Junction Mustafar: Legacies | EE/AC/BotM/GA Juncion of Mustafar/Jaminere/Ord Bostadus/Mechis III (SGHW)

[Tren Chaar]

M A N D A T O R Y _ F U N

CELCHU STARFIGHTER BASE // CORUSCANT​

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Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Three: FO Ran Serys Four: FO Shar Sieu Five: FLT Kaul "Joker" Emos Six: FLT Mylo Thorne Seven: FO Leon Gallo Nine: FO Artemis Toth Ten: CPT Qellene Tyliame Eleven: FLT Zev Garallia Twelve: FO Tristram Vos Spoiler: Summary -Chaar is ordered to be nice to the squadron - this won’t end well[/I]

“With all due respect ma’am, I disagree.”

Lieutenant General Ra'lona let out a sigh and raised herself from her chair. She moved toward a storage bin, silhouetting the Coruscant skyline as she passed the window behind her desk, and became rummaging as she shook her head. Ra’lona retrieved an item and returned to her desk, throwing the datapad to Chaar as he took her seat.

“With all due respect, Colonel, Personnel Division sees it differently.”

Colonel Chaar examined the datapad - ‘Unit Moral Review: Revenant Squadron 877 ABY’ - and placed it back on the General’s desk without reviewing its contents. “Revenant is an elite starfighter squadron, if any of my pilots are looking for friends, I suggest they make better use of their time in port…”

Ra’lona raised her hand to silence Chaar. “I had a suspicion this would be your reaction,” she explained and she leaned back in her chair. Chaar sat up straight, knowing the hint of a smile that was forming could not be good news. “Thankfully, I’ve taken the liberty of organising a squadron dinner…”

“Ma’am…”

“…to which you, and all of Revenant, are ordered to attend.” The General activated a holo, which projected the address of a Coruscant restaurant above her desk. “Failure to attend will be recorded on your service record. Dismissed... and Colonel, try and enjoy yourself.” Chaar shook his head. They both knew the status-obsessed rank-climber would never risk a blemish on his record.

He rose to his feet, offered a curt nod, and departed her office enraged.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Fortress Vader, Sith Archives
Opposition: Onrai


"Yeah, but denying one's enemy information is a pretty standard tactic. I don't want you to have it either." Aaran said, frowning slightly at the outburst from the spirit.

We're they unaware of what was going on outside, did they not realize he was a Jedi? Maybe he should draw his saber, the lack of a tortured crystal might be a big enough giveaway that the individual standing before them didn't want anyone getting their hands on this knowledge period. Be it Mawites, Imperials or weird ghost things.

The Galaxy didn't need another Sith instruction manual informing people how to properly prepare small animals for sacrifice in order to gain the tiniest increase in power. He was fairly certain he could pick up a random tome in this archive and he'd find some grisly guide glorifying a gruesome practice in a gilded grimoire.

It was knowledge that was better left forgotten, and the more he could deny Onrai, the better. Said denial taking the form of additional grenades being pulled from the satchel on his hip, rapidly scattering them with unerring precision across his side of the archives, doubting that such blasts would hurt the spirit, but they'd go a long way towards disrupting the ritual.

One can hardly eat a book if the book is reduced to ash. And as each of the little bombs impacted the shelves, multiple explosions rocked the archives, reducing so many Sith tomes to piles of sinister looking ash, holocrons shattering like glass, the knowledge held within them lost to the ages.

The ritual that Onrai was performing was no doubt complex, and the speed in which they were performing it at showed a great deal of mastery in the art of Sorcery. But tragically, it was a much easier option to simply destroy things, and said destruction was what Aaran was wrecking on the library, every second Onrai spent not addressing the Jedi, he destroyed knowledge at a much faster rate than she could absorb it.

 

[Dominik Borra]

Location: Gahenn Droid Foundry, Gahenn Plains, Mustafar
Unit: Task Force Ysalamiri
Objective: Recover Droid Schematics from Outbound and Inbound Communications
Secondary Objective: Access and Download R & D data
Allies: | Tiric Sar'andor | Rika Hiro | The Allies
Unknowns: | Maijan Paisea | Boluc Laar

​

Guns Galore. What a code name. It fit, honestly. Dominik could hardly be found sleeping without a gun or three on his person. Especially today. His favored DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System and its components were strapped to the belt and legs of his armor. Technically it was only one gun that could be turned into many, but that's why he also brought along his DX-2 Disrupter Blaster on his right thigh holster, a slugthrowing pistol that chambered in .45 caliber in a left shoulder holster, and a slugthrowing rifle that chambered in 7.62×51mm caliber that he held in both hands. He would have gone with his SR-930 rifle, but it and his E-11 didn't like excessive heat. Gas canisters wanting to explode and all with heat, not a good pick. And Mustafar could be defined alone with those two words, 'excessive heat'. He also had a large straight durasteel blade on his right pectoral. Of course, with everything going on and the high likelihood of finding an enemy Force User, he wore his Amulet of Many underneath his armor. It was mostly useful for Force Users, but even on a vanilla human like himself it still worked wonders. When wanting to shoot a Sith, he didn't have to hide his emotions and intent until the last second to stop the force from detecting him.

