corrupted they were. Something feeding on someone's life force was a perversion and cause unimaginable torture. Elysium took in a deep breath as her Target didn't move much beyond that choosing to stand there and wait.

She knew she had to face him, though she had hoped he would take chase so she could wear him down a bit. She closed her Jade eyes once more taking another deep breath. With that she took one step forward and took to a casual pace. She came around the edge of the hollowed out building and her footfalls could be heard as she made her way down the road in front of Kyrel Ren . Her Jade eyes stared him down as she came to a stop about a dozen meters away.

Elysium's red hair was up with hair sticks holding it in place. Her skin was nearly as pale as fresh snow and contrasted against the black Echani armor she was wearing. Here boots were metal toed riding boots. One gloved hand just above her swords and the other gloved hand on her belt ready to move in an instant. She stood there her stance steady and readied for a fight but before she drew a weapon she spoke out to the monster before her.

"Kyrel Ren, wrath of the Maw. Your soul has been Judged and found guilty of acts against the light and Life. I am Elysium Dusk the Reaper sent to claim it in the name of Ta-ree and Ashla. Lay down your weapon and repent and I shall make sure your death swift." It was a mercy granted to all though most refused it and she expected as much from this one. Her gloved hand pulled both her dusk reapers from their sheaths. The cold these swords let off could even be felt at this distance and the swords themselves had urge a hunger all their own.

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The Light of Ashla
Champion and Avatar of Ashla​

Objective: Try to stop the ritual.
Location: Iron Mountains, Panatha
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Iren Tel Alam | Isar | Artas Tel Alam | Open
Allies: EE/AC/Empire | Open
Enemies: Maw | Open

[ Valkyrjan ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Eina was already on the planet when she felt the darkness begin to spread. She reached into the Force to find its source. She knew exactly what the consequences would be if any ritual was successful. The former Valkyrja did not look at the fact and information that she was the heir to the throne of this place. For her, these titles, especially the ranks in the Realspace, had no significance. What was important to her was to be able to protect others. And the others also meant living beings and planets, places.

However, as she reached into the Force to try to determine where the centre of the ritual was, she suddenly sensed three other very powerful Force users. It's true that they weren't on the planet yet, but they were approaching it. If they want to join the ritual, it could speed up the process a lot, which would give less time to those who want to stop it. So Ashla's avatar had to make a decision.

She ignores the three's presence and continues to hunt for whoever is doing the ritual, risking the three joining and running out of time. Or she could focus on those three, try to prevent them from joining the ritual, and in that case, she has to hope that the others will solve the problem of stopping the ritual. In this situation, it was not an easy choice. Maybe neither a good nor a bad answer. The former Valkyrja decided that she would trust the others and that they would be able to stop the ritual. And she starts after the three people.

~ I hope I'm not wrong, Ashla help me! ~ she thought.

However, it looked like she didn't have to go alone as she sensed someone nearby which made her smile. Her adopted brother Heinrich Faust was also present on the planet.

~ Hei, I sense three strong Dark side presences approaching. I try to stop them before they join the ritual. Can you help me? ~ she asked him.

Now was the time to get the trio's attention. She reached out into the Force again and through it she reached out to the three Darksiders, not wanting to harm them, just touching their auras to draw attention to herself. In the meantime, she also let her power be felt everywhere on the planet, mostly in the neighbourhood where she was and the three could certainly feel it and find it. Her aura glowed with a beautiful warm golden light, Ashla's light.

And her strength and actions left no one in doubt that Ashla's Light was on the planet.

 

[Moksh Tel Alam]

KNIGHTS OF TEL ALAM

Location
: Above Panatha

Allies: Isar | Iren Tel Alam | Artas Tel Alam
Opponents: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Open​

In the way that Moksh could seem like other people, so, too, did his days seem like other days. Places like other places. Times.

Moksh shook around the interior cabin, dangling loosely from the safety web, devoid of resistance.

So much like the time you were chained inside the cattle cart, the other humanoids grunting as the wheels beneath negotiated the bumpy terrain, the roaring of the animals outside tasked with the burden of delivering you and the others. Or when you were in your cell beneath the gladiatorial arena, the room shaking with the chaos of felled monsters and desperate acts of smaller lifeforms with no other goal than to survive.

His eyes had seen so many seconds pass waiting in lobby for a bout of deathmatch, then back to the lobby again. His own little Slaughterhouse Five.

It was unusual, however, that the others talked so much. Was this what growth was? Was Moksh growing as a person?

They discussed their individuality, the individualities of others. The Maw. Artas. Himself. The master, Tel Alam.

At the mention of his name, Moksh's eyeline moved from the floor to Dal's eyes, burrowing through them, trying to discern the reason for his bringing up Moksh's "organ failure." He had not realized anyone even noticed, at the time.

Was Dal saying he -- his behavior -- was a movie cliché'? That if the Master, Tel Alam, was more of a monster trope, that he would be alive today?

It was true, the organ thing, Moksh stole from a film. So many of the individuals Moksh had encountered appeared to do the same thing, like there was no perceivable difference between the world of movies and the real life beyond. Which is rational, if tropes did, indeed, save one from their own mortality, as Dal seemed to suggest. Their own little Slaughterhouse Five.

Should Moksh have been embarrassed for being a monster movie cliché? What do you do when your outsides don't match your insides?

"Ha. Hardly what I sound like, Dal," he grimaced in feigned chagrin, alluding to a human frailty and sense of shame that probably didn't exist.

Moksh thought about that first night he was released from the pits. Alone in his quarters, he stood in the darkness, his bare feet against the hard floor. And when he moved, he could only hear the sound of his skin as it peeled from the wood beneath. Silence from all around, not a single sign of life to bear witness.

But he was still there.

He rocked back and forth, listening to it again, and again, and again, and again.

Anyway, he understood why they all talked so much.



The ship touched down and Moksh unthreaded himself from his restraints, dipping off the landing ramp as space permitted.

The land surrounding -- The Iron Mountains -- were difficult, and those that kept their secrets here kept them from themselves as much as everyone else. Like an overcomplicated password of letters and numbers, alternating capitalization and ampersands, it was a celebration of its user's own perceived toughness and cleverness, all the way up until you found that little scrap of paper with it all written down. Moksh imagined there was a shortcut somewhere -- otherwise, all anyone would ever find when they braved this minor hell was an empty temple with all the important stuff moved somewhere more convenient.

Hip to the wastes of Rattatak, he wordlessly slipped down a traversable edge, ignoring what remained of the path from the spaceport.

But then, a beacon -- He lowered his profile, looking to the others.

 

[Sahar]

Sahar|Imperial Knights|Panatha
Tags:// Saul Vandron Kriegan Tavlar

Sahar remained silent throughout it all, standing at the mouth of the transport with her hood obscuring the top half of her face. Fresh off the back of the Tion engagement, having made great ruin of the Jedi and rebels present. Sahar had taught the enemies of the Empire a fine lesson in messing with the natural order of things; her work had been rewarding and had come with the reward of a Jedi's purple saber as a prize.

