Opening Pantora's Box | TSE Invasion of Pantora

[Decimus]

Objective: Commence Invasion
Location: Pantoran Capital

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRJhR5uwinU​

"It will be done, my lord.", Aut-X said calmly when the order to proceed was given by his Emperor. His core ship began it's descent to the surface of Pantora, followed by a large multitude of C-9979 Landing Craft and escorted by multiple wings of Vulture Droids. Their destination was a suitable landing area a few miles away from the outskirts of the Pantoran capital. The core ship itself was the first to make landfall. It would act as the command centre for Aut-X and his invasion forces, and serve as a temporary garrison for the inevitable looting and devastation of the planet's many cities. The landing craft touched down in the marshes surrounding the core ship, and began to unload the vast numbers of battle droids, vehicles and other necessary war material to carry out their operations.

As his droid legions deployed and amassed for battle, Aut-X arose from his command throne, gazing out through one of the bridge's windows at the capital of Pantora before him. An aesthetically well designed city, for sure, but one that would fall into ruin soon enough when his work was done. His battle droids were deployed from their transports, set down, in a deactivated state in formation at the outskirts of the marsh, the capital within sight. They were supported by columns of AAT tanks, as well as a multitude of labour droids constructing artillery emplacements and trenches in preparation for a potentially, if unlikely, lengthy siege. The battle droid's activation order would come soon...

[member="Vanessa Vantai"]
[member="Vela Alya T'Ser Sipal"]
[member="Darth Prazutis"]
[member="Darth Carnifex"]
[member="Veiere Arenais"]
[member="Dax Fyre"]
[member="Vorhi Alestrani"]
[member="Kaine Australis"]

 

[Yula Perl]

Objective: Get to the surface
Location: Stowed aboard the Mon Calamari Cruiser Anchor and Hope
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Cotan Sar'andor"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Yula made sure that she was on Coren’s heels. Strapping herself in, the Zeltron looked up at the Jedi Master with eager eyes. There was a thread of fear behind her gaze, having been in enough battles to know that things could turn deadly at the flip of a coin. The Sith however, wasted no time in firing an absolutely decimating warning shot. They were not here to seek control of Pantora; they were here to punish the Coalition by razing a world that had recently come under their protection.

“About what?” She responded coyly, having zero intention of telling her mother that she was here. The thought of battle made her innards tense with both nerves and excitement. “Hey,” The chatter from the comm had finally registered as they spirited away from the Anchor and towards the surface. “If we play our cards right, no one is gonna have to tell my ma about this.” For all they knew, there would be a news crew with plenty of cameras waiting for them on the ground. Or maybe not, Yula realized, as the state of the surface of the planet was becoming increasingly clearer. The glow of bright orange flames could be seen the closer they came.

“Sunnuva—” Yula gritted her teeth and pulled hard on the yoke as several shots hit the shuttle’s shielding, rocking the craft back and forth slightly. “C’mon you, hold it together.” Muttering to the shuttle, they pressed onwards, managing to slip in through the gap of the planetary shielding while it was still closing. Pantora had responded swiftly to the attack, the next step was to repel the attackers.

As the shuttle slipped to the surface, Yula started trying to tune into the local comms to get a better hold on what was happening ground-side. Mostly she got chatter relaying basic information—the planet was under attack, shield civilians and man the battle stations. Above them, the Pantoran defense fleet and Coalition allies were poised to strike against the incoming Sith battle party.

Sucking air in through her teeth, Yula turned to Coren and spoke into the comms connecting them to Cotan and Dax. “This is gon’ suck, isn’t it?”

 

[WelshGuy]

Location: Space
Objective: Protect the ORC forces
Allies: ORC and allies
Enemies: TSE and allies

So the Sith Empire were attacking the Outer Rim Coalition, Veiere had organised the response team to assist their allies against this Sith threat. Yuroic had requested to join, it had been too long since he had a chance to fight back a serious Sith threat. Veiere seemed to heading a team to the ground which was good, a ground team would be needed but Yuroic wanted to spend some time fighting in the air. Grabbing his pilot's helmet, and pilot gear, Yuroic looked himself in the mirror of the barrack he was in. It was odd to be in pilot gear, he hadn't been a pilot for long and it wasn't his strongest skill but he was eager to give it a go.

Wandering down to the hanger, Yuroic looked over to Veiere and waved him off. Searching for his T-Wing X-1, Yuroic spotted the starfighter and grinned to himself. Flying in space was exhilarating, he could understand why people love to be pilots. Yuroic was getting the itch himself to try flying more and more. Positioning himself in the pilot seat, Yuroic powered the engines before checking that all systems were green. Yuroic breathed out and placed his bets on the Force. Taking control, Yuroic piloted the ship out of the hangar and looked at the battle that was commencing.

Pushing forward, Yuroic moved the fighter through the space and targeted a few enemy fighters. Shooting them down while he darted around to avoid being hassled from behind. "Hey, this is Master Xeraic here, any pilots wanna keep my butt covered here?!" Yuroic called down on the comms, as he took aim at another Sith fighter.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective: Fight Sith
Allies: [member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Cotan Sar'andor"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

The planet was not the best place to be. The citizens were only now becoming aware of the conflict. Of the strike that hit, outside the planetary shields. Alerts were going, people stating it was Mandalorians, it was the First Order. But the real news came through. The Sith Empire had come to call on Pantora. A blast had hit outside the cities and turned part of the world to glass. And that was where the landing zone had been situated. The Sith were going to make an example of somewhere, and Coren assumed, in a show of force and power, make it their landing zone.

“You got it, we can do drinks.” He laughed and shook his head as he was listening to the chatter. He tapped his earpiece and had the Starbird ship transmitting everything to the ear pieces. “We can just blame it on Dax. He’s the what, uncle?” He laughed and shook his head. “You’ll get a promo if you tell Joza this was Dax’s idea.” Then he looked at what he was doing, flying, helping Yula get the to ground. The Jedi Master and pilot extraordinaire was gripping the controls. Out to the side of the shuttle he was seeing the landing team. The first wave behind them. Keeping his eyes open, he saw what was going on. As the shuttle touched down and he and Yula exited, the man shook his head.

“Its going to be worse.” The Jedi Master said, his hand on his lightsaber. The blue bladed weapon wasn’t lit yet. He was focusing on the weather. The hurricane that was coming. The weather was not anything he was ready for, but he could do something to change it. The Force, he was calling it around him, in the darkest realms, the smallest light was the most important. The sun was not making it through the clouds, but Starchaser was ready. It was going to be a lightning rod for the forces of evil.

And that was what he was hoping for. Drag them away from the city and to him.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AUFDsMe1asA&list=RDAUFDsMe1asA&start_radio=1[/media]

Pantora, Glassed Scar, Blackblade Invasion Site

A maze

The mind of the Shadow Hand of the Sith Emperor, Heir Apparent to the Dark Lord, Sovereign of the Intergalactic Zambrano Empire was a labyrinthine maze. It became painfully clear to the Jedi Master as soon as he entered, it was like stepping through a threshold, a gate into another world. But there was something else inside the mind that ebbed and flowed, it was...strange. A typical mind shouldn’t, no couldn’t possible look or feel like this. It was alien, foreign, odd. It was nothing like anything the man had ever seen before in this galaxy. A thick nameless, formless mist blinded every direction making it nearly incomprehensible. The transformation into an outer being changed the Lord of Lies.