Dominik raised the rifle and scope to his view as everyone set up with their gear just to breathe and survive the heat. His armor kept him relatively comfortable, Thermal Gel be blessed. Still, the heat of this molten planet was enough get even to him as he stood there, taking in the sight of the large droid factory they were to be infiltrating. He was on sniper duty. It had been a few years since he had taken a dedicated sniping role, but he was remembering it like he was riding a speed scooter. It wasn't long before they started to move forward, boots pushing through the soft dirt and ash soil. They got onto metal platforming at the edge of the factory near a shipping or loading bay.

"Hold tight here, Double G, keep the sniper rifle trained on our position, I'll give ya the heads up when we need ya."

Dominik nodded. "Copy that, Golden Boy." Another voice came in over the lines, someone code-named Gambit. As she and Golden Boy talked, he scanned around for a good position. He found it in the form of a large metal shipping vehicle. He went over to it and rummaged inside the cockpit. Of course, a set of keys were poorly hidden and he popped them into the ignition but didn't turn it. Leaving the vehicle he checked the cargo area. A few boxes but largely empty space. It would do. He climbed on top, laid down, and set his eyes through his scope at the facility. Normally a sniper needs a spotter to tell them wind direction, distance, and a number of other factors. Especially true with slugthrowing weapons, ammunition with weight that drops with gravity. Luckily he had his own in the form of his cybernetic eye. It told him all he needed to know. It seemed there would be a small but significantly less drop in his shots due to the increased heat coming from the ground of the planet.

"I've got eyes, Golden." He informed Tiric over comms. He began sweeping the facility with his scope, and found the pair of strange chatting beings at around the same time Tiric himself did. "We aren't alone. Your 10 O'clock, you see them. Two unknown humanoids." Dominik said as he grabbed his magazine and slotted it in, pulling the bolt back and loading a round.

"Agent Sar'andor, what about the rules of engagement?" Was heard over comms and Dominik mentally scoffed. Kark 'rules of engagement'. They were on a time crunch on an insanely hostile planet. There were reports of action going on all over the planet at the moment, they needed to get the info and get out. Dominik would have liked to just shoot them and get it over with. Boom, boom. Keep moving. But unless there was someone sneaking up on them, he was informed to keep his finger off the trigger unless signaled by Tiric. A quick scan around informed him that the forward group was clear of anyone on their 6. "I got your back Golden. Signal with 'drink' to shoot the woman, 'food' to shoot the male. 'Nine' for me to stand down."

Dominik kept his crosshairs trained on the pair as Tiric moved forward, asking who they served.

 

[Khione]

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Tag: Ari Naldax
Equipment:
Ballerina
Eyes of Khoine
Pulsiva flight suit
2x Cartridge Revolvers
Retractable Neural Stinger

The going was tougher than Khione would have liked, the ground was uneven, patched of hard volcanic rock were interspersed with other areas with ash and pumice stone, but she pressed on putting one foot in front of the other and slowly climbed the slope. Before long, she came to a small overhang that would give her a moment of shelter, and she decided to take a risk and have a proper look around.

Her hang gingerly felt around her eye socket and with a click her left eye popped out and hovered gently over her hand. She looked at herself and admired the blood that had matted her white hair to one side of her head. With a mental impulses the eye spun around and took off into the air. She steadied herself as she adjusted to the movement of her eye, it often made her nauseous doing this, but it was worth it for the extra information she could gather. Whipping up wards she could now see clearly the plume of smoke on the other side of the ridge, she zoomed in slightly and could now see a downed craft, the smoke and debris made it hard to make out the exact model, but it didn't look like any of the mawite ships she was used too. With another mental impulse she witched to thermal imaging, trying to look for any signs of the pilot. Big mistake, there was a flare as her eye was dazzled by the ambient heat and took a moment to adjust its brightness. She cursed, everything on this world was hot, how could she hope to see body heat in front of the ground that she could right now feel warming through her boots.

Luckily though, atop the ridge looked fairly clear, so she would continue that way for now and try to get a signal out, if that failed she might have to pay a visit to that downed fighter and see if it was more salvageable than her own. She decided to bring her eye back to herself for now. She had plenty of battery to keep scouting, but even the air was hostile and she would prefer not to be blinded, even partially, on a world like this. A minute or two later it buzzed back down. First popping the eye into her mouth to remove any dust, she then slipped it back into its socket.

Khione continued, higher and higher, away from the burning wreckage of her fighter until eventually she was getting close to the top. Her mouth was parched and her arms ached, but soon her climb would be over and maybe she could hope to get some help. She found a small clearing and sat for a few moments to get her breath back and take some water, at this point paying much less attention to the fact she might be exposing herself.

 

[Kybo Ren]

Location: Gahenn Droid Factory
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Everyone else, approaching SIA groups, Rolin Doan

Rorin hummed from his position, a pair of macrobinoculars in one hand, as the other scratched his mask-covered cheek in thought, a habit he picked up from his grandfather as a small child. He was up fairly high, jagged volcanic rock hiding him from view, a rather convenient gap just enough to peek through with his macrobinolculars to observe the southern landing pad

A dull pressure at the back of his head. Kybo stopped and looked up from the devices he was wiring up. Someone was watching him. In the perpetual glare of the lava-world, he could not tell from where, but there was no doubt that hostiles were in the vicinity of the complex. And if could feel the presence of one, that meant at least a dozen others approaching...

Kybo accessed his helmet's comms, ordering his men to return to the northern pad to aid Tu'teggacha or take up sentry positions. Every second counted.

