Campaign Operation: Dark Vergence - FIRE RISING (Sith vs. Silver Jedi)

[Forjund Australis]

"Yes Sir!, heading to your position now." He turned to his squad, seeing them following the orders given on the comms he began to jog up the hill to Torrack Torrackstur to meet him at his position. Glancing at the zombies he was pleased to note that some Mortar shells had hit their mark, unfortunately they seemed to get back up after being hit. As he was about to turn away he noticed something, Rancors? About half a dozen of the beasts were chasing down the undead, laughing he continued on his way towards his commander. He passed the firing Mandolorians, noting that their target was once again the undead, running to the top of the hill he finally had arrived.

"Torrack, Sir. What are your orders?" Waiting for a response he flipped open his canteen and began to drink, finding a seat on an unopened ammo box he took the chance to catch his breath, a much wanted respite but unfortunately one that would not last long.

 

[Salamander]

Gear: Paranoia (Armor), Regret (Sword), Suspicion (Lightsaber), Auger Personal Shield
Location: The forests of Onderon
Tags: Mi'la Undari

"I don't know how they did it, but... when they were done with me, I couldn't feel the Force. It was Darth Malevolum."

"Darth Malevolum?..." Messala echoed, tapping the bottom front of his helmet as though it were his chin. "...Darth Malevolum? No, can't say I've ever heard of them. Though I admit that I haven't exactly been keeping up with my fellows - we Sith rise and fall so quickly that it's almost not worth trying to follow the narrative." He clucked his tongue. "If it was done in the way I think.... well, best not to say anything. But... normally it's the particularly self-righteous among the Jedi who employ such methods. Severing someone from the Force is done to stop a particularly vile Dark Sider from wreaking any more havoc... or to stop someone who they don't understand, like the Jedi Order did with the Exile. Ever heard of her?"

"As...much as I want to take your offer, I'll decline. Perhaps the Force left me because I wasn't yet ready to wield it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's no skin off my back."

"If you don't want to fight, then why are you here? I don't want to fight either, but if I don't people will die."

"I came here as a seeker of knowledge." Sensing that they were going to be here a while, he took a seat on a nearby fallen log. "There are things hidden below Onderon's cities which beggar belief... if my sources are correct, that is. I'm merely using the invasion as a cover for my activities."

"But, if you don't wish to fight, then perhaps you should reflect on why you are here. I doubt you came to frolic in the burning fields. Why are you Sith? Was it a choice you made?"

"Oh, self-reflection. How very Jedi of you." He sighed loudly and tossed his head in an exaggerated show of disappointment, but a moment later he was smiling behind his mask. A mask which he now removed, lifting his helm over his head and setting it down on the log beside him. Underneath, his visage was groteque and twisted, a gnarled satyr with stubby horns and coarse fur-like hair. Leathery lips pulled back from jagged fangs as he chuckled at whatever reaction she had to the sight of him, even if she showed no emotion at all. "With a face like this, how could I be anything other than a Dark Lord?"

 

[Amani Serys]

Iziz
Darth Prazutis | Auteme

Amani stepped out of the rubble, covered with spatters of blood and dust as she walked back into the chaos of Iziz. She stared blankly across the landscape, still unable to process everything that had happened. A dark power surged not too far away. The same one was before. The reason she had started this path. A mix of hate, fear, and uncertainty overcame the girl. She didn’t have anywhere else to turn. Anyone else to go to.

So she went to the only other presence she could.

It was only a brief walk until she came upon the scene. The fighting that surrounded the city did little to deter, as if she were a ghost, disconnected from everything else around her. Amani watched Auteme pass by. Then, a shuddering explosion followed suit. Darth Prazutis himself, condemning the nearest building to the dirt below through sheer strength. What took her and Tarish’s full power, as well as the latter’s life, the Sith Lord achieved with apparent ease. Awe at the expression of power replaced any coherent thought in the moment. The power she needed on full display. As if the futility of her quest didn’t already feel in question.

