Skirmish Lightning Strikes Twice [NIO vs TSE]

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

// Legion Commander Voi'kryt //
// Objective : Boarding (Tea?) Party
// Location : Veroleem Space, Vodvtaki, Ship Hangar
// Focus : Adriana Fortemps @Nearby Friends & Enemies!
// Thematic : No Bullets Fly

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You couldn’t spit without hitting a black clad Legionnaire, heat on the air as the strike force pushed across the hangar bay. The breach was initially successful at least as the troopers fanned out through the violence; the stray soul falling under fire. Through the haze, the woman witnessed Warchief Waddles , the bloody Mandalorian making a crushing spear head. the colossus of a man drawing a scoff from her. Racing forward-the initial charge had devolved into close quarters within seconds as it became a fight for the first leg in. Vibroknives and heavy gauntlets thrown amidst the barrages. Lyra dropped, knee plates scatting and scraping. The thrusters on her boots sputtered with fire as she slid low past the arms of the loose line of S-IMPs. Her rifle rattling in her arms as she held the trigger down mercilessly, dumping her final shots into the nearest Legionnaire. The grating noise mixing with the repeat blaster over the audio receptors

Searing bolts dogging down their advance, bolt clipping her shoulder and she hissed as her arms burned. Lyra hailed the fire teams forward with one call. A heavy repeater drowned out her audio on her right as the Heavy Squad followed up; cutting a swath through for the fire teams. Black demons falling under fire as their boots thrummed against the durasteel, grey blast plate floated in her peripheral vision-friendlies. One eye minding the field the other trying to keep track of her own hide. Chest heaving, Lyra ducked beneath ebony hands, descended upon by Legionnaire.

Lyra let the rifle loosen from her grip, A.I. flashing across her HUD warning her of the overheating. Strap catching on her arm as she hauled it with the momentum over her shoulder.. A clip of eighty-five spent in the first scattering, her hand dropping to her hip to produce the Durin pistol. A thermal erupting ahead, chatter passing over the comms as she wrought the trigger hard. Lyra’s eyes flickering across the screen as she jammed the pistol between herself and the Legionnaire, delivering two quick shots in succession. Dumping two pot shots into the man’s gut before they could seize her.

Throwing herself unto the next S-IMP advancing, they were endless, contact read across the screen. The soldier looming over her, and before she could react Lyra caught a weighted boot to her shoulder. The kicking jarring, a sharp ache blooming in her shoulder as she stumbled back from the force. Lyra forced herself to roll with the hit over the hangar floor. Hitting the steel hard, armor creaking as she raised her helm to catch the soldier raising to fire on her. Red swarm passed her screen as she pushed herself back, tibanna on the air as several shots dotted the cold floor before her; too close.

A healthy dose of adrenaline coursing through her veins; mind slipping back in to blank concentration.

Lyra pushed herself with one hand back on the ground the other leveling the pistol as she unloaded three shots blindly into their visor; recoil snapping against her wrist. Cathartic. Black steam rising from the charric wounds, the Legionnaire body crumpling as she hauled herself back up. The space was too wide, overwhelming them was the only outright tactic. Alarms wailing, the lower hangar a mismatch of explosion-the invading forces weaving between what cover there was. Lyra locked on the main blast doors the Legionnaires held. Phantom clad reinforcements ducking in-

<”Demo Lads focus the blast doors, don’t let them roll in any more support-all fire teams focus mop up,”> Lyra ordered, comms crackling as she broke out into an all out sprint across the hangar; bolts whizzing past in the chaos. They needed to keep moving, press the advantage.

Lyra raised her blaster, firing off the stray shot as she picked out cover from an overturned loader, smoking from the fireworks. Pressing her backup against the cart as she snapped the pistol back on her hip, retrieving out a fresh powercell and hauling her rifling back into her arms; reloading. The final click her signal, the briefest second serving for her to catch her breath. The woman rose back up, drawing a line of fire on the door as the rangers narrowed in. Scope passing over any corner of armor as the Legionnaires dug in around the doors. The demolitions team of troopers with their heavy arms pulling up on the flank, advancing between the crate and ship through the smoke as they lit up the passage. The strike force pushing through under fire, wounded left for the reserves to retrieve as they spilled out in to the halls of the destroyer, Lyra moving alongside her men as they fought for the foothold.