The Padawan she had defeated was but an example for the rest of the Jedi; she never wanted to kill the boy; there was never any fun in that, only a quick and dull end. If the boy had been a knight, she might've killed him there and then and be done with it, but it served a better purpose to cripple and send them back as a warning.

"Well met, son of Tavlar, it is my honour to be by your side," Sahar pulled her hood down, bowing in respect before gesturing for the young heir of the slain martyr to join her aboard.

"I trust you are well aware of what we are dealing with?"​

 

[Darth Maledictio]

Curse | Darth Maledictio
Shadow Emperor of the Shadow Empire, The Shadow Dragon, One of leaders of the Spear, Nite inner circle member, First Archon of the Primyn Group​

Objective: Perform the ritual
Location: Ritual Chamber, Iron Mountains
Equipment: Lightsaber | Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Writing With: Rolin Doan | open
Allies: Maw | Open
Enemies: EE/AC/Empire | Open

[ Dominion of Destiny ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

["Tsûtji ri idamsiyu, tsûtji wisa iw ri natura dzitmia."] he continued to chant.

Curse didn't stop what he was doing. He felt that there were more and more people in the area, outside the ruins, ordinary people, or even Force users. Yes, the man knew that this act would shake up the neighbourhood and many people would feel it. But that's exactly what this was about. This was necessary for further plans to be successful. Last but not least, Curse was curious as to what the structure he found was good for. Like all Mavors technology it worked very strangely in ways that those unfamiliar with the species and technology could not understand.

This technology changed the person, whether it was the Light Side, the Dark Side, or the neutral path, the Mavors Force based technology and the resulting cybernetic implants, as well as the way of thinking made the user different. This was also partly the reason why Curse never accepted an apprentice from the ranks of the New Sith Order. Only from those who went to Spear. After a while, they knew what to expect from this path. And the man was too busy looking for an apprentice within the NSO. That's why he didn't have one or more at the moment.

As he cast his spell, he sensed the Light of Ashla in the distance as she expanded her power in the Force. An invitation to be here. Which meant he had to hurry. Ashla's power is hard to compete with if the avatar decides to come here to stop the process. Not to mention the other people who will come here. They had already started, he couldn't stop. This road had to be followed now.

["Dradzia, dradzia, sosûtari tu'iyia andijki diâ kûrsosûti kam tuti."] he continued the chant.

The ritual continued.

 

[Artas Tel Alam]

Artas Tel Alam hadn't flown a proper starship in a while, and this boarding craft handled like a pregnant bantha. Iren complained like an nerf herder and Artas Tel Alam fantasized briefly about shaving his friend's head later. But then they landed, roughly, and he stopped thinking about it. More important things to think about.

They disembarked and found bitter cold and harsh winds waiting for them. Dal did drugs to cope. Weak. Artas welcomed the bite of the world. Made him sharper. More focused.

This planet Panatha, had once been ruled by some powerful Sith Lord. Only he must not have been that powerful if he packed up and left to allow two different Empires, the Maw, and some Force-worshipping freaks have their way with it. Only losers cede ground. Only fools take what they can't hold. Artas spat into the snow and led his brothers forward.

He wasn't in much of a talking mood and more or less ignored Dal and Iren's prate, leading them at a meandering, wandering pace. Checked out as usual when there wasn't a proper fight in walking distance. All this ritual stuff sounded like a bunch of hocus-pocus nonsense only a total freak would ever think they needed to get ahead, but money was money. The Maw would provide for them in its own weird-psycho way.

Then he felt it. Artas Tel Alam stopped dead in his tracks and held up a hand to indicate his brothers do the same.

Some Jedi loser was turning themselves into a beacon. He could feel a dull, wretched presence spreading itself across the general area. Like a thin blanket, annoying and wiry. He grumbled.

"Feel that?" he asked. Rhetorical question, of course they did. "I'm going to kill it."

Ten credits a body. Laughable. A good fight was priceless. Artas took a moment to orient himself, turned from the ritual path, and marched more purposefully in the direction of his new target.

Isar | Iren Tel Alam | Moksh Tel Alam | Eina L'lerim-Vandiir | Heinrich Faust

 

[Vaux Gred]

Gear: Modified Trayc'kal, Zygerrian Electro-Whip, Flare, PS-1 Particle Shotgun, Glastros Undercover Armor, Ultralight flight Beskar'gam
Tags: Anashja Tal Silhana Cadera Khamul Kryze Kralmus Orr

Vaux chuckled a bit hearing Sil, but then came the news. And energy spike. That couldn't be good. She'd quickly try to send a signal to warn the those back at the city. The pilot looked around, taking a breath as he thought. Weird energy signatures on a dead quiet mission... she didn't like it. Then the question of her position was asked.

"I should be close. I'm headed your way Sil. Don't have too much fun without use." She then heard Anashja. Maybe the Force be with them. She smirked a bit before quickly starting to move. She needed to double time it to make sure something didn't jump her Vod on their own.

"Hey! I'm a shinning example of being careful.... Just don't ask Mig... or my squadron." While the joke may've seemed ill timed, it was her way of keeping herself calm. She had to admit she was worried though. Something wasn't quite right.

 

[Silhana Cadera]

Silhana Lolaes'ra
Lynne Tal’kira aka Lady Orchid; The Angel-faced killer
Ver'alor (Lieutenant), member of the Clan Cadera; Bounty Hunter, Headmistress of the House Orchid and The Hounty Hunters' Guild​

Objective: Protect her home
Location: Surface, Evaar'la Yaim
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | 2x Beskad | Besar'gam | Mandalorian vambrace || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: EE/AC/Empire | Anashja Tal | Vaux Gred | Open
Enemies: Maw | Khamul Kryze | Kralmus Orr | Open

[ Mando music ]
"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

<< This is all unusual here, so yeah, I have a bad feeling too. Good luck! >> I told Ana.

I didn't add the Force, I know what "great" abilities it can give someone, but I didn't care. I will not be religious in that sense and I will not include it in any sentences. So, if anyone expected this from me, they will be disappointed. Even if they take it as an insult that I'll not say it. I won't, I hated the Force more than anything. They killed my parents with the Force and because of that I became a slave. Whether that Sith is already dead it was another matter. But yes, I killed.

It seemed that there were only two of us left, only Vaux and I headed in the direction of the energy signals, as Ana will investigate the other weird things.

<< Copy that, Vaux. Then let's meet at the coordinates! >> I replied to her.

I was probably closer, so I expected I'd arrive sooner. In the meantime, I also sensed what Ana said. In other words, not me, but the sensors, but I didn't deal with it. Vaux and I were tasked with the other coordinate. As I approached the coordinates, the sensors already detected that there was more life in that area. This was strange, there shouldn't be anything in this place.