Amani steeled herself. Such thoughts were cast aside. She dared not step into his path, the Mirialan was not suicidal. Merely she stood near enough that she could at least hope to catch his attention as he passed. At the very least, it might help Auteme gain more distance. Her own corrupted energy made the air around her shudder, the burning red saber in hand and the sunken look on her face clear indicators that she wasn’t the same as she was on Yavin. There was no where else to go from here. If Amani could at least gain his notice, then there would be some worth to this all. Something resembling approval, or acceptance, in the slightest would give fuel to her fire. That there was still a reason why she was doing this. The Jedi would abandon her when they learned, she was sure of it. But the Sith...

Perhaps they would find use for her now.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Torrack's voice cut through the comms, drawing the togorian's attention away from the horde of undead.

"Venku, squeak squeak , Forjund, squeak squeak report to me. Hoink hoink You both have a new mission."

Making sure his squad knew what to do without him, Venku trekked up the hill towards Torrack. "Copy that, headed your way now."

Beskar clad paws dug into the earth as he climbed the hill. What did the Rally Master mean by new mission? Had something gone wrong? He didn't have to wait long for the answer.

It came in the form of a voice over the comms. A feminine voice with an odd yet familiar accent. It was asking for him, and his coordinates. "Plume?! Wha- why are you here?" He hesitated, heart racing before he calmed down enough to give her the coordinates. "You almost gave me a heart attack!" She didn't even have proper Berksar'gam, only that armorweave cloak he helped her make. Other voice filtered across the comm. Oh yeah, this was the public calm. Grey ears pulled back in embarrassment.

Cresting the hill, Venku made his way towards Torrack Torrackstur . To his left, he heard the sounds of the mortar platoon loading and firing, though he didn't turn to look. They worked efficiently, a well oiled machine of war. He couldn't help but be impressed, even if he felt a little out of place among the veterans.

Coming to a stop beside the gamorean, Venku turned to look at him, buy'ce obscuring his face. "Sir." he stated, frowning to himself when he realized he forgot the title earlier. He nodded to Forjund Australis as the human approached, coming to stand beside him.

Explosions went off down the hill. The zombies were encroaching on their position, that much was obvious. It still didn't explain this sudden change in mission.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

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The Mandalorian secret weapon Rancor brigade is very much indeed a glorious idea, had maybe the main aspect of the brigade probably not been, say…Rancors at all, with the species originating on Dathomir, where from also Nightsisters hail, domesticating the beasts.​

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Every girls' night out ought include a visit to the puppy park. ​

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The Nightsisters chose a clearing to land away from the incessant boom of the Mandalorian mortars which are totally destroying the city! Observing their surroundings, they took notice that Hix Tribbul had taken to trailing after them. Their rare flight capability is not one promising prolonged endurance. There is nothing they could do but plant down.​

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“Well this is...unfamiliar territory.” ​

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"A bump in the road," the Nightsisters whispered among themselves.​

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“It's not one fighting for the Emperor.”​

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As the coven set foot upon solid ground again they immediately revealed themselves as women of lovely faces, gliding motion, and tender voices, much like the persona of their Matriarch, not as the discorporated spirits of her ancestral Matriarchs at all which they happen to be, choosing Pom their living host to carry on their knowledge and Will.​

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“I see. I see. He is not. Neither is it often that anyone is found brave enough to approach us.”​

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“T’is very true, an age old common occurrence for us."​

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"For eons.”​

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"This is actually creepy."​

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The coven stood around their living Mistress to shield her from harm, each concentrated on generating and compounding their strengths to form a unified Force Barrier.​

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“What do we do?” They asked while peering over one another to take a gander at the approaching Mandalorian.​

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“We ask him what he is thinking, I suppose.”​

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"It can't be good!"​

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"That's not a very well thought out strategy." ​

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"Alright. You've got?"​

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"So far that's the best and only, but poorly planned strategy." ​

