Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

FIELD HOSPITAL
Outskirts of Garang
Wearing: Youngling Robes | Sasori Cracken | HoloLink XJ9
Wielding: Paperweight | Briletto PPK
Good Guys: Auteme | NIO
Bad Guys: Joycelyn Zambrano | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | TSE

For kark's sake, what the feth was he wearing?

Sor-Jan hadn't worn robes in at least a decade. If not more. The problem was, his wardrobe didn't really have anything for this sort of thing anymore. He walked around in custom made suits and premium brand kids clothing, if he was going to work that is. If he was working from home and didn't have to be on a holo-call, then it was just pajama pants and a t-shirt.

His days of battling the Sith had been behind him. He wasn't battling anyone. He won wars by writing million credit checks and then fought in the trenches of Wall Street to try and turn a profit in victory.

This outfit was one he'd borrowed from Matsu Ike and, if he had to bet, he'd have sworn it was something designed for a girl. But it was better suited for this than anything he owned. And, being a Sasori product, it hadn't skimped on the price tag either.

If he was going to rock Jedi robes, then by the Force they were going to be name brand!

<<"This is Auteme. I’m headed deeper into the city -- keep working, helping the wounded, and protect the hospital. I’ll be back in no time.”>>

The message flashed along the device on the boy's wrist.

It appeared that one of their illustrious Jedi from the New Jedi Order had seen fit to take a tour of the lovely city of Garang. And why not? One visited a Sith world for infrequently when one was a Jedi.

For better or for worse, and most likely more the latter, Sor-Jan had found himself in a field hospital propped up by a bunch of Jedi martyr complexes mingled with a little bit of that insatiable Imperial ego. And what was the gangly Corellian boy doing in the middle of it all? Playing Lord of War, that's what. Perhaps not one of the young Anzat's finer moments, but he had military hardware to move and the New Imperial Order represented a possible new market for them.

If Sor-Jan could get over the seemingly insurmountable monopoly that Gat Tambor held in this part of space. In particular, Corellia Digital had pledged a number of its Ashla-class Medical Support Frigates to the Imperial war effort. The theory was that the company would have to go to the Imperials if they were to open the market, and that meant the battlefield. Corellia Digital's star defenders and other ships were too balanced to have been of interest to the Imperials. But perhaps their support frigates, science vessels, and planetary survey ships would appeal to a niche that Tambor hadn't yet scratched for them.

And, as it happened, the Corellia Digital offer of medical ships and supplies dovetailed with an initiative by a certain young Jedi woman to prop up a half-assed field hospital on the outskirts of the engagement.

If only there more clones or Confederate battle droids everywhere, they could party like it was 20 BBY all over again.

"I'm not sure my processors can understand your thought process, sir," a voice uttered behind him.

Turning, the boy gave a slight nod toward the 2-1B surgical droid that he'd grabbed along for the ride. It was an old model. From the Clone Wars. It had been aboard the same ship as Sor-Jan when the hyperspace skip that he'd attempted to escape the Empire had, instead, skipped them across about nine hundred years instead.

Craning his head to one side, the boy merely answered, "Are you kidding, I see nothing but good publicity for us."

As though to illustrate, the boy held out his hands, forming a box through which he viewed some droids unloading the boxes labeled Corellia Digital and marked with the red life saving emblems. "Corellia Digital provides medical supplies to troops taking the war to the Sith!" the youth supplied, already imagining the tagline on the social media posts.

"Imperial troops."

"For the marketing materials we develop for this sector, absolutely say that, yes," the boy answered with a nod.

"For our external messaging... we should omit any unnecessary words."

 

[Amea Virou]

AMCO // Runi Verin

Work within the Sith Empire’s borders was always a risk. Meticulous planning went into planning each heist that always had a heavy focus on just getting in and then getting out. It had been the better part of a week, maybe even two now. Their small safehouse had been a useful shelter from prying eyes but that hardly seemed to matter much anymore. For all intents and purpose, in only a few hours from now it very well might not even exist given the chatter coming through the all too fragmented broadcasts.

It had been good to work with Runi again, but there was no mistaking the glances Amea caught. She knew something had changed despite how much Amea had tried to pretend as if everything was back to normal again. Worry at best, disdain at worst. While it was no news to Runi about what had happened to Amea’s mind, the stares and worry still lingered. It wasn’t as if either stray could hide their thoughts and feelings from one another given the links they held to the other’s throat. A bond, something that helped as much as it had hindered.

“‘lek.” Amea nodded in agreement with her accomplice. “The eskarie will serve as a good cover. As long as we are careful, burc’ya.”

It was like falling into an old habit, speaking this bastardized version of the Mando’a and Basic. Had she been in a contemplative mindset, then maybe Amea would have pondered it until her brain bled, but there wasn’t even nearly enough time for that. As Runi gathered her equipment Amea joined in to grab the protective gear. Some parts went into the pocket space of her own personal Hand of Holding, and the other into her actual hand.

“Not sure if we should have seen this coming, given that the ‘old fashioned way’ seems to be the way our ops usually go.” Amea chuckled and holstered her gun after checking it to ensure it was in working order. “Blowing up a grounded ship and everyone aboard comes to mind.”

Not generally a laughing matter, but a memory that Amea held close at heart nonetheless.

“This is technically supposed to be home, but I am not sure anyone still buys into that osik anymore.” With a jacket over her shoulder to cover most of the chest armor she wore, Amea was good to go. She gave Runi a quick glance before she entered the passcode to the door outside and waited for her friend to step through before her. “If things go sideway we strike hard, we move fast, and we make sure that we don’t leave empty-handed at the end of all this.”

She threw a quick glance up at the sky. It was there in the air, tension of the bad kind. A worried glance fired in Runi’s direction before they were on their way yet again.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

​

Location: Transitional -> Orbit to Garang City; Capital of Dantooine.
Objective: Revenge - Limited by the NIO Rule(s) of Engagement.
Allies: The New Imperial Order. The Sons of Mandalore.
Enemies: The Sith Empire. The Confederacy of Independent Systems. The Elder Compact.
Equipment: See the Hyperlink in my Signature.
NPC Complement: No Active NPC's.
Currently Engaging: NPC's Presently. Eventually - Gnox the Insatiable and their Savage Beasts.​

THEN​

Killing Fields of Mandalore​

His breathing was ragged and everything hurt. It was only through the chemical cocktail of combat drugs and the warrior’s stubborn nature that kept him standing. He wouldn’t let these beasts tear him down. They were abominations. Worthy of nothing more than the biting edge of his blades and the vitriol spat forth from his lips. Yet, there were too many of them and it felt like the Mandalorian had been fighting for ages. For every afflicted creature that was dropped, three more took its place. Their eyes, though decimated through dark sorcery, hungered for something as they stared into his armoured core. Likely, they craved the supple flesh that lay beneath his hammer-forged plating. Though riddled with exhaustion and rife with adrenals, there was a sense of vitality that beat within his breast. Something that couldn’t be seen by the naked eye without the aid of magical enhancements.​

Their claws, too, were oozing with unseen potential. As the agent of dark origins riddled their sorcerer-touched flesh, their lethality grew. These beasts were reportedly resistant to chemical weapons and disease, but what afflicted their corporeal forms wasn’t conventional. In fact, this viral contagion appeared to be sentient in its malignancy. It didn’t care that these aberrations were designed to be resistant to such budding aggression, nor did it factor in the time that was spent in genetically crafting their organic structure. This virus fed on life itself, and as these creatures were living sinew and flesh - they were just as infectious as a normal man. However, despite how desiccated and decrepit their forms were - that didn’t make them any less dangerous.​

One wrong move and it would all be over. All of the time and effort that was spent in grooming the Mandalorian into being a paragon of his creed would’ve been wasted. Rynn would’ve become the very thing that he grew up hating, and wouldn’t have the power to stop the change from ravaging his form. He would become like the creatures that he was fighting so hard against, and end up as nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game. That was a wholly unacceptable future. The young Vizsla would not be a puppet, dragged into action and forced to dance by someone else’s capricious whims and desires. If he was to act - it would be in accordance with his own design. The same could be said of how the Warrior would meet his end. He would gladly greet death if the time came, but so long as it was on his terms, rather than another’s.​

Such confidence and defiance drove the Mandalorian to push his own limits - going beyond what he was previously capable of. If today was to be his last, then by the Manda, Rynn would make it an end to be remembered.​

However, it seemed that no matter how hard he fought against his would-be demise, someone else decided to change his fate against his will. Through means unknown to the Warrior, the Undead Horde started to dwindle. Their seemingly limitless numbers were being whittled down through unknown means. Through the iconic T-shape of his visor, the Mandalorian saw that the replacements were slowly beginning to decrease, as three became two, and eventually leading towards none. For a moment, Rynn believed that somehow - he defied death itself and managed to cut down the entirety of the Horde that was arrayed before him. That thought, as the carpet of corpses around him began to settle, caused the Warrior to laugh. He believed, for however fleeting that moment was, that he triumphed against all odds through equal amounts of martial prowess and luck.​

Sadly, that reality was the furthest thing from the truth. As greater events unfolded elsewhere on the surface of that benighted world, a lone Mandalorian was considered to be a worthless prize by the seemingly endless Horde. Their numbers began to diminish through prolonged attrition and were beckoned elsewhere - leaving the Warrior to his well-deserved fate. Thus, as the last of the creatures fell beneath his gore-stained blades… Rynn was alone. When that realization cemented itself within his thoughts, the Mandalorian collapsed to his knees. He was entirely spent. His muscles ached as the chemical cocktail of adrenaline was filtered out of his bloodstream. He felt everything then. Every over-stretched group of fibrous muscles, and pinched nerve clusters. ​

Rynn could do nothing more than cry out in agony as he tried to move. While the Horde had seemingly moved on, it would be foolish of him to believe that he was safe. If whatever drew the Horde’s attention came his way - the Mandalorian wouldn’t have the strength to fight. Sure, the man’s mind was more than willing to commit himself to another battle, but the strength in his body was utterly spent. He needed time, and likely copious amounts of Bacta to recover from this wholly-exhaustive ordeal. But, that was something too far away from the present to think about. Second, only to the fresh agonies rippling through his ravaged being, the Mandalorian began thinking of a way to extract himself from this benighted world. ​

There was nothing more that he could do here - and it seemed that his so-called Brothers in arms had left him for dead.​

His War Droid was destroyed, and his Comms were silent. There were no allied forces nearby, and nothing stirred upon his armour’s integrated sensor suite. Even with the limited range of his suit’s systems, there should’ve been friendly forces nearby. They should’ve seen his War Droid crash and came to his aid. However, that eventuality didn’t come to pass. Thus, Rynn surmised that the Oathsworn had abandoned him. Likely quitting the field due to the significant resistance they encountered as they drove towards what remained of Sundari. When the realization struck, the Mandalorian felt his raging heart sink - compounding the pain and making it worse. ​

It felt like something was latching onto and squeezing his heart, as well as stabbing him in the back at the same time.​

They were bonded by the same pact, one that was sealed in blood. There could be no turning back once that bloodied-oath was sworn. They were all in this fight together. Yet, for reasons that Rynn couldn’t explain - they turned their backs on him. He was alone when he needed them the most. They were all bound to the same purpose - to rid the cursed earth of Mandalore from the Sith and their Sorcerous Ilk. But, with the craven intervention of the Mandalorian Union, things changed. Their actions from that point onwards were seemingly driven by spite and hatred towards these Glory-stealing Carrion. Rynn was swept up in that frenzy - as he and his kindred were fighting for years against the Sith Regime, only to have their efforts callously swept aside over the span of a few days.​

He was furious then and thinking back upon all that transpired until the present, Rynn’s pain quickly shifted into a depthless rage. He was betrayed on all sides and left for dead. There was no redemption for such travesty, only that those responsible for his current state of affairs paid for their misdeeds. They would rue the day that they learned of his survival, and the Mandalorian would keep true to his bloodied oath. The Sith and their darkened kind would pay for what they did to his people. But, in cleansing the Stars of this corruptive filth - the Warrior would also get his revenge against all who wronged him. He’d make them suffer as he suffered now. They’d come to know what it was like when their hearts broke. When everything that they came to believe in and love was shattered before their very eyes.​

