Invasion No Quarter | NIO Invasion of TSE held Dantooine

[Meko Sorrin]

FIRETEAM ARSENAL
4/4
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DANTOOINE
ALLIES | NIO | NJO | OPEN
ENEMIES | Ursula Vizla | TSE
YOU_IN_TROUBLE

​

The push continues.

The objective marker still flashed a bright red dot on his HUD. They couldn't stop for anything. They had to keep moving. Sorrin looked to his left towards his fellow squadmates. Rimora was keeping up, not surprising considering the training he has gone through to get deployed in this type of environment, along with the additional training so graciously gifted to him by the Commandos. Put it to good use.

Sorrin slammed against the wall of a nearby building. The objective marker on his HUD continued to flash bright red. Only a couple meters away, then phase 2. Rimora was already in position, stuck behind a piece of duracrete that looked as if it'd break with a good push. Rimora signaled through multiple hand signs that he was ready to proceed, and the Corporal acknowledged. Before they could take off, however, s new ping on his HUD started to flash. And it was moving closer to them. He looked around, but there was not a soul in sight. That was before he looked up.

Something was in the sky. It was low atmosphere, nothing breaching starfighter territory but it wasn't at an arms reach either. Sorrin squinted through the viewport of his helmet but failed to identify the craft at all. He looked towards Rimora, who had also come to the same conclusion. One thing was for certain. It wouldn't be in the air for long.

The preferred way of communication was face-to-face as radio silence was maintained as a safety precaution. No games, no tricks. But this was the exception. Rimora's scratchy voice picked up on the comm for the Storm Commando to hear. <"Corporal. What is th-"> Sorrin cut him off mid-sentence, replying with his own statement.

<"Radio the Anti-Aircraft crew. Tell 'em we got something in the air."> Rimora followed his exact command, opening up the comms channel directly towards the NIO anti-aircraft gun crewman giving them a direct location on where to shoot. An acknowledgment was given and back to radio silence. Both Storm Commandos had their gaze into the sky still, waiting for the answer from the boys on the gun. They did not disappoint, the sky littering with small explosions trying to take down the aircraft. He was going to make sure that thing came down.

But the question still lingered in still air. What was that?

 

[Amea Virou]

Runi Verin // AMCO

There was a look of surprise on Amea’s face. Eyes set on the gun in her hands before she quickly holstered it and tried to make a run for it. One snap cracked right past her head, the other against her shoulder. What started with a burn turned into immense pain as her muscles began to lock up. A brief shriek and grunt called into the open antechamber as Amea slid against the ground. Her cheek burned, the fabric of her other shoulder causing friction to heat up against her skin before she managed to get a grip of herself.

The onslaught was turned into a focus, the focus into a retaliation of her own as the energy was absorbed within the palm of her hands. An unseen hand grasped at a nearby boulder and threw it at the Sith Lord to force him to stop.

As she got into an unarmed stance the pain seemed numb. This was now a struggle for survival, and for the last few months it felt as if that was all she had done. She had changed from it, even Amea knew that much, but in the end she wasn’t sure if it was because she understood the world better now or because it had always been there, locked away behind an unwillingness to accept it. The burnt fabric and skin on her upper arm was proof enough of that. Everything worthwhile had a blood cost to it, no matter if it was in the moment or because of the target it painted on your back.

Driplets of blood began to seep from the scrape on her cheek as she threw a grin in Adrian’s direction, not granting him the satisfaction of seeing her be about as angry as she most certainly was beneath the surface.

“Extraordinary?” She scoffed, laughed and huffed. “Well, at least one of us had to be.”

She proceeded to move closer to Runi, eyes set on the ghosts around them and their master for no more than a second each before she changed her target.

“Why don’t you just get rid of the audience?” Amea said with a shake of her head. Her shoulders sank and rose with an increasingly wider, taunting grin at the man who seemingly had them cornered. For now. “Unless you’re too much of a coward to face us alone.”

 

[Laertia Io]

("Terminated" by Junkie XL Plays)


The Black Knight of Nar Shaddaa had been desperately aware that what she had been inflicting on Jedi wasn't really mercy. That the soldiers were finishing off those she cut down. She hadn't forgotten her environment at all. Not that she would explain that to Ryv .

She simply couldn't bare to fully kill them herself. But she was under no illusions. This was the best possible outcome for her Jedi opponents--the Sith Soldiers, unable to afford taking live prisoners, and knowing even limbless Force Adepts would still be threats, wouldn't bother capturing them...they'd be forced to shoot them then and there.

Still a better mercy than being taken alive by the Sith.

She distantly listened to the rage and indignation in his voice from that cold frost covered place in the center of herself as she distantly, absentmindedly beheaded an Imperial Knight without even sparing him a glance, calmly walking towards him as he used the Force to rush her way, but not before sending a large telekinetic blast towards Syd, which she barely avoided by flying incredibly fast upward...@Enlil may have gotten through...but that didn't mean she was going to let the rest of his men, who she resumed attacking, conjuring firey arrow and spear and sword constructs that rained down from the sky, slashing into and burning brave soldiers alive with ear piercing shrieks of pain that horrified the survivors trying to scatter from the deadly flames.

Laertia was not one for talk in war...she disliked it. She didn't come here to talk.

Nonetheless, as The Spark tried to jump between them. Laertia used the moments he was speaking to study the Sword of The Jedi.

'Ursula' had taught her to consider every facet of the opponent. His stance, weight, foot posture, movement speed on average in a fight, facial expressions.

He lacked fear. Good. It meant he would die braver than most.

The Black Knight looked at his brilliant, blazing saber.

She hated speaking, but she gave him a few words.

"Speak to me of treachery when the treachery of the Jedi doesn't result in billions dead because you can't stop fighting Sith for even one instant."

She pointed her green core, white aura blade at him.

"If Coren Starchaser had actually shown some balls and put screaming children like you in their place when you first started stomping your feet, we wouldn't be having this situation between us. The Sword of The Jedi would have no need to fight The Swordbreaker of The Jedi. All of the Dead Jedi here are solely because men like you tossed them in my path to die rather than accept you cannot defeat the Bryn'adul without a temporary union with those you hate. I will fight for those billions you would leave to be smashed to death by Draelvasir simply because you cannot free them immediately from the Sith who chain them. You lack patience. You and the Jedi and the NIO are here because you are fueled by vengeance and religious fanaticism. Nothing else compels you to be here besides that. Nothing..." she said in a calm even tone in contrast to Ryv's clearly emotional state.