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"Note: attend military strategy lectures."​

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"Noted."​

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"Now THAT is a plan!"​

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Pom smiles lately at her coven sisters in appreciation before stepping between them to face the one brave enough to initiate first contact. ​

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Pom nodded, acknowledging his presence, uncertain his motive as she is unable to view his eyes through his visor, yet she is not fearful of him. She trusts in her abilities to overcome obstacles as they are presented. ‘At least this is not Myrkr!’ she thought, where she just might trip up under the natural counter-spell capabilities of the Ysalamiri. She wondered if this tin man carries any such article as they provide on his person, but she figures if she is unprotected where she stands, her own coven shall certainly speak up without delay.​

 

[Khel]

K H E L. vs. .B R I O N

Objective: Defeat the Sith
Group: None
Tag: Khel

Mathieu did not respond. The quipping back-and-forth was something he could do when sparring with his friend, Cas Tynen. But this was not the time - his mind was completely focused on the movements of his foe.

The slow advance towards the Sith was followed by a sudden thrust. But just as quickly as Mathieu launched forth, did Khel seem to dash in the opposite direction. Perhaps he should have expected a quick manoeuvre like that - after all, he had plenty of experience fighting an Ataru specialist. Realising that he was about to get an exposed flank, the former Mercenary scrapped his old plan of quickly bouncing back from the thrust. Instead, he tried to swing the sword at his foe whilst moving forth, leaving a smaller part exposed.

But the darksider was fast and outside of Mathieu's reach before he could get a hit in. The opponent he was facing was fast and seemed to have an impressive capacity to lash out in a sudden attack. Many conflicting thoughts rushed through Mathieu's mind and what finally prevailed was that this fight was bound to end poorly.

Turning to have his front face the Sith, Mathieu slowly started to strafe towards the same point which he had entered by. He kept a watchful eye on his opponent - but if the Sith still wouldn't attack, the Padawan would be able to leave the square and move back out onto the street that would lead him back to his allies. Naturally, his guard would not drop, he maintained it and was quite ready to defend against an incoming attack.

"Lost your tongue, did you?"

Still held loosely in one hand, Khel's lightsaber activated, the red blade tracing a blackened score along the ground as he languidly strolled around in a circle, slowly spiraling in closer towards Mathieu with the relaxed air of a wealthy out for his evening walk. "Your nerve, too? Such a shame." With his sightless eyes trained on Mathieu, perceiving the younger man through the Force, Khel raised a hand; however, if Mathieu was expecting any direct attacks through the Force, he would be mistaken.

"And here I'd hoped you might actually be fun to go up against. Well, I've noticed quite a bit of rubble strewn about the place." Slowly, quietly, some of that rubble began to float in the air behind Mathieu, chunks of stone and duracrete as thick as a man's wrist and wide as a dinner plate. "Try not to trip on it; I'm sure it'd leave a nasty bruise."

And as he clenched his upheld hand into a fist, the debris he'd been levitating flew in towards Mathieu's back, aimed to beat him down or knock him over onto the ground.

 

[Mi'la Undari]

Equipment:
Adar-Class Combat Flight Suit
Lightsabers x 2
Tech Ranger's Field Pistol
Tags: Salamander

Mi'la was familiar with what the Sith was saying, though she didn't feel it could apply to her. "I know of the exile, yes, but my force connection was..." She paused, thinking back to the week of hell she endured, the near death experiences, the moments of pain that nearly had her break. "I used my connection to kept myself from starving off death for so long, it began to burn out within me. Like using a muscle so much to the point to begin destroying it at the cellular level. Or at least that's what I got told." She attempted to move her right arm again, this time she was able to lift it up a bit, but it failed once more. "I may never get it back. They can't really say for sure." She had a long road ahead of her for sure, assuming she survived this encounter.