 

[Darth Sinestruss]

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//Location: Groundside on Veroleem//​

//Objective: Attack Veroleem NIO Forces//​

//Sub-Objective: Maintain Undercover Persona, Engage in Battle and remain by Kascalion Giedfield and deliver the message from Darth Voyance//​

//RP Partners: Ravraa Vyshraal and Rach'ta //

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The Sith Transport hummed low above the battle below. Bolts of turbolaser ripped past, scorching the air and shrieking. Shadows of soldiers, walkers, and the drifting dust clouds of explosions mangled together to form a cacophony of noises consumed by the mosaic scenes of brutal battle. Siqsa could feel it. Feel every struggle, every emotion, and every moment of singular death. She fed on it. She had been trained to do so. It was an ancient technique, one that those with enhanced empathic powers could naturally come by.​

Empaths, like her master Darth Voyance – and like Sith Lords of old, such as Darth Traya and Nihilus. The ability to feed off of the Force, and through the Dark Side bind the emotions of others into your own source of power. To leech off of the Force itself. Siqsa however was no supernaturally empowered empath, but, she could feel and with what the Dark Side provided for her she took to focus her mind. Battle was but the scenery to her mission. Her mission was her cause. And she would not let anything stand in her way. Anything.​

The transport shook and rattled. Sith Knights gathered began to move into their attack teams. Teams designed to use the Sith Legionnaires as cover for attacked strategic targets. Fodder for wolves, Siqsa thought. Poor creatures to be treated so. Such a waste of military prowess for vain, pointless, and illusionary trophies of power. That is what Voyance had taught her. The Sith Empire was built on a cult of vanity that obscured the Sith Code. Battle forged experience and power, but, battle had to be won and they are won with men, tactics, and strategy – not bloated Sith Lords and Knights cooing at the idea of satiating only their bloodlust for power.​

Siqsa sighed and growled in her minds contemplations, ‘How I despise these barbaric struggles.’​

She preferred the shadows, the solace of isolation as the assassin she was. But, battle it would have to be, as the transport landed, and the gangway opened. As it did the rust of hues of Veroleem bleed in and bathed the once dark innards of the transport in a sickly light, periodically saturated with the red and green blasters bolts that cracked by. The Knights drew their blades and a hord of red sabers burned a light.​

Yazik grabbed Siqsa from behind and drew her close to him. “Now go and die for me, Sithspawn!” He said shoving her forward. The charge was signalled, and the Knights rushed forward. Immediately, they were set upon. Heavy blaster fire from NIO troopers had swept the area into a kill-zone and missile rained down upon them. One explosion took out a couple of Sith Knights, once apprentices hastily ascended to the new rank for the battle.​

Siqsa using her saber deflected what she could and fed the Force into her body to harden it. With a Force empowered leap she jump in a horizontal lunge into the cover of a bombed out bunker. She needed the shadows. Open battle was a fool’s game. She would find her space and engage the battle as long as she could, allow it to play out and in the lull return to deal with Kascallion. Composing herself she, sank into the Dark Side and shrouded herself with a Force Stealth. The battle can distract all it should. She need not seek out vainglorious battle for glory. Glory was useless to her. Creeping out from the bunker, Siqsa swiftly ran through the carnage, hiding behind explosions, her own comrades and the distracting thousands of personal struggles.​

A NIO Trooper caught sight of her however and levelled a volley of blaster fire. Siqsa flung out her arm and froze the bolt in a shimmering paralyzed shard. With her other hand she threw her saber and in a whirling streak of crimson slashed the trooper across the torso before returning to her hand. In that instant she spat the bolt back towards another trooper who had come to support. She had attracted the attention of a platoon that was now rushing to her position. Siqsa grew annoyed and smacked her lips.​

“Battle it is,” she said.​

She ignited both her blades. A long standard saber and a smaller shoto blade. Twirling them in her hands she engaged a fluid Juyo Form and Force Leapt in lunges to close the gap immediately. More would come, supporting the platoon that had come to swarm here was another group ( Ravraa Vyshraal and Rach'ta ).​

Siqsa hissed again, “By the Dark, I despise this all.”​

 

[Warchief Waddles]

// JUGGERNAUT//
// LOCATION// Hangar Bay
// OBJECTIVE // Infiltrate and destroy ship
// ALLIES // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
// ENEMIES // TSE | Amur
// THEME // On the Shoulders of Giants
Armor | Main Weapon | Side-arm | Melee

---

---

War was hell. For the men and women that pervaded the field war was its own sort of hell. One where you took another’s life and would go on a day, a week, maybe even the rest of your life not thinking of the one you killed. Of whether they had a family to return to, whether they were the sole provider, of if they had even joined willingly. The excuse that people would use was that they were at war. It was their way of comforting themselves. If Isaiah could spare every Legionnaire in the hangar he would’ve, but that wasn’t realistic. So with each one evaporating into a mist under the fire of his disruptor, he mentally bore that weight. Maybe it was the ways of a Jedi that kept him in such a mindstate?