The Pirate resumed his work on the southern landing pad. If anyone wished to tilt lances at him, they were welcome to try.

 

[Genesis Draykin]

Glory And Gore​

Post: 1
Objective: Retrieve Chu-Gon Dar cube
Location: Blackguarrd Enclave Ruins
Equipment: VA-IDS Armour System | KC-77N Hybrid Pistol | KC-M74S Designated Marksman Rifle | Lucius-pattern Bayonet
Allies: Eternal Empire | Blackwatch
Enemies: Open
Engaging: Open

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No one expected to see someone from the Psi-Corp on the battlefield, they were more expected to be looking on from afar judgmentally. Always watching to make sure you don't slip up in a way that might out you as a traitor to the Empire. Unlike with the blackwatch death squads which you knew what you were getting their name saying it all with the Psi-Corp it was more cerebral, and you never knew exactly what they wanted. You also didn't need to know because they had ways of ripping it from your mind with out speaking a single word to you.

So, to see one land on a world that was engaging in battle was rare sight. Some might be aboard ships or set up base locations but really no where near the thick of it except in rare instances. Yet Genesis armor was a dead and insignia was a dead give away that she was PSI Corp here she was on the surface where most of her kind would avoid until after the Planet had been secured coming down to interrogate the prisoners of war. Though she was many kilometers away from the main fighting areas she was in search of an old secret something she hoped the Knights of Ren had not found when they had scoured this world.

A long time ago there was a branch of Jedi that had come to Mustafar and they held a very special artifact but when the sith came and the world was destroyed most they fled. The world destroyed their history and powerful artifact were said to have been destroyed as well. Yet there had long been rumors a group called the blackguard had actually found the old Jedi temple and the artifact. Searching through some old archives Genesis had found some very old maps. Though the Blackguard had virtually disappeared from the galaxy and their history hard to find they had past through what was now the eternal empires territory. It had taken months to sifting through data from many worlds just to find a couple of maps that might lead to this old temple with a supposed artifact.

Genesis hadn't told anyone is PSI-Corp that she had been preparing a special mission like this making it an unsanctioned mission. Alone she moved across the flats avoiding lava flows and navigating her way tot the first location on the first map. Her intuition told her this was the right location. Thankfully her armor was thermal regulated as the heat of Mustafar would be killing her right now. Despite the high level of danger of this world she had chosen to come here and find yet another artifact to add to her collection.

 

[Shar Sieu]

Revenant Squadron
Lead: Tren Chaar Three: Ran Serys Four: Shar Sieu Five: Kaul "Joker" Emos Six: Mylo Thorne Seven: Leon Gallo Nine: Artemis Toth Ten: Qellene Tyliame Eleven: Zev Garallia Twelve: Tristram Vos

Location: Falstaff Base, Alliance Secure Zone, Mechis City, Mechis III

Objective: Chill out and eat

Dinner? In this economy?

Shar looked out from the window of his quarters, over the dormant and clearly damaged droid factories that grew like tumours over the smoky, ash-strewn wastes of Mechis III. Revenant Squadron had been moved back from the front for a bit after Batorine, posted over to a small fleet patrolling this part of the Galaxy, just outside GA borders. Shar had assumed this was what passed for R&R in this squadron: a relatively quiet sector, covering an area with heavy GA presence (and thus likely to be absorbed Soon) and the interesting sights of a hellpit planet spewing flame and metallic warriors. Shar had learnt that latter bit was paused for the moment; something about Alliance representatives inspecting the complexes for some arcane reason, though Shar was at a loss to think of why the GA would be so interested in learning from an ancient automated droid factory on a volcanic rock.

Not like there were that many places in the Galaxy the Alliance was interested in, right?

Shar looked back into his quarters' wardrobe, trying to find his service uniform. No time to ponder that. The squadron had actually been given one other thing to do. And it was, well, an official squadron dinner. Officially it was rolled into an "R&R Day" on the Carrier they were stationed on, but the fleet had booked(or rather, was assigned) an entire restaurant in the Alliance's 'secure zone' in Mechis City for the day, and Revenent along with a few other squadrons were sent that way. A small restaurant, but still, better than having a squadron dinner on-base, and Shar was surprised restaurants still operated with the planet's main economic (literal) engine turned off for a few weeks.

Someone has to feed the Corpos...

"Ah-ha." Shar found his service uniform folded away at the bottom of his duffel bags, below even his podracing suit. The Gossam tried it on. Miraculously, it still fit.

The pilot exited his quarters and joined the other pilots of Revenant waiting for their transport. Waving and small talk, but not much else. The heat was unbearable. Why couldn't the fleet put R&R Day when they were passing by Lorinia? When the transport finally arrived the pilots piled in, and spent the rest of the ride to the restaurant cooling off in the air-conditioning.

The squadron was finally seated at their table after a half-hour ride through the city. The other squadrons relaxing for the day had already been seated and were making small talk among themselves, digging into their entrees. The decor was nice, Shar considered, and the privacy afforded by "the fleet booked out the entire place" was appreciated. It occurred to Shar, as he looked at the utensils in front of him, that this might be the fanciest place he'd eaten at.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Writing with: Valery Noble

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Blackened was the horizon over the lava planet Mustafar when the Blasphemer’s personal recon ship, the Nycteris sliced through its leaden clouds. Equally dark lines of condensation paved the ebon ship’s trajectory as it descended toward ancient ruins slumbering in the orange-tinted distance.