Vengeance would be his.​

LATER​

Enroute to Dantooine​

Rynn’s eyes shot open, as the warning klaxons began to blare. The sound was deafening, but that was the point. It was supposed to awaken the heaviest of sleepers, and some had even said it could rouse the dead from their eternal slumber. The Mandalorian heard voices through his Helmet’s passive aural filtration, shouting in the distance in the hopes of spurring their comrades to action. They belonged to people he once knew and respected. But, now? They were nothing more than obstacles that blocked his path. Ever since their betrayal on Mandalore, the young Vizsla’s opinion of the Oathsworn - and the Sons of Mandalore thereafter - had plummeted beyond the point of no return. However, it would’ve been foolish of him to strike off on his own whilst his Legacy went unsung and unremembered. ​

None of his Kindred would follow if the Warrior raised his banner. His death would be assured if he embarked upon this Crusade by himself. While the young Vizsla would be more than grateful to embrace death as an old friend, all-the-while laughing in its skeletal face - Rynn’s saga wouldn’t be woven into the Manda. He would be mocked by the annals of their Creed’s collective history, and his bones would lie forgotten on some insignificant battlefield to be gnawed upon by some bestial creature. So, the Warrior returned to those that left him for dead - and played the part of the welcomed survivor. But, their actions forever changed how the Mandalorian would interact with his own kind.​

He would never remove his Helmet in their company ever again, so they couldn’t see the anger that despoiled his patrician features, nor the fires of vengeance that burned behind his narrowed eyes. Thus, when the voices grew ever louder and called for the newly anointed Veteran to make ready - Rynn simply tilted his rounded Helm in acknowledgement.​

He roused himself from the discomfort of the spartan bunk and began preparing his body for combat. It was almost ritualistic, the way he bathed his freshly-sharpened weapons in specialized oils. These were, as some had said, icons of his martial religion - so it made sense to treat them with a sense of reverence. When the last of his gear was lashed to his armoured figure, or sheathed within their respective scabbards, the Cerulean and Silver-clad Warrior exited the chamber - moving towards the muster point with nary a word spoken to his would-be Brothers-in-arms. It was there that the Veteran was greeted by a selection of Mandalorian Warriors, alongside what seemed to be an entire Platoon of heavily-armed and armoured New-Imperial Stormtroopers. Rynn’s blood began to boil at the sight - yet was visually kept in check by the man’s determination and iron resolve. None should know of the cancer festering within his heart. Not yet, at least. ​

“Ah, if it isn’t the Spawnslayer himself!” The voice was unfamiliar to the young Vizsla. But, it seemed that whoever it belonged to had known something of his deeds on the benighted surface of Mandalore. He didn’t tell many of his exploits after returning to the fold. Yet, it seemed that someone decided to take it upon themselves to spread the word of his return and grow his Legacy without his knowledge. Such was the fate of a recluse, but it was surprising, all the same, to learn that someone within the ranks of the now-hated Sons cared about his Saga in the making.​

“Spawnslayer?” Rynn replied almost quizically, as his gaze shifted toward the speaker. When their visor’s connected, the young Vizsla saw that this Warrior was clad in the finery of a Field Marshal - an ancient rank within the Neo-Crusader Hierarchy. Supposedly, they were some of the greatest fighters within the Mandalorian’s Fighting Corps. Although anger and hatred gripped his senses, Rynn felt his heart flutter with honour having been recognized by such a supposedly worthy individual.​

“Yes, Brother. Spawnslayer,” the Flaxen-armoured Figure said. “I heard of your tale after you returned to the fold after being left for dead by all parties involved. It was said that you killed hundreds of those Unholy Abominations before stealing a transport to make it off-world, and out of that hellhole. You’re worthy of such a title and more, my young friend.”​

“I am worthy of nothing,” Rynn replied, as his gaze started to drift. “I merely fought with every ounce of my being to survive against insurmountable odds.” ​

“Bah!” the Field Marshal replied, before closing the gap and pressing his helmet against the curvature of the young Vizsla’s. “Nonsense, Brother. You proved yourself to be worthy of that armour you wear, and that you’re better than those who’ve left you for dead. You stood your ground and were ready to meet death with open arms. There’s nothing to be ashamed or humble about. You deserve the accolade.”​

Rynn drew back from the oddly familial embrace. “As you say.”​

“With that being said,” the Flaxen-armoured Figure continued. “I know what you’ve been mulling over these past few cycles.” ​

His voice changed then, and so too did his method of communication. No longer was he speaking aloud, letting the mechanical nature of his Helmet project his voice into their surroundings. Instead, the Field Marshal’s voice manifested within the heavily-secured channels of their shared communication system.​

:: You were betrayed by those you considered your brothers-in-arms. That much was clear from your debrief after you returned to us. Even though our superiors have explained away their misdeeds by citing limited tactical options and unwinnable scenarios - it’s an unacceptable justification for what they did to you. ::​

Rynn’s eyes narrowed behind the false-firelight of his visor. :: Why do you care? ::​

The Field Marshal looked around, before pressing his armoured finger onto the Iron Heart that rested above Rynn’s armoured sternum.​

:: Because there was a time that this mattered. Because there was a time that we stood as one to defy the rise of Imperialism, rather than submit ourselves to be their willing puppets. You ask why I care, Brother? Because I’m tired. I’m tired of the notion that our Creed is nothing more than a stepping stone on the path towards an Imperial victory. So, I’m gathering those that have grown disillusioned with the current path of the Sons. They’ve lost sight of their purpose and instead acquiesce to the slow decline of our Culture in favour of a Concept birthed by the Sith in ancient times. We can do better. We must do better. ::​

:: That’s why I’ve come to you, Rynn Vizsla. One of the last Heirs of House Vizsla, and the Spawnslayer. Will you stand at my side and court Death itself, as we defy the Galaxy to resurrect the Way of the Mandalore? :: ​

Rynn paused for a moment. His gaze drifted from that of the Field Marshal, as he bore witness to the Mandalorian Warriors nearby making friends with the New-Imperial Stormtroopers. They had gladly purged the Sith from their ranks when the Order had assailed Bastion. What was stopping these New-Imperials from doing the same with their Mandalorian Enclaves after they had outlived their usefulness? There was much to consider in the Field Marshal’s offer, but the one thing that the young Vizsla appreciated - was that he wasn’t alone in his plight. Others felt the same as he did. While their experiences differed from Warrior to Warrior… they were all bonded by similar circumstances.​

How could they trust the New Imperial Order when they so readily turned their backs on those who aided them in splitting from the Sith Empire? ​

It was then that his mind was made. Rynn turned his gaze back towards the Field Marshal and clashed his vambrace against theirs, causing a deafening and sonorous clang to bathe their surroundings. ​

:: You will have my blade when the time comes, Field Marshal. We will rise from the ashes of our sundered Creed, and burn down all who stand in our way. This is the Way. ::​

PRESENT​

Garang City Streets​

The Mandalorian’s rifle slammed into his armoured shoulder, as his boots struck the surface of Dantooine within the confines of its Capital City. His Helmet’s sensors bathed the Warrior’s surroundings, searching for possible targets and likely ambush sites within the ocean of uncertainties. While there was some information that was garnered from their Transport’s scanners as they made their descent - the Anti-Aerial Emplacements made it difficult to register anything more than the obvious. Critical junctions were marked with dimly-lit waypoints, while notable areas of resistance were tagged with holographic crimson. All of this information supported the Mandalorian’s decision to accomplish his assigned task, and expedite the downfall of Sith Imperial control over this agricultural centre.​

What made things difficult in the grand scheme of things, was that there were active non-combatants in the field. It seemed that the Sith Empire had elected to utilize their own citizens as human shields to test the resolve of the New Imperial Order, rather than direct them to appointed shelters with all haste. So, Rynn’s orders - alongside those that supposedly fought beside him - were to check their fire as they secured the City and ousted the Sith-Imperial Garrison. They couldn’t afford the collateral damage, as killing any non-combatants would weaken the New Imperial claim to this system - and likely backfire. While he didn’t care and would be more than happy to gun down anyone that stood in his way - it would’ve revealed the Mandalorian’s hand earlier than desired.​

He would have to stay his wroth for the time being. ​

Nevertheless, when the Mandalorian encountered Sith-Imperial resistance - all bets were off. He would give in to his bestial urges and savage his newfound foe with every ounce of his barely-constrained fury. He would give those bastards No Quarter, even if they tried to surrender themselves knowing that their defeat was imminent. The Sith Empire didn’t care about taking prisoners when they purged Mandalore and ravaged the planet for its valued resources. So why should the man answer their savagery with a measure of kindness on the battlefield? Such acts were fit for more Noble beings who treated War as an art form, rather than a way of life. No, instead, Rynn would leave nothing more than an ever-growing carpet of corpses in his wake as he carved through the streets of Garang City to complete his objective.​

And so, as the Mandalorian advanced. Weaving his way from one building to another, the Warrior crossed the holographic boundary bathed in crimson - only to encounter a small portion of Sith Imperial resistance. It was a Squad of Sith Legionnaires, adorned with their vile iconography and armed with misplaced faith and stolen technologies. They were advancing through the outskirts of the Capital in the hopes of repulsing the would-be invaders from what they believed was their rightful clay. Like the Mandalorian, they moved from building to building, seeking to shield themselves from any unexpected reprisal. However, as the Warrior spotted them first - thanks in part to his Armour’s systems - Rynn stilled himself until they began ousting themselves from cover. ​

Exposed as they were, the young Vizsla pressed the stock of his rifle to his armoured cheek and sighted his first target. With the expected trajectory woven into his movements, Rynn pulled back on the trigger - causing a beam of coalesced ochre lightning to be spat forth into the advancing unit. The beam struck true as it impacted the Sith-Imperial Soldier between their armoured helmet and their breastplate, exploding with such plasmatic fury that it stole their forward momentum and threw them to the ground. The downed Soldier’s comrades began slinking back into cover as shouts of alarm resonated through their surroundings. As they scattered to find whatever scraps of cover they could - Rynn gunned down another two withdrawing Soldiers with the thrumming lethality of his powered rifle.​

As they took defensive positions, the Sith-Imperial Soldiers began firing back at their would-be assailant. Plasmatic bolts from their side were exchanged in great numbers, as Rynn moved from one piece of cover to the next - hoping to get the drop on his newfound adversaries. His opposition did the same, only to have their numbers slowly whittled away as the Mandalorian’s advanced array of weapons tore through their cover with super-charged plasmatic lethality. A single flip of the switch on his rifle and Rynn was putting holes in duracrete buildings where the Sith-Imperial soldiers were hunkering down - expecting to weather the storm until their training kicked in and threw them back into the fight.​

Sadly, their corpses hunched over where they took cover - as the super-charged bolts denied them the defensive embrace of their chosen cover.​

For those that weren’t taken down by the Mandalorian’s rifle, the various weapons that were built into his vambraces had done the trick. A small storm of plasma-bathed missiles burst from the launcher affixed to his wrist - curving around a corner that a Sith-Imperial Soldier took in the hopes of denying his foe the kill. Sadly for him, these whistling birds punched his one-way ticket to the afterlife and riddled his fresh cadaver with micro-explosions. Another found himself unlucky enough to come face-to-face with Rynn as their numbers began to dwindle. It was a surprise to both Warriors, as they threw themselves around the same corner. The Mandalorian threw himself backwards, as the Sith-Imperial Legionnaire pushed forward - stabbing reckless at his would-be foe with the Vibro-bayonet mounted on the barrel of his issued rifle.​

As Rynn’s footing was regained, once his armoured boot pressed onto the duracrete avenue, the Mandalorian sought to swat aside the blow with the back of his armoured hand. The knuckle-plate vibroblade clashed with the ultrasonic reverberations of the bayonet of Sith-imperial make. The sound of the clashing blades was horrendous, but as Rynn’s weapon and armour deflected the blow - the Mandalorian’s other gauntlet found itself with an opening that couldn’t be passed up. He twisted his torso to cannon his other arm forward, which still clutched onto the foregrip of his rifle. The vambrace-mounted flamethrower found its extended nozzle placed beneath the breastplate of the Sith-Imperial Legionnaire’s armour seconds before roaring to life. The caustic flames spread through the figure’s armoured form, rendering his foundry-pressed form of protection useless as the jet of voracious flames devoured the fabrics of their bodyglove and liquefied the flesh beneath. ​

The man screamed in agony as the burst of flame consumed his corporeal form. He threw himself to the ground in the hopes of dousing the fire and extending his miserable life for another fleeting moment. However, Rynn denied him that pleasure. With an augmented downwards kick, the Soldier’s flame-bathed form stilled against the curvature of the duracrete curb. With such callous disregard for the Sith-Imperial Soldier’s life, the Mandalorian stepped over the fresh cadaver and began searching for his next target. Finding none in his immediate vicinity, Rynn began moving towards the Garrison in hopes of encountering more opposition.​

That was when he heard sickening howls in the distance, barely audible over the overarching din of combat that seemingly consumed the entirety of Garang City. The Sith had unleashed their Monsters, and it would seem that the Spawnslayer would rise to meet with a bestial grin, rife with sadistic glee peeling back his lips.​

 

[Kenth Ordo]

B E T T E R _ T H A N _ E X P E C T E D
NEW JEDI ORDER
OBJECTIVE II: FIELD HOSPITAL | POST I
SOMEWHERE NEAR GARANG
EQUIPMENT: LIGHTSABER
ENGAGING: TBD

Breathe.