Off from his left, a blaster bolt struck Isaiah’s shoulder, dispersing across the armor and hardening the thermal gel beneath. Rolling with the kinetic force, Isaiah rolled backward and came up to a knee the disruptor shouldered. Sight focused on the head of a legionnaire the Mandalorian pulled the trigger only for the weapon to hiss, steam coming from the barrel. Damn it.

Tossing the disruptor off to the side Isaiah charged the legionnaire. With each step, the repulsors pushed Isaiah on faster, harder, at his size the Mandalorian might as well have been a speeder when he slammed into the trooper shoulder first. The soldier flew off their feet slamming into a nearby wall while the rest of his squad turned towards the Mandalorian.

From his right wrist, a grappling line extended out wrapping around the neck of a S-imp, and with a yank, they were pulled in the direct line of fire. The soldier’s allies laid into him with a fury they thought would reach the Mandalorian. The legionnaire's body lay limp in Isaiah’s grasp as he released it at those who’d killed him.

Like a set of pins, the rest of the squad went tumbling down. Glancing over a shoulder Isaiah found the rest of the NIO’s troops pushing into the halls of the ship. He didn’t know where they were pushing towards, but Isaiah branched off from them upon entering the corridor of the destroyer. If he could find their Hyperdrive perhaps he could ensure the death of the Super Star Destroyer, its commander and all the Sith aboard.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Location: Vodvtaki interior
Objective: Stab-Stab-Stab
Tags: Grigory Tallis

Lirka looked down at the fallen troopers with disdain, pathetic little creatures, allowing themselves to die under the guns of the traitors. They hadn't been wrothy to steal her air to begin with had they died so easily, snarling the "Sephi" pushed forward with greater purpose, hatred bubbling inside her as combat stims surged like molten lava through her veins, her heart beginning to beat quicker and quickers, she could feel the carnage now, and Lirka was more than willing to through on her more monsterous mantle now.

The second wave of Imps was simple, it started with one, hulking, goliath of a monster: Lirka herself, her blade ignited with electro-plasma filament, coursing with an emerald flame as she immediately surged forward with unnatural speed and the grace only an ancient could muster: in her current form at least. Her blade twirled and slashed at the closest troopers it could reach, it's length only befitting of a giant like Lirka herself. Those two eyes, burning with energy, stared down to Grigory: the helmet showed no emotion, but an arrogantly amused smile hid beneath.

"The "Big One", you poor insolent child: I am your destruction!"

In truth though, Lirka's most dangerous weapon was being so dramatic and cliche that it was enough to make a more sensibly minded entertainer have a heart attack; with a wave of her blade Lirka beckoned the troops behind her to deal with the rest of the platoon, she accepted the man's duel: it had been far too long since she was able to have a proper one. Her blade raised, pointing towards the commander. It was a beckon to engage.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Vodvtaki, Veroleem Orbit.
Objective: Defend the Vodvtaki | Ensure TSE Victory at Veroleem.
Allied Forces:

• 9000 Standard Imperial Guards [Many Engaged with NIO Infiltrators | Others Guarding Key Locations Throughout Ship | Taking Heavy Losses]
• 670 Cognus Legion Soldiers [Guarding Key Locations Throughout Ship | No Losses]
• 300 Sith-Imperial "Scourge" Mk. I War Droid [En Route to Hangar | No Losses]
• Hundreds of Ships [About to Depart to Engage Orbital Fleet | Some Damaged from Hangar Fight]
• Dozens of Kraujas Rowa [Dormant inside Temple | No Losses]
• Dozens of Sith Knights [Most Sent Planetside | 8 Chosen Elite Guarding Kascalion | No Losses]
• Many Other Sith - Amur | Darth Sinestruss | Adriana Fortemps | Lirka Ka | Kalanda Tishire

Enemy Forces:

• Unknown Number of NIO Soldiers [Engaged Planetside and within Vodvtaki | Heavy Initial Losses, Holding Currently]
• Orbital Defensive Fleet [Captained by Marlon Sularen | No Losses]
• Enemies of Interest - Boram Predor | Grigory Tallis | Bastard | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Warchief Waddles | Ravraa Vyshraal | Rach'ta | Dorian Sicarrio | Rurik Fel

Theme: X

---

The Vodvtaki had reached orbit of the planet by the time the defense and responsive assault had been launched. Kascalion had watched through the threads of the Force as numerous drop ships and the like had departed the destroyer and entered the destroyer, the latter drawing his attention the most for its sheer brazenness.

Those within, the NIO that he despises most, have come to his vessel with fire and fury. Their intentions cannot be mistaken, not to the man who would have and has done the same. They are seeking to destroy his ship, or at least disable it at the very least. Perhaps even wound it and prevent further use in the future, lest the Empire expend ludicrous amounts of resources to repair such a monster. This does not faze him in the slightest. In fact, all it brings out of the man is a light chuckle and even an audible recognition of their efforts to those guarding his throne.

Yet, he knows that they cannot achieve this goal. To lose the vessel once belonging to his brother and one of the most powerful ships in the Empire's fleet would be a catastrophe unlike any he had suffered before. He is also aware that the enemy cannot gain control of the ships he has yet to unleash upon the encroaching fleet. He loathes these factors that his role gave him, the uncertainty of what to do in control of thousands. In that way, he truly is like his brother. More Warrior than Leader. As the long minutes pass and his ship continues to fall to chaos, his heart beats faster and faster and the all too familiar voice of a dead god begins to echo in his mind.

Cast it off. Remove the shackles. Break the chains.

They will die without my control. They will know not what to do.

They are in line. You are a warrior, they are warriors. You are not a leader, they have leaders amongst them. Cast off the chains. Cast off the shackles. Break free. Break free.

They will die without my control.

They will survive, as you did. Break free, Kavar.

The name sticks in his mind. It is the name of a dead god. Of a man who no longer exists yet exists simultaneously.

Time resumes for him. In perhaps a moment of either worry or desperation or acceptance at his own failings as a leader, he opens the communications channel to the same woman from before and gives the simple order: "Unleash hell upon them. You have command of the forces, Colonel Binric. I will be joining the fight shortly."

As the fighting throughout the ship grows in intensity, the ships prepped for battle with the encroaching fleet launches, the hangars emptying in rapid fashion. Kascalion nods curtly to himself as he rises from the throne, retrieving his weapons of choice from his belt. Two gold-plated lightsabers with sickly-green blades crackling with barely contained energy. The black-plated guards surrounding him look up in intrigue, but the silent glare the Devil gives each individual is enough to make them aware of what is to come. An aura of violent glee begins to fill the temple room as they too ready their weapons.

Kascalion turns to the only Pureblood amongst the guards and points, "Monzoi, go retrieve the Blood Wolves. Have them stalk the halls and support the guards and the Legion. Keep a short leash on them."

Monzoi gives a hearty salute and runs off to complete this most important task, practically laughing as he did so.

It is quickly agreed in silence amongst the guard that while the Sith Knights that traveled to Veroleem will fight with bravery and savagery and would return victorious, they themselves will fight with honor, the truest victory of all. They will fight the enemy head on.

And they will sunder the heathens with the Devil's wrath.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | Veroleem [In Orbit on board the Predator]
Objective | Destroy the Vodvtaki
Tags | Kascalion Giedfield

Spoiler: Forces

• Agitator-Class Super Heavy Battlecarrier [x1]
• Phaetra-class Star Carrier [x1]
• Tartarus-class Interdictor [x1]
• Pellaeon III-class Star Destroyer [x1]
• Endurance II - Class Fleet Carrier [x1]
• Inceptus-class Assault Ship [x4]
• 99 Starfighter Squadrons
  • 40 TIE/D Drone Droid Starfighter Squadrons
  • 30 TIE/OT Outlander Starfighter Squadrons
  • 20 TIE/HF Slasher Heavy Starfighter Squadrons
  • 9 TIE/VX Vanguard Squadrons
• 48 Support Craft Squadrons
  • 30 TIE/HB Bruiser Heavy Bomber Squadrons
  • 18 TIE/GA Mauler Ground Attack Squadrons

Captain Marlon Sularen looked at the Sith-Imperial Task Force ahead of him consisting of a single Sith-Imperial Star Dreadnought. To him it was quite weird to see such a large ship alone without any accompanying smaller vessel as it would leave it vulnerable from attacks from smaller and more agile vessels such as Marlon's ships who were more faster and had better maneuverability. In addition combined , Marlon Sularen's Fleet potentially had more Firepower and Starfighter Capacity then the Sith dreadnaught. However Captain Sularen would not blindly exploit these weaknesses heading for a more cautious approach.