<< My sensors detect quite a lot of life from the direction of the background radiation. >> I told them ominously.

It took me roughly ten minutes to arrive at the site; even though the jetpack was quite fast, this place was very far from where I was at the moment. Now the sensors clearly showed that there were many people. And soon I came close to one of the highlands. An elevated rocky place, a larger valley in the distance, with a lot of lava, but there were also many rocks here, or rock ledges.

As I flew towards the direction, I finally saw the people who were there around an area which appeared to be a larger portal. I'm just guessing the portal, but looking through its interface I saw another place. This definitely didn't look good. Even less, the people around the portal were all wearing Mandalorian armour.

<< Damn it, these are Mandalorians! >> I told them.

I flew closer, searching the crowd for who might be their leader. Finally I think I managed to find the leader, a man in red armour who looked almost giant compared to me, wearing a horned helmet.

"Identify yourself and state your intention!" I prompted the man.

I was hoping that Vaux would arrive soon.

 

[Esmeralda Io]

Location: Icy Plains - Outskirts of Canthar Ruins
Objective: Scout Maw Forces on Panatha
Allies: EE │ HI
Neutral: TE │ AC
Enemies: BotM ( Ronar Keilara Kala'myr Thomas Barran Kyrel Ren )
Unit Support: Siren Corps │ Nuetralizers Model 1 / 2 / 3
Direct Engagement: Open!

Panatha was a source of great hardship for the Eternal Empire.

Or so it seemed. Regardless, the small contingent of Nuetralizers and Sirens deployed to the world had been ordered to refrain from engaging with the Ashlans, Imperials, and Panathan rebels, if such rebels even existed to begin with and hadn’t just been conjured out of thin air to justify another war. After it was glassed by the Mandalorians, Canthar was left as little more than an uninhabitable ghost city and had been that way for quite some time. As such, the Zambrano loyalists had abandoned the world entirely, with the destruction of the Iron Mountains triggering a devastating ecological collapse that had turned Panatha’s jungles to ice and irradiated parts of the atmosphere. While the planet could technically support life, the native flora and fauna was adapted to temperate conditions and as such, had been wiped out as a result.

Nevertheless, it seemed that the galaxy wasn’t quite with Panatha.

In the wake of the disaster, the Mawites had wormed their way onto the world via unknown back channels. One of the contingent's objectives for the mission was to find out what those back channels were, in addition to scouting the new terrain, assessing the capabilities of any Mawite forces in the area, and uncovering why the Maw had come to Panatha.

There were too many unanswered questions for House Io to leave the situation alone.

“There’s Canthar in the distance.” Esmeralda said as she used her helmet’s zoom function to take in the snow-covered plains. Having been promoted to the rank of Ultra after Tython, albeit on a probationary status, the young Echani was getting her first taste of independence. Fortunately, there were plenty of superior officers to guide her, but she could not shake the feeling that the rank felt unearned, given the price Rebecca had paid for her efforts in the Avatar of War.

“Any sign of the Mawites or these…rebels the Eternals keep telling us about?” A feminine voice spoke up, which belonged to Melissa Io, a Siren Lieutenant who had fought in Canthar during the Mandalorian raid.

“There are signs of Mawite activity in the area, but I don’t see anything about a rebellion, Lieutenant.” Esmeralda answered.

“It’s almost surreal seeing Canthar so…dead.” Melissa said. “This entire area was a jungle when I first arrived. It was all on fire by the time we left and now it’s…just frozen like an ice box.” She continued.

“I find it hard to believe that anything about this place is worth rebelling over.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out for ourselves.” Esmeralda answered with a sigh. “In the meantime, let’s stay focused on the Maw.” The diminutive Echani said as she pushed herself back onto her feet, before wiping the snow from her armor and pulling her disruptor from its place on her back.

”We have questions, they have answers.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• FAE/A-04 “Apsara” Ultralight Combat Armor
  
  • Gauntlets
    
    • FAE/M-02 Energized Gauntlet Vibroblade (2) - L/R
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner (2) - L/R
  • Undersuit
    
    • UL-14 "Virtus" Class Underlay
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Thighs
    
    • FAE/MDW-01 Active Defense System (2) - L/R
      
      • Seeking Anti-Warhead Nano Missiles - L
      • Pink Vapor Nano Missiles - R
  • B-11 “Greitis” Class Combat Boots
    
    • FAE/U-04 "Phyre Blade" Energized Razor Skates
  • Utility
    
    • FAE/S-03 “Phase Masque” Distortion Matrix
• FAE/sW-01 "Shatterpoint" Machine Shotgun
  
  • 8 Round Box Magazines - 10 Gauge Slug
  • 8 Round Box Magazines - 10 Gauge Explosive
• PbDR-01 N.S.

 

[Rolin Doan]

Objective: 4. Try to stop the ritual
Location: Iron Mountains, Panatha.
Equipment: Two KC-77N Hybrid Pistols - Melee Weapon: Yellowbladed standard lightsaber - Clothing/Armor: Aegis Of The Watch
NPC Companion: Buddy
Allies: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir - Open
Opponents: Artas Tel Alam - Isar - Iren Tel Alam - Moksh Tel Alam - Open

Rolin heaved himself up to the next clearing, grunting with the effort, more and more thankful for his armor. The mountains edge had lots of tiny, sharp rocks he was sure would have dug into his flesh if it weren't for his armor and gloves. The Warden Initiate then closed his eyes, reaching out into the force to try and locate where the ritual was taken place, or at least attempt to find someone who did, be they friend or foe. He could feel it, it was a disease, unnatural, the dark energies forcefully being brought into existence. Rolin was very loathed to make contact alone, but he felt like he didn't have any choice, at the moment. But the idea of facing off against sith, most definitely more than one at once, was rather…unsettling.

"I have a really bad feeling about this, Buddy. We don't even know what the scum are even trying to accomplish here, nor do we know how many are performing the ritual…but by the feel of it, it should be a lot…or just a couple of really powerful Maw scum…not sure which would be worse, really." Rolin muttered, still unsure of where to even go.

<Bwoop boop> Buddy replied, nervously, themself not eager of the idea of being surrounded by Mawites

But then, he felt a presence. One that was the purest example of light side energy Rolin has ever felt. Which, granted, there weren't very many other examples, but still.

Whoever that aura belonged to, they wanted to be found, that much was obvious. But by who?

It was then that Rolin felt three…no, four other energies. These energies darker, malicious, each in their own unique twisted way. Sith, then? Or whatever else the Maw was made up of. They were all the same to Rolin, anarchists that needed to be purged, the galaxy being a far better place without them.

Rolins stomach twisted in uncertainty. He knew that he needed to find where the ritual was taking place, and do his part to put a stop to it…but…

"It'd be suicide going on my own. And we might just be of some use. Be in bad taste to leave one of our allies to fend for themselves when we are free to help, wouldn't it? Besides, still don't even know where the kriffing place is." Rolin asked his droid companion.