Just breathe.

Kenth quietly exhaled, his eyes closed as the sound of metal clinking together echoed throughout the cave he was sat in, light from the nearby glowlamp washing over his features. He could feel the ground beneath him rumble slightly, as well as something reverberating throughout the tunnels - was that an explosion?

No, he must focus.

He inhaled, his right hand clenching into a fist as he prioritized on what was in front of him. Before the Jedi Padawan was a hodgepodge of various tools and materials all soundlessly hovering in the air, mingling amongst one another as they sought to find their place in the mixture.

Concentrating on a certain item, he pictured a radiant kyber crystal ascending from the floor of the cave into the middle of the swarm, the objects beginning to gravitate around the crystal. He imagined it seating itself onto a diatium power cell, bringing a common focusing crystal close enough to touch it on the exposed side.

Yes, it was all coming together. He could hear it, more importantly, he could sense it through the Force.

After all of the inner circuitry had meshed itself together over the luminous crystal, a switch forged from his GADF dog tags and durasteel came into play, followed by a sleeve forged from an alloy metal that Kenth couldn't name from the top of his head. A simple-looking emitter came to rest near the incomplete saber, gently combining itself with the rest until it was seamlessly integrated.

He heard the lightsaber set itself down softly onto the ground, informing its master that it was ready. Exhaling, he reached forward and felt his finger brush against the rigid exterior of the hilt, grabbing it and feeling for the switch.

SNAP-HISS

Kenth opened his eyes, being met with the sight of an emerald blade radiating bright, green light that easily overpowered the glowlamp. A grin crept over his face as he deactivated the lightsaber, clipping it to his belt as he rose to his feet. Bending over, he retrieved the lamp and left the cave with a small spring in his step.

-----

Emerging from the mouth of the crystal cavern, Kenth's grin soon disappeared when he angled his head up to the sky and witnessed the space battle currently unfolding in orbit. This was no good, he thought that the battle wasn't to start for a handful of hours, just how long was he in that cave?

Moving to check his wrist chronometer, he was interrupted as his comlink crackled to life, the Padawan quickly grasped it and flipped it on.

<"-is Auteme. I’m headed deeper into the city -- keep working, helping the wounded, and protect the hospital. I’ll be back in no time.”> Came the garbled message, his brow furrowing as he imagined that poor girl wandering deeper into battle-ravaged Garang.

He shook his head, Auteme was a Jedi Knight far better trained than him, she could most certainly handle herself, especially in an urban warfare environment where a Jedi had an advantage.

No, he would heed her command and find the hospital she mentioned to guard it. He knew he had to be there in case enemy soldiers, or worse, found it and decided to neutralize whomever they saw fit.

Wetting his lips, he switched the comlink to transmit. <"Padawan Ordo here, I'll find the hospital ASAP. May the Force be with you."> Kenth responded, placing the device back into its pouch and moving further away from the cave to surveil his surroundings.

Increasing his pace to a jog, he raced across the seemingly untouched plains toward what he felt was the right direction, trying to use the Force to guide him towards the field hospital. What he sensed almost made him want to stop and double over in pain.

Fear. Anger. Hate. Suffering.

All four of these emotions were overwhelming to the initiate, his hands balling into fists as he struggled to suppress them and come to his senses. He was a soldier, he had been in combat before and had felt every single one of these in the past, but to have thousands of individuals' emotions stuffed into his head was a different experience.

He paused for a moment to rest against a nearby boulder, trying to compose himself and focus on what was near him rather than the grand scheme of things. He sensed the same emotions, but this time they were much closer to him, much more vivid. Kenth breathed in deeply and concentrated on the closest feeling, breaking into a full-on sprint.

He soon found himself at the edge of where the grass had been scorched, corpses littering the area, a nearby crater giving him insight as to what had happened. Artillery shell? Aerial bombardment? Orbital? He wasn't here to determine what destroyed the landscape, instead, he almost tripped over something lying in the displaced dirty.

Not something, someone.

He kneeled over an individual wearing the carbon-scored armour of a New Imperial stormtrooper, Kenth sensing his fear escalate as he moved closer to him. "Hey, hey, don't worry. I'm a Jedi-", he felt his fear go even higher, "-no, no, not a Silver! A real Jedi." He placed his hands over the man's chest, trying to mend him or at least douse the pain.

"Explosion got you? I don't really know how to heal you, but I can take you to the field hospital, ok?" Kenth assured the stormtrooper, receiving a slow nod in response. He gently scooped the man into his arms and strained slightly as he lifted him from the ground, cradling him like a father might his child.

Slowly, as not to aggravate the stormtrooper's injuries, he walked in the direction of the field hospital, the plains beginning to morph into the outskirts of the city until he found a building with a red cross haphazardly painted across it.

He entered, making sure to get a medic's attention as he set down the stormtrooper onto a tattered gurney. Turning to leave, he stopped when he felt a hand grab his ankle, looking back to see the stormtrooper having done it. "T-T-Thanks...Jedi…" He uttered through the helmet's corrupted vocabulator, before letting go.

Kenth nodded, leaving the man to be tended to by the harried medics. Resting his hand on the hilt of his newly-constructed lightsaber, he did a few rounds of the makeshift hospital and could only wonder one thing.

Why was there a child making a corporate ad in the middle of a warzone?

Auteme | Sor-Jan Xantha ​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch; The Night Queen, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Enclave, Dantooine
Equipment: Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Striith vibrosword | G1 OmniLink || Shield talisman | Taozin amulet | Healing amulet | Empyrean gland
Writing with: Creuat

The message didn't go through either, interference! It’s one thing that it was customary to block communication during an invasion, but it started to get ridiculous. In particular, Ingrid does not find or feel the Sith Lord through the Force either. Was it really not possible to leave AMCO alone for five minutes so as not to get into trouble? And then Adrian even says that Ingrid is the one who always gets in trouble. She sighed. She was worried, yes, she couldn't deny it, at most hide it very deeply so that no one else could feel it all.

Her men began to pack what Adrian had left here. This was the best way to help the man, their ships and men unnoticed among the members of the Elder Council. They did not openly intervene this time, but their large numbers of people here were mainly on defence duties. They will not attack anyone but those who attack them as well. The NIO-bound treaty allowed all of this to protect their allies. In that respect, that contract was quite free. Fortunately.

The Empress started out, watching through the Force who were in the enclave. She sensed countless familiar and unknown aura. Here was the former Emperor, on the side of the man with whom Prazutis fought on the planet Voss. But she also felt a lot outside of them. With the exception of one person. She did not perceive exactly the one who was most important to her. As she felt worried again, she suppressed it.

The red-haired woman reached the hallway, there were quite a few in this place, but from the outside she could already feel what was completely expected and predictable. The enemy was close. And she won't have time to find Adrian. She hoped her fiancé was still inside the temple, just experimenting with something and because of that she was unable to perceive him. She managed to find someone she could ask where Darth Prospero was. She received the answer and guidance the Sith Lord was last seen at the labs.

After all, where else could Adrian be? She shouldn't have asked that either. However, she really hoped that the man was really there, if not, she would sooner or later kill him. On weekdays, she didn’t bother the other was like that because she loved him for what he was, but no, the Sith Lord had to play this every day of the year, and the worst was exactly in the days of the war. She shook her head and took hurried steps towards the laboratories.

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

KNIGHTS OF THE REALM
​

The rending of the flesh and armor of another Sith Trooper allowed them another pace forward, into the dark depths of this disgraced temple. Rurik eyed the horrid, jagged defiling of this once proud, ancient place of study and rhetoric. While Rurik had long abandoned that path of the delusion and virtue demanded by the Jedi Code, there was a respect to be found in its permanency, in the humility of its drab robes and spartan places of study and worship. Where as in the Sith, there was no sympathy, no respect.

No quarter.

They desecrated everything they touched and they would deface absolutely everything, leaving their mark. For the mark of the Sith was death, terror, desolation. Dantooine would be wrought the same fate Rurik could only imagine. Those sunsets enveloping the horizon as they did for the Muun on Scipio and Harnaidan. A horrid fate.

A fate Rurik and the remainder of the Will of Defiance would do part in making certain that Dantooine would not be laid as prey to the same policies of strategic devastation to which the Sith Empire made precedent in the dreaded 'Article V' of their Braxant Run decree.

Not here, never again.

The rest of the Empire's finest slayers joined Rurik in the fray with their valiant code relayed by the voice of a son of darkness himself, Jin Kyrel , joined in rank by Hans Rennagen and the rest of the meager host assembled at the Lord Executor's back. Outnumbered and outgunned.

Good.

Circumstances they were used to, another opportunity to hone their mettle and overcome.

"Knights! Sons and daughters of the Empire!" Rurik barked out in command, once more that frigid stoicism making way for the burgeoning vitriol. There was no mistaking his resolve here, however. His will be done, the enemy be slain.

"We make our breach now! No quarter to the servants of darkness, the servants of evil. Crimson, silver, obsidian, it does not matter. They all pray to the altar of disorder and destruction, to lies and deceit. It's time to bury them and retake the realm they've defiled! On me!" Rurik shouts out, hefting his argent place once more with a forward advance.

Though lesser protected than the hardpoint attacked by the Jedi, this entrance still offered stalwart resistance.

But it was nothing the Knights of the Empire could not break.

"Shield to shield! Line up!" He barked out in command to the Imperial Knight strike team, most all of them armed with blast shields and argent blades.

"Repeaters! To the front!" Taking up position near the knights, stormtroopers of the 501st funneling in to take up position along side the Imperial crusaders. Funneling down the external corridor flanked by rock and brush toward the Sith troopers and warriors charged with defending it they formed a bulwark indomitable.

"Fire!" He commanded once more and the heavy repeaters enveloped on either side by blast shields fired out in a constant rip of devestation in the form of amber particle beams toward the enemy.

Two of the acolytes lurched forward in the hopes of stirring disorder, breaking the line and the ranks only for argent blades to surge through their hearts in defiance.

A moment's respite only to be followed by a motion of Rurik's organic hand to one of the troopers.

It was time to make their breach, two of them moving ahead of the line as Rurik guided the Knights back before soon enough two charges were planted on the fortified blast door.

Raising his left hand in the air, Rurik counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

And then his fist tightened and the violent crack of the explosion ripped at the metal ahead of them.

It was time to purge the unclean.

THE UNTHINKABLE
Darth Carnifex | Thurion Heavenshield

THE WILLING
Oceiros Sunstrider
​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SOM | Jin Kyrel | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Arctus Silmar | Other Space Kaiden

 

[Laertia Io]

Wearing: Black Knight Chitin

Armed with: SynthBreaker

007 Hours earlier...

Aboard the Shadow Bride

Objective: Two (Defend the Temple)

SJC Space...


"Traitor!"


Laertia Io, clad in obsidian armor, with a green visor, her saber dangling from her belt, its hilt worn and with a patina from years of use, stopped as she was about to board her heavily armed personal Starship, The Shadow Bride. She observed five of them, all Jedi in heavy armor, all standing in the path of her a d the ship.

"Stand aside..." Laertia said flatly and humorlessly.

"We will not allow you to aid the darkness. The Bryn'adul are nothing before the threat the Sith represent." one of them said firmly.

"Tell that to everyone who survived Nar Kreeta..." Laertia replied. "I fight for the billions of lives that will be ended by the Bryn'adul unless we fight as one."

"Compared to the evil of the Sith? You are delusional to believe they are the lesser evil, Laertia Io. Your fear clouds your Judgement."

"Your rivalry with the Sith is clouding yours. Even if you beat the Bryn'adul without the Alliance you so hate, you'll be in economic shambles afterward. Easy prey for the Sith, the CIS...and whoever else wants in on crushing the Concord..." Laertia replied.

"You are blind. Come to your senses. Surrender and face the judgment of the Order you have decided to betray."

"You betray all those billions who will die without your support for the Alliance. I refuse. The Bryn'adul are the worse threat, and if I must oppose every Jedi in known space to do the right thing and save those people, even if it would mean the Sith Empire has a chance to recover, then I'm going to do it."