Fire.

The empyrean flame burned searing away portions of the mind for any mortal man, any normal man it would’ve been pain great enough to send him toppling down. But...something strange happened. The fire simply burned in state there was no reaction, except for a distant roar by something so profane it was unspeakable. It simply burned before suddenly being snuffed out, extinguished like candle light. The mist descended around him as he tried to peer into the mind of something developing outside the confines of reality, something beyond understanding or comprehension by the mortal life. A laugh dark and evil like honeyed poison, a baritone rumble roared through and the connection was suddenly broken.

“Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken, dig deeper and you will find it to be your end Master Jedi. I would have you present so I may destroy you.”

The Lord of Lies boomed his deep, thunderous voice carrying across the windswept plains. He was an imposing sight to see in all his glory, the eight foot giant of a man and his full, dark gaze upon him. But there was something different about him now...it wasn’t present in their last encounter. Instead of a pair of molten pupils they were replaced with a blackened void, gone were the eyes of the dark sider that surged from within his helmet. Through the eyes of an outer being the Elder One could pierce all illusion, all veils. In the skies above him all he could see was the higher plane of existence in the Netherworld, and its many baleful colors mixing together. Such eyes pierced the fabric of this reality.

“When we last met I made you a promise. I told you that you killed them all, didn’t I? The End Times are here. You might’ve been there, your people might’ve been there at the very beginning, welcome to the end. I will break open the cracked gates and flood this reality with the Dreaming Dark, the Coalition Worlds will become a graveyard of nothing but ruins and dead whispers. Your Council of Whills will not save you this time Zark. In time I will slaughter them too.”

A surge of power as the figures beside him vanished. The Elder One strode forth and everything around them shimmered, the folds of reality bending all around them, it was an unnatural thing to pervert the way of things in such a way. The Deceiver stepped through one of these folds and vanished, only to appear far closer across the plane. In his hand was the spirit rending runeblade Daesumnor and he beckoned black tendrils to rise out from under the man. If he could the Shadow Hand would attempt to bring the blade down. The whole of the Sith Empire, the entirety of the Sith Brotherhood belonged to him, he was the penultimate heir of every soldier, beast, monster who served faithfully under his nephew. There was no one existing who stood between him and Kaine, all others paled in comparison to the two destroyers, and this Jedi would fall all the same.

Pantora, Glassed Scar, Wasteland
???

A lone figure clad in white moved through the Blackblade Staging Point past the armored soldiers, rumbling armor, light vehicles, and transports alike that moved while laborers worked to erect fortifications and prefabricated barriers. She stopped at a row of speeders all of which were standard issue for the legion, all except for one. It was entirely out of place and entirely unique on its own. The figure stopped and took a deep breath before she suddenly threw off the great veil, the vast white robe. As the garment fell silently to the glassy ground the figures features were fully visible, her face scrunched into a laser focus.

Romi Jade.

In the first moments of the dropping veil the woman beneath resembled a twisted, sick perversion of the Jedi Master. The woman’s skin turned a shade of gray while her hair whitened, the woman’s eyes were a pair of dark orbs black as pitch without a pupil in sight. The teeth inside her mouth were sharpened like animals for ripping and tearing. She exudes a powerful aura of eldritch blackness from her form and her nails were like long knives, narrow black talons sharp enough to cut through the toughest metals and poisoned with madness, they stung like blood poison. She spoke low in a black tongue, an incantation “wenchhaaft nx l'atantha, huga nx s'iaa nasia'a.” There was a visible change almost immediately as her black aura faded, her talons receded and her teeth returned to a normal human. The woman's skin turned to fair, in this form she completely resembled Romi Jade. The detail was immaculate right down to the gear she would bring with her onto the battlefield, even her lightsabers were a mimicry of the ones Jade wielded, an immaculate attention went into every excruciating detail to match. Someone even added a worn nature to the pieces that she was often shown to have, it was absolutely astounding. She jumped onto the speeder and blazed out of the landing point under hurricane clouds and black smog, they would conceal her travel.

As she traveled the voice of her master rumbled in her mind, her creator:

"You must understand. They know her, fight beside her, live beside her. These aren't just her friends they're her family. You need to be so good that you can fool her own family. Not a single mistake, not one can ever be made while you are on the inside, while you are with them. You must be Romi Jade. It is only when you are closest that you will destroy them."

When she was a safe distance away from the base she made a loop before reaching out to the frequency of Coren Starchaser, the call would be coming seemingly from Romi’s frequency “Took you long enough Coren, I was beginning to think that I was going to have to take all of them all by myself. I suppose I can share....send me your coordinates and we’ll link up.” She said. Before long a confirmation would come across the channel and she blazed off across the landscape, leaving a trail of dust in her wake as air blew off residual glass particles from the top of the surface. All through her mind memories dwelled but it was a strange experience, to have access to memories yet know and understand that they weren’t her own. She could access and view them like archival footage, built on a bedrock foundation of her extensive teaching under the Lord of Lies.

It was extremely thorough.

So much time went into learning every little detail about her life, she was created when the Jedi Master had been captured by the Sith and spent a tenure with the Sith Empire. Every little detail was scrutinized from the memories, how she walked, talked, every little detail was memorized and practiced over and over until it was the only way she knew how to act. But there was one key difference between her and the original. She was far superior. The original was soft, weak, a shell of a woman fighting a losing war against a far superior enemy. While the original knew remorse, pity, mercy, she did not. She was raised in death, born and baptised in the great beyond.

A roar drew her attention.

Galvanoth the Genocide her master’s chosen war beast unleashed a deafening roar that carried over the howling hurricane winds, over the sounds of battle. It was the roar of the King of Monsters, in the skies it suffered no rivals and its power unleashed devastating blasts of golden lightning that vaporized fighters as they dipped in for bombing runs on the Blackblade Landing Site. The beasts flexed wings and three raised heads each swiveled, the far left one turning almost a full one eighty to watch a bomber crash into the ground. The middle head turned and nipped the curious one, grabbing its attention as they all looked across the vast plains. The Light. It stuck out like a pustulent sore to the beast, a beacon, a lightning rod across the vast plains. All across vast aurum scaled body an electrical energy surged, its gold light reflecting off its scales to make the heavenly look of the regal king even more impressive. The energy coiled up his neck and in one vicious blast it cut loose with three graviton beams of pure golden energy.

[

The gold energy buckled the earth when it struck sending shards of glass scattering through the air and moved in a massive three pronged line right towards the arriving Cotan, Coren, Yula, Dax and their ships even at the vast distance away. The nearly six hundred foot tall hydra aimed to destroy all of them, or at least obliterate their ships.

Under the beam came Romi Jade on her speeder she swung it in zig zagging patterns jumping off mounds of buckling earth to avoid from being crushed by debris, crashing down from the great beasts fury. Regardless of the destruction she swung her speeder and stopped on the perimeter of the landing site of Starchaser. “Yeah...I should’ve warned you about that, we have one of those too. At least it won’t be boring.”

War Fleet Black Iron, Goliath II
Unleashing Hell

“Direct hit” The dark voice of AQUILA rumbled to a resounding cheer from the crew. In a devastating display of firepower Pantora would forever be scarred, it was a warning shot, foreshadowing what was to come if the Sith had their way. As the fleets opened up the Goliath II was no exception.