"Well, I seek knowledge too, within temples, tombs, and crypts. I've never had to kill anyone to do so. Maybe you just need to find a better way to look than waging a war. You're less likely to damage what you are looking for in the case" It seemed he was hinting at another plot being at work, a rouse made to retreive something out from under the nose of the jedi, a prospect that greatly troubled her. What were the Sith here to retrieve. "All the good stuff is probably gone by now. Happens when I try that too." It was a joke of course, and probably not a good one, but the intent was to try and make a connection with him; though she doubted that would occur.

"Without the force, all I do is self-reflect. But thanks I guess, that's...sweet of you." She wasn't really sure how to take what the man said. Mi'la's lip twitched as the man removed his helmet, not because of shocking his appearance was, but he seemed to insinuate that he joined the Sith because he believed he was ugly. He wasn't going to win a beauty contest of course, but neither was she. She stared at his face for a time, taking in what she was seeing, and not seeing the point he was trying to make. "Pft..." She started to break, before dissolving into a giggle fit, giving up on trying to sit up as she was snickering on the ground. "Have you seen some of the jedi masters around these parts? Come on now, that can't be your only reason." She replied, managing to compose herself, and sitting up in the process. "I'm sorry, but, come now. We are what we chose to be. You chose to hide your face, bring destruction. Your appearance doesn't make you Sith, your actions however, do. I didn't chose to end up like this, but here I am." She frowned, her hand reaching up to snap off the helmet that had blocked most of her face. Casting the helmet aside, the broken piece of her Lekku was on full displace, a flickering mess of wires and metal hung from where it had been. Taking hold on the leather band around the center of her forehead, Mi'la moved it back, revealing a large blotted patch of scar tissue that took up most of her brow. It was a burn scar of some kind, though the faint traces of a Hutt slave brand could be made out through the attempts at healing the damaged flesh. "My owners did this to me when I was eighteen. It's not pretty, no one can ever not look at it when they talk with me, and yet, here I am." She spoke, her hand squeezing the band tightly, knowing what revealing her mark meant; usually being showered in pity, but this was a Sith, so perhaps it would be okay.

 

[Salamander]

Gear: Paranoia (Armor), Regret (Sword), Suspicion (Lightsaber), Auger Personal Shield
Location: The forests of Onderon
Tags: Mi'la Undari

A muscle used to the point of breakage. Ah, then it would not be as easy as snapping his fingers and restoring the broken connection. "Indeed," he replied quietly, letting the painful subject go.

As for her comments on his current mission, he ignored them outright. The situation they had found themselves in, fighting each other for no reason, had more to do with the colors they wore than their objectives on Onderon. It didn't matter why they were here, only what they were, the allegiances they proclaimed. There had always been an unspoken assumption that the Jedi and the Sith could not trust each other, could never compromise fully. Such was the nature of the Force.

This was not something he merely believed. It was something he knew to be true.

But if there was one thing that was universal, it was humor. When she began to giggle, he laughed with her. "Oh, it's good to laugh," he remarked between chortles. "You're right, it's not the only reason. I simply couldn't resist. You know, I used to look much worse—proper medical care helped considerably. I made sure that none of the fixes looked too pretty, though—beauty nestled in ugliness is much too vulgar for my tastes. I'd rather cut off my own nose again to spite my face, ha ha!"

Of course, he never gave a direct answer to the question of why he really became a Sith. No doubt she would notice this evasion. Regardless of whether she pushed the matter or let it go, he was prepared to respond in a way that might sound satisfactory, but would give nothing of substance away.

His laughter died with hers, and he sat quietly and attentively as she spoke of her slavery. He recognized the brand on her brow as Hutt in origin. "If it's the context of the brand that bothers you, perhaps you should simply cut it out entirely rather than trying to heal it," he said. "It will not change what happened to you, but it will prevent others from knowing your history as soon as they lay eyes upon you. Look at me—I may look like a monster, but as you so deftly pointed out, you can tell nothing about me or my past just by glancing at my face. If it's privacy you crave, then don't let this slave's mark be the trait others use to define you. Remember that you contain multitudes."