"That does it..." the Jedi replied with disgust and disappointment. The feeling was mutual.

Their lightsabers activated.

"Laertia Io, you are under arrest for treason against the Jedi Order."

"On whose authority? I don't see no Coren Starchaser with you."

"On the authority of protecting the Galaxy from a willing tool of the Sith, who is so fearful, so blinded by bloodlust towards an enemy as brutal as she, an enemy she cannot crush as she has nearly all others, that its causing her ego so much frustration to the point that she is willing to ignore even the deaths of her own family at the hands of the very people who stole their lives and ruined hers just to gain satisfaction against what is ultimately a mere pest! I'd say we have all the cause we need to arrest you." The Knight snapped.

"You call..." Laertia trailed, her all green core, white aura Lightsaber snaking out of the hilt. Every Jedi instantly went on guard.

"The Monsters that I saw murder all those people mere pests? They are a disease. A cancer that engulfs all. A yawning maw of death that shall affect all the Force if they are allowed to grow more. You call them pests...after they slaughtered those who died so you could rest on your moral superiority and wear your fancy robes and pretend you're good people. I was only going to humiliate you before. A minor concussion to make you think twice. But now? Well...you'll still get that. You in particular will receive this...but those words? Daring to call those who murdered gallant people it was my greatest shame to survive after as any thing less than the filthy, hate filled monsters they are, savagely defiling your allies bodies even after death? Those words just cost you your sword arm."

They seperated out, circling her. Not idiots. Temple Instructors. Specialists. Zealous. Well trained. Clearly masters. Legit ones. To be taken seriously.

Laertia was absolutely still, blade pointed to the ground.

"One more chance Io. Surrender. We won't allow one as powerful as you to help our enemies. Even if we have to strip you of the Force and throw you in a cell for the rest of your life to think about your betrayal..." The Jedi warned...

"I have spent the best years of my life fighting your enemies. If that is to be the only consideration I am offered just because I want to get my hands dirty to save lives--"

She sensed them just barely before they struck from behind, hiding their presence. She wheeled around in time on instinct, though one scorched her armor with a nick of the blade as she parried it aside. Two hidden by the Force. Shadows.

It had come to this. The fools. The blind fools!

She parried the two attackers, ferocious Makashi swordsman trained to attack in tandem. She sank into her waterfall like Form One, blade whirling around her in wide but elegant and fast, unpredictable slashes and stabs, blade on a nonlethal setting as she deftly manipulated it, her armor allowing her to match their speed. She realized they were herding her into the attacks of three behind her and teleported behind the three, surprising them as she slashed at their defenses violently, her lightsaber breaking the blade of another and knocking out the surprised and shocked Jedi, who had likely never seen a Lightsaber blade break before, before her organic fingers thudded his skull and knocked him out as though he had been hit by a heavyweight boxer.

Instinct made her shroud herself in the Force, knocked back by the Force pushes of three others, though due to her resistance to the Force it didn't do the damage it was supposed to, but she was still winded as they used the Light to enhance their speed and stamina.

Laertia struggled to focus through a sudden migraine that the brain regulators in her helmet suppressed for the most part as she deflected cobra like stabs forward by the large one, a burly Wookie. A powerful upward slash from her organic arm ripped his yellow blade from the shocked Wookiee's hands, a teleport executed by her let her land on top of him, thudding the roaring Wookiee in the skull with two fingers that knocked him out cold. He fell limply from her arms.

"Did 'not' know who he was fething with." Laertia remarked grimly, unsmiling as she waited for them to attack.

One drew a secondary Lightsaber and launched into a ferocious Ataru assault from all sides, channeling the light to make himself ever faster, while the rest tried to slow her with the Force. She sent out her Suppression ability, which worked in a large, spherical radius around her as it disrupted their connections, making it almost impossible to focus as her control filled their own connection with static, and briefly threw off the attack pattern of her Ataru using opponent, making him stumble and opening his defense long enough to direct a powerful slash to his first blade that broke it, then teleported behind him, closed the distance and concussed him with another two finger tap to the head.

The rest closed the distance. Laertia focused and two other images of Laertia, each bearing their own Force Signature, shimmered, shuffling around and confusing the Knights visual as well as Force Senses. She advanced, and dodged or parried their attacks in the ensuing melee, the Jedi getting confused about which was the real Laertia and attacking the wrong ones, their blades passing harmlessly through false images, Laertia's fingers finding their heads, knocking them out, but saving the one who had offended her for last.

Laertia and he were alone, all his friends out cold. It had been cold, and efficient.

Laertia guarded.

He moved like the wind, coming at her from unfamiliar angles in the Vaapaad Style, strong fast blows that she met with the unpredictable nature of Form One at its highest levels, her blade intercepting his, his furious slashes blocked at every angle, until he slashed from on high and she simply lurched forward, mechanical arm catching his sword arm and breaking it at the wrist. He screamed in agony as his Lightsaber tumbled from his hand, still in her grip, her Lightsaber severing it.

"You have no idea what level it sickens me, having to work with Sith. Its like a nightmare I cannot wake up from. But You...are never to refer to the Bryn'adul as pests ever again..." she instructed stoically, back handing him so hard he was out cold, a massive welt forming on his face as she strode over his unconscious figure to her ship, a stolen prototype she had heavily modified.

She stepped forward into the main hold, numb at what she had done, experiencing a moment of doubt and guilt. But she couldn't let that man's dismissal stand. Would not.

A familiar feminine giggle instantly set her on edge as she entered the main hold. She stared, went rock still at the source, a near impossibly beautiful woman with hair as black as her own but with much fairer skin, and dead purple eyes, clad in a flesh colored catsuit with long white gloves and boots.

("What is Love?" by Haddaway plays)

Laertia remained still as The Amalgam danced to the OOC music due to her insanity having similarities to that of Laertia's now former rival Maple Harte . She wasn't able to hear the OOC music herself, so the Amalgam's dancing came off as even more bizarre and out of place than it was.

"You..." she trailed, coiling up to The Black Knight like a snake, a hiss on her lips and a psychotic smile on her face as she confirmed for herself that Laertia wouldn't attack.

"...have made me so proud of you, Daughter!" the murderous SithSpawn gushed, its twisted affection for Laertia keeping the persona of Darth Phyre, who yearned to get out and speak with her, suppressed within itself. She took out a small digital camera, luxuriously wrapping her arm around the stock still, silent Black Knight and pressing the side of her face to Laertia's helm, which mercifully hid the silent tears of trauma going down her face, and took a selfie with her.

"I never lost faith that you would have the guts! Such a late bloomer! Such a slow burner!" The Amalgam laughed, joyously hugging her former student. "See? What did I tell you? They're rejecting you because they are finally starting to understand you are not one of them, and never will be...

"How long..." Laertia growled. "Have you been on this ship?"

If The Amalgam was overjoyed to be once more fighting alongside her daughter, then she was positively ecstatic, grinning as she heard her daughter's voice without the speech impediment for the first time.

"Maybe I was always aboard! Maybe I smuggled myself into SJC space like I normally do, ritually killing and skinning a few random innocents and then just snuck aboard, plopped my gloriously shaped figure on a seat and waited for you to arrive. I think I might still have some of their teeth...would you care to see? I kinda went Blair Witch on their asses--"

Laertia's mechanical arm was around The Amalgam's throat. To her disgust and overwhelming horror and revulsion, the Amalgam grinned.

Laertia dropped her, the Amalgam smirking and clutching her throat.

"Only joking, Laertia. Honest! You can check my pockets if you like!" The Amalgam taunted...then grinned.

"Unless you count the teeth I took from that pregnant woman in Sith Space--"

"Enough...this disgusts me enough as it is..." Laertia interrupted striding for the cockpit.

"Wow...the Bryn'adul must have really pissed you off to get you to ignore everything going on between us..." the Amalgam giggled, prancing behind Laertia and watching her activate the powerful Murder-Ship.

"So you were the one who killed everybody at Fortress Vitiate!" The Amalgam remarked of her ship as they lifted off from Kashyyyk.

Laertia didn't respond to her as she punched in the coordinates for Sith Space.

"You have the clearance codes to make it through your space without getting shot up?" Laertia asked crisply.

"Of course. So...have you tasted her yet?" The Amalgam asked quietly as the ship launched for Hyperspace.

"Rot in hell." Laertia snapped.

"You must have...if she's fixing your voice for you. Did you make her sing afterward?" The Amalgam hissed, making her flinch as both her hands grasped Laertia's shoulders...

"Did she make 'you' sing?" The Amalgam hissed as they saw hyperspace lines.

Laertia said nothing.

"Y'know, you never struck me as the type to go for Sorcerers. I guess those catsuits of hers must be 'very' skintight. That, and she's a visual expy of Nineties Tia Carrere, that's probably helping a ton, huh?"

Laertia dared to glance her direction and went cold. The Amalgam had taken on her old appearance as the False Jedi Shadow Ursula Sandraven, a purple skinned, quite beautiful Twi'lek woman, and who had taught Laertia for years.

"I still have my alternate costume!" The Amalgam joked in Ursula's voice. "Oh, this is going to be so fun! Master and Apprentice, Mother and Daughter, killing together like a proper family once more! You've destroyed whatever standing you had, pissed off all the Silver Jedi more than likely, dragged your girlfriend and her student into disgrace with you AND you're going to the planet where your parents were brutally murdered and dismembered to defend the type of people who brutally murdered and dismembered them! And all because you see the bigger picture...all because you're trying to be...in your own utterly twisted way...selfless...putting the lives of billions before your own pain...or the Order's pride..."

Her face. Her voice. Calling her the name that in the past Laertia would have given up all her skill with the Lightsaber and all her connection to the Force forever to hear:

Daughter.

And now that she stared into that face, heard that voice, once gentle and stern, now polluted by the Amalgam's arrogance and homicidal persona, she felt nothing but horror at being called that by her.

The Amalgam smiled again as Laertia continued to say nothing.

"Are you suuuuurrre you don't wanna go Dark Side?" The Amalgam teased. "Because, if you think about it...all the stuff I listed are reaaaaalllllly good reasons to turn to The Dark Side."

Laertia composed herself.

"I will trick you into killing your own God someday." Laertia said quietly, calmly.

This actually got The Amalgam to stop her psychological warfare/twisted bonding session and raise an eyebrow.

"Oooo, touchy..." the SithSpawn cooed in Ursula's voice.

"Just be ready to transmit clearance codes..." Laertia said.

The Amalgam stroked Laertia's helmet, making her flinch.

"If its any consolation, Daughter...if there 'was' anything left of Ursula within me...there isn't, by the way...she too would be extremely proud of you. She couldn't have stood back and watched The Bryn'adul slaughter all those innocents like I could."

The Amalgam walked out of the cockpit to let her pilot, only for Laertia to teleport in front of the SithSpawn.

"All those years ago..." Laertia growled, fighting back more tears under her helmet. "You picked me. What did you see in me?"

The Amalgam paused, clearly thinking a moment.

"I saw myself..." she answered finally.

Laertia's voice came out strained with her next question.

"Then why did you push me away?!"

The Amalgam took on that same body language she had as Ursula, all traces of sadistic evil momentarily leaving her voice to take on that stern schoolteacher tone that had always motivated Laertia in her youth, now the last cruel gasp of a dead ghost in Laertia's mind.

"Because I saw too much of myself." The Amalgam answered calmly and politely. (I'M GONNA DISINTEGRATE YOU!: 90 XP)

The pair stared at each other for a moment, studying one another.

"You want the truth?" The Amalgam asked, that homicidal, sadistic smile creeping onto her Ursula-features. "You almost kept me buried forever all those years ago. She had lost Uri...but she still had you. And if you think that wasn't enough to keep me under lock and key...you are quite wrong...and I almost surrendered to the situation out of love."

The Amalgam began circling her, the school teacher tone fading like magic and replaced with psychotic mockery and joviality.

"But you just couldn't stop trying, could you?" The SithSpawn asked playfully, fingers gliding over the back of her helmet. "Always trying to get Ursula's approval, always trying to show up Uri at the end. It was obvious to me AND Ursula, just so you know. We thought it was a phase. One you would grow out of. But you didn't. A mistake on my part, I really shouldn't have underestimated how crazy jealous you got over Uri being the favorite. You wanna know what 'really' finally helped me escape from Ursula?" The Amalgam asked, stopping to stare into her green visor.

"Might as well..." Laertia got out stoically.

"It was the day you received your injuries. I knew Uri was faking her death, simply telling her to Feth herself. But I could handle it. And then...you went and forced my hand...you had to go and prove yourself..."