The only difference?

The Super Star Dreadnought opened up its full devastating arsenal on the ships of the enemy fleet. Row after row, line after line a massive storm of firepower was unleashed at the enemy fleet, they were aiming for command ships looking to decapitate the Pantoran Defense Fleet by taking out its leadership. But they ultimately didn’t discriminate in its destruction if other ships died on the way of achieving its true purpose.



Allies:
[member="Darth Carnifex"]
[member="Aut-X"]
[member="Vanessa Vantai"]
[member="Khonsu Amon"]
[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
Enemies:
[member="Coren Starchaser"]
[member="Dax Fyre"]
[member="Atlas Drake"]
[member="Gilamar Skirata"]
[member="Cotan Sar'andor"]
[member="Yula Perl"]
[member="Romi Jade"]
[member="Vela Alya T'Ser Sipal"]

 

[Iresias Sirax]

​

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Objective: Investigate/Survive
Allies: ORC
Enemies: Sith/Others

Buried​

​

Iresias found herself among a swarming mass of bodies. Civilians screaming and sobbing, their fingers and hands all grasping and reaching for something - anything that would bring them reprieve. An answer.

While panic and sorrow ensued inside the nondescript structure, the ground vibrated violently and buckled with a force that caused most to stumble and fall over each other; some being unfortunate enough as they were crushed from the weight being thrown on top of them. People climbing over people, faces illustrating what true madness looked like. It was when normalcy was suddenly ripped away, taken by a maelstrom of the unpredictable.

These people were weak, soft. They hadn't known panic until now, and Iresias relished it so.

"Hey! Look at her!" A random, middle-aged man frantically jabbed his index finger in Iresias' direction. His eyes were bloodshot, strained from seeing what he had seen before being placed in this situation. "Look at her, everyone! I've seen the Sith before, she looks like them! Look at that mask, and her clothing!" His chest puffed and collapsed rapidly, his body trembling from adrenaline.

As if they were one entity, all those that wished for an answer finally got one. They found something to blame.

Iresias snickered behind her mask as she backed away from the crowd. "What a misguided fool you are. Tell me, why would I be in here with all of you if I wanted to kill you? Further more, I bend a knee to no government or power."

The crowd fell silent and began to move toward the darkly clad woman. Loss and pain in their eyes.

They only wanted to live, feel safe.

But they made a mistake.

"You should all listen to me. Now."

They kept the pace, some lunging forward in an attempt to grab Iresias. Before they could react, a sudden flash of pale blue ignited from her right hand as she firmly grasped the obsidian hilt of her lightsaber. Foul energy arced around the blade, erupting outward in aggressive surges as it carved its way through three unarmed civilians; however, due to a hive-like mentality, they insisted on bringing down what they perceived to be the enemy.

Paranoia had taken full effect.

"You've brought this upon yourselves."

A small wave of individuals rushed forward, each of them being ripped apart as a new pile began to amass upon the floor. Charred flesh filled the room with a sweet aroma. Iresias winced as her wounds began to ache, still not quite familiar with the cybernetic alterations in her body; a soothing wave of pleasure washed over her, relieving the difficulties of her mangled frame.

The Force pulsated within, giving her muscles and limbs renewed vigor as she fed from the innocent, terrified souls she murdered. This was as close to true happiness as Iresias could get. Embers glared from behind her mask, her eyes piercing the remaining fodder whom were wise enough to not make an attempt at assaulting their better.

"You all are so... insignificant. Look at you, ugly and scared with no one to help. How amusing."

Iresias tilted her head to the side with a disturbed smile, full of herself as she continued to bask in the death wrought by her hands.

"Maybe those of you that live will remember to listen, hm? I do hope so."

With that, Iresias departed into the chaos outside; her midnight coat flapping in the wind. The skies were dark, the streets riddled with bodies and utter destruction. Sirens screamed.

She needed a real challenge.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

​

“Your Council of Whills will not save you this time Zark. In time I will slaughter them too.”

A sword of pure light rose up to meet Daesumnor with a thrumming vibration that thundered in the eardrums of every soul within reach.

Master Zark was economical in his movements. He seemed not to react at all to the Shadow Hand's sudden leap through nothingness, raising his arm into a perfect blocking pose which was timed exactly for the last moment in Zambrano's downward swing. There was unfathomable might to his blows born of a genhanced and alchemized frame and imbued with the darkside's unbridled fury, but the spirit held his guard as if he were an immovable object.

You assume I am alone, but the Force is my ally.

By now both natural dust kicked up from the conflict raging all around him and Prazutis' occult contribution, shrouded them in a fog of war. All around the Braxus in the mist, six more lances of radiant energy erupted as if from nothingness. The last time they had met, Zark was a rogue spirit, defying the wishes of his own Conclave. But the events on Rhen Var had changed everything, and the Parasite Lord's assault on their own sanctum which they had believed impossible tipped the scales in his radical faction's favor.

And a powerful ally it is.

This was not the will of the Conclave, but neither would they interfere.

Each saber moved in to strike at the Sith Lord's flank while he was preoccupied with Zark. Haunting visages appeared in flashes through the mist, ghosts of the long dead. Jedi from different epochs with different creeds, but united in a common purpose. To stand against the coming of the great shadow. To defy the warp in the Force. Braxus was its thrall now, even if to the Shadow Hand it felt like true freedom. There could be no mercy.

 

[Seniya Nehir]

​

Location: Capital Plaza, Pantora Capital City
Objective: Get Somewhere Safe
Allies: [member="Dagon Perl"] | Outer Rim Coalition
Enemies: Incoming?

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“Preferably away from the kriffing War Hydra!” Seniya yelled in response to Dagon’s query, still dragging him along behind her as the slipped between the archway of a nearby boutique. The glass doors revealing a sea of huddled masses just beyond, wide eyed and panicked, cowering behind the soft furnishings as if they would somehow protect them from the onslaught that was about to befall the city. The klaxons were sounding now. The city shields flaring into life. It might seem like a small mercy now, in the wake of that cannon still ringing firmly in their minds, but for many it would be the only one they would likely get today.

As if to confirm that, another roar pierced the sky in the distance. Rattling the bones and jarring the teeth of the populace as the dark shadow of the Sith Empire descended down on the Pantoran Moon. Their very presence a sickening miasma like wound within the very Force itself. It took all she had to resist the instinct to charge towards them, answering the beacon like call that rose up to stand against it. But she wasn’t a Jedi, not anymore. Not since Thyferra. Besides, as she turned to face her companion, she realized she had much more pressing concerns.
Dagon Perl.

Force love him, but the her partner was as useful in combat as the trampled blue hawt dawg he was still lamenting. More suited to the more cerebral aspects of their work than anything remotely approaching conflict. Her first priority was getting him somewhere safe - preferably before he did something stupid and got himself killed. A feat easier said than done.

“We need to move. We’re sitting porgs out here.” Her hands strayed to the lightsabers strapped beneath her long coat as she spoke. Jedi or not, they were still a comforting presence in times like this. If nothing else, they would draw the attention of any would be attackers. She chewed the inside of her lip, glancing around to try and remember the layout of the city. Pausing as those dark eyes of hers settled on the distinctive raised spires of the Pantoran Assembly Building. “There.”