"I will not ignore what I saw at Nar Kreeta just because the Jedi Order wants to take its ball and go home. And I will not surrender to you. Fight me, Ryv Karis. Attack me with everything you are. Everything you have. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. None will be shown to you or your broken toy warriors by me either, on account of your unfathomable stupidity and selfishness. I 'have' heard of you. They say your Lightsaber skill is legendary..."

Laertia adopted her Form One opening stance. Her path was clear in the Force now.

It was time for her perception of herself as a Jedi in 'their' Order to end.

A Jedi's life is suppose to be sacrifice. Sacrifice for the greater good, even when the world says you are wrong. Laertia was willing to sacrifice even others perception of her as something salvageable to do the right thing. Men like Ryv would prefer to just be 'perceived' as heroic, pulling off all the easy tasks of his position rather than do anything that truly 'would' make him or others like him one in the long term.

"Today, you will learn that 'mine' are as well..." (Path of Neo: 90 XP)

She teleported behind him closing the distance as her blade extended out by a third due to the special machinery inside as she attacked him with utterly merciless, precise attacks aimed at his spine, delivered with the Force of a sledgehammer due to her beyond Alpha-Wookie strength...

 

[AMCO]

Location: Somewhere beneath the Sith Enclave proper.
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

For a moment it seemed as if this would be over before it had begun, that he would be able to incapacitate one of the women before the other even managed to move on him. It would have been an excellent position from which to force a prompt surrender, that much was sure - alas, a barrage of scattergun shots and a fething boulder-like piece of detritus made it clear that they were less than willing to roll over and surrender.

Shield straining mightily against the wave of kinetic projectiles, he gritted his teeth in concentration, moving slightly backward as he was battered.

As quickly as it had begun, however, it was over, the air thick with both dust and smoke as pieces of rock clattered against what had likely been a fairly pristine floor, before this damn assault. Hardly a seasoned warrior, it took him a moment to recover, by which point Runi was almost upon him.

Gathering his will in full, a clawed hand sent the full might of his telekinesis barrelling towards her chest like a runaway train - albeit a runaway train that was entirely unaware of the Force-dampening equipment she wore - while his other seized the gun she had dropped and flung it at Amea.

Hardly as impressive as a boulder, but then it was primarily meant to keep her the feth away. The last thing he needed was two foes up close.

"Oh, I'm more than capable." Doing his best to imitate the prideful sneer such a comment might have provoked in a more unreasonable Sith, a quick command sent the Shrouds fading off into the walls... where they remained, invisible but on call. Honour was for fools and dead men.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Writing With: Darth Carnifex | Rurik Fel | Oceiros Sunstrider
​

Alas, his presence had not gone unnoticed by the enemies of the Sith. Not one, but two brave individuals stood out from the rest, defiant against the torrent of darkness that was Darth Carnifex. Both men, though he did not recognise either, pleaded with him to stand down. Their words were akin to razors slashing at his heart. Enough to stay his blade.

For now both men opposed the Dark Lord, leaving Thurion to be torn between allegiances. Every fibre in his being wanted to walk away, leave the battlefield participants to their fates and return home in peace. But would Midvinter not suffer should he go back on his deal with the devil? Would he replace a moment of peace with an eternity of suffering for his people when the Sith descend upon his homeworld with ill intent?

It was a gamble he felt incapable of making. His first duty was the safety of his kinsmen.

This was about the bigger picture. This petty battle would solve nothing, and he would make them see this for themselves.

"ENOUGH," the Lion roared, his voice enhanced by the Force.

His hand lashed out, sending a Force Push into Rurik mid-leap to knock him off trajectory to safely land on his feet, interrupting his attack and making Kaine's attack miss. Thurion brandished his sword and stepped between all three fighters.

"This fight, this battle, this entire war is completely pointless," he scolded all three combatants, allegiances be damned. "The New Imperial Order insists on waging their petty wars against old enemies when there are more pressing matters to worry about! The Bryn'adûl are a true threat to our entire galaxy, burning and wiping out all life in their wake!"

He thrust his sword into the ground, pointing accusingly at all three.

"I have fought countless wars across the decades, I have outlived all friends and companions of my youth, and I am sick and tired of fighting the same battle year after year, knowing it will solve nothing! The battle between Light and Dark will always be there, but what sits before us now is something of far greater concern than which ideology or religion is right! We need to band together now or more worlds will be forever lost, and there will be no galaxy left to fight over!"

Thurion turned to the once-Emperor, staring him down just as he did the other two. He reached for his sword stuck in the ground and pulled it free, its blade glowing hot white with the power of the sun.

"And if you will not listen to reason, then I shall make you see reason. All of you."

 

[Creuat]

K N I G H T
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM

F I R E _ A N D _ F L A M E S​

The emerald blade of his lightsaber struck down a Sith Knight that had engaged Rhis, the duel lasting no less than a minute as his blade cut the Sith across his torso. More of his brethren and allies stormed the Temple, encountering disciples of the Dark Creed and engaging them. With the Force and his tendrils he could sense all kinds of emotions from those around him.

Fear; anger; hatred.

That clashed with those of:
​

Hope; courage; serenity.
​

The former emotions were bolstered by the twisted nature of the Darkside, giving a great deposit of power for its followers. But as always and proven before, such power was always exploited by those that resisted its evil. The Sith had the slight advantage against the Light of the Jedi, but they would be steadfast against the shadows they have challenged.

He sensed another presence, one that wasn’t exactly corrupted by the Dark, but didn’t align with the Light. The aura belonged to a woman of scarlet hair. His tendrils could feel the emotions of the woman. She was finding something...no, someone. Worried in not being able to locate him in the temple, especially with the battle that now surged through its halls.

“Ah, your majesty,” when Rhis placed his eyes on the Overlord of the Eternal Empire. The Nautolan did not know about the woman or why she was here. Why was she here in this bastion of darkness? Whom was she seeking for? “I’m sure the decadence of this temple is more barbaric than not using the gate. But I digress. I am curious as to what are your intentions in this pit of evil. I certainly hope you haven’t come to swear on the creeds of the Sith.”

He stepped forward towards the woman, his lightsaber still in hand. He was suspicious of the Empress, not finding a logical reason why she was here away from her Empire.