Regardless of his deep fascination with Sith lore, xenosociology and planets with extraordinary characteristics, the Blasphemer so far hadn’t had the chance to survey the scorched planet himself; much less explore its surface in person for possible clues that may entice and lead him to forgotten artifacts or knowledge. When he had heard about Kyrel Ren 's planned undertaking, however, the Shadow Hand of Darth Mori took the initiative and set out to hunt down ghosts of the past, ones that may have been overlooked or deliberately forgotten over Mustafar’s countless years of occupation by the various factions of the galaxy. Something must be out there, waiting for him to seize it for the New Sith Order.

Although Ptolemis and the Maw as a whole arrived early, his ship’s onboard computer soon displayed the many signatures of the encroaching Eternal Empire, Ashlan Crusade and the Galactic Alliance fleets; the Blasphemer’s mission was now put on a timer.

Ptolemis’ military boots stomped the volcanic gravel of the barren flats as he exited his ship that’s now much more secure than on certain previous occasions. His meters-long frayed dark cloth whipped in the angry wind behind him, his mask reflected the neon light of the datapad in his hand. As the corroded ramp screamed shut behind him, the foreboding aura of the long-abandoned Jedi Ruins kept increasing with every step.

Slowly, the heated air dancing above the ground reveals the blurry outlines of a congregation of locals. Scavengers, looters, smugglers, perhaps. The Sith Lord sheathes his datapad and sets out toward them with ill intent.​

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[Boluc Laar]

X E S H _ O N E
TASK FORCE XESH
MUSTAFAR | GAHENN DROID FOUNDRY
Maijan Paisea | Rika Hiro | Tiric Sar'andor

More dirty deeds to be done. Their mission was more special than other SIA operatives that were assigned to this task. He found it appalling to be cooperating with the Eternal Empire and another cult of Force Users, the latter he could tolerate more. Luckily, however, he wouldn’t have to communicate at all with the Crusaders or the Eternal Imperials. The only interaction he would have with them was a blaster fired upon them.

The Galaxy was big enough for one Superpower, and his radical duty would make sure the Alliance would reign upon the others.

<“Let’s pull the curtains over us, Mai,”> opting to veil themselves under the White Current. They needed to be delicate in how they trekked, before they did any plausible deniability. Equipment and armor unmarked, making them open season for literally anyone.

<“Gotta get to the control room before anyone else.”>

 

[Rolin Doan]

Location: Gahenn Droid Factory
Objective: Scout the factory, and sabotage Maw Objectives if applicable.
Enemies: The Maw, Maw Allies, Kybo Ren

Rolin frowned in thought as the Mawite warriors rushed out of the landing pad, going north. Was someone else here? A scout or infiltrator, or maybe an attack force of some kind? He supposed it didn't matter, be they Imperial, Crusader, or Alliance. They seemed to do him a favor. Rolin hummed in thought, regarding the lone figure on the platform. Now would be a good opportunity, but…he could sense that man was dangerous. Not one he would like to tussle with, or waste his time on. Destroying the Junk the Maw called supplies was a much better use of his time. Maybe the ships as well, after all, lava was not very good for their magnetic turbines…or well, any part really. 'Now, what to do with the big boy…' he thought, then grinned. It was simple but may work. He made sure his mental shields were fully up, to hide away from those able to wield the force. He then stuck his macrobincolars in between the gap of the jagged rock, angling it in a way he was sure that the metal would glint from the light all around them. He then snuck around, careful to not be seen, making his way to the platform, hoping the big bastard would take the bait. At least long enough for him to do some damage in peace.

Regardless, he was ready to bring his lightsaber to his hand at a moment's notice, ready for battle. Though he would never admit to anyone, he was sweating underneath his mask, and not because of the heat of the planet. This was his first true mission, after all, he has never even truly taken a life. Sure, he has ordered it, his men accomplishing their orders, but that hardly counted in his opinion. 'Honestly, id be happy with a pat on the shoulder and a "good job" if nothing else…' He thought, knowing that wasn't very likely to happen. His fellow countrymen were a conservative lot in his experience.

 

[Onrai]

"I've already gotten pretty much most of it, but since you seem to want to continue interfering, I apparently have no recourse but to react."

The grenades thrown experienced pressure on them well before detonating the scrolls and holocrons they had sought so desperately to detonate. Onrai even sought to apply pressure to the grenades that were in Aaran's own satchel to attempt to preempt a detonation, a possible prevention of further attempted damage to the already atrophied archives. A sigh crossed Onrai's lips as she continued to observe the Jedi's actions.

"So, here's the options. Either you let me finish getting rid of all the information, then you can go ahead and blow the entire building to hell, or I can embed you in the very structure of this building so you can serve as a reminder to future generations that Onrai is not to be crossed." The avatar that was not currently siphoning away the knowledge took out a large number of steel ball bearings and began to juggle them, waiting for Aaran's response.

Aaran Tafo

 

[Kralmus Orr]

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Location: Mustafar, Arabesh Flats Military-Industrial Complex
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr | Thomas Barran | Dylan Marsek | Jas Katis

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"I want this city to become Ambush-Central, the city of screams!"