It wasn’t really the best choice, but it was a choice. And one of the few currently available to a pair of outlanders with no hope of making it to the starport from where they were. Not that the Sith Armada breathing down upon them would let them take off in any event.

“The Pantoran Guard should be heading there now. Maybe if we’re quick, we can slip in before they lock it down.”

Of course, she neglected to add that the Sith would also be heading that way, too. But between the option of fighting them in the streets or from a fortified position….

She gave Dagon another shove, this time back into the crowd. Using him as an impromptu shield as she began to herd them towards the other side of the plaza. “Move!”

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Cotan's ship skimmed close to the ground, dust and water from the marshy surface flying behind it. Against all odds, Coren had managed to land before him; Dax, however, was nowhere to be seen. Good. Cotan wasn't about to be the last one to the party. Although, as it turned out, the massive flying dragon-like beast that Darth Prazutis had unleashed didn't even seem to want him at the party to begin with, launching out a high powered beam of energy straight in the path of his ship.

"Blast!" he growled, throwing the freighter into a hard roll; thankfully, he managed to avoid the worst of the blast, though the keel-side shields were almost instantly drained by what little energy still managed to connect. And, of course, the spray of glass and dust that was kicked up by the attack, splattering all over the underside of the ship. He levelled out the roll, jumping out of his pilot's seat. "Alright, Kiss, you take the helm," he told his droid, buckling on his weapons and moving for the docking ramp. "Slow us down once we approach the landing zone and I'll jump, then you can take this thing to the other side of the planet or anywhere else and keep it out of harm's way until I contact you." The droid beeped out an affirmative, and Cotan sprinted to the back of the ship.

Moments later and he was jumping out, landing down by where Coren and Yula had evaded their part of the blast. "Offering me a promotion yourself?" he joked, pulling out his own lightsaber. "I don't think you have that authority, not unless you managed to re-instate me as a Jedi without my knowing."

A short pause.

"You didn't have me sign anything after we left that one cantina on Terminus, did you? Because if so, that was a dirty, dirty trick." He glanced away, noticing somebody else that had approached fairly quickly, though he hadn't been privy to her comm messages just earlier. "Really bringing the whole gang back together for this, eh?"

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Dax Fyre"] [member="Yula Perl"] [member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Romi Jade]

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Location: Jade's Triumph, Pantora Orbit
Objective: Help push through the blockade
Tag: [member="Atlas Drake"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Gray Venasir"] [member="Loreena Arenais"] [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] -- [member="Darth Morbus"] & Any others I missed​

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Spoiler

[youtube]https://youtu.be/J2IITmqKOLc[/youtube]

My first day as a member of the 91st... was chaotic. Nothing at all like the simulations. Of course that's pretty much the way it was for everyone, isn't it?

All that training... it doesn't really prepare you for all the screaming or the blood, does it?

We found ourselves pressed into space combat. For months, every hour of my downtime was spent in the simulator, preparing for the time I would face our enemies from the cockpit of a CR90 -- Finally the day came to earn my wings.

We put our hope in Romi Jade, our Jedi commander. She's doing that trance thing again... says she'll help us make a way.

I don't know. I can't see it -- can't feel it -- myself. It's all just chaos.

But, without her iron will, none of us would probably get out of this mess, or any mess with our sanity, or our lives.

It was starting to feel like a battle; a winnable battle.

---- 91st Sentinel Soldier, Invasion of Pantora


She'd learned it already, that war is chaos.

Deep in her trance, she could see the battlefield shimmering in the force. Visualizing the battle's outcome, she knew that victory can exist; it can.

If the Force wills.

Through her probe, she encountered a wave of self-oppression, anguish, and despair that assaults the minds of those on her side. However, intensely focused on the life energy floating through the stars around them, she begins to dissolve these mere illusions. Her mind flashed through a multitude of scenarios, and deep in her contemplation, she worked to subtly alter the will of the fighting forces to coax victory for the Coalition.

Her figure began to glow in an alabaster highlight...

And somehow, strength and courage and confidence seemed to flow into a metaphysical wellspring she was creating. As if courage were a fire, and those on her side were standing too close to Romi not to burn. Her eyes gleamed with a different type of energy. Digging her fingers into her skull she tightened her sphere like perception, smoothing out the edges before casting out astral tendrils through the empyrean.

Looking inward, Jade knew serenity in chaos. After all she had been through...she knew how to find the light in chaotic and twisted scenarios.

She could be the conduit.

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

Location: Blast zone
Mood: Tilted.
Objective: A very bad decision
Enemies: [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Aut-X"] [member="Darth Morbus"]
Allies: Destiny, [member="Zark"] probably some other unlucky schmucks.
Equipment: A sack, a gourd, a hat. Probably some grenades, not that it'll help against a fething kaiju.

Music for fun:

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/lOO8Um_jmLI

Vorhi Alestrani was normally eger to throw down with anything or anyone. Dark Lords, emperors, giant monsters, the walking dead, the running dead, the aaing-tii, even a cavalcade of horny drunks, after that whole affair on Skynorra. But this was not the sort of battle one could simply walk into screaming like a maniac. Nah. He'd have to be more reckless than a maniac. And scarier than one, too. He gazed upon the beast called by the name of Genocide. Three minds, all linked through the darkest arts, and linked in turn to Prazutis. Not that he knew the name of the unhinged Lord of Lies, but it didn't take a grandmaster in esoteric force arts to sense the sort of raw ego and will needed to guide the beast. Still, the sith had many enemies, many distractions.


As Vorhi considered the situation, Morbus made his move. An illusory army. A potent weapon. A lie. Vorhi grinned. that was brilliant and evil. And he was going to steal it. After all, stealing from the sith had gotten them into this mess, might as well commit fully. He adjust the bag over his right shoulder, frowning. This would take a moment. His senses picked up a dead man fighting one of the ominous dark presences. Also, the Mandalorians were here now? Which side were they on again? Why couldn't they ever not show up to a damn war. Seriously, if the Sith ran on spite and the Jedi on sanctimony, the Mandos ran of fething stubbornness, which made sense given that they revered--oh, hell yes.



A mist formed within the storm. A voice. Dead. Faded from history, forgotten by man. A wild voice. An angry voice. A bestial fury, fit to challenge Galvanoth. Fit to challenge the beasts of the dark. The voice was false, but it was only aimed at one thing: The giant yellow nightmare. The voice would call to it, challenge it. And the voice would come from right above the droid armies heads. Not that a bunch of unforced-automatons would be able to sense or hear it.



https://youtu.be/zX3YcI7xNEI



The bellowing roar of the mythosaur would echo through the heads of Galvonoth. It would challenge the Genocide, taunting it for its weakness, it's unwillingness to engage. Again, the word would echo through the force. COWARDS!



Vorhi released the breath after a moment that felt like an eternity. If his little bait would work, his enemies' power could just become their undoing. Of course, Prazutis could right the reins. Would he at his current level of distraction? Would he care enough to do it in time to save his troops? Who knew. Vorhi's plan was never to lower chaos or embrace serenity. It was never to take control. He'd simply move pieces on the board, playing the game until it ended. Was there a plan? Yes. Did he know it? Not really. The force giveth bad ideas, and force taketh away. And As romi channeled raw valor and courage into people, he grinned. Oh yeah, the next step would be even more fun.