"Aight , have the Fleet slowly advance forwards towards the enemy fleet" Marlon began. "and have 5 of our Tie Drone Squadrons head straight for the Sith-Imperial Dreadnought as a ruse. We will trick the Sith-Imperials in attacking us first if their commanders aren't that smart. Have everything ship with Gravity Well Projectors activate their Gravity Wells and prepare to fire the main batteries" Marlon ordered. In his mind , the Battle would be an easy one as the Sith-Imperial Dreadnaught was outnumbered and possible outgunned giving Marlon Sularen the ultimate Advantage.

Soon enough , the Fleet would slowly head towards the enemy fleet heading closer to their firing range as 120 Tie Drones were sent off to attack the Dreadnaught in which in reality was a ruse to force the Sith-Imperial Commander to deploy his own Fighters. If he relented , the Tie Drones would unleash a series of advanced concussion missiles , enough to take down the bridge of that Dreadnaught and take down the entire ship. Despite being such a predictable strategy , sending a small amount of fighters was something the enemy could not ignore. If the enemy would ignore then those fighters could deal a crippling blow and that what the advantage of Marlon's Strategy.

Carrier-Based Fleets , the deadliest type of fleet around. Get a significant amount of Fleet Carriers at the center of your fleet and you are guaranteed to win. It was a detail most people ignored and one that he would utilize to his advantage. As his Fleet entered within firing range of the enemy Dreadnought, Marlon prepared for the the enemy to attack. As usual he would bring death and destruction against the Sith-Imperials Armada and give take down the Dreadnaught in record time. The Sith were foolish to attack Veroleem with such a pathetic force and Marlon would put an end to their misery.

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• Gravity Wells have been activated
• Wraith Squadron advances towards the Vodvtaki entering in range of the dreadnaught
• Tie Drones have been sent to lure the Sith-Imperials into a trap
• All Weapons of each vessel within Wraith Squadron are ready to deliver punishment to the Vodvtaki

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Boots on the Ground
Task: Break the Siege
RP Partners: Darth Sinestruss Rach'ta
Faction: New Imperial Order
Narrative NPCs: Dorn-2 (3/6 Present)

The landing damned near knocked the Togruta unconscious, his head slamming forward hard as the drop pod made it's mark, jolting his entire body as durasteel slammed and rended into the earth, sending up harsh chunks of dust cloaked rocks. His helmet bounded off of the front of the transpairsteel door of the pod, sending reverbs throughout his body, the pod brought itself to a bright shade of blue with it's internal lighting. Signaling that he was safe, that the pod was stable, as it could be considered by the basic sensors that the vessel was equipped with. It had no care for the small arms fire that was currently plinking off of it, nor did it care for the fact that the very landing of the pod had alerted the entire area to the presence of Dorn-2, no, to the mechanization of the pod, it had landed, and that was all that mattered. In the top right of his visor, vision barely blurred into a focus after the rough jostling of the landing, the names of Dorn-2 began to pop into existence as their pods fell all around the Sergeant. He watched as one of them, one that would read on his HUD as belonging to Corporal Haupont, came screaming from the heaven's akin to a fallen angel, before crashing into an advancing squadron of Black Clad Legionaries. They had registered the oncoming blow just moments too late before their command began to shout out orders and send them into the scatter, whatever happened to them in the aftershock of the heavy metal round smashing into the floor was shrouded by the billowing of dust. Haupont, Jeresan, Dormyle, all three had landed close enough for the senors inside of their helmets to link up, though they had little time to worry about every last member of the squad to make it, some would be off course. That would be expected. For now, the blaster rounds slamming into the pod were growing more and more of a concern with each passing moment. Ravraa reached up above his head, wrapping gloved hands around the Helravn rifle, bringing his shoulder up to his the side of his helmet, popping on comms.