<Braap!> Buddy excitedly declared, relieved that they didn't have to go to the spooky ritual. For now, at least.

Rolin smiled, though it was strained by his nerves.

"Yeah, that too."

Rolin then made his descent, to meet with the soon to be converging parties, pulling his lightsaber to his ready hand.

 

[Tyrell Lockhart]

Galidraani Imperial State

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

Allies: Hiran Avola , Aron Gowrie, Saul Vandron , Kriegan Tavlar , Bex Tarring

The trek to the command center had, thankfully, occurred without resistance. Though the DI had taken care to keep their movements quiet, there was always potential for a Mawite ambush, especially in the thick jungles through which they marched. Tyrell kept his blaster at the ready nonetheless, eyeing the dense foliage as they made their way to their Green Devil counterparts.

He entered the tent just as Hiran's final comment was spoken, prompting a resounding nod in agreement from the General.

"Indeed, the North road is the obvious choice. Too obvious."

The General's presence was greeted with a few salutes from others presence, which he quickly waved away as he took his place near the holoprojector. Tyrell would likely never get used to being saluted. He was a Dunwall man after all, a simple civilian that stood against the traitors of Galidraan. Though he had risen through the ranks, those humble roots would forever be embedded within him.

"Good to see that you lot 'ave gotten stuck in. The rest of our forces aren't far from 'ere, and are ready to roll out."

He eyed the projection as he spoke, plotting their path as he took a sip from his flask. He hadn't hit the Dunwall rye as much as he used to. More people depended on him having a clear head, and he wished to keep his mind sharp for the fight. Nevertheless, a small nip did wonders to calm the nerves of the usually fiery man.

"I've been in touch with Commander Thorne of Eclipse Company. Looks like they're not far from our target. They'll be able to cover our backs, should the need arise."

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Tags: Anashja Tal

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

The Unchained kept his eyes on the horizon as he and the strike team continued their push, his hand itching to let the vicious blade of Mandalore's Lament taste the flesh of the unworthy. These so-called Mandalorians lived upon a planet built by one much like himself, the ever-hyperviolent Dodhorn Harert . Khamul had spent a considerable amount of time around her, as of late, taking whatever opportunity he could to glean some knowledge from her. Though he was Mand'alor, Khamul knew he would be a fool to not use her expertise to his fullest advantage. It was her that made this attack possible, after all, and such efforts would not go unnoticed from the Demon.

"Mand'alor, we're picking up a signature not far from here."

His HUD showed signs of a lifeform up ahead, perhaps one of those pesky flies that he had sought to purge from the planet.

"On my mark..."

As they came into range, Death's Hand readied their rockets, aiming them toward their intended target. A few more seconds passed... several long, grueling seconds... and suddenly, with not more than a whisper, Khamul gave the command.

"Fire."

Several members of the strike team let their rockets loose, sending a volley of artillery toward the fly. Khamul let his own rocket loose, hoping to cripple this foe before they had the chance to react. Perhaps the fight would end here, but he truly hoped it wouldn't.

If this would-be vod couldn't survive such an attack, then perhaps the people of this planet had fallen further than even the Unchained could imagine.

 

[Thomas Barran]

2ND POST

LAST HOUR
AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY
OBJECTIVE 1

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

BELIGERENTS
(BOTM/DH/SH Vs. EE/EMPIRE/AC)

Kyrel Ren Tegan Starfall
Keilara Kala'myr Erion Justeene Ronar
Khamul Kryze

Ingrid L'lerim Victor Vel Aath Myri Dara Esmeralda Io
Kriegan Tavlar Bex Tarring Hiran Avola Saul Vandron Tyrell Lockhart Nukth Kelga'an
Heinrich Faust Elysium Dusk

SHRIVEN NO MORE: FEAR THE FOG, FEAR THE SHADOWS - PART 2

MARKWOOD MARSHES, SPIREWATCH FOREST,
CANTHAR PROVINCE, PANATHA (EARLY-SPRING 877 ABY)

'Tegash,'​

Gathered around their young Warchief, the Violet Wolves would be as ready as Ronar for the fight ahead, standing to and guarding the trio of lorded warriors with a near-unnatural level of instinctiveness, holding against the threats in the fog as the Lord of the Wolves extended his hand and pulled the Lord of the Hounds to his feet. Turning to the one he called out for, Ronar ordered,'Painkillers for the warlord, now.', whilst in the process of providing standing support for Thomas, aching and growling as his feet steadied in their boots beneath him as he kept the signets firmly in his scarred grip. The young prospect would hold his one-eyed mentor in place as Tegash applied a sizeable dose in the stim he readied for the task, though he was both smart and courteous enough to leave out the last third of the vial within, a small relief for the fact the Bloodhound knew he needed his thoughts as unclouded as possible.

'Haw, Tegash! You can hold me up for this part, coat-collar should be enough.'

Sluggish though he was, Barran was beyond glad that he could still think straight, or at least enough to keep the bleariness at bay for the sake of the others.

<"If we're lucky, they'll only count on rebellious Epicanthix. Based on my information, the locals rebelled against the Eternal Empire when the Eternal Empress banished Carnifex and Prazutis. Locals revere the Zambrano family as gods. If we're lucky, they might actually think they're only looking for local fighters or Zambrano loyalist Sith. Meanwhile, ours can trap them and get slave-soldier supplies from their units.">​

With plenty on their plate already, the thought of repurposed captives repulsed the one-eyed Woad at first, especially in the thought that they were to be utilised as soldiers down the line; but Barran was drawn to thoughts on the Rhigar colony, thinking that there were many and more uses for them there, though almost all the ideas were of deathly nature. But Thomas didn't have time or effort to spare for the thought of such matters just yet, only enough to consider a place where swathes of captives could be kept throughout the battle as it ebbed and flowed without them, but the Matriarch wasn't finished, more information was to follow the initial response - such that would raise suspicions that would also be kept in the back of the Bloodhound's mind.

Though suspicions often never stay repressed for long.

<"The tiny scout droids track the enemy. However, I warn you that my information may not be completely accurate. The Eternal Empire also uses a lot of HPI products like I do. Thus, the artificial intelligence may refuse to retrieve the information to protect them. Especially the Empress' personal assets.">

<"This works for us in any case, general coordinates work well enough without the added detail - we can approach the rest more carefully.... As we should be in these conditions, the fog is a firm friend in times like these.">​

The Scar Hounds had led the Cirihuts and Scav Kings to victory on much scanter intel in the past, and anything more than that would be considered nothing short of a blessing, and a particular blessing of which the Bloodhound knew they would be lacking for a while, maybe even for the rest of their lives. Such uncertain times for the tribe, and fraught with nought but trials and tribulations by then, it was easy to see that they had all been fighting in the crucible for longer than most, but the looks on all the Violet Wolves' faces were enough to tell Barran they were all still ready and eager for more.