 

[Shade of Decay]

​

Many beings throughout the history of the galaxy had long debated which felt more weightless: floating in liquid, or floating in the emptiness of space?

It was a common discussion, undertaken by many sentients when they ran out of other, more worthwhile topics. Much as those unfortunates who were eternally confined to a planetary gravity well would talk of the weather, those who roved the spacelanes discussed topics such as the newest hyperdrive, astronomical phenomena, and when all else failed, the weightlessness.

Sometimes the discussions would take on a more philosophical bent; surely space must be more weightless, because you are alone, completely alone, with no other beings remotely near you to have to consider. Not so, others would argue; floating in space, you had to be constantly aware of how close others were to you, moreso than in a body of liquid, lest you be left in the empty, inky blackness forevermore. With that weight upon your mind, how could you ever truly relax?

Tsisaar, even with his degraded, damaged nerves, could still feel the weightlessness as he was resting in a bacta tank. And, given that it was not only in liquid, but also within the safe confines of his ship in deep space, he was of the opinion that he held the best of both sides.

He opened his eyes, gazing slowly around the room he was in through the reddish-tinted liquid of the bacta tank. It was his personal medical room, outfitted to a higher standard than any other medical facility aboard the ship beside the cloning facilities in the starboard-side prong. Fully designed for the care of his degrading body, to slow its decline as much as possible, while he tinkered and experimented with constructing another, more durable shell.

Connected to his body were numerous wired sensors, IV lines, and the like, all delivering a personally-crafted cocktail of medicines, both conventional and alchemical, to the body that housed his soul and power. Try as he might, however, none of them could permanently halt, let alone reverse, what had already happened as time had passed. Despite still being in his youth, in what should be the height of his physical power, his body looked more like that of an ancient, elderly Khil lying on his deathbed. Pallid skin, ulcerous and wrinkled in ways that it should never have become; tendrils sagging, and ever the one that was shortened to half its length, a reminder of the Starweirds that he had fought long before, when he was only an acolyte.

The imperfections disgusted him.

But that was why he had had this ship built; not only as a place for training and study, but also for research, experimentation, the creation of other bodies that he might inhabit, if only he could unlock the secrets to essence transfer. A power that many other Sith had learned, not the least of which being the current emperor; yet one they all guarded jealously, and for good reason. In the meantime, however, he had other pursuits, and he could prolong his body as long as necessary, though he would increasingly rely on other actors, such as the numerous acolytes and knights aboard the ship.

All of whom fed Tsisaar and his desires...in one manner or another.

His thoughts were disturbed as the door to the medical bay opened, a knight brushing in past the medical droids. Tsisaar's heavy-lidded, bacta-obscured gaze moved to follow the man as he knelt before the bacta tank. Purple skin, silvery hair; the Keshiri knight he had appointed as his nominal second-in-command aboard the ship. Unskii, was his surname.

What was his first? Joran? Jaron? Probably the latter.

The droids drained a portion of the liquid from the bacta tank; it was time for it to get recycled anyways, given how long Tsisaar had been in there. This would allow him to remain in relative comfort while conversing, however. "My lord," Jaron began, bowing his head low. Tsisaar snorted derisively, stopping the Keshiri in his tracks.

"My lord," he repeated, mockingly. While he might be the highest ranking person on the vessel in terms of being the one in command of it, he was no more highly ranked than any of the knights onboard. While he'd since demonstrated his greater power, he was still no master or lord. There were none on the vessel who were more aware of that than him. "Save your prostrations for the masters, Unskii. What do you need?"

The other knight nodded, standing. He was taller than Tsisaar, more heavily built; likely, if he wanted, he could crush the tank, rip Tsisaar out of it like a weak, swaddling babe, and choke the life out of the Khil. It would be an ignominious end for the elder Sith. However, Jaron Unskii looked more gaunt and drawn by the day. When he'd first come aboard the ship, he'd looked fit to become one of the empire's foremost warriors; now, however, he was drawing closer to what Tsisaar had been like when he'd first arrived to the Sith.

Tsisaar had forced a bond between himself and Jaron Unskii, the same as he had with all the other knights and acolytes aboard the vessel. If the Keshiri was unwise enough to attempt to kill the ship's commander, Tsisaar would drain him in an instant, leaving a dry, dusty corpse on the floor. And unlike the others, Jaron knew it. "Of course, Knight Taral. I am sorry to disturb your rest—"

"I never rest," Tsisaar responded drily, interrupting Jaron yet again. A power play, far less subtle than most Tsisaar conducted. The Keshiri's lips tightened, though Tsisaar's gaunt and aged-appearing face remained flat as granite.

"As you say," Jaron conceded. "We will be exiting hyperspace within minutes. Transmissions from the Emperor's fleet say that the battle is already underway. What are your orders?" Underneath his facial tendrils, Tsisaar's mutated mouth curled into a small smile. For all that he was frail of constitution, seemingly weak, he could not deny the rush of battle. Nor could any Sith; the direct conflict, power versus power, was part of the very engine that powered the Dark Side of the Force for all who had the strength to wield it. Ever churning, deep below the still surface that Jedi and others sought to project of the Force; at times such as these, however, it would boil through entirely.

It was more intoxicating and enjoyable than any of the treatments he had devised for himself.

The tank began to drain more, droids bringing forth robes and garments to cover Tsisaar's naked form for when he was fully able to exit the tank. "Awaken the shadow droids," his deep voice rumbled. A special type of starfighter, one that he'd been granted special permission to carry aboard his vessel, in return for passing on the plans for the original Chthonic-type to the Emperor's engineers. He was only able to carry a scant half-dozen of them, not quite a full squadron, though the elite nature of the cyborg creations meant that those were more than enough to protect the Ebion. "Give them a dose of battle stimulants as well. I don't want them stark raving mad, but some extra thirst for blood never hurt them."

The tank fully drained and the hatch opened, Tsisaar stumbling out where the droids could clothe him, mentally cursing his weakness, both in body and in voice; where before he had been strong, and his voice carried weight to it, not it was not much more than a whisper at most times. Yet more weakness to be disgusted by. "Take the bridge for now, and wait for me to relieve you. For now, I shall retire to my chambers and meditate for a while. It may be that I'll sense something of aid to us." The larger knight nodded, leaving the room quickly as Tsisaar had a loose shirt pulled over his frame. Already, he was widening his senses out, searching, probing; even in hyperspace as they were, he could sense the battle that was already underway, one he was approaching so soon.

And many strong presences, both of the Dark and the Light...many that were quite familiar.

This might prove interesting after all.

As he finished getting dressed, the ship lurched back into realspace; the hull shuddered as some stray blasts of cannon fire struck it, before the shields were raised in full, and he could sense as the starfighters quickly exited to provide a defensive screen for the vessel. "Don't get us into a fight we can't win, Unskii," he growled, somewhat to himself, though he knew the other knight would be thinking the same thing. "For your sake, as well as mine."