Laertia stopped breathing as the Amalgam drew closer, that sadistic grin still plastered to her mentor's face.

"Ursy was pretty shaken by her favorite abandoning her. But she still had you...and then...she found out you got your eye and arm blown off. We were both devastated. I tried to force her from within to visit you but she wouldn't have it...she was too ashamed of herself. And ironically that despair she felt was the key to me finally freeing myself after creating her all those years ago. My emergence was inevitable...and she knew it. That's part of the reason she pushed you away. She knew on some level she was nothing but a silly lie I had cooked up that was running out of steam and just wanted to protect you...she just ran out of it faster when she let the guilt over driving both her daughters away get to her. So, from a certain point of view...you are responsible for everything that has happened because of me re-emerging. The death of Ursula, the assault on Castagne, the Death of The Marksmen, driving Uri my favoritehalfway to the Dark Side, all the murders I've been committing...all of that is due almost solely to the fact you were too insecure about your parental figure's approval." she finished with a smile to a Laertia on the verge of absolutely quaking with horror and hatred towards the person talking.

"Well! That was a 'fun' little therapy session! I really think we've made more progress! More progress than that damn Android you call Mommy has anyway...call me when you need the code clearance sweetie!" The Amalgam called out before extracating herself from Laertia's silent figure and heading over to the engineering area to meditate in the pulsing heart of a mighty war machine.

Just before the murderous beast, still wearing Ursula's face to cause Laertia pain, crossed the threshold to engineering, Laertia said one more thing that managed to drive the arrogant SithSpawn to complete silence.

"That day I lost my eye and arm? I wasn't trying to impress you..." Laertia said grimly, letting out a truth she had always suspected of herself but never had a reason to admit, either to herself or others before this point. "I was trying to hurt you. That fight I got into with the Assault Shuttle? It was a suicide attempt."

The Amalgam said nothing at this, not facing Laertia, who went back into the cockpit to pilot in quiet.

Present...

The Shadow Bride had entered Dantooine's atmosphere just before the NIO had really blockaded everything, and it hadn't been until now that she had decided what to do as she began shooting down NIO Starfighters, causing them to crash into their fellows below. She didn't give a chit about the NIO or their warriors. Or their cause. To her they just wanted to be the new fething boss. Was it so easy for the Jedi to align with them simply because they hated the Sith even more than the Jedi as a whole, even more than she herself did.

They accused the Triumvirate of being united by hatred. The NIO could probably give Darth Carnifex himself a run for his money in hatred. If the glue holding the Triumvirate together was hatred and fear, then the glue holding the NIO and NJO together was just hatred.

But this was bigger than the Jedi Code or their war with the Sith, yet they wouldn't see it. Refused to see it. She saw it. Saw the death. The suffering she had experienced at Yurb and Nar Kreeta told her the Jedi were wrong. The dead faces of all the people that died in battle against the Draelvasir said they were wrong. Hang the Code! If the Code stops you from doing the right thing, the thing you know in your heart is right...should you actually listen to it?

Let the fools be secure in being remembered as heroes. She would rather be forgotten and destroy the Bryn'adul's ability to wage war in the process than be remembered and lauded for adhering to a perverted morality that sacrificed lives simply because it couldn't be bothered to join hands even temporarily with its rivals. Syd Celsius had called them right out on it: They were cutting their nose off to spite their face, ignoring reality because of pride and ego.

If there was one Lesson of 'Ursula Sandraven' she still honored beyond the combat training, it was this: Pride and Ego were the quickest ways to death and damnation in the business.

She had searched herself in the days before, trying to figure out if she was doing the right thing. Trying to search for any sign of arrogance or malice in her thinking, any resentment towards the Jedi that might be corrupting her decision.

All she could find, when she looked within, were the faces of the heroic dead at Nar Kreeta, staring back at her, slashed, shot, burned, smashed, and mutilated by vile murderous beasts that didn't even want slaves to bully. Rabid dogs of lower honor and greater cruelty than almost any Sith.

She would display her opposition. She would display it without hesitation. She chose to send a message to the NJO that if they wanted to play this stupid popularity contest out while the Galaxy burned, she would wring their necks for it.

She felt a gathering of Jedi below as she blasted apart NIO fighters and ground troops with the many weapons on her ship as she flew over the city Garrison, She blasted apart a swell of Iron Sun soldiers ruthlessly and coldly, blowing up one of their tanks. Laertia jump-flinched in her seat as the Amalgam, back in that near impossibly beautiful face of hers, wrapped her arms around Laertia from behind.

"Drop me off over Garang, dear! Remember, in bed before Ten! No exceptions! And no girls over without getting my express permission!" The SithSpawn gushed, unable to resist being a massive fething troll, even now. "And no candy until after dinner!"

"I'm going to piss on the corpse of your God after I make you kill it."

The arms came away from her instantly and there was no response. Laertia punched the controls and opened the hatch.

"Get out." Laertia ordered.

The Amalgam sighed and strode to the hatch, the Shadow Bride flying low enough for the Amalgam to make some epic leap from it even as it continued viciously targeting the soldiers of the Iron Sun , using the Force to land on her feat safely. To her delight, She found she had been dropped right in the thick of it, cackling insanely as she lit her purple Split-Saber and slashing viciously into NIO and Jedi alike, spearing an impromptu push into the enemy from surrounding allies as The SithSpawn summoned purple lightning from the sky to blast apart an NIO aligned Force adept who had gotten too close.

007 Jedi surrounded her, and The Amalgam cackled as her staff spun to meet their blades, not nearly as restrained as her daughter...her Lightsaber knowledge was as absolutely sadistic as it was masterful, inflicting the maximum amount of pain possible before killing them, blades moving savagely and unpredictably, eviscerating them in seconds. She spotted a tough looking one... Rynn Vizsla

Flesh shuddering everywhere as she summoned the dark, she sent thick bolts of purple lightning from above crashing toward his position...he might dodge it...

...but that was a lot of lightning.

Meanwhile...


As the temple loomed, she started getting heavy amounts of Anti Space Craft Fire. She sensed Ryv and Shaka Sunstar in that area. She targeted the Forces spearheading the assault that Hans Rennagen was part of.

She showed no mercy as she fired on his soldiers and anyone else stupid enough to be there, before she set it to emergency auto pilot and opened the hatch as it flew, leaping out and teleporting to the ground amidst bombs and missile fire,

Her lightsaber ran into the chest of an NIO as he got near, then she was being shot at from all sides as she charged into the fray, slicing off a surprised Jedi's arm, then grabbing him that same arm and using it as a club against three other Jedi, brutalizing them, incapacitating them but not going out of her way to actually kill them. If they died, it was because something else got them. The NIO soldiers and imperial knights who tried to fight her were shown no mercy however, getting beheaded or outright torn in half by Laertia as her Form One ripped and tore into their ranks, two dozen dead in the span of a minute, using this to horrify the Imperial Knights and their soldiers as she was covered in the blood of their friends. Three strong knights went up against her and her blade whipped and sliced into their defenses with cruel precision and callousness, a Jedi that tried to stop her losing one arm for her trouble and then knocked out after an exchange of strikes as she desperately tried to distract Laertia as much as possible from the others attacking, who soon started to back away as the Black Knight advanced on the NIO Dogs that had tricked her fellow Jedi into aiding them...

Darth Prazutis

Luna Terrik

 

[Iasha Rha]

Allies: Alina Tremiru Ruek Tast Arctus Silmar Other Space Kaiden Darth Carnifex Thurion Heavenshield Adron Malvern Xobos Yakieer Freyu Molidias
Enemies: Jin Kyrel Ryv Shaka Sunstar Cotan Sar'andor Loske Treicolt Rurik Fel Hans Rennagen
The Enclave - Path to Crystal Caverns

“I think I have it”

Something shook the ground they stood on, it was far, but potent. Dust was unsettled from shelves and cascaded down like rivers of grey. Iasha grinned as she zoomed in on a portion of the holomap of the Enclave and its connected tunnels of crystal caverns. They were a small cadre of young ones, the inexperienced but overly eager; those who did not belong in the sight of the former Emperor and the esteemed paragons.

One they they would. If they succeeded in this, they would.

“We move through the tunnels” she gestured to the gaping opening ahead of them, dimly lit by the glow of the many crystals. Her hand then returned to the map. “We take this passage here, and if we come out here, we may be able to outflank them” She pointed to a terminus of the map, dubious, but possible.

“See? It will work.”

The twi’lek nodded confidently as she looked to her fellow acolytes. They were among the reserves for the masters tied to combat above. Some were seedlings, some were acolytes, some were fully fledged apprentices to lords big and small.

“But we can’t stay and fight. They outnumber us and the legion is busy with the occupation. We must hit them hard and retreat. The tunnels will give us an advantage.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, the young sithling looked solemnly at the others

“We know these tunnels. I bet my left lekku those filthy ihsily do not”

 

[Kalika Vaar]

GALACTIC ALLIANCE | NEW JEDI ORDER | JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
OBJECTIVE 1
Location: Near Temple, On a Speeder Bike Attacking Through Sith Speeder Bike Attack
Allied RP Partner: Shaka Sunstar
Marked Targets: Adron Malvern | Freyu Molidias | Xobos Yakieer
Gear: Lightsaber | Armor
Other Ally Tags: Zaavik Perl | Cotan Sar'andor | Creuat | Ryv

POST #2

Kalika thought she had time. She thought she had time to reach out in the Force and balance the kaleidoscope of feedback that plagued her Miralukan vision. Shades of red, blue, grey, and black mixed in dulled and then vivid explosions of color and Force impressions. There was noise wherever she turned, death throes, screams cut short, lives ripped into splintered pieces and then immediate silence that followed. She thought she could center herself. She thought she had time. She had none.

An artillery round impaled the position beside her, engulfing the NIO Stormtroopers into a fireball. The air was crushed around it and sent out in a shockwave that pummeled her chest and launched her into the gnarled charred stump of a great wood’s tree. Kalika ricocheted off the stump and flipped into the churned earth. Cratered by Sith-Imperial artillery, stomped into the mud by charging forces, and sodden with gore and bleeding fuel from destroyed vehicles it was like diving into an ocean of carnage. She landed face first and doused herself in sludge and muck. Rolling with the momentum of her fall she was only stopped by the corpse of a Stormtrooper, crashing into its blaster bolt riddled breastplate.

The world spun for a moment. Her ears rang with a shrill echo of her pounding heart. Her vision blurred and swayed with her stumbling attempts to stand up. Her legs disobeyed her desperate tries, digging their tips into the mud and tripping her. She fell again into the corpse flooded into the crater she had landed in. She couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, panicked by the explosion, she felt that she had no air in her helmet. Shaking hands hurriedly clawed at her helmet's fastening clasps and she popped the helmet off, tossing it aside. She moaned for air, but could only swallow the stench of mud, gore, and the black smoke of burning vehicles. Kalika wheezed and hacked, she felt as if she was going to vomit up her lungs and guts.

‘What is this hell,’ her thoughts cried in the Force. ‘No one can endure this kinda hell!’

Red streaks of blaster rounds bloomed and flashed in the smoky fog before her. Each illuminated a comrade being struck or barely striking. She crawled forward, groping at random armor plates, pulling herself over the dead. Everything in her wanted to collapse and sleep with the dead, but something else drove her to wade through the carnage. She tried to feel in the Force to find her unit - to find the Sword of the Jedi and the NJO Jedi that was holding the frontal charge. Kalika made it out of the crater on the battlefield’s scorched grasslands. She still couldn’t get up.

“I found one!” a helmet vocoder distorted growl interrupted her.

Kalika looked to her side and saw a Sith Trooper, crimson-clad and tainted by black scorch marks from glancing blaster hits marching up to her. His rifle was levelled on her head. Kalika could only stare at the barrel of the blaster coming closer and closer. The black abyss of the barrels innards pinned Kalika to her place, prone, on all fours, like a caught animal. Thoughts flashed that the body ignored. ‘Move!’ her thoughts howled at herself, ‘Move!Move!’ She couldn’t raise her arm to wield her saber.

“Your finished Jedi, die.” the Sith Trooper hissed.

The words struck Kalika before the blaster did. It was like a blade that cut the tethers of terror that festooned Kalika motionless. With what Force was still in her, she rapidly drew her blaster and with speed shot a quick bolt into the Sith Trooper’s thigh. At close range, it blasted a deep gash that made the Sith Trooper break his posture and hunch over yelling. Taking this moment of distraction she lunged forward and tackled the Sith Trooper. The pair fell down into the muck, with Kalik straddling on top. The Sith Trooper tried to thrash her off, but Kalika ignited her saber's white hot blade and buried it into the Sith Trooper’s face plate.