~=They deserve it, yes. They will get it. I… I'm a different matter. You also know that this world, this life, has held nothing for me except revenge. Not without him. The twins will get great parents and be safe…=~​

The one-eyed Woad felt that there was something off about all of it, and though there was nothing anyone could do to change the course of their fates, he knew Mercy's intentions were pure-hearted and protective of her children. A rarity was that of love blooming in times of war, the sort that gave life to living, breathing rarities in their own right, giving more reason to the Serennoan's need to protect them in whatever way she thought was the best, safest way, though Thomas knew that the vengeful path was in no way a wise endeavour to be attempted among the tribal element. The Mongrel, her Asher, was still fresh enough in Mercy's mind that she could avenge everything that was taken from her, and if the solitary path was to be seen as the safer option for the children in the end, then the Bloodhound would at least try to give the children a mother - their own mother and not a guardian as a substitute.

~=But you also know that my place is on his side. It's always been there.=~

~=I never once protested this fact, Mercy.... My only hope is for your children to recognise their mother's face when they see it as adults.=~​

The same way Thomas could remember the face of his own, a face he still recalled with a small degree of loyalty and kindness, even with the actions of his father considered. The children needed a mother, their mother, and through all the bitterness and vengeful hatred, the Bloodhound still understood this like it was the most obvious of universal truths. But thoughts of the future were once again dragged to the present-tense, and the one-eyed Woad was left standing before a host of onlookers, waiting to hear what their Warlord had in mind for the two Tri-Lunars he summoned specifically.

<"Sir, Ronar, Justeene, and not far from you I see a group of Imperial Stormtroopers and soldiers, watch out for them.">​

'It would appear we are being hunted, brothers.... We need to get moving, so lets make this quick.'

Drawing his Romphaia, though not in anger or intent, but in ceremonious, ritualistic reverence of the blade and of the act itself, Thomas looked on the two warriors he summoned, both human-cyborg and Ubese Darth alike with appreciation for their loyalty. To stick with the Scar Hounds, and through their roughest run of luck in their already-storied journey by then, said a lot about any warrior in the tribe; but for those with options outside the Bloodhound's visions for their future, like the ones he had called on specifically, such acts of stalwart, steadfast affiliation said so much more about the likes of Ronar and Superious. They believed in the power of the tribe, they believed in the power of the one-eyed Woad, even in a time when Barran himself was going through crises of belief in one and the other alike; and for this, the Warlord would give his all for their sake, mattering more than anything else in lacking a will for his own sake in turn.

'Ronar, Superious - kneel here before me.... For the merit of your dedication to the tribe, I hereby announce the bestowal of rank and title upon you both. Regardless of other titles and equivalencies, that which I give unto you shall be held with pride above all others.'

As he placed the rings in the hands of their rightful owners, Barran leaned back to officiate with his sword properly, tapping the flat of the blade on the head and shoulders of both kneeling warriors before sheathing it again. The gold signets they were given, as distinct as they were, would be shown as similar to the one resting on his right pinky-finger, though the signet skull on the Bloodhound's ring had been cut and shaped from a blood-red gemstone of sorts.

'I dub you both with the title and rank of,"Magnar", to command entire brigades of Scar Hound warriors where I cannot, and to govern the latest additions to our domains.... Now rise, stand with me as leaders in your own right!'

 

[Anashja Tal]

Objective: Patrol Evaar'la Yaim
Location: Frozen lava fields
Tags: Silhana Cadera Khamul Kryze Vaux Gred Kralmus Orr

Equipment: Beskar'gam, lightsabers, healing supplies, 3 thermal detonators, EF-M401e Rampage, Healing Blaster type A

Spoiler: Anashjas ship - in orbit

The Tal'din

Hangar complements of Læknar-class medical dropships

The Tal aknowledged the reports from her fellows but didn't respond as she was about to receive her own confirmation of the mandalorian nature of her contact. Alerts lit up on her dreamsight HUD of a missile launch and all superfluous information immediately vanished from her view as her suit switched to combat mode. "Chit!" she shouted as a stream of rockets headed her way, her vod also launched their own missiles but Anashja did not carry heavy ordnance to respond. The moment before the missile stuck her she lurched to the left on her repulsors and the trail of the shell sailed past, it would arc back round to hunt her but it was momentarily vulnerable as it searched for its lock. She spun round and fired on the missile with her pistol mount, a few shots later the warhead exploded. One of her vod was less lucky and took the hit, and he spiralled down toward the lava field.

Anashja would have taken the time to say a prayer for him but now they were almost on the enemy mandalorians, <Deaths Hand!> she alerted the other friendlies in the area as she finally was able to make out their sigil. What were they doing here? Anashja pulled out her lightsaber and its boosted varperline blade crackled into blue life just a fraction of a second before they made contact. As they blew past each other at high speed a stream of Death wasps sprayed out from Anashja's armoured greaves. They attemptes to seek out the joints and weak points in the enemy armour, while she herself spun and tried to bring her blade to bear trough one of the armoured warriors. Ana needed to even the numbers if she stood any chance.

<Vod, prepare for halo drop on my location, we have lethal contact> Anashja sent a message to her ship the Tal'din in the hope that they could get reinforcements to her from their position low orbit. The Mandalorians of the Tal clan were mostly medics but they were still skilled and dedicated fighters. Arresting her speed after the two sides had past each other, she took a moment to take stock of the situation, count her dead and maybe even see what the invaders had to say for themselves. She spared a brief thought for Silhana Cadera and Vaux Gred , dreading to think what dangers may await them too.

 

[Kralmus Orr]

​

Location: Evaar'la Yaim, Portal Perimeter
Tags: Silhana Cadera | Anashja Tal | Khamul Kryze | Vaux Gred

​

"Identify yourself and state your intention!"

Kralmus's head snapped up at the sound of the shout, and the accompanying roar of a jetpack in motion. When he found the source of the sound, he let out a bark of harsh laughter. A lone warrior, clad in pink-trimmed Mandalorian armor, had flown over to investigate the Death's Hand position. The cannibal looked at the team of savage supercommandos who stood beside him, guarding the portal, then back at the solitary figure who had confronted them. "Not sure you're in a position to be making demands," he finally replied, stepping forward to address her. "See, there's a lot more of us than there are of you." The other Death's Hand warriors chuckled.

When the laughter had subsided, Kralmus let out a long, theatrical sigh. "But I suppose I can indulge you, since it'll be your last request. My name is Kralmus Orr. I'm here to kill people. And I'm going to enjoy it very, very much." The vicious Maw-dalorian activated his jetpack, slowly rising off the climate-ravaged ground and ascending to the same level as Silhana. "Since you're not supposed to know that we're here just yet," he told her, an unpleasant, hungry eagerness in his voice, "I think I'll start with you." In one smooth motion he unslung his colossal axe from his shoulder, wielding it in both meaty hands. Its haft was a meter and a half long.