 

[Amea Virou]

Allies: ORC
Enemies: Not ORC

It was not the first time Amea struggled against her own intuition and went against the crowds. The chaos around her began to unfurl as massive beasts and storms began to pour hell onto the streets. Yet she was here for a very specific purpose and she never left a job unfinished. Those files were important to not just her but the people of the Outer Rim too, if the rumor was to be trusted. The sheer possibility of what it meant was enough of a driving force to move on with it, the fact that the Hex’s own agenda merely lined up with it was a boon.

Pushing against the panicking crowd she raised her holographic device to send a message to the Hexmaster asking for advice. The message was brief, but the response even shorter, an address to the man’s living space. Apartment block, not too far from the city center. Amea glanced up at the crowds that encircled her like the eye of a storm. This was wrong on so many levels and she knew that. She should have done like that, she should have gone for safety and gone for a route that would take her off-world and out of the system. The Hex was not worth dying over as it was, but this was greater than herself. Somewhere in the galaxy circulated a dirty bomb capable of destruction on a grand scale, and in this moment Amea held the only viable lead on how to stop it.

As she pushed forward the streets would begin to clear sporadically. For a second she was reminded of Eshan and the utter destruction that had taken place there. However this didn’t seem like unrestrained testosterone and power armor. A thick darkness emanated around every corner of the city that threatened to envelop everyone within. This was a Sith invasion, but for what reason they would choose Pantora escaped her.

The screams of the city was heard no matter where you turned. The sky burned orange with the haunting colors of a setting sun that peered through a thickening cover of dust.

Things were about to get worse.

 

[Griet van Vliet]

Objective: Calculate bad debt expenses en route to the evacuation point
Equipment: In signature
Allies: ORC [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]
Enemies: Sith [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Aut-X"] (both indirectly)

"I know there are a lot of questions I need to ask of you so I hope I'm not overbearing to you" Griet asked the client while en route to somewhere she could feel is safe under the circumstances.

While they just left the previous location, Griet writes the memo addressed to the head office regarding the entire situation on Pantora. In addition, there is a giant three-headed beast roaming somewhere in the region, but none of the three heads are pointed in her direction. In fact, she could feel other parties are in danger because of the beast. Phew: it seems that, at least for the time being, I'm "flying under the enemy's radar", so to speak, so for now the enemy doesn't even care about me, but I know that it will be subject to change soon, if only because it appears to be indiscriminate, she thought, while debris started falling across her route to so-called safety from the rampage of the three-headed beast. For now there's no threat she can readily deal with, not with her current means: the enemy ground forces have just started deploying. May the Force be with me and that I can actually calculate the client's net bad debt expense as well as other losses incurred because of the attack before the enemy actually gets to my position. She whipped up the datapad in the speeder to write the following memo to be circulated on the firm's intranet, while en route to one of the evacuation points:

ATTN: Head office

Subject: Attack on Pantora

It has come to my attention, while on a trip to Pantora to service a new client that never got external audits made, that Pantora has come under attack and many entities had locations in the areas most affected by the fighting. And the following measures are recommended to be taken regarding all audit engagements on Pantora, ongoing or planned:

1. Going concern assumption: check if the clients have ongoing operations on planets other than Pantora. If yes, a note needs to be added but the going concern assumption is not typically at risk.
2. If not, disclose in the notes to the financial statements the attack and its corresponding going concern issues to the clients. If proper disclosure is not made in the situation so described, an adverse audit opinion is recommended since this is a highly material issue for such clients, vital to any user of these clients' financial statements. Notes 3 through 5 in this current memo include specific procedures for proper disclosures.
3. Check whether outstanding accounts receivable and payable are owed to entities that have been wiped out in the attack and that have no remaining locations; if AR/APs are traced to such entities, write off the entire balance associated with those creditors because they are deemed uncollectible regardless of their age
4. The same procedures are to be applied to investments, both short-term and long-term
5. Determine the carrying amount of any property, plant and equipment lost in the attack; write off the carrying amount of all PP&E lost in the attack as a current expense
6. Any losses incurred specifically because of the attack must have its own line item(s) in the next period's income statement
7. If any ongoing or recently completed audits pertain to clients that have been wiped out in the attack, any outstanding audit fees associated with these clients are to be written off. If any deposits have been collected from clients whose audits haven't started and who were wiped out in the attack, please return the money to the client's authorized representative(s) if possible, and remove the unearned revenues associated with them.

Best wishes,
Griet van Vliet
Senior partner, VPN LLP

​

"The first set of questions pertain to AR/AP. Here disregard traditional aging of ARs because of the special circumstances: are there clients, or suppliers, you have AR/APs with, whose sole locations are in this region?" Griet asked, showing a map of the area that was bombed in the opening volley.

"Why?"

"Because the accounts receivable and payable associated with them are, simply put, uncollectible: this area was glassed not long ago"

"I'll let you check the manifest of AR/APs against the map and see which clients and suppliers must be written off, and for what amounts"

So there will be one big Dr. Bad debt expense XX, Cr. A/R XX journal entry for A/Rs that don't even touch the client's allowance for doubtful accounts because of the sudden nature of what made these A/Rs uncollectible, and correspondingly Dr. A/P YY, Cr. OCI YY (if IFRS is followed) or Dr. A/P YY, Cr. Other income YY (if not), for accounts payable. Once it's all said and done, the amounts written off by the client based on which A/Rs are uncollectible and which A/Ps are owed to debtors that no longer exist will be reflected in the general ledger as well as in the financial statements. And hopefully there's still a ship for the both of them to evacuate the planet in by the time they arrive. Said arrival time would depend on factors out of their control, including but not limited to, routes being cut off by debris.

 

[Dax Perl]

Location: Pantora, near surface
Allies: ORC @Coren Starchaserhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/7046-coren-starchaser/ | @Cotan Sar'andorhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/17288-cotan-sarandor/ | @Yula Perl
Enemies: TSE @Darth Carnifexhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/136-darth-carnifex/http://starwarsrp.net/user/136-darth-carnifex/ | @Joycelyn Zambrano | [member="Darth Prazutis"]

"We are not using me as a scape-goat!" Dax shouted as his ship landed on the surface and he got up from his seat and moved to exit the ship, sabers on his belt. The Marshal stepped off the ship, the frozen gales of wind instantly stinging his face. Thank god for Pyromancy. A little bit of self generated warmth solved that problem as he walked in the direction of Cotan. "Stop trying to poach my Judges, Coren." he said as he got closer to his Judge. "Congrats Cotan, you're a Marshal now." The Rogue tossed a golden coin, slightly tarnished, with the symbol of the Marshals of the Coalition on one side, the Coalition's emblem on the other, "May your watch be long and just. Don't die today, you don't wanna have the record for shortest time as Marshal."

Coren and Yula had already landed...how they beat the Sparrow Dax couldn't understand, probably cause the writer is being slow to respond, but that's too meta. Either way, that meant drinks were on Dax tonight. Assuming there was going to be tonight. "So what's the plan here guys. I'd love to shank the big bad and all, but I don't how we're gonna get through all that."

 

[Loreena Arenais-Valhoun]

​

Location: In the fray of space near Pantora
Objective: Not die
Allies: Outer Rim Coalition - [member="Atlas Drake"] [member="Gray Venasir"]http://starwarsrp.net/user/12266-dax-fyre/
Enemies: The Sith Empire - [member="Khonsu Amon"]http://starwarsrp.net/user/16450-khonsu-amon/ @Darth Carnifex


Yes! She was able to make contact with her crew member. Maneuvering past one of the Sith frigates, she angled the Jaster's Sparrow enough so that Arla could hit it with one of her ship's turbolasers. The great thing about her little ship was that it packed a punch despite it's unassuming size. [member="Kaine Australis"] did well when he had her built and this was the second time that Lori had used her in battle.