She stood up. Covered in dark earthen filth, she looked like a pillar of the battlefield's carnage incarnate. Her face was smeared with the same refuse and she gritted her teeth like a fanged beast. ‘Will not die here,’ she spoke in the Force, ‘I cannot. I made a promise to return.’ Kalika used the Force to infuse some valorous energy into legs. The warmth of the Force, doubled by her will to survive, now tempered by death itself, moved her into a running charge. As she did she felt through the Force, she tried to find the NJO Knights. Between this moment, she parried and deflected what blaster fire ripped the air to reach her.

Through a clearing in the smoke, she spotted the Sword of the Jedi. He was accompanied by Shaka Sunstar and an elder Jedi she didn’t recognize ( Cotan Sar'andor ). She rushed as fast as she could to reach them. But, once again, she was out of time. The screeching howls of an oncoming attack echoed down the battle lines. Sith Speeder Bikes carved a tearing path from a flanking position through the NJO and NIO lines. Stormtroopers and Jedi were picked off by power lances and gunned down by mounted Sith Troopers. Kalika saw a group puncture the NIO unit beside her and spew out like angered wasps. ‘Kark it all, we need to swing back!’ Kalika thought.

Quickly she dove into a nearby crater. She hugged the earth and pressed her cheek into the muck. The speed of their assault was so great and so occupied by the easy pickings of upright soldiers, a few speeders flew right over Kalika’s crater. She waited. She waited for one to zip just nearby. One came, charging not over but beside her crater. When she saw this she threw her ignited saber and slashed the Sith Trooper right off his perch. Leaping out of the crater and using the Force to enhance her coordination she flipped onto the speeder, commandeering it. She swung the speeder around and summoned her saber to her hand.

Pressing on the controls she erupted back into the oncoming Sith Speeder attack. With Force Pushes and wide arching tossing her saber she cut what came her way. All the while she sped towards Ryv and Shaka, calling to other Jedi Knights and Imperial Force Knights.

“Grab a bike! We’ll send them back to the Sarlacc Pit they crawled out of!”

---

 

[Gedeon Rath]

Operation Harvest Dark
Codename: Hannibal
Objective: Group up with Prefsbelt Soldiers
Allies: Rexus Wenck | Dergan Twigg (x)
Gedeon's Gear: Evasive-226-R Field Disruptor | E-11D Blaster Carbine | Thermal Detonators (x2) | Damascus Patterned Combat Dagger (Phrik/Durasteel)
-

The Death Troopers making their way towards the Commando's shuttle were hardly inconspicuous, the sheer height of the one an odd sight amidst such conformity - but what did he care? Gedeon too had been playing around with a cigarra between his lips, the smoke creating an almost uncanny visage across the man's horrendously scarred features. "Hannibal." he corrected grimly as he spat the cigarra on the ground and rose to his feet. Visibly eyeing the giant he looked back towards Rommulus. "We won't need cover where we're going." He grinned. Whether it was obvious or not, the space they all now occupied had been a fallback position, a place to regroup - which naturally meant Hannibal's boys were a bit tuckered. "My men have taken a beating but what better way to lead?" he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and waved forward. "The Front is close enough if you're alright with a short skip and a jump, that shuttle's better served to medevacs.

Filling his own squad in on the plan they formed up along a short ridge, ready to make their mad dash for the front once the death troopers were ready. Gedeon wasn't going to let some lousy planet like Dantoine hold them down.

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

​

The Jedi are peacekeepers. Not soldiers.​

The words lingered in the back of her mind. They were no warriors. No conquerors. No war heroes. The Jedi were servants of the Force and the guardians of peace and justice. She had vowed to use the Force for knowledge and defense. Vowed to wield her saber only in the defense of others, no matter their cultural heritage.

That was what had brought her here. The Jedi Master came as a neutral party. One who wished to ensure the safety of the many Imperials who refused to evacuate. She did not expect the N-I-O to commit war crimes, but over the years she had learned that faith alone was often not enough to base one's judgement on. Although now, amidst the chaos of war, she wished that she had done so.

Every citizen of Garang who could stand, be they man or woman, seemed willing to fight and die for their Empire. How could she possibly defend the 'innocent', who so carelessly threw their lives away?

The Sephi, graceful and light in her step, turned several red bolts back on her attackers in a flash of white and purple. She was caught in the crossfire between the patriots and the invading forces. With just a touch of the Force to speed up her movement, Sakadi disengaged. The Sephi was two blocks away from her destination, breaking up what small skirmishes she could and actively avoiding the others as she rapidly traversed the war-torn city.

Her destination was one of the few places in the entire city where the innocent and unarmed resided. She had been there moments prior to the N-I-O's arrival, but had left to sweep other city blocks for those in dire need of help. Now, with the fighting growing ever closer, she returned to the Imperial Dawn Orphanage...

Only to be greeted by a figure she considered the mortal enemy of her Order and ideology.

The Jedi Master stood face to face with the Empress of the Sith. A woman over three feet taller than her, clad in black and red. The lilac eyes of the Jedi studied the towering figure with the golden diadem. Was it her presence that made the citizens so valiant to protect their homes? Did they fight because their Empress was near? Would removing her from the scene save more lives?

For that reason alone, the Sephi was tempted to engage the woman in a duel that could very well end one of their lives. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to do so. To stand against the darkness and rid the galaxy of another Jedi killer.

It was the outreaching hand of the Empress that stopped her from pressing her weapon's ignition switch. The Sephi remained almost dissonantly serene, despite her bewilderment. She cocked her head to the side, eyes meeting the cold stare of the Sith.

Then, she reached out. A ripple moved through the Force, carrying a single message to the part-Vahla part-Epicanthix. Whether she could pick up on the Jedi's telepathy was not her concern. For if the Sith truly wanted this truce, she would.

"My only concern is the safety of the frail, injured, and the orphans. I will not seek out nor actively engage your enemies, unless they seek to harm those not involved in this battle." The disembodied voice was unyielding despite its soft tone. She did not trust practitioners of the Dark side, but attacking them now would only endanger more lives. No. For once, she would set aside her distrust and hostility toward them, only doing so to prevent further death and destruction... Or so she hoped...

Joycelyn Zambrano Auteme Sor-Jan Xantha​

​

 

[Ty Sibo]

Location: evacuated Apartment
Current occupants: Ty sibo, 4x biodroids
Equipment:
Ty sibo: Armored bodysuit, Anti material rifle with 3 mags,
Biodroids: 2x Grenade Machine Gun , 2x M-416, 2x Laser battle rifle, H.A.R.M. MK1 ARMOR
Allies: Luna Terrik
Enemies: Irveric Tavlar , Salvor King
Post I
Ty had arrived at the City much like Most of the CIS that was assisting in the ground battle did. However, Ty's Reasoning to do so was less for company publicity and more to do with previous experiences. Accompanying him was the First batch of Hades corp Biodroids to which he trained personally had trained, upon reaching the city however the thought of garring the units strictly to one place wasn't tactically sound Ty's been there done that and it didn't work.

after a bit of time Ty contracted the help of a local volunteer militia known as SICA to guide him and his men to an Apartment complex recently Evacuated.While being guided there Ty sat with his Squadlost deep in thought over the past 12 hours before getting here. He played the conversation between him and his predecessor over the halo net over and over in his head. "Sir, wouldn't it be safer to just send a regiment of biodroids?" Glancing over his shoulder at the feeble old man who he replaced 2 years ago as the owner of Hade's corp. "Richard, you remember how I died? i died fighting for a similar reason a long time ago as these people and ill be damned if someone else goes through the same thing so ill be going down there and if you don't like it well that's too bad." Mabie Ty was too hard on the man or mabie Ty was to soft the world may never know.

Once they arrived at the Location Ty wished the SICA militia luck before looking to his men. "Alright 1 and 2 let's get the GMGs to the top floor, knock out the walls I was one facing the east section and one facing the west." turning to the other two biodroids. Ty spoke to them. "3 and 4 help 1 and 2 set up and then cover the south of the building while I cover the north." with that the 4 men biodroid team + ty began work turning the top floor of the apartment complex into a well-fortified forward defensive location. furniture and anything not nailed down was moved to barricade the staircase and reinforce walls. What used to be the floors staff room had been turned into a place to store ammo and use the coms to speak to the main garrison. As the finished setting up Ty Keyed on the long-range coms

"this is Ty sibo of Hades corp, we've set up a forward defensive location about a click from the garrison We will try to keep you posted as well as attempt at halting enemy flanks from our position if you have any assets you can spare in the air or artillery having them on standby would help over."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Equipment​

Armor Taralraiskaz Battle Plate Helm of Malignant Anima Fist of Moridin the Great Weapons Derriphan the Devourer Other Empyrean Gland

He would've laughed if he still possessed the ability, but the most he could muster was a grim smirk. ​

​

"They would not afford you the same generosity, Golden Lion. Make no mistake about that."​

​

Whereas the High King of Midvinter might possess certain reservations about raising his blade against one of his own, the once-Emperor had no such qualms. Being mired in Sith politics for the latter half of his life, and the rugged cutthroat life of banditry the other, he had no illusions about the lengths others would go to take another's life. It was just the simple law of the universe, and it was encapsulated in the words which his house lived by.​

​

The strong do what they will, and the weak suffer what they must.​

​

Reaching out, Carnifex summoned his half-helm to his hand from where it sat a few meters away. Slowly he raised it above his head and gently placed it down over it, the skull visage obscuring his scarred countenance except for his jaw and the beard which sprung out from it. The moment the piece of metal rested upon his scalp he could feel the rush of negative emotions from the fighting above their heads, the anger and hatred fostered and nurtured by each opposing side of the same coin. The internecine conflict only standing to weaken each other while allowing their true enemy to gather strength unchallenged.​

​

The spirit nestled in his left gauntlet stirred at the influx of emotion, itself throbbing with dark energy as a miasma of death and destruction bloomed across the system. No doubt the Jedi Master next to him could feel the same energies coursing through the air around them, but unlike his counterpart, he could not draw on it for strength. Perhaps that spoke to the resolve and determination which had defined Heavenshield's leadership, but Carnifex thought it was foolish to deny such a wellspring of power that was there for the taking, lurking just beyond Thurion's fingertips. If Thurion seized such power and fully embraced the Dark Side, the once-Emperor believed that he would be a stronger Sith than even he.​

​

"We will see how long this farce lasts before you are forced to take the life of a Jedi, to see the hate and fury in their eyes as the light dims. This crucible will break many on both sides, but those that survive will become even stronger. Such is the nature of war, now let us go wage it." He clipped the Sunstrider blade to his hip as he turned away from Thurion.​

​

Striding out of the chamber with strong purposeful steps, Carnifex navigated the halls without difficulty as his sword floated behind him dutifully. He had played a part in this temple's construction years ago, and he possessed knowledge of every nook and cranny, every secret passage which had been chiseled in its walls. With a wave of his hand and one of the temple walls opened up like a sheet of water splitting over a rock, he stepped inside and continued along an older and mustier path. ​

​

It was part of the Jedi Temple that the Sith Temple had been built over, portions of the original structure had survived the bombardment that demolished the rest of it. Instead of knocking it down, Carnifex ordered the new Sith Temple to be built around it. No official records ever contained mention of these hidden passages, they were only present in the mind of the once-Emperor and his closest colleagues. He had murdered the workers who had constructed the facade around the passages, preserving their secrecy. Only dust and cobwebs stood in opposition to the Sith Lord and Jedi Master as they walked, for none had graced these decrepit halls in years.​

​

The inner chamber used to be a meditation room, utilized by the Jedi to reflect on their inner peace. Now it was a ruin, a banner displaying the ancient symbol of the Jedi Order tattered and torn on the far wall. A small space at the center of the room had been recently cleared of dirt and debris, a symbol written in the runic language of ur-Kittât dominating its center. Kneeling, the once-Emperor temporarily removed the gauntlet over his right hand and retrieve a small triangular dagger from his waist. Drawing the blade over his flesh, he cut a wound into the palm of his hand. Black blood bubbled to the surface, and as Carnifex clenched his fist and tilted his hand to the side, a single trickle of blood splashed down onto the ritualistic writing.​

​

The effects were immediate, the writing began to glow and burn with hellish red heat. In the metaphysical realm of his mind, he reached into the leylines of power that now burned with energy and simultaneously reached out into the wider world around them with his senses. He could see the forces assailing the temple, but more importantly, he could see who led them into battle. It was as he had predicted, the Sunstrider boy had come to this world, drawn by the dreams he had been influencing from afar. Another stood beside him, a man whose face and will was made of the strongest iron.​

​

A mirroring pair, like the rhyming of poetry. ​

​

"Reach out to me with your hand, Heavenshield, complete the circuit. We move now into battle."​

​

The moment Thurion touched Carnifex, the energy compiled in the ritual circle would be released. And in an instant, their musty decrepit surroundings shifted like smoke, and they instead quickly found themselves surrounded by the idyllic plains of Dantooine. ​

​

Behind the enemy lines.​

​

Carnifex's reaction was violent, the faintest whisper of a snarl gracing his lips as he lashed out with his power. Tendrils of scarlet energy raked across the ground around them, tearing apart the earth as his sword flashed through the air of its own volition. Fel and Sunstrider would certainly know of this sudden commotion, of the dark presence which had suddenly intruded upon them. It called to them, beckoned to them to stand before it and face judgment. ​

​

A monumental clash of wills.​

​

Thurion Heavenshield | Oceiros Sunstrider | Rurik Fel ​

 

[Salvor King]

CHAMPION OF THE WORLD

COMPNOR Contract
COMPFORCE: 'CHAMPION-ACTUAL'
DISRUPT THE SITH

TWO HOURS EARLIER
​

"Hey!" A haggard voice called out to King as he walked the streets of Garang City. "Are you with the defense force?" The middle-aged man asked with a hint of desperation in his voice. King didn't reply, but the man for some reason took his staring silence as an affirmative. "Thank goodness. I can't believe the New Imperials would come here. My daughter is very sick, I need help getting her to saf-" His words were cut short by a metallic fist crashing into his mouth.