The bottom of that haft was sharpened into a vicious, armor-piercing spike.

Angling himself so that he was pointed right at Silhana, Kralmus kicked his jetpack over from hover mode to a high speed burst. The cannibal rocketed toward the intruder, and as he charged through the air he moved the axe around so that the bottom spike pointed right at her chest. Wielded this way, the weapon was more like a spear... one capable of punching through even beskar if there was enough force behind it. And a jetpack provided a lot of force. Kralmus didn't really expect to end the duel instantly, as an impalement surely would; any warrior worthy of the title Mandalorian would not be so easily felled. But if he could wound her early, that would give him the advantage.

He was just playing with his food, really. She was outnumbered, alone against the whole commando squad.

But he was bored with guard duty, and a good fight would help alleviate that boredom.

So would a nice feast of succulent Mando meat, cut right from bone.

In his helmet, Kralmus drooled a little.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Lao-mon, Hypergate Entrance
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr

The Brotherhood's subversion of Omni's hypergates was brilliant...

... but it was hardly a foolproof strategy, or one to solve all their problems.

Though entire Mawite armies could pass through the Lao-mon gate, and had on several occasions, fleets were quite another matter. All of Omni's techno-spiritual portals were located on the surface of the planets that the Droid God had chosen, and none were large enough for a Star Destroyer to pass through even if the ship had somehow been able to crawl along the ground. For operations like the invasion of Teta and the assault on Tython, that hadn't been a problem; both planets had been within striking range of Mawite bases, so the hypergates had only been used to open a second front on the ground.

But the entire point of using the Bakuran gate was to strike deep into the heartland of the Eternal Empire, behind their powerful defensive line at Quethold and Odessen. The planet was many sectors away from Mawite territory, and a single hyperjump wouldn't be sufficient to reach it and link up with the Brotherhood ground forces. This was a significant logistical hurdle; without fleet support, the Maw could only ravage the individual planet where the hypergate took them, rather than launching the sustained campaign of pillaging they needed to rebuild their ravaged war machine and keep up the fight.

Fortunately, Tu'teggacha was something of a logistical genius.

The solution had been hyperspace beacons. The forces entering the portals at Evaar'la Yaim and Bakura each carried powerful navigational signaling devices, which emitted unique signatures that Mawite instruments were specially tuned to follow. From there, the fleet could undertake a dangerous journey along half-charted hyperlanes. Starting from the Mawite outpost at Durace, they would swing wide of Odessen and skirt the edge of the galaxy itself, getting into position for a direct jump past Zakuul and toward Evaar'la Yaim. From there they would be in the perfect position to jump to Bakura.

Panatha was midway along that last section of journey...

... and there would be assembled all the leaders of the Eternal Empire.

If all went according to the Dark Voice's plan, Darth Mori's fleet - and the powerful agents who accompanied it - would decapitate the Eternals at Panatha... just as the Brotherhood had decapitated the Chiss Ascendancy more than a decade earlier. Slaying the Empress and her most trusted commanders would throw the Empire into chaos, leaving its worlds as easy pickings for the Maw's raiders. As the Taskmaster watched the vicious tribesmen lug their treasured nav beacon through the portal, ready to be deployed upon Bakura's surface, that was the future he looked forward to: an age of plunder.

All they had to do was kill everyone in their way.

~ We are both experienced in technical fields, ~ Keilara said, ~ but not with people. ~

It was true. Both of them knew how to fix things, but they were at a loss when it came to living, breathing beings. Perhaps that was part of why they got along so well. They thought in much the same way, finding logical solutions along linear paths, going through their lives in the same way they went about their work - carefully, systematically, analytically. But Mercy wasn't receptive to their way of solving problems. Wrapped in a deep depression, lost in her own pain, she had no interest in being reasoned with. A simple "pros and cons" list was not enough to convince her that life was still worth living.

Keilara raised the possibility of postpartum depression, and Kallan couldn't help but sigh. That was another thing he didn't know how to help with... and one more reason to be depressed might push Mercy over the edge. He was a man, and so he knew he could never fully understand what it was like to have another life growing inside one's body, nor the sense of loss many women felt when that life was born. But he knew that it was a very real feeling, and it worried him. Mercy was not his wife, but they were both parts of the same mind. If Mercy ceased to exist, all of them would be... less, somehow.

Keilara spoke of a special bond, one she'd half-felt while Mercy and Asher had shared it, something so powerful that the two of them became - in some strange way - joined like a single soul. That was what Keilara wanted from him, too. When Kallan thought about that, though, he found that he was frightened. To truly share everything... to him it sounded almost like giving up one's self, surrendering one's individuality. For a long, long time he had existed only as a few ragged shreds of memory in the back of The Mongrel's mind, the last remnants of a personality that the Maw had almost burned out of him.

Now he was an individual again... sort of.

He still only existed in the back of someone else's mind.

But he did not want to disappoint his wife, the person who was the only reason he had ever begun to come back from the edge of oblivion. ~ I would do anything for you, ~ Kallan told Keilara, and it was true. Gently he brushed away the tears that had trickled down her cheek - tears that had no physical mass, existing only here, within her realm of woven thoughts. ~ I don't know how to give you that, a bond in the Force. The Force never made any sense to me. But whatever you ask of me, I promise I'll try. ~ He had faced many frightening things in his life. For someone he loved, he could face one more.

 

[Ronar]

Objective: Accompany the Bloodhound
Location: Markwood Marshes, Spirewatch Forest, Canthar Province, Panatha (Early-Spring 877 ABY)
Allies: BOTM/DH/SH - Thomas Barran Erion Justeene Keilara Kala'myr
Enemies: EE/Empire/AC - Esmeralda Io
Loadout: Bloodreaver vibroaxe, cortosis sword, SHT-07 "Hound" armor, HH-38 "Geysa" hybrid pistol

Ronar stood firm beside his warlord, helping him maintain his balance as Tegash readied his stims. For a moment, Ronar felt a flush of a strange feeling. Aiding a comrade to their feet was nothing new; amongst his tribe, it was damaging to lose even a single warrior, much less one of the Bloodhound’s caliber. And yet, as mechanical and ingrained as the action was, Ronar’s heart was still, for some reason, twinging. He shook his head slightly as Tegash drove the needle into the Bloodhound’s arm through a gap in the armor. Ronar didn’t care for anyone, or anything. He was a merciless, indestructible weapon, forged in the fires of a lifetime of war.

“Haw, Tegash! You can hold me up for this part, coat-collar should be enough.”