"Now there's a man after my own heart," Kralmus Orr murmured. Behind the visor of his distinctive horned helmet, he grinned widely, thin lips pulling back from teeth filed down to sharp points. He had deployed down here alongside the Scar Hounds, one of the larger marauder tribes that made up the Brotherhood of the Maw's original faithful, simply because he was spoiling for a fight. He was always spoiling for a fight. Finally healed up after that nasty clash in Tython's orbit, when he'd broken an arm and three ribs fighting off the Enclave's so-called Mandalorians, he had been seizing every available chance to get back into the fight. War was where he belonged.

And killing... killing was what he enjoyed, more than anything else in the galaxy.

He loved the feeling of power that came with taking another being's life.

The rush that came from that was as addictive as any drug.

Today, Kralmus would do his killing on an urban battlefield... sort of. The Arabesh Flats complex wasn't exactly a city, nor exactly a factory, but a strange blend of the two. Established by the First Order when they'd dominated this region of space, the Forge had survived their collapse, remaining a capitalist paradise of worker repression and relentless corporate profit. While the Maw had lurked on the planet, the local businesses had been glad to cater to them, selling them weapons in secret. But now the Forge was about to fall under the influence of the Eternal Empire... and the Brotherhood wasn't the kind of group to quietly hand over such an asset to a rival.

So they were going to fight for the Forge, kill as many foes there as they could, and then scuttle the place.

This was Kralmus's kind of fight - the only true goals were murder, mayhem, and widespread destruction. There was no way they could hold Mustafar, so far from their supply lines thus so infeasible to reinforce, so they might as well burn everything they'd benefitted from to the ground - and catch as many of their foes as possible in the ensuing inferno. Kicking his jetpack into action, the cannibal soared up to the roof of one of the Forge's many manufacturing complexes - the Hammund & Klammer Workshop Factory, a gunmaker that had once supplied the First Order. From up there he could see out over the entire "city", lit by the glow of magma and choked with smog and ash.

Some mercenary company or another had been sent in against them, deployed from gunships and accompanied by armored support. It was time to make these streets into extremely hostile ground for these intruders. Kralmus had brought a whole satchel of goodies with him to help with that. He had anti-armor and anti-personnel mines, grenades, detonite, tripwires, and the very same Nightstinger sniper rifle he'd used when he'd come within a hair's breadth of assassinating the Galactic Alliance's chancellor. Between that and the mobility his jetpack afforded him, he would be able to strike from anywhere, without warning and with devastating effect.

Let the enemy confidently roll into the Forge. He and his traps would be waiting.

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Inside Mercy's mind, Kallan - that piece of The Mongrel's mind that had been left behind when Mawite conditioning had wiped away everything else, the last vestiges of memory and personality from a man transformed into a slave-soldier - slid his arms around his wife. It was still strange to be a guest inside the head of Asher's lover; it felt different from the mindspace that she and Asher had shared while he was alive. But he was getting used to it, making the most of it. Very few people in the galaxy got second chances, opportunities to reclaim their lives after the kind of change and suffering he'd had to go through. So he tried to remember to be grateful for his second chance, every day.

So he and Keilara had built a new house in the meadow where they'd spent so much time together.

He tried to focus on those memories of this place, and not on watching her die here.

But then again, that death was a reminder: she'd gotten a second chance too.

~ You don't have to apologize for that, ~ he told her, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. ~ It was out of your control. And it all worked out in the end, didn't it? We're here now, together. That's what matters. ~ There was still so much uncertainty ahead of them. Mercy was headed into battle among the Scar Hounds again, even as two new lives grew inside her. Tu'teggacha was plotting against them, eager to steal those special children and consign Mercy to eternal torment, if he got the chance. A billion things could go wrong, could bring all the things they'd built together crashing down. But Kallan chose not to focus on any of that. He snuggled closer to his wife and smiled.

~ Let's focus on the good things, ~ he told her, ~ and not worry about the things we can't change. ~

He'd learned the hard way that life was too short and too fragile to waste with worrying.

Life was something to treasure, and every good moment was a miracle.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Fortress Vader, Sith Archives
Opposition: Onrai

Sadly, the pressure on the grenades did little to set them off, they needed to be primed first before the pressure would detonate them, but the use of such a technique hardly went unnoticed, the Jedi simply shrugging reaching a hand in to quickly prime one in the satchel before tossing the satchel itself away from him, the package exploding against another one of the shelves, scattering away more of the previous knowledge that Onrai sought to absorb.

His gaze settled on the primary avatar, their threatens falling on him as he pursed his lips. "You're welcome to try and kill me, but more threatening beings than you have failed to do so." He mused, head tilting to the side as he regarded the figure. Some kind of malevolent spirit, a demon of the Netherworld or some such tripe. Inflated opinion of themselves, consciousness spread between multiple bodies. Tricky to deal with, but it also meant that any avatars created were not as strong as the main body.

The benefit of being a meatbag was that all of his strength was consolidated in one place, while he couldn't spread himself out like the entity in front of him, it also meant there was only one vector to attack him from.

Idly, he was curious as to if attacking the lesser copies would mean anything, or if it was only strikes against the primary body that would result in any real damage. Thrusting out one hand to the side, his fingers curled, space around it warping for a moment as a blade appeared in his grasp.

If he was dealing with a ghost, then he should use a ghost hunting sword. A blade forged of both metal and his own will would be more than sufficient. With his other hand, his palm outstretched to what he felt was the primary manifestation of Onrai, and from his palm light blossomed forth, a wave of purifying energy erupting outwards, aiming to not only damage Onrai but also disrupt the sinister tendrils of the ritual.