Unless...she had special interests with the Sith. If so, she was as foul as these fiends.

“Who are you looking for, Empress?”


ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Shaka Sunstar | Rurik Fel | Oceiros Sunstrider | Cotan Sar'andor | Enlil | Zaavik Perl | Dorian Sicarrio | Jin Kyrel | Kalika Vaar | Mishel Kryze | Hans Rennagen | Maynard Treicolt
ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | Ingrid L'lerim (ENGAGING)

 

[Runi Verin]

LOCATION: SAFE HOUSE NEAR THE SITH ENCLAVE
OBJECTIVE: STEAL SOME DUDE’S OSIK SURVIVE
GEAR: Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Terentatek Duster, Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl
ALLIES: Amea Virou
ENEMIES: AMCO | TSE
FOLKS MESSING UP A PERFECTLY GOOD HEIST: NIO | GA | ETC

The telekinetic blast barreled into her with a ruthless abandon. It wasn't an entirely unexpected move given the situation, but the sheer force was certainly outside her initial expectations. Her breath left her in a muffled rush as she was bodily shoved back a dozen or so paces, forcing her to one knee as she fought to remain upright. Her cybernetic hand dragging out a line of sparks across the floor as her fingers scraped and scrabbled in an attempt to slow her trajectory.

Fierfek.

Her teeth flashed in the dark as she let out a low, angry growl of pain and frustration. Her chest felt like a wildfire had broken out across her ribs, but nothing was broken. Not that she could tell anyway. If it wasn't for her duster and her knack for bolstering her body with the force, she might have been one shotted then and there. Wiped out by a richy rich ponce in a bespoke suit. The embarrassment of that realization alone enough was to cause her blood to boil.

"Demagolka!" Runi spat, using the point of her knife to push herself back to her feet. Her ribs groaning out a silent protest at the action. Her breathing uneven and still ragged from the simple force of the blow. She let anger wash away the worst of it. Pain wisely bowing aside as simple wrath took over. A faint hiss escaping between her clenched teeth as she slipped her knuckleduster over the fingers of her spare hand. A tense pulse echoing through the shared force bond as she turned her attention back to Vandiir. The meaning was clear; Get ready.

"Got to admit," The Kiffar ground out, her gaze watching the ghosts vanish into the walls with barely veiled disgust. She could still feel them lingering just out of view. Feel the insatiable hunger that defined their wretched half-life. Waiting like hungry dogs lurking beneath their master's dinner table. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc. Better one big enemy you can see than small ones you can't. Words to live by, quite literally in some cases, but she could hardly help that now. "I underestimated you. Just a little. I figured from the suit alone that, when faced with a real fight, you'd cave and bow out. I didn't think you had any fight in you."

She dipped her head in the closest she would ever come to an apology for her oversight in that regard, the gesture barely finishing before the Kiffar was abruptly jolting forward at a breakneck speed. Like a veteran shockboxer spoiling for a slugfest, her body going in low and fast as if to close the full distance between her and Vandiir. Arm rearing back in what could have easily been construed as a sloppy telegraphed punch that...

Never attempted to connect?

Instead, at the last possible second the punch veered towards the floor just before she closed in completely, the knuckleduster leading the charge as it slammed down with a resounding crack that send a reverb throughout the cavern.

WHOOMPF!​

A split second later, the floor suddenly became a concave mess as debris and a chokingly thick cloud of dust filled the air. Massive, uneven spiderweb cracks ripping through the cavern out from the point of impact as whole areas of the ground itself suddenly found themselves jutting and pitching at odd and awkward angles.

Hopefully a distraction to buy Amea an opening. If not, well...

At least the damage was satisfying.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Auteme

Spoiler

Wreath of the Sovereign, Lightsabre Pike, Armour + SI-PES

A speeder sped down one of the nearby streets; a heavy gun pilfered from a broken military blockade had been mounted on its back. A selkath in home-made armour readied the gun while his sullustan friend fed ammunition from the passenger seat. While the two gunners had red helms, their blue-skinned driver had simply painted his face as bright red as his bulbous eyes. Their spray-painted speeder howled, and they howled with it in a war-cry.

From the second window of a building nearby, furniture was thrown out onto the street to create the barricades that would hold the invaders away.

The people did rise, they rose for the Sith Empire.

Joycelyn could feel their collective anger. She could feel their fear being siphoned away, leaving only protective rage and unfiltered courage behind. The golden band on her head helped empower those closest to her even now that she stood bargaining with her mortal enemy.

‘Then I will’

Joycelyn sneered in disdain at the comment and its sentiment.

“So your values are worth more than theirs?” “You have a right to fight, but they do not? What makes you so much more than them?”

The giant of an Empress turned her head quickly to see the blue-clad shape of Auteme down the way. Her posture immediately shifted, eyes glanced to the old man who lined up his shot. She smiled. Surely, the Jedi would be able to protect herself, but it would take a moment of concentration that Joycelyn would be able to exploit. She shifted the grip on her sabre and leaned forward in preparation to move.

“Just watch the orphanage and don't get in our way.”

The missile veered off to the side and blew a hole in an abandoned building, but Joycelyn did not. She charged ahead towards Auteme, eyes locked in on the younger woman. She did not appear to launch into an attack, but launched herself closer with an intense sneer as if seeking to scare the Jedi away with her mere presence. Her arms were out wide to either side, the short sabre held in her left hand, the bloodshine blade glowing a spirited crimson.

Would she kill? Maybe.
Seek to subdue? Probably.

The question was then, what would the Jedi do?

 

[Freyu Molidias]

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

The rumble of explosions and screeching of blaster fire drew no measurable response from Freyu as her eyes settled on the woman. Her king had deemed the Miraluka hybrid to be her mark, intending for the beast and his apprentice to strike in tandem. She had heard it said those who were adherents to the Jedi way were supposedly void of emotion for fear of losing control over themselves. They were to be masters of composure with well-tamed reactions, quick to compassion and slow to anger. From her deep well of arrogance Freyu decided it would be her to test the rumor. Xobos had already struck swift as a viper, though the White Wolf could roll her eyes at the small shadow’s attempts at discourse.