Only this was worse. Much much worse.

The fact that Gray used her first name in whole was enough to tell her the seriousness that he felt of the situation. Normally he kept it secret like she did, except for when they were alone and in a safe place. Yet here there probably wasn't a safe place at all. They just had to outlast it all.

~I came here on a pitstop to Bakura! I'm sorry, I didn't know that every ship in the Sith fleets were coming here! I thought this area was safe! It's so far away for them to go...~

"Captain!"

"I see it, Arla!" Lori spotted a few fighters heading her way as though it was a game of chicken. She quickly dove Jaster's Sparrow down as some of their weapons deployed and struck the ship's shields, narrowly missing ramming into another fighter as it flew past. The three fighters were in hot pursuit. She bit into her lower lip as she turned her ship about like a skid and let Arla get them in her sights. Within seconds the fighters were torn apart in sparks and fire.

~Gray! I'm heading over there to Orto Plutonia. Stay safe!~

She looked at her fuel gauge and cringed a little. There wasn't a whole lot left. This wasn't exactly how she planned her day to go. Leaving next to no choice, she opened a channel on her comms, unscrambled. She needed to reach the ORC fleets for help.

~This is Captain Loreena Arenais of the Jaster's Sparrow requesting help from the Coalition. I'm almost out of fuel and I'm taking out as many Sith ships as I can. Please help me to dock somewhere! I don't want to be a sitting duck out here!~ Hopefully people here would recognize her last name as that of her parents. Hopefully that'd be enough to get her some help so that she could at least refuel and then jump back into the fight. Having the message unscrambled also posed a danger. The Sith fleets could also hear it and that could get them to pursue with more menace.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

​

Allies:

• [member="Khonsu Amon"]
• [member="Darth Prazutis"]
• [member="Vanessa Vantai"]
• [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Enemies:

• [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
• [member="Atlas Drake"]
• [member="Loreena Arenais"]
• [member="Vela Alya T'Ser Sipal"]
• [member="Coren Starchaser"]
• [member="Cotan Sar'andor"]
• [member="Dax Fyre"]

Location: Aboard the Behemoth II

The Emperor's eyes moved to stare at the woman beside the throne, but only for a second. The next second they were fixed back on the Mandalorian being displayed before him, slightly narrowing as the corners of his mouth turned down in a grimace. "You assume too much, Architect. My advice for you would be to turn around and engage sublight thrusters until you've left the system, then you can jump to hyperspace to your heart's content. Continue on your present course and you will be fired upon, Mandalorian, that will be your only warning. Think deeply on your next decision." The communication line was then severed, the Emperor's visage dematerializing alongside Gilamar's. Carnifex had given the old Mand'alor his choices and it would be up to him alone to decide whether he wanted to live or die; the Emperor didn't care either way, it factored little into his overall plan.

Rising from his throne the Emperor turned to Vanessa, "I make leave for the planet's surface, Vanessa. I leave command of the fleet in control of AQUILA, you will remain to serve as strategic advisor. Do not disappoint me." Then he was swept from the command bridge, his rear flanked by the pair of the scarlet-clad Crownguard that had silently shadowed the throne, while another pair remained to guard the throne itself. Vanessa may have been commanded to advise the advanced artificial intelligence that ostensibly captained the Behemoth II, but she had not been given leave to sit upon the Emperor's throne.

Delving into the depths of the dreadnought, the Emperor would soon link up with his daughter; Vornskr the Second. His favorite daughter, Vornskr II had been recognized as his heir apparent by himself and his entire Inner Council, the title of Princess of Dromund Kaas serving as the official badge of her station. As she fell in line with her father they moved in silence through many corridors and down many levels, the deck occasionally vibrating with the intensity of the mounting battle outside. "I leave it to you to command the Blackblade Guard, my daughter. You are perhaps the greatest warrior I have in my arsenal at the moment, and there is few that I can trust with such a charge."

His hand reached out to grasp her shoulder as they slowed to a halt on the walkway overlooking the massive hangar below, a Vicar-class Cargo Frigate idling in its moorings. Though not accustomed to displays of affection, the Emperor's hand nonetheless squeezed reassuringly. "When this is over I will join you in sacrificing to Mother Vahl, it's been many moons since I have last sat in attendance." His hand lingered for several more moments before it slide away from her shoulder, the Emperor turning with billowing cape to descend down into the cofferdam that linked the frigate with the hangar's walkways. When the last preparations were made, the moorings detached and the frigate descended from the Behemoth II's ventral hangar and made way for planetfall.

It was the signal many had been waiting for.

Behind the Behemoth II were two-score Invasion Forces that now began to make atmospheric descent behind the cargo frigate, sixteen Ferrata-class Corps Assault Carriers leading the charge. Each one of these two-kilometer long landing craft held an average of eighty thousand Imperial Legionnaires and more than enough ground vehicles to supplement such a large infantry force. But being as these ships flew in tandem with the Emperor's personal fleet, they did not hold Legionnaires. Instead their staging holds were filled with the grim soldiers of the Blackblade Guard, the elite cybernetic army that was answerable only to the Sith Emperor and his closest family members.

As the shield above the capital city was raised, the Emperor's landing force had no choice but to make planetfall a reasonable distance away from the shield's perimeter and advance on foot. It would be up to his daughter to lead such a campaign, for the Emperor had a more personal entanglement in mind. When the cargo frigate had reached the lower atmosphere, the massive cargo container slung on its underside detonated along its seams and fell apart. From inside emerged a massive winged monstrosity, the Emperor astride its back with iron reins firmly clutched in his right hand as he bid it take to the sky.

Those attuned to the will of the Force would sense such a living calamity emerge into the skies of Pantora, and know for a fact that it was the Emperor himself who rode such a horror.

 

[Shade of Decay]

​

​

Blackness. A creeping, empty darkness, bleaker than that of empty space, had grown to encompass all of Pantora, and the fear radiating from those living on the ice planet Orto Plutonia a scant distance away was quickly rising to meet the tide of destruction brought by the Sith. Darths Carnifex and Prazutis, at the head of the fleet, had spread their influence wide, alongside the host of other Sith who had come to take part in the slaughter.

Yet, they were not without opposition. There were many motes of light struggling against the darkest, some brighter than others; Tsisaar's awareness latched onto one, taking in what detail he could.

Ah.

Romi Jade yet lived, though she had been broken away from the Sith's hold on her. A pity; were she still on their side, she could prove a useful asset. Yet now she burned as brightly as she had long before on Coruscant, striving to force the darkness back and away. He briefly entertained the notion of attacking her himself, reminding her of how she'd failed not only herself, but her Padawan, leaving him to struggle alone against the darkness. Yet, he could sense as well that there were others moving to do the same thing; his energies would be better spent elsewhere, rather than simply reinforcing the attacks of another.

And, worse, opening himself up to their own depradations through the connection.