To a normal living Sith, such a burst would be rather unpleasant, cutting them off from their power and no doubt feeling quite uncomfortable, as one of the most potent manifestations of the Jedi's offensive techniques was not meant to be something that wounded the body, but instead aimed to purify the spirit, banishing darkness.

And Onrai was nothing but spirit, his darkness was a part of her in a very intimate way. She had no shell of flesh to protect herself in. A spiritually purifying attack to a spirit should be far more dangerous to what was essentially an attack tailor made to hurt her. So what would have been a simple weakening burst of radiance, would instead be more akin to a burst of deadly plasma arcing out from him and lighting up the room, the potency of which more than enough to stagger even a being of Onrai's strength.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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M U S T A F A R_L E G A C I E S
Pacing with Time

FINAL DAWN
PRIATE , OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

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SIXTH SECTOR FLEET​
Fleet Comp. FDS Sovereign [Flagship] | [100|100] FDS Invincible | [100|100] FDS Manticore | [100|100] FDS Basilisk | [100|100] FDS Gorgon | [100|100] FDS Hydra | [100|100] FDS Scylla | [100|100] FDS Titan | [100|100] FDS Brawl | [100|100] FDS Iron Fist | [100|100] FDS Dominatrix | [100|100] FDS Binder | [100|100] FDS Spectral | [100|100] FDS Constrainer | [100|100] FDS Crimson Linings | [100|100]

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission from the Ashlan Flagship." an officer said. Sularen watched as a massive hologram of the Ashlan Prime Minister Isla Draellix-Kobitana appeared in-front of him, leaning forward and stroking his beard as Draellix proceeded to speak.

"Good evening, Marlon Sularen I presume? Welcome to the system, can I offer you a cold beverage?"So how about we save ourselves the trouble of blasting and try to talk this out, the system you are in is now under the jurisdiction of the Eternal Empire, I would recommend you leave now or have the combined allies send you packing. Even if you were to win today, how long do you think you could hold out against the rest of the Eternal Navy or their allies? Or maybe i'm reading it all wrong and you are here to switch sides, please dont keep me in suspense."

Sularen sighed as Draellix spoke. Like the Galactic Alliance she was so full of her self, confident in her supremacy and inevitable victory. Tt was indeed true that Mustafar could not hold out against the combined forces of the Alliance, Eternal Imperials and Ashlans. But to assume that Sularen, High Regent of the Final Dawn would waste his resources on defending the territories of a Mawite Tribe, not to mention one who had just challenged the authority of the new Dark Voice, Darth Mori and had threatened to rebel against her, amused him. The Eternal Empire could have Mustafar, but the Prison along with the Prisoners would be exterminated. The Eternal Imperials, Alliance and Ashlans had grown a bit too confident after their victory at Tython and it was time to remind them that the Maw was still a dangerous foe.

Thus a transmission was soon sent to the Ashlan Flagship in response to Draellix's Speech. "Ah, Prime Minister Draellix i was wondering when you would show up i do believe the last time we meet on the battlefield was at Tython? or was it at Korriban?" Sularen said as he smirked"Nevertheless, i think you misunderstand the reasoning for my presence here, although i do not blame you, it is in your nature to be so uncompromising and to lack any proper reasoning and understanding just like the rest of your people, and those of the Alliance and the Eternal Empire. So full of yourselves, confident in your supremacy due to the large swaths of territory you control, with that arrogant belief that your ideals are superior to all others. But back to the main topic at hand, i am not here for Mustafar, nor am i here to defend the holdings of Kyrel Ren. Heck if you guys even manage to kill him, you'd be doing a big favor for me. Rather i am here for that space prison your forces currently defend along with it' contents most importantly it's prisoners. I'm not here to win, Draellix, rather i'm here to remind you all of the folly of your efforts, and that what happened at Tython, will not change the outcome of this war." Sularen proclaimed

"Now let us proceed, and i wish you good luck, you'll be needing it" Sularen said in a calm to serious tone before ending the transmission. "Are you certain that you can win here, sir?We are facing three factions at once and could face a similar outcome as Tython" Colonel Rackham said as soon as Sularen ended the transmission. "It does not matter. They will not be able to escape thanks to our interdiction field and we have the advantage right now which they most certainly aren't aware of. We will let them come to us, and when they do we will annihilate them accordingly. In the meantime run a scan of their ships, i want them identified and for any structural weakness to also be located and identified. This is where the Final Dawn rises, this is where they fall." With that Slaren leaned back in his chair waiting for his enemies to make their first move.

---

Tag | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Cynthia Alucard | Pa'Kar Sang | Izah'zore ​

---

 

[Rika Hiro]

TASK FORCE XESH
GAMBIT ON MUSTAFAR
Rika Hiro|SIA?|Mustafar
Tags:// Maijan Paisea Boluc Laar Tiric Sar'andor Dominik Borra

<<"On my way, don't get too comfy golden boy, Gambit out.">>

Rika replied teasingly, putting her commlink down to observe for any signs of life or activity below her. No one yet, at least not that she could see with the naked eye. She rubbed the sweat out of her eyes and squinted harder; the thought of the shower back on base made it worth suffering this atrociously brutal heat that seemed only rivalled by the humid, swampy summers she'd suffered through as a child on Atrisia. She didn't even want to know what she smelt like, but she doubted any other agents looked any better for wear. This whole blasted planet was not fit for life.