Sharp cries from the speeder engine echoed as the vehicle lanced up the enclave steps. A lost breath was all that conveyed the cleave of pain before bliss, the Pantoran facade breaking with the warped features of a monster. The nose of the speeder was slammed into the stone with the sound of crunching bone and skinless flesh. Flipped by the momentum the speeder hurtled through the air with the warbles of a choking engine, finally crashing into the enclave’s wall. The beast finished forming, a snarl on its lips as it wrenched its fist from the broken stone. Where Xobos faced the Jedi directly the monster would cut off the escape. She dove off the stair then slid with the momentum of her landing, pushing forward to circle around the hybrid.

As to not disappoint the king’s apprentice she allowed a short pause for any reply the Jedi may have wished to give, then whipping a claw toward the Jedi's legs.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

THE NEW JEDI ORDER
JEDI-IMPERIAL JOINT STRIKE TEAM
MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

​

Shot after superheated shot struck harmlessly against the barrier she and Ryv had erected, dissipating against the milky pastels in an eruption of technicolour. When the deemed King initiated his attack, she flinched involuntarily at the shrillness of the sound that managed to triumph above the din of the battle.

An inferno in the shape of a girthy serpent launched overhead, incinerating any unfortunate enough to find themselves in its path. Flames exploded against the stone, consuming organic shapes in its wake and melting them beyond recognition. Between the brilliance of the attack and Maynard’s voice sounding out in her and Ryv’s head, she closed her eyes.

Together...to the end.

She was still incomprehensibly vexed over the instance at Yinchorr where he’d been simultaneously taken, and her consciousness had been hijacked by a Force ghost. He hadn’t said anything about it, but that togetherness hadn’t been actualized yet again. She hadn’t been able to find him in his captivity and part of her overthinking nature wondered if he blamed her for any of that. Or if he just accepted things as they were. The latter was more likely, given his readiness to remain at her side, but considering the former caused her to falter. That could have been falling back to responsibility and foundational care, an agnostic reaction that required no necessity in overcoming any discomfort between them. Nevertheless, she pushed a feeling of tender affirmation out between their shared link. It was always together, but..

>No end today.< She reminded them both, a bet they put the big blind in for every time they hit the field –– her telepathic sentiment cut short by a surprisingly accurate shot that threatened to penetrate her shield with the split focus.

The first metal alloy projectile shook her control, the second felt like an anvil to the chest.

Loske was blown backward, pummelled into the ground by the kinetic concentration. Her suit managed to absorb the lion’s share of the attack, but the space between her ribs still ached from the collision and she reached up to touch it in daft confirmation. No blood, just charred fabric and a bruise already forming beneath the top-level burn. Opaque circles blossomed in her vision and she forced a cough out, making sure her respiratory system still operated. The wind was knocked entirely out. Smoke rose from the hole in her suit while the nanotechnology worked to repair and seal itself, concealing the scorched flesh beneath.

Hhhnnggkk, she groaned, blinking at the ground to force her vision back to normal and breathe naturally once more. It didn’t take long to scramble back to her feet, hand now hovering above her hilt and drawing in hoarse, rasped breaths and gesturing that she was fine, just winded. It was mostly patting at the invisible space in front of her to resolve any spike of alarm from her companion.

For an instant, a look of uncertainty crossed over her and she flashed an unsettled glance in Maynard’s direction. The precariousness’ origin was in herself, there was something complicated happening underneath it all. Beneath the surface, she could feel an intensity burgeoning that tingled at her fingertips.

Clenching and unclenching her fists to dissuade anything unnatural, her blade snapped to life, almost in synch with the request for aid.

"We need to tame these flames so our men can push forward! I'm moving to engage one of the Concord's dogs. Loske! Maynard! Push that breach and get us inside, would ye? I'll be right behind you."

Enlil was quick to oblige, reconstructing a glossy bubble around those that Loske and Maynard were charged with leading forward. With a single, final nod of affirmation, she inhaled sharply and lunged forward, tilting and breaking into a jog –– swiftly picking up momentum with each step.

Running behind the cover of the shield, Loske seized the opportunity to assess the enemy at the gate and beyond to try pinpointing who’d shot her. The skyline was dimmed by the smoke’s haze, obscuring the visibility of anyone ( Enyo Typhos ) seeking to put effort into concealing themselves. She might have been taking it too personally –– those two shots could have been fortunate.

There was something humorous about Jedi charging on-foot and hurtling speeders at their enemies rather than hijacking them for themselves, but something to laugh about later.

Hitting the temple gates was like a powerful wave on the shore break. The charred stones gave way under her footfalls, stumbling, Loske managed to turn it into a dodge –– undercutting an outstretched blade that had probably been meant for her neck. Riposting, she swung at the attacker’s hip, shoving her foot into the junction at the top of their foot and shin. Her left hand came around with another tell-tale telekinetic blast, rolling the now wounded legionnaire backward and into the gathering of Sith so keen on defending the entrance.

Thudding to a stop, the red-armoured Sith devotee landed at the feet of Darth Daiara , clutching the puncture in their armour and moaning. Loske hadn't watched where they'd landed –– her focus was intently on the yawning mouth of the Enclave itself and penetrating its defences before ushering the other Jedi in.

THE NEW JEDI ORDER​

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | Ryv | Enlil | Maynard Treicolt | Cotan Sar'andor | Shaka Sunstar Zaavik Perl | Jin Kyrel | Hans Rennagen
ENEMIES | TSE | ELDER COMPACT | Enyo Typhos | Darth Daiara

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

OBJECTIVE I: HELPING FOLKS, SAVING PEOPLE

h o n e y b e e

JUST SOME CONCERNED CITIZENS
​

His ears were ringing. Loud and tinny. Though, he could still make out the trademark whirr-snap sound of Judicators being raised and readied to fire as powerpacks primed inside of the weapon. The gases that made up their bolts begging to be released onto the insolent Togruta. Though, nothing came after it. Dready eyes, fuzzy at the edges of his sightline, danced between the gathered crowd. There were some faces that were more set on keeping their composure, mainly fathers that had come there with their youths, though the harsh swallowing and twitches at the edges of their blank lips said the same story as those that had to look away, or even cover their eyes, at the sorry sight that Ravraa sat in. He couldn’t feel much, and there was more wet underneath him than was to be expected for how much he should be bleeding. Did the officer literally beat the piss out of him? He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. A rough sound, rattling deep in his chest, something had gotten knocked the wrong way. His breathing was slowed, as if someone was manually inflating a balloon before letting it putter out all of it’s air. His right hand playfully dipped it’s fingers into the right side pool of blood. Rubbing it inbetween his thumb and fore, as if appreciating the texture. Waiting for the room to light up with a flurry of blaster bolts, shouts of commands, and for his back to be enveloped in a grand heat.