Ronar released the warlord’s arm, perhaps a little too quickly, though not so overt that it would be noticed. As Tegash helped the Bloodhound, Ronar masked his sudden feelings of confusion by drawing his Geysa pistol and checking the charge. What had that feeling been? Just moments ago he had been entertaining thoughts of usurping the Bloodhound. Now, he was concerned about his well being. Not even his own father had ever expressed such a feeling towards him. Warriors were valuable, yes, but they were still merely tools. Once they were used up, they were discarded.

As the Bloodhound and the Matriarch spoke via the communicators, Ronar’s eyes narrowed behind his faceless mask. Such feelings had never been a problem before Ronar had sworn to the Bloodhound. Now, they were cropping up more and more with each passing day. His eyes flickering to Dawi, Kellain, and Hornath, Ronar realized that he held the same feelings towards them. He acted like he didn’t care, and could toss away his Wolves like chaff in the wind should the feeling suit him. In truth, however, he didn’t want them to suffer even a simple wound. They had been through so much in such a short length of time. They were brothers now, but not like the ones that had jostled and fought with Ronar for position in their father’s court, but like real brothers, brothers who would die for one another without question.

Ronar’s eyes narrowed more as his lips drew back into a snarl. It was the Bloodhound. This was his doing. Somehow, some way, he was toying with Ronar’s mind. That incredible power of his, that implacable heaviness that, even despite his injuries, still lay on Ronar’s consciousness like a fur blanket. It was warping him, making him soft.

Making him weak.

Ronar’s first instinct was to take the pistol in his hand and fire it right through the Bloodhound’s faceplate. Do what he should have done days ago in the medical bay, following his father’s lessons and taking his rightful place as the warrior of all warriors. The longer and longer he spent in the Bloodhound’s presence, the more and more the honed edge of his viciousness grew dull. He had to act now if he wanted to remain the fierce wolf that he had always been, and not simply become an obedient dog at the end of the Bloodhound’s leash.

His finger tensed on the trigger. His body started to move…

'It would appear we are being hunted, brothers.... We need to get moving, so lets make this quick.'

Brothers.

The word resonated across Ronar’s mind like ripples in a pond. His body went nearly slack, all the tension draining away as the feelings of anger and rage passed away like a shadow. How could this have happened? How, in such a brief speck of time, could he change so greatly? Even when his rage was at its peak, even when he had the greatest of opportunities, he could not do it. He could not bring himself to kill a brother. The Bloodhound spoke again before he could make sense of this labyrinthian discovery.

'Ronar, Superious - kneel here before me....”

Ronar wanted to scream a negative. Wanted to shout in the Bloodhound’s face that he was done kneeling, done serving. He was a warrior, a man of power and strength. He would kneel to no man, not any longer. But still, his body betrayed him, robotically going to the ground before his warlord.

“For the merit of your dedication to the tribe, I hereby announce the bestowal of rank and title upon you both. Regardless of other titles and equivalencies, that which I give unto you shall be held with pride above all others.”

So, here it was again. Another title from the Bloodhound. As brutal cynicism entered the fray to try and overcome the rampant confusion, Ronar wondered what it would be. Maybe he would be stuck guarding some priceless treasure, told how much of an ‘honor’ it was as he was stuck beyond the battlefield for the rest of his days.

“I dub you both with the title and rank of, ‘Magnar’, to command entire brigades of Scar Hound warriors where I cannot, and to govern the latest additions to our domains.... Now rise, stand with me as leaders in your own right!”

The words struck Ronar like a cannon shell. Anger and confusion were blown away, replaced by utter bewilderment. It had been one thing when the Bloodhound had given him a command, making him for all intents and purposes a warchief. Such a position had been highly valued amongst his former tribe. To have command over one’s own troops, and the respect and confidence of the warlord to boot, gave one opportunities far beyond that any normal warrior could achieve. Becoming a warchief was a fast track to riches, status, and further advancement.

What Ronar had just been given, sealed by the signet ring slid onto numb fingers that he no longer had any control over, made the first position look paltry in his eyes. What the Bloodhound had done was more than just an increase in rank. With thousands of warriors at his command, and governance over his own domain, Ronar was a warchief no longer.

He was a Magnar; in his own eyes, a true warlord.

In a matter of less than a year, simply by his own skill and capabilities, Ronar had advanced to the highest position his former tribe had known. The fact that it had only happened because of the Bloodhound’s beneficence paled in comparison to the fact that he, a low born son, never meant to command more than a raiding party, had done the impossible. He had surpassed his father. He, a low-born son, had become a warlord.

All the thoughts of before melted away as pride and accomplishment swelled in Ronar’s breast. His eyes were widening, mouth pulling from a snarl to a smile. Such a moment required celebration. It required days of feasting and dancing and drinking. It required blood to be spilled, to christen the new warlord and begin his reign on the best footing possible. The feasting and merriment could wait, but Ronar was aching for the blood.

Drawing Bloodreaver, Ronar stood before the Bloodhound.

“The Wolves are ready,” he said, “Unleash us.”

 

[Saul Vandron]

F I S T _ O F _ T H E _ E M P I R E
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION \\ ENIGMA PLATOON
LAST HOUR
EMBRACE OF DARKNESS
Kriegan Tavlar | Sahar

Saul did not contest the young Lieutenant's authority, opting to remain silent and allow Kriegan to fully handle the ropes of the 501'st sole element here -- the heir's own Enigma Platoon. In time, the general hoped, Tavlar would command not merely a legion -- as elite as the 501st was -- but a whole Empire. The more he learned, the more he survived, the less burden the crown would one day be.

It was clear as day the lieutenant had been long itching for a scrap, for that sweet rush of adrenaline; that one percent of a soldier's life to overcompensate for the remaining ninety nine of utter boredom and mundane repetitiveness. The diplomatic skills the lieutenant had absorbed, willingly or not, during his deployment here in Eternal space would some day reap awards his father had never really ever sowed. Kriegan didn't need to like it -- he simply had to know how to do it.

"Knight." the half-black, half-orange helmet neutrally acknowledged the hooded Imperial woman as the troopers stepped unto the open-hatch gunship. Ever since Tavlar had been assassinated by a Force user, the general's own disposition towards any force sensitive had become extremely wary. Let alone the recent altercation of butting heads with Tamna Korvan , an inquisitor of the Knights Order.