The crunching of teeth and the electric droning of King's TURBODUSTERS echoed through the immediate area as the man was sent back a full meter and onto his ass. "Hey!" another voice shouted angrily. Someone else approached him quickly. He looked similar to the first man but much younger. Probably his son. "What the hell are you doing you bas-?"

CRACK. Anotha' one. King's fist found purchase again, this time into a much younger row of teeth. "Hey!" Yet another voice shouted, this time running King's way. He had weapons and some kind of protective gear. Probably an actual member of the defense force. Civilian militia or something like that. This one raised his weapon towards King. "Don't make me-"

WHAP. Anotha' one. This time, the distinct sound of a lightsaber firing sounded from behind him. He turned to see a cylinder of red plasma pointed his way. King's dark aviators stared back into the Zabrak's sinister yellow eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" The sith shouted. Ironic. "You can't abuse people just because those New-Imperial dogs are coming!" Since when did Sith get all benevolent? "I'm going to-"

SLAP. Anotha' one. Then came a brief moment of silence. Aside from the groans of pain coming from the several victims writing on the floor and clutching their jaws, that was. King almost believed he could keep walking until he heard it. A child's cry. A young boy was visibly shaken by the vulgar display of power that had taken place. King approached the boy and got down on a knee before giving the child a reassuring smile. The child managed to smile back, stifling his cry.

Treat it like the rest.

CRUNCH. Anotha' one.

PRESENT TIME
​

King found himself atop one of the larger buildings in Garang City. He sat leisurely atop an air-conditioning unit. A civilian militia member in a headlock on one side, and the civilian's holo-phone in the opposite hand. King scrolled through the man's SpaceBook. Occasionally making cancelable comments on photos and posts. He read every one of them out loud as he typed, causing the militia soldier to squirm harder and harder to free himself from King's headlock. He must have really valued all two-thousand of his followers.

"Oh, you like Limmie, Markus?" King asked as he spotted the sports app on his holophone.

"N-no. Shut up!" The militiaman protested despite the truth.

"Wow. The Dantooine Dominators are up eighteen points against the Dromund Kaas Thunder."

"R-really?" The militiaman asked with genuine surprise.

"No, I'm just karking with you. They're actually down 0-42."

The militiaman made a dejected face before starting to squirm again. King's grip tightened progressively the more he struggled. Eventually, Markus would be practically choking himself out. King switched from the sports app to Colo Crush and began to play as he patiently waited for... well, something to happen. Markus didn't stop struggling this time. He was determined to get out of this, despite the futility of it.

A few minutes later, King heard the engines of troop transports roaring in the distance. King stood and began to walk from the center of the roof. Markus was dragged with him, still restrained to the headlock. King's eyes caught someone from the open door of the transport. Metal arms. An odd presence. She was a Sith for sure. From behind his aviators, his eyes stared at her as the troop transport flew, looking for that signature feeling of being watched to force her to notice. Was she the target? Probably not. But she was now.

King crushed the holophone into a wad in his hand.

"Hey!" The militiaman shouted. "That was the AvPhone X!"

"Whatever," King dismissed before planting a punch on the crown of Markus's head. The militiaman went limp in King's hold. He threw the destroyed phone over his shoulder like a discarded piece of paper as he watched the troop transport. He'd wait a moment before dropping Markus's unconscious body to the ground below. He just kept staring.

Look at me.

Fight me.

Cara Dorniarn ​

 

[Freyu Molidias]

Adron Malvern | Xobos Yakieer | Iasha Rha
Kalika Vaar | Shaka Sunstar

Freyu hated war.

The fact could easily surprise anyone familiar with what the Pantoran giantess was. To all who observed the towering blue brute they saw the White Wolf of House Malvern, Talon of Winter, the Successor of Tor... no, she could never be her sire's heir. But for every body she rendered motionless another was saved. A king's assassin. A pirate's crew. An insurgent's lackeys. Unlike her sworn duty as warden war felt artificial, the bodies churned out at unnatural speeds merely to secure dirt. Her cold gaze watched as the Sith Empire's troops aided civilians to bunkers and camps, their leaders not wishing to gamble civilian lives in blockaded space. She had heard tell that all who lived under the umbrella of the curious Empire called themselves Sith. What did this mean, then, to those who wished to wage war against the title?

The giantess gave a huff then turned back to the small group at the enclave. This was all too messy for the likes of her ward to be involved with yet here he was, practicing his voodoo with his young apprentice. The amethyst king had sought something here. Beyond the alliance agreed upon by the Confederacy and the Empire, a personal thread of interest was woven in with her king's presence on this planet. What it was she wouldn't know though she wished to. The sharp crack of a wood pointer against a chalkboard rang in her ears as the rehearsed excerpt came to mind:

Personal matters of the ward are rarely kept so. It is the position of the warden to stand between the ward and the demons which lurk in private corners. -Aundarius the Lesser

Subconsciously Freyu rubbed cold fingers over her palm, the phantom stinging testament to how many times she answered "Greater" rather than "Lesser" when asked to attribute the quote. Such was life. Imperfection should be met with strict discipline or else one would not learn, and those who came to meet them this day would be instructed the same. She rolled her shoulders as she saw the oncoming horde headed for the enclave. Pupils constricted as she saw the twinkles of blue blades bringing death to those that opposed them. Arms crossed over her broad chest and the twin talismans there, her outfit having unchanged from the usual dark mauve suit. Armor was of little use in most situations, most made for the standard humanoid frame, and the beast would not be restricted by poorly fit plates. Freyu turned as the king spoke, answering his statement with a silent nod. He knew she was ready. Always alert and never failing, ready to fell the most savage of men and monsters that sought harm to House Malvern. Behind her she heard Iasha Rha speak of the caves and their plan to flank the enemy. Slowly she gave Adron a glance that seemed to beg him to go with them, but in Freyu's mind she knew he had his goal set. With a soft tone she imparted, "Go then. We will hold the line as you depart."

As the king prepared his apprentice Freyu made her way to the enclave steps, looking down with a defiant sneer as smoke wafted from below. One. Two. Three. The giantess descended a number of the stone stairs to put herself between those behind and what churned the battlefield below. Hearing the king's laugh brought a ghost of a bitter smile on her face. She resigned herself to not think of it as a war. The invaders below were there for naught but the king's life, for they struck down anything they saw as other. Freyu sensed Xobos join the king's side and raised her chin slightly, spying a certain saber-wielding soldier coming too close to the first steps of the enclave.

It was time to defend the castle.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

​

Honestly. Mishel got a look out over the temple just as Rurik Fel and the NIO's Imperial Knights led the charge. "Lav, I think this is gonna be hot, very hot." She mentioned to the Selonian who them retorted something about the temple being the central most part of the fight. The artillery and anti-air were also making things very inhospitable for the Princess. Thinking on her feet, Mishel reset the Princess Leia's coordinates, "we'll touch down at the caverns."​

​

This would require a flyby, pass over the temple, during this maneuver the colorful ship would be partially visible. Most notably Adron Malvern and those who belonged to the Kingdom of Illyria would recognize it as belonging to the Baroness Mishel Kryze. Alessandra Creed 's sister, and it was during this pass that Mishel recognized a presence in the Force, "nani?!". Adron? She inquired, a small telepathic push into the Force. Don't get dead, she'll be pissed. ​

​

Lav asked if Mishel was okay and she told him plainly, "not really? I mean, Adron can take care of himself but boy is this gonna make Taungsday dinner's interesting."​

​

The Princess Leia crossed the Dantooine skies, and would find a place to land somewhere just outside the mouth to the caverns. Trees and kath hounds surrounded the area, setting the Corellian ship down. Mishel rose from her seat and grabbed her jacket, and a facemask and slipped it on. "What?" The Tygaran looked over at her Selonian co-pilot. "Hey, you have no idea what kind of contaminates- Also this looks really cool and lets me see the crystals better. There is literally on- Okay, fine, you stay on the boat with the protocol droid."​

​

Mishel took the revolver, and scatterblaster from the ship's armory. Revolver in the holster and scatterblaster with the spacer's leather strap slung across her shoulder. Artificer's tool set assembled onto her belt and a liquid cable launcher and a few other small items to help her get through the cave. Lightsabers secure on her belt loop, and the Tygaran was ready for spelunking at best. Two steps down onto the ramp and she remembered, her music. "Hey Lav, can you just crank up the music I've got, let me get the modulator's remote."​

​

The Selonian tossed down the remote modulator for the ship's sonic amplifiers, resonators and frequency modulator. Although, Mishel trusted her co-pilot. "Well, can you just play the Smash Hits of the 830s? Corellian, yes, of course - c'mon do I look like a stuck up Galidraani or a head-up arse Coruscanti? Don't answer that."​

​

Finally, Mishel disembarked the ship and headed into the crystal caverns. ​

​

The only people who would be remotely familiar with Mishel's tastes in music would be those who had accompanied King Adron Malvern. The music would pump out from the ship's sonic amplifiers and be modulated to help 'loosen' some of the crystals.​

​

Iasha Rha | Freyu Molidias | Xobos Yakieer​

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[Long Gone]

Outskirts of the Sith Temple

Meditating on the Force, trying to find purpose.

Allies: None.

Enemies: Remains to be seen…

Questionable: Ryv | Jin Kyrel

Wearing: Outfit | Lightsabers: Kor-Vella, Tyrena.

Balance....​

Aaralyn sat comfortably on the slanted rock, her legs crossing at her ankles as she watched the skies above Dantooine come to life. A slender eyebrow perked up at the chaos that began to unfold, the zipping of dropships and the roar of fighters. Small explosions rocked the nearby Temple as fighters and bombers alike made runs. The sounds of war breaking out between the likes of the Sith Empire and the New Imperial Order reverberated through the area, and all the while, Aaralyn remained upon the rock.

She was focused, focused elsewhere. On the vast energies that emanated from the world, on the tussle between Light and Dark - a maelstrom which threatened to take her. Aaralyn resisted, steeling her mind on the here and now. She picked up the small rock and tossed it up in the air, admiring it as it sailed effortlessly back into her palm. A sigh escaped her lips as she reached out to the Force, touching the ether with her mind. She welcomed the sensation as it flowed over her very being. A warm touch that caressed her very flesh, and gave her bumps as it weaved through her neurocortex. Aaralyn embraced it, wrapping her entire being up in the cozy tendrils of raw energies that seeped from the Force.

Her mind became clear…

Her thoughts were focused... ​

Her presence would extend, weaving through the webs of the Force. She would feel for the surge of energy upon the threads of ethereal, knowing full well what it meant…

They were approaching and fast. ​

Aaralyn shrugged slightly, rising from the rock and maneuvering over to a pile of wood with a darkened kettle over it. She unhooked her saber from the clip, gazing over the worn features before turning the hilt towards the pile. With an effortless snap-hiss, the green blade sprung to life - striking the wood indiscriminately before being retracted back, as Aaralyn turned it off. The brief encounter between energy and nature was enough to spark life in the form of fire, the hole bored through the center of the pile igniting - thus creating the perfect fire, without assistance. Aaralyn snickered softly before settling in, moving the kettle over the flickering flame before unclipping her second saber and placing it, with the first, on the ground beside her.