It never came, it never came.

He couldn’t even make out Dorn-2 from his position. Maybe it was the booming headache working it’s way through his entire body until it faltered past his tailbone. His legs were at odd angles, he could tell that, and the only thing that came back was rolling pain, harsh and consuming, meeting the aches of the migraine near the center of his form. His overalls were scrapped and torn, revealing bare skin and underclothes. Thankfully, his favorite shirt had managed to not look much worse for wear under the strain.

It felt as if it took all of the effort in the world to even bring his head and inch off the ground before it fell back, slapping on the wood. His hand drug against the oak, rough and hard, before pressing against it flat. His muscles protested. His muscles just wanted to lay there, let the pain vanish, no matter how many hours that would take.

He knew he had to act, while he held the power. The cries came back to his ears, as if they had been lost in the silence. The man’s throat sounded just as raw as Rav’s. It was a full, red cry. One that brought your cheeks aflame and your nose running.

Pressure on the floor, his shoulder refusing to give enough. Echoes of effort, he shifted his weight as much as he could. Again, press, he slowly creaked over. His face literally peeled off of the floor from sweat and drool. His side dug into the wood. His had touched his face for a moment, fingers lightly hovering over his nose before the slightest touch got a singing of pain. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, he should be in shock by now. Passed out.

His back hit the floor harder than he would have liked when he completed his roll. The lights set above the officer’s soapbox blaring. Like a summers day, they raged against his sight.

“Hey… Red, what’s your name…” Ravraa spoke, his voice drifting off into the open air. The Legionaries simply standing off in the background, as if they were awaiting stage orders from the lead actor.

There was a silence, the man was gaining composure of himself. Enough to hear, enough to take in new stimulus.

“Come on…”

“Drayges… Drayges Vorgen.”

“Ravraa Vyshraal. Pleasure to meet you.” It came out as a laugh, another one that wandered it’s way out of his mouth, like a drunk stumbling out of a tavern. He could have swore he heard one play off of Drayges’ lips as well.

“Where you from? Who’s your folks?”

“... Dromund Kaas. Live with my wife and my boy.”

“How old he gotta be?”

“Five, takes way too after his old man.” They both chuckled at that.

“Drayges,... I’ve met lots-a folk. Lots. Too many of them missin’ sight. Your boy likes you, don’t he?”

“By the Force, of course. He always is,” Ravraa could just make out the officer mimicking a salute from the peripheral. “Says he wants to grow up, just like me.”

“I used to say that too, that too…”

A long silence, awkward shuffling from the crowd.

“What did you mean, a choice?”

The Togruta smiled.

“Lots of folk in this war, ‘round here. Four of you in this room? With a buncha civvies? Take that. Take that. Whatever creds you got to your name, leave the hat, the coat, burn whatever you gotta burn to get rid of that trail. Go home, get your boy, your wife, and leave. War isn’t for us. We’ve got too much life in us.”

There was another wave of silence. The man sniffed again, cleared his throat. Something shuffled it’s way into his holster after scrapping against the floor. Boots weighed on the boards.

“And go where? I’m an Officer of Her Majesty's Sith-Imperial Army. This is my life.”

“The Core, the Galactic Alliance. Witness protection or some nonsense. You know anyone from Bastion?”

“Plenty. My cousin’s family.”

“I promise you, if they ended up anywhere, they’re there. The GA are good folk, good to folk.”

<“Sir?”> Came the modulated voice of one of the Legionaries.

“You still are part of my command, correct, Gruvoc?”

<”... Yessir.”>

“Then here are my last orders. You, Odel, and Drelin will leave this location. Take the transport, and from there, I don’t care what you do with your lives. You don’t tell anyone this happened. If asked, I was taken out by NIO sniper fire on route to the speech. Don’t follow me.” His boots hit the dirt ground, murmuring, people shifting as he parted past the crowd.

<”Sir!”> A younger voice this time, the other Legionarie. Perhaps it was Odel. Perhaps Drelin.

“You heard his orders.” Ravraa spoke, eyes still glazing over from the light. He blinked. Boots moving again, heavier, weighed down by plate. Jumping off of the stage and onto the floor. Mirroring their leaders leaving.

He could barely make out the sounds of Dorn-2 starting to disperse the crowd. Voices booming out through the room as they began to corral the civilians through the exits.

Quick steps, someone throwing themselves over the edge. Hands and a worried voice, pulling his head into a lap.

“Rav, you crazy bastard. What the Hell was that! He could’ve killed you, he would have shot you, we would-” Jeresan’s fretful worries were silenced with a hand finding his, interlacing fingers and blood.

“Shh, shh. I’m fine… little sore. ‘Bout it, honest.” The smile couldn’t help the sight of dried blood and a twisted left leg.

“You ran off. You need to tell us next time.”

“You know,” Rav began, ignoring Jeresan’s worry and tears for the moment.

“Back on Shili, we had plenty of barns just like this one, yessir. Wide and tall. We’d have dances in em.”

“Dances…?”

“Uh-huh, line dancing, there’s be a buncha lights all done up pretty like, right up ‘bout there.” Ravraa’s arm shook from his side, fingers pointing vaguely at the ceiling.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“And every year, when we’d come home from our runnin’, pa and I would go to one of these big ol’ dances they used to have outside the city. So many people, so many. All different places. Once saw a Gammorean do a jig at one, Stars Above, never seen something so funny. Good lad, got along with him. Holds his bourbon well.”

“Sounds like an amazing time, Ravraa, but why talk about it now?”

“Been thinking about it, those little dances…”

They sat like that for a long time. While the civilians were escorted out of the building. Jeresan never taking his eyes off of the Togruta’s head in his lap. Thumb running over the man’s cheek. Ravraa’s eyes, however, just went from every inch of the barn, taking it all in.

“Jeresan…”

“Rav?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“...laabyeha mi?”

A smile, a giggle held in the throat.

“I don’t speak Hutt, Rav.”

He just nodded, staring off in the distance as the other elements of Dorn-2 began to make their way back to the pair.

“I’ll tell you when we get off world. Just remember it…”

 

[Amea Virou]

AMCO // Runi Verin

In the words of some circles of spacers; he wasn’t her boy, but the brother was heavy. Amea could give him that at the very least. From the way Runi seemed to soar across the room for a moment to the fact that Amea found herself in the immediate trajectory of a shotgun that swirled straight for her. On instinct she shielded her face and made a dive for the floor. The sound of gun metal impacting against the wall crunched with an echo across the area as Amea rolled back into stance yet again.