He cast out further, seeking along the surface of the planet. There was a small set of bright signatures near where Prazutis and Carnifex were, though given the placement of the two elder Sith lords, Tsisaar saw no need to intervene with them. Further away, however, was one that proved more interesting. Dark, dark like that of the Sith, but more unruly; this was a mind unburdened with thoughts of duty or hierarchy, one that wasn't tempered by the iron will necessary to thrive in the order that Tsisaar was a part of.

It was soft, like clay, mouldable; a useful asset...or a hindrance that would need to be destroyed.

Facial tendrils twitching, Tsisaar opened his eyes. He'd since moved to the bridge of his ship, overlooking the droid crew as they engaged in battle, sending out long-range bursts of ion fire while remaining protected behind larger ships of the Emperor's fleet. "Prepare my personal shuttle," he commanded, the central computer controlling the droids carrying the command off to those within his private hangar. "Knight Unskii, you have the ship. I'll be descending to the surface." He turned to leave, though he fixed his chilling, black-eyed glare on Jaron for a moment.

"Be careful with it," he warned, his voice quiet. The ship was currently the key to Tsisaar's continued life; if Jaron were to lose it, there would be no force in the galaxy that could keep him protected from Tsisaar's wrath. With a nod from the Keshiri knight, Tsisaar continued along, entering the hallway that led to where his private shuttle was stored.

Some minutes later and he was on a quick descent to the ground, protected from stray fire by the same screen of larger ships that he'd directed the Ebion into. As he descended, he reached out mentally, latching hard onto the same signature he'd detected. Aren't you a little wasted, roaming around that trash-heap of a city? he thought out, glancing from the same city out to the field where the main battle was already occuring, as Darth Carnifex descended astride his war dragon. Surely you could do better than throwing away your time with those powerless creatures.

[member="Iresias Sirax"]

 

[House Zambrano]

​

Pantora, Glasslands Invasion Site, Blackblade HQ
Highlord Osbasid…

Allies:

• [member="Khonsu Amon"]
• [member="Darth Carnifex"]
• [member="Darth Prazutis"]
• [member="Vanessa Vantai"]
• [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

Enemies:

• [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
• [member="Vela Alya T'Ser Sipal"]
• [member="Coren Starchaser"]
• [member="Cotan Sar'andor"]
• [member="Dax Fyre"]

The sounds of war.

All around the great golden doom came Ferrata-Class Assault Carriers into the prefabricated headquarters. Every ship every single one bore more members of the elite Blackblade Guard, his men. The enhanced senses of the legendary Highlord Osbasid were assaulted by the sounds of war from roaring ship engines, construction machinery as engineers erected fences, barriers, the rumble of vehicles as heavy and light armor as well as transport vehicles rumbled across the glassy wasteland. For Osbasid clad in his stark white power armor a blood red cloak hanging from his shoulders it was just another day, different scenery. The legendary Gorebound lived and breathed war, he wore death like a shroud and everyone who ever met him or one of his soldiers knew it. No standing force in the galaxy brought the axe to more species, destroyed more planets than the Blackblade Guard. The sheer numbers alone of their victims well eclipsed the trillions and they included even the best Jedi and Mandalorians. War, Death, and Conquest were in his blood, they marred his scarred flesh now interwoven with cybernetics. Every battle, every war was marked on the skin of one of the very first Blackblades, every victory earned him a new piece of enhancements from his masters and more praise. It was the training and conditioning that turned them into the superhuman, blackhearted butchers they became. It was compounded by the mountains of dead over decades of service, life didn't even register for him anymore, it had no meaning in his world between who gets to live, and who gets to die.

For the Zambrano's.

Osbasid accessed the encrypted Blackblade Battlenet and opened a channel with his generals, the sounds of battle from his master still in the distance "All Onslaught Corps status report, we are to move." He said, his baritone voice calm and cold as ice. For such an invasion the entire Blackblade Guard had assembled, a full one million strong scattered across a staging point spanning miles. One by one green lights flashed on his HUD one from each general under his command, a full eight replies. The enemies particle shielding flickered and dropped to allow evacuation ships to depart into orbit, they too would pass through a hurricane and into the brutal space battle above. "Begin artillery bombardment. Bathe the city in fire as we approach. All armor divisions to the front, spearhead formation." Osbasid ordered, the man himself stepping onto an armored transport. Everything changed virtually immediately across the vast landscape at the Highlord's command. A spearhead formation came together as Carnivore-class Heavy Repulsortankhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/133232-carnivore-class-heavy-repulsortank/http://starwarsrp.net/topic/133232-carnivore-class-heavy-repulsortank/'s led the charge in the front in various configurations, covered by the hulking All Terrain Heavy Assault Walker's, and the MAVr Claymore-class Repulsortank that were seeded just behind them all along the vast armies formation. In the back sat another row of rumbling Carnivores in artillery configurations. Every vehicle was in a strategically chosen formation seeded all throughout the guards formation, ensuring all angles of fire were covered as well as the advancing soldiers armored transports.

Boom.

The rumble of the huge mass driver cannons exploded as formations spread across miles all launched one after the other, the sound of so many artillery cannons was deafening. What made matters worse was the shells as they screamed through the air. The Blackblade Guard showed no mercy, no hesitation in damning a city teeming with innocent life to oblivion.

Only death.

 

[Iron Giant]

​

Iron Giant has only known a life of conflict. That was the lot in life given to every living creature beneath the ice of Shikyu, and especially to its chosen people: the Resu. They nested near the thermal vents at the bottom of the waves, and ate what small creatures took to living there, absorbing nutrients the providing the ancient Resu that which they needed to breathe. It was those same nutrients they used to warm themselves, to make great journeys across a vast cold dark ocean, with only the glow of electricity leaving their body to light their way. From a world with so little energy to give life, rose creatures with energy only for a single purpose: to grow strong in trial by combat. The Resu since have fought everything from themselves, the icy shell of their homeworld, the gravity of the Realm of Resu, to the unprecedented disease of zealous faith in false gods obliterating their identity. To say she had come a long way, was an understatement.

Aboard the Iron Blade, her cybernetic legs kept her firmly to the deck of her starships Navigators Suite, submerged completely in hydrogenated water, with tiny fish swimming around her. Tiny snacks left to wander for the crew, to keep their hunger satiated until their ship was properly docked, at which point they could rest from mentally monitoring every aspect of the ships systems. 7000 Resu wandered the water logged ship, going about their business, forging weapons, armor, and technology, or procuring medicine, food, and agriculture, the former refugees all had a place here on the ship. Though it was no longer a life boat, ever since the Coalition had lead them to Resu Exodus, many Resu that were raised on it chose to stay and serve the Navigators, the CybeResu who commanded the ship as if they were one large fish in the vast ocean of space.

"30 minutes estimated until docking procedures, Captain." A Navigator intoned with various electrical signals, even while deep within the machines which melded the cybernetically enhanced Resu with the ship itself, one of 80 other crew members just like him and Iron Giant. The Iron Blade had come to engage in a celebration on Pantora, and Iron Giant thought it would be a good cultural exchange. To show that the Familial bonds which often kept Resu together, should extend outward to the allies which allowed them to avoid extinction. Additionally, it was to show that conflict need not be the only purpose of life. Unfortunately, in mere moments, that thought was shattered as the Captain was instantly alerted to the hyperspace arrival of... innumerable ships.

They did not come bearing the signs of celebration...