Someone else was to be here, of interest to her and her superior's interests, that was if the intel held up and the person in question made an appearance. It had all been guessing at this point; they had an approximation of her movements, but nothing more, nothing less; it paid to have it done from the inside like other jobs had been done.

Easy enough, rinse and repeat, then forget and shove it at the back of your mind as her senior officer told her. That's how it worked in this life of contradictions, mirrors and shadows where allegiances shifted, and friendships fell as fast as they rose. She knew the life she had chosen despite all its pain and grievances.

<<"I'm getting closer over, no sign of life on this end.">>

She replied, giving the best update she could as she moved slyly between crates, hugging them for cover in case someone or something kept watch nearby. Rika found them soon enough the three of them, she crept up behind Maijan and the other before stepping out from where she'd been hiding.

"I'm here Golden boy and... you two."

Rika smiled awkwardly, noticing Maijan Paisea and turning her gaze away while she fumbled with datapad to notify M of the progress made.​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: Mustafar, Gahenn Droid Foundry
Tags: Kybo Ren | IVI | Maijan Paisea | Rolin Doan | Rika Hiro | Tiric Sar'andor | Dominik Borra | Boluc Laar

Overhearing bellowed orders, Tu'teggacha turned from his perch atop a stack of crates and glanced around. His glassy black eyes soon fell on the source of the commotion: Kybo Ren, whose followers swiftly fell into step beside the Taskmaster's own, efficiently looting the factory. Tu'teggacha was glad to see the warrior's arrival, and not just because of the added manpower that had accompanied the Ren. Although he expected the fighting to remain far from the foundry, the Ebruchi had learned long ago that enemy movements were difficult to predict, and things could go wrong in a hurry.

So it was always a good thing to have a powerful ally in close proximity.

The Taskmaster, after all, was no warrior. He relied on others.

Tu'teggacha would have been even more grateful for Kybo's presence if he'd known that enemy infiltrators were already in the area. He had tangled with enemy intelligence operatives before - he'd nearly been assassinated in a COMPNOR ambush in the tunnels beneath Goshen Keep - and he knew better than to underestimate these more subtle foes. Nor were the SIA operatives the only intruders. For now, though, the Taskmaster remained blissfully ignorant of those seeking to undermine his mission in the foundry. Even as Kybo grew suspicious, putting more men on sentry duty, he stayed lost in his work.

The facility was not without defenses, of course, even if they were not yet alerted to the enemy presence. Most of the workforce were Drudges, simple-minded strand cast clones produced en masse in the Maw's dark genetic laboratories to make up for their personnel losses. But their supervisors were far more attentive, and far more dangerous. They were Tarar Warbands, experienced scavengers and looters in addition to deadly warriors. They were an ideal choice to direct the Drudges in systematically stripping the facility, as well as to defend it. Their signature plasma guns and lightning cannons were deadly.

Any intruders would be fried on sight... so they'd better keep a low profile.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

Mentions: Rakaan Horne


Tennacus watched the brutal annihilation of his Xenomorph rather indifferently, his composure seemingly unmoved by its loss. The other Xenomorph seemed to have a more . . . passionate approach, however. The beast bellowed, its yawning
maw almost dislodging as its jaw widened and its elongated tongue erected out, eager to set about a malice upon the enemy before them. But the dark side was powerful here; and Tennacus’ hold over it through the everlasting shadow of the force was ironclad. The more Tennacus held it back, the more it would become aggravated.

But it was not the only one.

“Thou’rt an ignorant sort. Very well.” The Sith’s hand moved into his long trench coat, withdrawing the midnight black hilt of his lightsaber clutched between gloved fingers. His arm swung out to his side, and the weapon came alive with a crimson blade singing through the air, burning away the very molecules around its vista. With the Xenomorph kept at bay, Tennacus took a step forward, instigating their conflict.

“Thy fate shall be sealed in absolute: a lonesome hero, felled in the embers of this birthplace.”

 

[Thomas Barran]

2nd post

MUSTAFAR: LEGACIES
OBJECTIVE: HOLD THE LINE

BLOODHOUND

TRIBAL WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR AND MAR'ZAMBUL
FOUNDER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

LOADOUT
Beskar Brodie-Helm
Durasteel Cuirass
Fragarach-Model Heavy Disruptor Pistol
Beskar Romphaia
Rusty Old Fairbairn

Allies (BOTM/NSO): Keilara Kala'myr Ronar Erion Justeene Kralmus Orr

Attackers (EE/GA/Hex): Jas Katis Kessia Miran Dylan Marsek

FEAR THE OMEN, FIGHT THE MAN: A BLOODHOUND STORY - PART 2

THE TERMINAL, WESTERN OUTSKIRTS,
THE FORGE, MUSTAFAR (SPRING OF 877 ABY)

'I know who you are, Mawite! Jus' letting you know, Hex sent the Sith Pureblood again!'
​

Lining his barrel up to aim through front of the mercenary's skull, nestling roughly in line with the center of the Hellion's forehead and clicking the hammer into poise for the final shot, the Bloodhound responded,'Jas.... I was wondering if we would ever get to dance again, good show! But where the Hell is he?', prodding the brutish sergeant for information that he was seemingly all too willing to offer. Though Barran knew it to be a morale-breaking ploy, or that with the intent to check the one-eyed Woad's momentum with the small amount of time he had, Thomas still understood enough that it would stop his part in the conventional battle almost immediately. Worthier prey had landed with the majority, and was fighting his way through the Scar Hound majority to find him, but the Bloodhound wished to save both himself and Katis time to quicken the path between them, to make their reunion as others had before them.