Although nothing was said between them she knew damn well that Runi was up to something. It was something in the way she glanced at Amea, which was not to mention the force bond. There was that small hint in the force, a small nudge in the right direction to get Amea moving. While she wanted to keep the man guessing there was still a part of her that wondered what exactly it was that her friend was up to, and her footwork made that all too obvious. As Runi complimented the man, Amea’s brow rose in confusion for a moment while she closed the final distance between them.

And then, Runi made a sweep for the man. The attack that would have seemed destined for a strike would instead divert towards the ground. It was Amea’s cue, she knew it. With a leap into the air towards the man she kept her right hook ready. She pounced towards the man seeking to strike him across the cheek with the full weight of synthflesh and alchemized metal.

 

[The Spark]

Outside Sith Temple.

What...in...the...actual...kark?

Allies: Still none.

Enemies: Just one, Laertia Io

Questionable: Ryv | Enlil | Jin Kyrel


Aaralyn groaned loudly, and quite clearly. Attempting to vocally convey her disappointment in how far the Jedi Order has fallen. Jedi versus Jedi, regardless of the enemy, was not something they should ever aim to achieve. There would be no mincing words on her part, her displeasure in the situation would become clear as the engagement moved forward. As the woman moved, or teleported, or somehow managed to make her way behind Ryv with such intensity - she was almost floored at the speed…

The ferocity…

The unimaginable feat of literal teleportation before her eyes. Aaralyn remained stunned, having seen some things in her day - but never that. Sure, a fully enveloped Force user could pull off some amazing feats, she was no exception. She, along with a half of a dozen experienced Masters, did manage to slow down an orbital ring on Drunkenwell that threatened the entire planet. However, they had time and connections between each other that weren’t easily explained.

Perhaps this woman had the same amount of time, readying her mind for the battle to come.

Or, perhaps it was an elaborate illusion that was executed perfectly.

Aaralyn didn’t know…

And she didn’t care…

In one smooth motion, she would end her “Allied” stance with the Silver Jedi Concord, the Sith Empire and the like. It was clear, the Jedi were heading for another schism, and Aaralyn could not sit on the sidelines anymore. It was time for the Sword of the Jedi, once broken, now Reforged - to enter the fray. Aaralyn shifted her weight, sliding her left foot forward, and dragging the right behind her, lurching forward and in an attempt to stop the attack on the back of Ryv .

She was all for a fight, but attacking from behind was a sign of cowardice.


So, Aaralyn would again, insert herself between the two fighting. Yet again, trying to reason with the attacker. Sure, the girl was powerful, but her attacks were aggressive and sloppy. With relative ease, Aaralyn shifted the balance of power to that of herself and those she was protecting. The blade would extend and meet the palms of Aaralyn with a crackling defiance of energy. She mustered the Force much the same way she did with the flames...quick like, there was no time for anything fancy. The blade would cease it’s forward momentum, being absorbed into her hands and shred apart in a torrent of sparks and crackling energy. The sound of energies colliding together Aaralyn groaned and spoke through gritted teeth as she continued to disperse the energy of the lightsaber.

“Now, we have a bigger problem…”

 

[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
Objective: Chase and find AMCO to get him off the planet.
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

Luckily, even now, in her new state as a semi-Force-entity, or perhaps others might have called her a Darkside entity, Ingrid was able to keep herself in the shadows and not immerse herself in the darkness. She was never part of the Lightside, but she was never on the Darkside either unless she stole something like that from others, but it was temporary. Neutral. Thanks to being able to control her emotions perfectly and suppress them. On a level that almost everyone she met was unable to feel any of these. Of course, there was always an exception, even among non-Force users. For example, her husband could read in it as an open book, and he was a simple man and it went easy for Adrian too, though the Sith Lord cheated with the Force-bond.

The man recognized her, it was still unusual for the woman. Most of the people she met couldn’t tell who she was. True, this has changed a lot since she first took over as regent duties as Overlord and then became the Empress. It was well known that they were in alliance with the Sith, as was her impending marriage to Darth Prospero. Nevertheless, she achieved that the Eternal Empire could retain its sovereignty and did not become vassals of the Sith Empire or their puppet state. No one else could have done that just her. Nor to survive that peace treaty. She earned the respect of the Sith Empire in the shadows and saved her own people and Empire.

”You know who I am, but I don't know who you are, Jedi Master. Don't you think it's appropriate to introduce yourself? No, let me reassure you, I arrived as an independent party who wants to end the war. My people and I are working to get the wounded on both sides out of the battlefield. We'll transport the wounded from here before the fight gets here. But I'm apparently late.”

She spoke in an even kinder voice at first, then at the end of her words her voice picked up again the usual cold, military, and distant voice. She didn't move or tremble as the man stepped closer. Who are she looking for? Would he have felt it? The red-haired woman could not be entirely sure of this, so instead of instinctive suppression, she chose to deliberately suppress her emotions, which might be too superficial.

”What makes you think I'm looking for anyone? At least in addition to my own people accompanying the injured to the ship. And you? Do you want to kill scientists and workers who are barely able to fight? In this war, the Jedi always do this, or just protect those who devour hundreds, thousands of others alive…”

​

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Allies: NIO | NJO | Jin Kyrel | Rurik Fel | Ryv
Enemies: TSE | SJO | CIS | Arctus Silmar
Equipment: Lightsaber, Shield, Imperial Knight Armour
Judgement has begun

Hans was sweating profusely by the time the knights were firmly in the building. The dark walls offered more protection than outside, but even then it was only slight. The pulling feeling of the darkside was still ever present.

As the knights recuperated from their advance, a senior amongst them spoke up. "Knights, listen up. You all know your tasks, but let me say this: Sith are our priority, Silvers and Obsidians come second. But if they oppose us, give them no quarter! For the Empire!" the final words were cheered by the knights, for they knew them. It inspiration passed down from the Lord Executor all the way to a knight-errant like Hans.

The brief moment of respite was ripped away from them by the next wave of the temple's defenders. They were relentless, but so too were the knights. Argent blades came back to life and the fighting resumed. More Sith Cyborgs encroached on them, unholy creatures that fought to the last breath. Hans and his brothers raised their shields as their maces swung towards them. The weight of their strikes was immense.