"As much as I long for a good fight..." the warrior began, his gaze turning to Kriegan. "... we are on foreign land in foreign stars." the implication was subtle, quite indirect and maybe not as easy to perceive. Saul was reluctant to spill Imperial blood for others. Even if it was against the galaxy's apocalypse made manifest - the Maw and their masters the New Sith Order. Irveric had once thrown them in every battle, everywhere. Wherever the enemy was, the Bush Demon of Archais was there. The bill of Imperial lives was on the table of other states such as the Alliance and they had refused to pay. Time for others to bleed first. And bleed good. ​

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Freedom | Anonymous
Mongrel's Shadow and his widow; Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe; Guardian of Mongrel's armour and sword​

Objective: Help the Maw forces with intelligence information | Continue to rebuild the mental defences and the mind palace.
Location: Surface, Panatha
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Writing With: Tu'teggacha (and as Kallan) | Thomas Barran | Closed
Allies: Maw | Ronar | Erion Justeene | Open
Enemies: EE/AC/Empire | Esmeralda Io | Open

[ Come back… ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
​

~ Mercy ~
It was becoming more and more like talking to Asher on the battlefield and during battles. Both on the communication line and telepathically. I knew he would never have allowed me to be here on the planet or anywhere near it in this condition. I should have stayed in Exegol. Everything was different with Barran than with my husband. Asher and I flirted during the telepathic conversation, planning what we were going to do together after the fight. I wanted him to be here, to be here again. My mind had more personalities than before, yet it all felt cold, empty, and frozen.

I was missing the part that wasn't there anymore, that my mind couldn't connect to Asher's mind. Even if we weren't talking, it was enough to glance sideways in the corner of my eye and I knew he was there. Our house was empty now, everything in it was unintelligible, as we had built it together, but empty and dead. I'm still waiting, still waiting every moment for it to appear there, that this is all just a nightmare in the life we've lived. That I'm about to wake up next to him. And we'll continue our life together.

~ They will recognise, but she won't be me, she'll be Keilara. Just as there is not just one personality in your mind, neither is there in mine. Keilara is the original personality, she owned this body. She will take it back. She and… she will raise them. They essentially stay with their mother. I do not desire the death of my physical body, Thomas. Just my soul's, for that part of who I am. ~ I told him.

I almost said that Asher isn't completely dead either, his original personality, Kallan, was still alive. He survived Tython, I saved him in my mind. Keilara's existence is one thing, since Ziare was known to Tu'teggacha, but Asher and Kallan; they were another matter. The fact that he survived could never be revealed. They would hurt him again to recreate Asher. But that wouldn't be my husband, and I didn't want Kallan to be hurt again. And I didn't trust Barran enough to share this information with him. I didn't trust anyone that much.

~ At least you get rid of me, you'll be free from my presence. That's what you want anyway. ~ I said bitterly.

This was a fact from the first moment. Meanwhile, I continued to look at the monitors and the data to see what I was seeing, what the droids were sensing. Another group.

<< I see another group of enemies to the east near Canthar, this is an Eternal Imperial group, maybe with House Io help. >> all three men received the radio message again.

It seemed like the fighting would start soon, then my time would come…

~ Keilara ~
Normally, Mercy thought like me, or Kallan, or Asher, which is why we made such a great pair. Kallan and I, and her and Asher. All four of us were similar to our chosen one. Very. Maybe that was the reason why we were together and fell in love. Sometimes I wondered if it would have been the same even if we hadn't met under these circumstances. I liked to think what Kallan had said on Tython, that he would have noticed me anyway, despite the age difference. I liked to think I would have done the same.

One of the "advantages" of a common, shared mind and empathy that I inherited from Ziare is that sometimes I can sense what others are thinking or feeling. Now I felt the fear from Kallan after my request. I didn't want him to think that or feel that. After all, there was nothing scary about it, it was just beautiful. Maybe I should show him what it's like? I could have conveyed the feelings to him. How Asher and Mercy felt when it happened. It was about trust and love. Even in the form the two of them achieved on Tython.

I moved closer to him, if he let me, then I took his hand and intertwined my fingers between his while I leaned my forehead on his and looked up at him like that.

~ In the lack of Force, it will not be like for the Force users, we will not be one in the Force, others will not feel us as the same person, same aura there; we remain completely ourselves. Even in the Force, the point of this is not to give up ourselves, nor here. If you accept, we could know each other like no other. We will know what he feels, how he thinks, it will be easier for us to understand each other just with movements. You will not only know that I love you, but you could also feel how much and how I feel myself due to this feeling, just as I do, what you feel. It is mostly a symbiosis, between two people, two souls. We would complement each other, we would make each other more complete, while remaining ourselves, we could draw strength from each other. But if you're afraid, I won't force it. It's mutual, and I don't want to force my will on you. If you don't want it or feel like you're not ready, I'll wait until you feel you want it too and you are ready. ~ I said kindly and smiled at him. ~ It is based on mutual trust and love. But I'll accept it if you're not ready for it, or if you're afraid of it and don't want it. I also don't want you to say yes just because I want it. ~

After all, he knew how much we worked so that he could be himself and not only do what I want, but also make independent decisions, even if it is the opposite of what I want. And this was right.

~ I can show you in pictures and feelings what you can expect if you decide to say yes. Maybe that would be best, it might help you see the possibilities better. ~ I offered him.

I wanted him to know the options, what to expect. I didn't want him to agree just because of me. After my words, I smiled encouragingly at him again.

~ And whatever your final decision is, please let it be your decision, not let my feelings or my longings influence you. ~ I asked him for this.

And if he accepts the offer, I will convey images and feelings to him about what it was like when their minds were completely connected and entwined, how they felt and saw each other's feelings and thoughts. How they made each other more complete, how wonderful feelings those were, what they could offer each other in this state, but they were completely themselves. And yes, it included that part of why Mercy now felt her situation was hopeless. What she lost, how lonely she became and what a wound it left in her that Asher is no longer there with her...

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Location: Canthar, Outposts
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Elysium Dusk
Equipment: The Hunger, Kyrel's Armor, Necrochasis, Lightsaber

Nothing had excited the Wrath more than conflict. He had been a man of war for many years, he hunted and slaughtered his enemies. Now his enemies were approaching him both him and he was all too ready for it. He could feel a stirring hunger similar to the spear in his hand, and wondered what this fight could possibly bring? There was an eerie silence between the crackling of the fiery spear that drained him continually. His instincts were screaming for him to go after the kill, but he would not move only observing who approached closely with each passing second.

Finally, after there was only silence the stranger approached. It wasn’t a man but a red head in black armor. Her eyes themselves were staring daggers at him while his own gaze was stoic, pensive. The hunger he felt wasn’t from her, but instead he felt it coming from her weapon. He raised an eyebrow in curiousity as he was quick to study his new adversaries. He remained silent in his stonewalled stance. Not moving with his spear in hand. Even standing not far from her the hunger would mix with his own adding to the tension.

When she spoke, she spoke with a certain tone that thought Kyrel could be stopped so easily. As if he was being put on trial, and she was judge, jury, and executioner all the same. The thought only made his blood boil just the same. He scoffed at her words his grip on the spear tightened and he responded in kind. “Who are you to judge me… By what right do you have? Hell has no room for me, I cannot die… If you expect me to lay down my weapon you are mistaken.” He finished by pointing the unstable forked tip of the Hunger towards her. Gritting his teeth, his arm tensed as he glared at her with a scowl soon the draining fury of the Hunger shot out in a crimson beam aimed in an attempt to suck the Force from her.