'He's here by the way, walking the outskirts of the Terminal. You'll find him soon, I swear it.'
​

Smirking with malicious delight, the snort of mirth could have been misinterpreted as a snort of derision easily, but both hunter and prey knew what the former was thinking, and in seeing the pupil of the left eye dilating through the glass of his gas-mask, the latter would find himself almost-completely incapable of denying it. However, despite failing in the attempt to rattle his killer a little before the end, the mercenary would concede gracefully, nodding in acknowledgement of the fact Barran would be looking for Katis ever part as much as the reversed role was looking for his Mawite adversary. Although it was no doubt a development that would have broken lesser men, the Bloodhound would be glad of it, as just like his father, Thomas despised weakness to the very core of his soul.

'Now finish the fething job, One-Eye! I haven't got all day for this chit!'
​

Expressing appreciation for the practical, pragmatic nature of the mercenary in his last moments, Barran would smirk kindly before muttering,'Quite right, sir.... If only all my enemies could die like you, eh? Too much fear - too much despair.', seeing more value to the Hellions than the tough nature that guided their hands in combat, even more than that which he saw in his enemies after the Battle for Mt. Geran. Whoever was throwing the Hellions into the fight, as much as it was costing them to do so, clearly wanted the Scar Hounds to suffer losses beyond the point Pyrrhic, and the Bloodhound was beginning to believe one man in particular was responsible for the Hellions' involvement - and to bear more responsibility for the use of mercenaries than all the other suspects combined.

'Alright then, it would seem your last words have been spoken.... Now, straighten that posture o' yours if you still wish to die like a warrior.'

But Thomas couldn't prove it yet, and in seeing the last defiant stare of his victim, the one-eyed Woad knew he would receive no relevant information on the matter: it was fairly obvious the Bloodhound would get no further information in general, ( let alone anything useful on the intentions of his father) and in the act pushing the disruptor-pistol's muzzle to the Hellion-merc's forehead, Thomas would gesture an end to the questioning process with a subtle switch in facial expression. From the warmth of a smirk, sliding to the cold-hearted dispassion of the archetypal executioner, it was time, and the mercenary was glad of it - closing his eyes to the world without a care to be seen.

'Also, just wanted to say - thanks for not actin' like a d-'

 

[Kybo Ren]

Location: Gahenn Droid Factory
Allies: Maw
Enemies: Everyone else, approaching SIA groups, Rolin Doan

The glint from Rolin Doan 's macrobinocs was easily spotted after placed in position. The Knight of Ren saw it almost immediately, and reacted equally promptly, drawing his blaster and firing a single, accurate bolt that knocked it out of its perch.

<"Boys, thar be something smellin' o' trouble here..."> he radioed to his men.

<"Sentries on deck, stay in position inside th' warehouse. Make sure no intruder stirs up trouble inside. East patrol, come to my position."> The large warrior made his way along the exterior walkway of the facility, heading eastward and down a level towards the most likely entrance point from across the lava field around the factory. A group of his men caught up to him, and he ordered them to fan outward, looking for intruders.

 

[Anashja Tal]

Objective: Sabotage Parvla's mining operation
Location: Upper atmosphere of Mustafar then Large mining facility on Mustafar
Tags: Corin Autem

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 wind whipped around the large hatch of the Tal'din as it skimmed the very top of the atmosphere of Mustafar, so high up that the not even the blanket of Ash laden clouds reached her ship. She looked at her Vod, 6 other mandalorians wearing the white and red of clan Tal. One of them had only completed her Verd'Goten a week previously and the rest of the team were proudly egging her on to be front and centre in her first mission. She thought back to her own first missions as an adult and she thought fondly of the older mandalorians making her feel like the greatest person in the galaxy.

"All ready, Vod! We jump on 30 seconds! Corin and her team are meeting us on the ground! Good hunting all" They nodded in confirmation and twenty seconds later as a group they all lept out of the ship and began their descent. The air was thin and cold, but the feeling of it whistling though her suit was exhilarating. She would never, ever get bored of this part. For a moment though she laid flat to slow her descent and her vod peeled away from her. It wouldnt hurt for them to land a few moments before her.

She looked across at the slight curvature of the planet's atmosphere, it was beautiful, and she smiled about the future when she could bring her children out here to feel this rush. "You are going to have the best life" she whispered quietly to the next member of her family. Before pulling in her legs and accelerating to catch her vod as they were about to land.

It wasnt long before her repulsors fired and she gently landed on the ground at their meeting point. Not far from a plant that provided ventilation for the mines. She had gone over the plan with Corin Autem , she wanted the miners out before the destoryed the mines, she wouldnt be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of slaves. A staged gas leak seemed to be the best way to get them clear, then it waa open season on the mines infrastructure.

Once the attack was on, she would get the Tal'din to land nearby, in an ideal world she would rescue the slaves, have the fat pig lose his mine and his workforce on the same day, it would be wonderful. But she didn't want her corvette landing too early and ruining the suprise. This planet was dar from.the ideal world though and she could already feel the swirling aura of her Litr Gryttr reacting to the foul darkness in the air.