"Don't let them surround us!" another knight yelled. And he was correct. If these monsters backed them into a corner it would be over quickly. Blaster bolts of the 501st held them back, any getting to close being cleaved in half by lightsabers. But still they outnumbered the knights.

To his side was Jin. His friend and brother-in-arms. It was nice to be fighting the young man again, especially as Jin hacked his way through the temple guards. He was an asset to the team, no doubt.

They made their way further into the temple, beset by a few more reforged with each corner of the twisting hallways they turned around. Hans took to the vanguard, yet as he turned one corner a reforged surprised him. The creatures mace slammed into Hans' stomach. His armour protected anything vital from braking, but Hans sure felt the hit, dropping to his knee. As the cyborg went to deliver a killing blow to the downed knight, another knight's blade came to slice through clean through its neck.

Hans dropped his shield and saber in order to quickly remove his helmet. He threw it aside as he vomited on the floor in front of him.

The senior knight from before knelt down with him. "We need to keep moving, Rennagen. Can you stand?"

Hans nodded weakly, and the knight helped him up. He picked up his things and fell back in the line of knights, still winded and dazed.

As they moved further in, the uneasy feeling of the darkside was so present in his mind, coming to an overwhelming point as they entered the command center. Temple guards, reforged, Sith. This place was filled with them.

"The Jedi will be here soon, hold out until they get here." the senior knight commanded to his fellows.

Off to the side Hans heard Jin talking, but it was not a response to their superior. Then he heard mention of Karis, the Jedi. Without hesitation Jin turned to him

"Hans, with me. We got a Sith to kill." The slight twinges of anger were evident in his tone.

And Hans saw the target. Surrounded by unnatural green flames was the Sith Lord, who Hans was certain was a source of the dark feeling in the force, just as the large Sith outside had been.

Hans gulped. He'd fought a Sith Lord once and survived, but so much more was riding on the coming moments. His fears were getting the better of him, but he knew this was yet another test he would have to pass if he was going to become a true Knight of the Empire. A true Knight who could bravely stand against the Sith.

So he charged after Jin, ready to take on another Sith Lord in the name of the Imperator.

"I'm with you, Jin. No quarter."

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Equipment:
Warrior's Skin
Graugothian Chain
The Inferno

POV:
High Priest Kantus

Location:
Outer Caverns
​

The Burning God had bestowed upon him a great commandment. To do the will of The Living God was to be the sword of the divine destiny that would see The Graug ascend to their rightful, prominent place. Kantus flicked the air with his tongue as he climbed his way higher through the caverns. He could taste it. The fresh air. The scent of fresh blood. They were close now. Soon the sun would be upon them and with merciless vigor they would slay all who stood in their way.

Blessed be his burning eyes, which flay the skin of all.

Even the weary shadows behind him had begun to work themselves into frenzy. He could feel it in their minds. All thought of their lesser master's having fallen to the wayside in favor of their God's will. In favor of their destiny. The priest smiled at the thought of meeting his God once again, pools of blood at his feet and their trophies of the fallen about his neck. Surely he would forever find favor in the sight of He Who Burned.

Then a tremendous thundering broke the priest's smile and turned his gaze. A rifle. A lesser's rifle. Kantus narrowed serpentine eyes into the darkness, raising himself to full height to see over the skulls of the many warrior's who squeezed into the caverns behind them. He saw nothing but shadows...darkness. He reached out into the Immortal Wind and commanded it to reveal the truth to him.

He saw it. Powerful stones that bent the flow of The Immortal Winds...not Jedi, no, these beacons were dark. Sithlings. The beast focused in and saw the fleeting life forces of Graug at their feet.

Kantus hissed into the darkness. The Burned God must have foreseen such betrayal.

"Warriors" Kantus called to the hungering shadows that had followed in his wake, they too had turned towards the sound of the rifle "The Immortal Wind has shown me treachery. The lessers who you have called 'master' challenge your supremacy. They send their Sithlings to undue The Burning God's command."

Kantus breathed his energy into the Immortal Wind and allowed his essence to engulf the warrior's. They responded with howls of lust and hunger. "We must not let such insults disrupt our God's will! Turn back to the depths and feast upon Sithling flesh! First the Sithlings, then all of the world above!"

The priest's voice had risen to a fervent crescendo that echoed down the caverns and in response hundreds of howling voices as the horde turned heel and charged to defile those who dared defy them their feast...

Iasha Rha Ruek Tast Lark Alina Tremiru

Below the perimeter of the city - near one of the perimeter units of anti-aircraft guns
​

The beast of hunger paused amid the waves of his feral warriors, his head turning to side. His mind focusing on the contemptuous noise blaring from beyond the stone of the next few caverns. But no...there was something beyond that. Vulcanus turned sulfuric eyes to the glowing ceiling above and watched as the crystals shook violently...then stopped. He continued to watch them until again the ceiling shook and handfuls of glowing crystals plummeted to the floor and this time he heard clearly the noise beyond the blaring music.

Thuds. Cannon fire.

"Halt!" the Lord of Embers howled into the darkness - stopping the Horde in its tracks before it moved onto the next crystal-lined cavern. Like hungry pets the Graug Warriors huddled around their Dark Lord, maws dripping and eyes fixated. "Above"

Vulcanus boomed as he reached out and felt the air above. Felt the heat as the cannons ignited. Felt the warmth left behind by bodies. Yes there was something there. Something that did not reek of the darkness.

"Emerge to the surface. Slaughter whoever stands in your way."

The ocean of shadows did not hesitate and, like the beasts they were, scurried to the walls of the cavern - taking hold of crystals and stone as they ascended towards the surface. Soon, using claws and explosives, a thousand warriors would burst to the surface below one section of the placed anti-aircraft weapons and begin their assault before pouring into the enemies rear lines.

Mishel Kryze
​

Vulcanus would not ascend, however. No. He could still smell the Jedi scurrying about in the darkness. Feel the heat of its breath. The warmth of its raw flesh. Blood laced saliva dripped from the beast's lips as he thought of the taste of its blood. Alone the Seventh Day Emperor marched into the next cavern - his mind focused on the approaching heat of the Jedi.