She would show no ill will, if the Alliance or the Imperial Order wanted a fight, well she’d oblige…

But it would be on her terms.​

Both hands would come to rest on the darkened red tunic, as her eyes settled upon the flames before her. Now, she would wait.

 

[AMCO]

Location: Somewhere within the Sith Enclave.
Objective: Improvised Field Trial Besh-1; harry New Imperial forces.
Equipment: Polyweave Suit, G1 UltraDeluxe, Shield Talisman, Soulstones, Empyrean Gland, [2] Jin'Pins
Writing With: Runi Verin & Amea Virou

Striding through back-hallways and service tunnels with the kind of annoyed-bordering-on-angry look that made Legionnaires skitter out of the way, Adrian... was not entirely sure where he was going. Somewhere useful, presumably, but definitely not the front lines - he despised the New Imperials more with every passing day, but not enough unduly risk his life over it. No, that would not do. Ambushes, then.

Stopping with as suddenly as he had started, a cold smile spread across his elegant features. No one ever said he had to do the dirty work.

Focusing on a section of unadorned wall, he slowly peeled back the veil of realspace, ignoring passersby and the sounds of distant conflict until, after a mere few minutes, a brief stream of spectral figures poured through, quickly fading from sight. Nothing to turn the tide, but a distraction?

It should be one hell of a distraction if they picked their fights right. If they stalked the weak and the wounded, only to flee before the mighty.

<Go forth, my pretties, go forth and be plentiful. Stalk their weak and eat your fill until I call you back.>

If worst came to worst and the New Imperials seized this world like they had to so many others, the spirits would simply keep going. Harrying the poor sods left behind to garrison the agriworld until some clever fellow figured out their weakness and wiped them out.

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Location: Garang City, Dantooine
Equipment: Jyani’Eirmityr | The Twin Dancers (Twin Lightsabers) | Apostasy’s End (Lightstaff) | a Cortosis sword
Forces: Aagenti’s Legion (Quarter Capacity) | Telis’s Big Scary Drake “Friend” | Mixed Husks and Reforged
Allies: The Sith Empire | The Confederacy of Independent Forces | Open
Enemies: The New Imperial Order | Open
Objective: Evacuate the stragglers of Garang City | Stand steadfast against tyranny, without falter | Let the enemies of the Sith Empire know war.
Post Number: I

There was almost a serenity in sitting above the surface of a planet besieged by war. There was a calmness to it, a spectral air of surrender and predestination. He sat in his silent heavens and watched hell below emerge into the physical realm, chariot erred by slaughterers who proclaimed that they were the better devils. Aagenti had never truly cared for what was right and what was wrong, but he couldn’t help but equally smile as well as frown at the idea that they who invaded them were saying they were saviors. Saving the galaxy from an empire that only wanted one thing: order. Time and time again they came to proclaim their virtue and only instead brought fire and flame and brimstone.

But now he saw something in the shades of war that sat below him. There had been no time to prepare, no warning, and as Aagenti arrived the bloodiest of fights had already been beginning. Even all around he can see the ships splintering the sky with bright flares and the lancing shades of broken beams. The sky became as much a hell as the world below, but in the firmament somehow there was more feast to the carnage. The void snuffed out the flames and made deaths quick. Below? The story was different. Bloody, howling, it made even him blush to think about how meek he was compared to the war that the New Imperial Order brought. The Sith had faced these devils before, but this time it was different.

This time the Sith weren’t alone.

Outside he could see not only Sith ships, but the ships of the Confederacy and the Eternal Empire as well, delivering from the planet what they could and breaking through the atmosphere to bring relief upon the arboreal world. Nobody had prepared for this attack. The New Imperial Order struck without warning and fell upon the world like locusts, their minds lost to their craven bloodlust and zeal to the idea that the galaxy was theirs by divine right. So disconnected from the world, they were a plague like the Bryn, lost to their fantasies of grandeur and so apt at playing the victim and the victors that even their leaders had fallen for their traps. And now they once again reached beyond their bloated borders, falling upon the world like a stormwall.

‘Falling upon the world like a stormwall.’ He would have to remember that one for later, for sure.

Closing his eyes for the briefest moment, the small armada of carrier vessels approached the line, invisible from sight. The bid was nigh, and around him he could hear the murmur of the pilots of the transport ship, some praying to the will of Typhojem, others counting the seconds, counting the distance between the line of fire that stood before them and the atmosphere of the planet. Behind him he could hear the heavy breath of the great beast, the only other passenger in the ship he was aboard. The Cirmuhai was restless, and it too sensed the battle all around the dark and bloody firmament. He closed his eyes, keeping his hands firmly planted against the console. Hold strong now, he thought, Dantooine counts upon us.

The world held its breath…

”We’re breaking atmosphere.” The sound came as a relief as Aagenti’s transport swooped past. They had not gone without notice, and already he could feel that only a half measure of his initial force would be landing… but it would be enough. They would be remembered, and their passing allowed for his own without harm. There was a great sigh of relief as the shuttles began to slowly cut through the clouds, and the burning world below came into full view, like a tapestry unfolding before a strong gale.

Hell had fallen upon Dantooine, and Garang bled deeply from the scars that were visible. The city was already so much destroyed and abandoned, a surprisingly effective evacuation underway despite the surprise of it all. That was the most surprising part, to Aagenti: the fact that even now, some Jedi had come to help the innocent and the wretched to safety. Even they had chosen to stand with the Sith, with the old grudges still borne like hefty weights. From above, Aagenti could briefly see the lines of black and white moving against one another, mixing to create fields of red and ash.

As the ships began to pull down towards the edges of Garang, Aagenti took a step back, taking the luminous bloody-silver helmet in both hands. Closing his eyes, the Sith Lord lowered the mask over his face, letting the harrier’s visage hide his own, before fixing his cape and letting the strange, shifting fabric become blood-red, emblazoned with the Meliora of the Sith Empire, the sign of the Eternal Sith and the banner which flew above the united legions that still marched. He couldn’t help but feel an admiration for the soldiers that walked into hell, so driven and loyal that they aren’t afraid to die if it means protecting the Empire. The dream lived within them, and they had willingly cast their lot into the bonfire long ago

Lord Aagenti sat upon the back of the great wyvern as it stalked through the city of chaos and ash. The clamor of bloody battle was not far off, and what he had readied and brought of his legion in the time he had to prepare moved with an efficiency through the city. Though many of them were foreigners to this land, they knew the beat and pulse of the city, knew where battles would be and knew how to avoid them and find the right situations. The Cirmuhai was… not so subtle, but Aagenti’s hand and will kept it under control, and the ferocity of the pitching battle made even heavy footfall and midnight shadows blend in like hares in the snow.

And to make do, the dead too walked amidst the old soldiers, a minute swarm of Reforged and Husks to alleviate the strain of the Cadavarii’s reduced numbers. They could fend for themselves, no doubt, and had tirelessly proven their worth time and time again, but at some point all things must bow to the face of war. They were still mortal, and even he had blood left in his veins. But the Reforged had already once bowed and would bow before war again as he commanded it, and the Husks that walked amongst them… Well, cannon fodder was a necessity in all battles.

Leading the force into an open plaza, away from the combat yet abandoned and still scarred, the Sith Lord dismounted from the wyvern, going to step alongside the commander of the forces, Allyson-0237. Walking alongside the commando, the Sith Lord laid his eyes on the gun of the huntress, already configured in a sniper rifle formation, the factory restrictions of the gun removed once again. Her gauntlets were still burnt from her experiment, though she hadn’t made any attempt to repair the damage, wearing them as precious scars. Moving away from the force, Aagenti placed his hand against the ground, closing his eyes for a few moments.
There you are, gotcha-

Pulling his hand back, a small circular formation in the ground gave way, pulling back to reveal a hole in the ground that lead to the Citadels beneath. Waiting below were the small remnants of the company that had been stationed on Dantooine, already showing the signs of battle with somewhat scorched armor and dust-covered masks. Nodding to those below, Aagenti stood up, turning to the commander and placing a hand on her shoulder. ”Commander, take the forces into the Citadel. From there you’ll be able to access the city with relative peace. Use this as a bunker and as a highway to get civilians out, understood?”

”Aye, Lord Aagenti.” She gave a small salute to the Sith Lord, before motioning to the legion to join the other Cadavarii below. They were quick in their pace, not delaying the retreat below ground, and the Reforged and Husks were more or less simply dropped, able to withstand the fall and not having the pain or nerves for them to be faltered by the fall. After a few minutes, the entire force was underground, and once more the hatch was sealed and primed for spontaneous emergence. Now alone in the ruins of the clearing, Aagenti took in a deep sigh, placing his hand on the only thing left by him.

Wordlessly he mounted the Cirmuhai once more, placing a hand on one of its spines and taking control. Drawing the Cortosis blade in his spare hand, the beast gave a low howl before launching itself up onto a building, darkened, bloody eyes looking out at the world below for prey to hunt, while Aagenti scanned for stragglers in the streets. He wasn’t worried about the Cadvarii below - with their numbers in the terrain they had, the Citadels would be virtually indomitable. However, the world above would face Aagenti with unending challenges. A single Sith Lord was a force in their own right, and he had planned ahead for what tricks the New Imperial Order may bring upon him, but all things could be consumed by war. That was a universal constant.

Taking to the skies and flying low above Garang’s burning skyline, Aagenti kept to the smoke, watching below for those that would try to rip him from the air as he began his hunt for where the Sith needed assistance most. Blade in hand and a fire burning in his heart at the carnage he saw, for the first time he began to truly see the damage that was wrought by the coming of the New Imperial Order. He watched the swathes of destruction cut by both sides, the staunch defense that the Sith Empire and their allies kept to protect the city of Garang, and the cruelty of the legions that marched against them. He watched common people raising arms in defiance, zeal in their hearts, ready to die for their families, even if it was for a lost cause.

He saw not just the Empire come together as one immutable force, but for a moment he heard the words of the Sith code in his mind. Peace may be a lie, but here there was a passion beyond words, a dream that for a moment others can dare to think that peace is real. The New Imperial Order had abandoned all codes, and marched upon simple people living lives, marched against the Sith and an alliance of peoples coming together. It made his heart thrum with a new rhythm, one that sharpened his sense and made his breath feel hot. He felt truly angry about what he witnessed, and he felt ashamed that his own inability to lead was what led to this. Watching from above, he made a solemn, somber promise to the world of Dantooine, and to the people fighting for their home.

He would not let this battle go silently. And if Dantooine fell, he would make sure that the New Imperial Order would burn a thousand times over. He had promised to wipe them from memory… but now he promised that he would not fail to do so. That his will would be complete. For the people of Dantooine. For his own honor.

For the Sith Empire.​

 

[Gnox the Insatiable]

LOCATION: Outer Garang
OBJECTIVE: F̵̨eà͡s͟͟ţ
GEAR: The Butcher
ALLIES: TSE
ENEMIES: NIO, Rynn Vizsla (Soon™)

The wave was unrelenting and unforgiving. It was why this sector was evacuated. The few Sith troopers that did remain were to evacuate once the Horde made their way through to feast. The blood rage of an unyielding hunger made it impossible to tell what was friend and what was foe. Gnox had made sure to empower these Mochirsa with his own hunger, even going so far as to warp some with his own black blood and change them closer to what he had become.

Dubbed the Flind, they wielded maces after his own, though little more than Sith Steel replicas. Their main weapons were always claw and fang, unnatural speed and unnatural strength. They ripped through squad after squad, bodies healing even under intense firepower. They were not immortal, not like their lord, but the fear they would spread was something Gnox could feast upon.

Their assault did not slow, the wave of blood stained fang and gore matted pelts washing over all. They tore through homesteads, killing all within, any who stayed behind and any who sought shelter. In their wake they left rotting corpses and men gone made. The strongest were marked by claw, to replenish the ranks through mutation and dark magics. For the monstrous being this was like a trip through the past. When his own tribe still lived and hunted beside him.

If far more brutal.

He stood at the helm of this wave, his maw dripping with the blood of new imperial troops. None were able to stand against him. Blaster fire only slowed his advance, charring his hide and blasting apart his flesh. But they could not stop his advance. Ruined flesh healed, and the fear they felt as he swung his mighty flail was sweeter than the souls his weapon claimed for him.