<"Dorn-2! Show these Sith bastards how we fight! Secure and burn!"> He would scream.

Racking the charging handle of the rifle, Ravraa would bring a heavy foot up, slamming it into the door of the pod, releasing it with a sharp hiss and hefted fall as it collapsed into the rocky floor. The rifle was brought to his shoulder before he had even left. Troopers, either from the squad near the landing site, or responding to it, were surrounding Haupont's pod, enough that she never would be able to leave without being littered with blaster bolts. The Togruta sighted down the rifle, the claw-like front sight falling in line perfectly with the closest Legionary to the drop pod. The Togruta's finger squeezed the trigger for the first time in years.

The rifle's barrel exploded pure rage, the heavy slug rattling the entire firearm as it left, sending awkward and disorienting vibrations through Ravraa's arm as the muzzle flash cause his helmet's flash dimmer to instantly queue, all consuming in the front of his sight. The sound hadn't even reached Ravraa before the weighted round slammed into the back of the Legionary's helmet. Sparks flew as the tip of the round wished to degrade and blunt, but the sheer velocity scrapped before cracking through the armor's fine craftsmen ship. The cavity it created down the man instantly before the fine pink mist exploded on the otherside of the helmet, spraying on Haupont's pod as the hostile squad swiveled to address their new target. Rushing forward, Ravraa grabbed the unwieldly door of the pod, laying on the floor length end, before falling to his seat and turning around, using his body weight to keep the door held up as bolts rained in return. Another pop-hiss in the distance, followed by a miasma of screams and confused shouting, let Ravraa know that Haupont had left her pod. Looking over his shoulder, bolts rained from the dustclowd behind the pod, as the remaining members of the Sith Legionary squad fell, two shapes, Imperial Troopers, merged from the shade. Jeresan and Dormyle. Good.

Then, curiously, the squad turned as another drop pod fell from the atmosphere. The figure inside, seemingly disoriented, calmly waited for the doors to open up. Stepping outside, it was nearly impossible to tell exact details from the distance they were standing, but the person seemed nearly... civilian? There were no visible weapons, nothing to indicate that they were combat personal, simply a person on a battlefield. Nodding at the three members of his squad he had managed to link with, they began to rush to the man's pod.

<"Name, rank, identifi-"> Ravraa was barking out through his helmet as they arrived, rifle brought to his shoulder. Though, as he arrived, his pacing came to a slow, before eventually, stopping together. Looking past the pod, and even it's occupant, there was a figure. Two red blades laid on either side of them, enough corpses to host a party simply for the dead. A signature armor, one that had been drilled into each of them during training. Making the missing members of his squad hold even heavier on him. Whoever the unknown was could wait, this was much more serious, much more pressing.

<"We've got a Knight, form up, now!"> He screamed, the members of Dorn-2 instantly falling to either his immediate left or right, starting to fan out on extremes, as if to force the Sith to divert her attention when they began to fire. In all honesty, Ravraa had no clue what his plan was.

 

[Rach'ta]

Location: Dorn-2's location, planet side
Objective: Assist Dorn-2, Divine the meaning of the vision
Tags: Darth Sinestruss | Ravraa Vyshraal

---

Remained standing as Dorn-2, under the command of Ravraa Vyshraal , cleared their drop point. The witch had very little fear of the battle, he was confident that the Force would guide him to the vision he had experienced. For what purpose he did not know. As Dorn-2 moved the robed Twi'lek followed at a distance. That was until Ravraa's voice called out for the squad to rally on him in the face of a Sith Knight.

Cresting a small crater's rim he could see the mystery warrior clad in the typical Sith style. There seemed nothing quite out of place or particularly special about them, at least to the naked eye. Rach'ta could feel their determination fueling their effort on the field, which had brought them to Dorn-2's location and to Rach'ta. The Twi'lek moved an arm up from his legs towards his chest as a flare of green mist materialized between his fingers and around his wrist.

Rach'ta put his arm outward before him and the fist sized gathered mist swiftly rushed towards the Sith warrior in a multitude of thin wispy tendrils. If it made contact, and the Sith was unable to resist, a minor illusion would be cast over the senses of the Sith. A haze of thick fog would fall over their eyes, obscuring their physical sight, and a shrill noise would fill their ears. Of course this was an illusion and as such it could only directly hinder them and indirectly harm them. "I sense that you are the one I seek. Do you as well?" he spoke past Ravraa to the Sith.