"I see you, Jedi" Vulcanus boomed into the darkness, "I can smell you. The shadows cannot hide you from me"

Slowly he withdrew Inferno from its sheath, it's blade igniting the darkness with a searing fire as it came to life in its master's hand. Once more Vulcanus drank deeply of The Force in the caverns - sank himself into the heat lingering beyond the caverns. Then, with blade in hand, the beast stalked into the last chamber between him and his prey.

 

[Laertia Io]

This The Spark didn't seem to take the fething hint.

Laertia concentrated and her variant of Force Suppression extended out in a large radius around, her, capable of suppressing the connection of powerful adepts by filling their connection with a sort of psychic static.

If her connection failed, the blade would cease being absorbed by Rekali's power and burst through her hands on the other side, and even if that didn't work, Laertia was strong enough to keep the blade on her palms with one hand...

...while the mechanical one reached forward for her wrists to savagely try and break it. If it succeeded Laertia would likely immediately try to kill her, as she had already spoiled her initial attack on Ryv and she wouldn't allow further interruptions. The time for talk was past. No fighting fair. No fighting honorably. The streets of Nar Shaddaa had taught her this.

Rekali would either extricate herself from this fight between two master sword fighters, or she would die unpleasantly and painfully.

Laertia didn't want this. Didn't want any of it. But she had no choice if she wanted to save the Galaxy from The Bryn'adul.

Rekali's face was reflected in the green visor of Laertia's helm, a black specter. If Ryv was smart he'd be using the opportunity to attack. She certainly would have.

She kept him in mind, ready to break her strategem with Rekali in an instant if he decided to take advantage.

In war, if even a God stands between you and your goal, you must cut them down without hesitation or pity. This truth was one applied to Sith. Now Laertia would apply it to Jedi, to save the Galaxy AND The Jedi. From themselves...

 

[Frank Sterling]

As the granade impacted with Franks armor the explosion kicked up dust concrete and debris as it shredded threw the extra plating and cracked breached the armor around his arm and face his chest and armor had cratered and lost all its extra plating and charred skin with metallic plating showed from underneath. Sparks occasionally flowed from his arm. Franks Hud both in his helmet and in his eye made him aware of the multiple breaches in the armor and the administration of bacta gel to the burns on his chest.

the return fire from blasters within the storefront due to the SICA and detachment forces streaked out of the smoke peppering the building's floors.
as frank Keyed his coms. "Frank To morter teams I need fire north of my position grid reference 115813. Take those snipers out over!." As unlike most as the smoke cleared frank stood tall in the window much like the man did when he asked if he got him. Before shouldering his weapon and putting another burst downrange at the man. "clear the building this area is gonna be shelled in 30 seconds ill cover you!" Frank said as he took cover behind a pillar near the window.

Tag: Tavius Muuaji

 

[Dhuzgnar]

OBJECTIVE I: BREAKING THE CULT

m a m a, w e a l l g o t o h e l l

​

“We need to push through this!” Kant barked at the squad. Reek Line, as all Imperial Infantry squads did, consisted of ten members.

They had already lost one during the fighting throughout the streets, the Trandoshan sniper. Kind hearted soul, a gentle giant if anything else. Gunned down in the road by a fighter that couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. Another spark, another ember of the pyre that made up the Living Force, eclipsed, forgotten, destroyed like it was nothing. The child was brought down using non-lethal, though, Dhuz couldn’t help but admit to himself the pull he had felt. He was so close, if he had been quicker… Nocrea would still be alive, wouldn’t he?

That wasn’t something he could bother to pay proper mind to right now, though. The blaster fire from the Citizen’s Militia position at the end of the T junction was getting braver now. Scrapping and snapping off sections of the pillar he was set up behind. Forcing him to bring his gangly form closer and closer to himself. Nekghouls were shaped oddly compared to most humanoids, his legs wanted to bow out, and his weight demanded specific distribution. He couldn’t allow that, however. That would mean giving them opening shots. The dirt by his feet kicked up with hot bolt fire, causing his open clawed feet to dig and kickup as it was brought quick back to cover.

The SFR-58 never felt quite right in his grip. It was too long, it had a strange recoil pattern that wanted to shift to the top right, and it was more useful as a blunt tool than a proper tactical weapon. Though that wasn’t the reason the Nekghoul felt strange with the device. Spears, simpler blasters that were closer to laser-rifles than modern day boltthrowers, and other such implements were what he was familiar with. What he had always struck his claim with.

Along the street, he watched Kragir, the Neimoidian, take a running start down the road brief moment. Reeling his shoulder as far as it could go before slinging his entire arm forward. A small ball left his grip, arched through the air, and fell at the base of the makeshift barricade.

It blinked.

Explosion.

All consuming, punching a hole directly in the center of the makeshift barricades.

Two more, he didn’t have to see it. He felt their screams as their souls rushed to the Netherworld. Claws dug into the pillar behind him, the blaster rifle held to his side.

“Get yourself together! Push, Ghoul! Come on!” Came the call of duty.

No time to feel. Not with all that was on the line.

 

[Sinestra]

WEATHER THE STORM
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
STORM COMMANDOS
SPEARHEAD ASSAULT
ENGAGING: Frank Sterling ( Aurelion Nova & Ulrich )

W A R _ P I G S
​

Arno caught sight of the barrel of an LMG from the windows of the Come Right Inn lining up for a shot; he threw himself to the side just as a few rounds grazed his arm tearing through armor and flesh alike.

An easily recognizable thump sound, followed by an explosion made him peek over the corner of the building at the Come Right Inn.

"I get 'em?!"

The commando squinted at the dissipating dust from the impact only to make out a half-man, half-droid and an even more ruined brothel than before.

<"You're wrecking the Inn, moron!"> Arno called out at his partner. <"Get the hell down from there, there's a freaking super droid, man- whatever the hell it is there.">

Cursing underneath his breath he reached for his ion grenade, lobbed it over the wall and down on the machineman in the windows of Arno's sacred place.

"Eat on this, scraphead!"


ALLIES | NIO | Tavius Muuaji | Meko Sorrin | Daros Karmann | Sturit Goan | DT-2319 | Gedeon Rath | Rexus Wenck | Lucien Dooku | Hayek | Lyra Voi'kryt | Dhuzgnar

ENEMIES | TSE | THE ELDER COMPACT | OPEN TO INTERACTION | Joycelyn Zambrano | Darth Prazutis | Gnox the Insatiable | Frank Sterling | Alisteri Haxim | Aiden Wolf | Cara Dorniarn