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran Rarr

Location: Onderon, just south of Iziz, pushing into the city. Beltran moving to rear of formation to engage Lirka Ka .
Objective: Move troops into the city to bolster defense.
Allies: Inara Basai , K Kaine Australis , Torrack Torrackstur all other SJC and allied personnel
Enemies: The Sith and allied personnel, Lirka Ka
Loadout:

• Armor: Katarn Mk. II Combat Armor
• Clothing: Katarn Undersuit
• Primary Weapons: Predator Assault Projectile Rifle loaded with Incendiary rounds and normal 10mm slugs
• Secondary Weapons: Death-Dealer Handcannon (drop holster, right hip - loaded with Sith-Killer Ammunition), Lightsaber (clipped to waist), Lightsaber Pike (strapped to back), Wrist Mounted Blaster (right wrist), Tactical Vibroblade (right boot)

Commanding: Paladin Company

• 92 Rangers
  • 1st Platoon - 31 Rangers - Equipped with Katarn Mk. II Combat Armor and wielding Predator Assault Projectile Rifle loaded with Incendiary rounds and normal 10mm slugs - Status: Moderate Casualties
  • 2nd Platoon - 26 Rangers - Equipped with Katarn Mk. II Combat Armor and wielding Predator Assault Projectile Rifle loaded with Incendiary rounds and normal 10mm slugs - Status: Moderate Casualties
  • 3rd Platoon - 19 Rangers - Equipped with Accelerated Infantry Power Suits and associated weapon and defensive systems, wielding Bonesplitter Heavy Blaster Assault Rifles - Status: Minor Casualties
  • 4th Platoon - 15 Rangers - Equipped with Accelerated Infantry Power Suits and associated weapon and defensive systems, wielding Bonesplitter Heavy Blaster Assault Rifles - Status: Moderate Casualties

Lieutenant Mrwar let out a deep growl as he swung his clawed hand over the face of one of the undead, his talons raking it's necrotic flesh and digging deep into bone. The creature, for it's part, made no indication that it had even felt anything other than the force of the blow. There was no shriek of pain, no attempt to staunch the flow of the black ichor that leaked from what had once been it's face. Instead, it stumbled back in near silence, allowing the Togorian to raise his rifle, one handed and fire a burst of rounds into it's chest.

The impact knocked the creature to the ground and a second later, it was engulfed in fire as the incendiary thermite particles cooked off. Moving on, he stalked like the predators that he was descendant from, carving death like it was a turk-bird at a Life Day gathering. The battle was starting to slow now, as the Mandalorian resistance was being replaced by the horde of zombies as the main form of resistance. The Rancors, which Mrwar thought were a genius move, had provided at excellent source of cover and distraction.

But now something seemed to have slowed down that part of their advance. From his position on the left, the Togorian had a hard time seeing what was happening. All around him, the Rangers of Paladin Company continued fighting. The heavily armored A.I.P.S. wearing third and forth platoons had formed an adhoc phalanx, using their suits' personal shields as a wall and pushing the dead one's back by sheer force.

Behind them, first and second platoons were firing off hundreds of shots. It hadn't taken the veterans long to figure out that hitting the head-more specifically severing the brain stem-was the best way to put this things down quickly. So between the flash fires being started within the zombies' horde by their incendiary rounds and the expert marksmanship that the squad designated snipers were demonstrating, taking heads off with every squeeze of the trigger, the line was holding.

***

The blow hit Beltran in the face, glancing off the side of his helmet but landing with such force that it cracked the durasteel plating and sent him stumbling backward, a painful white flash all that he could see for several seconds.

"To think, all the thousands that will die today. It will be glorious, will it not? Such suffering, such sweet sweet suffering. I will tear your commander's head from his neck, and you will do little more than watch: like the punitive little rat you are, you best not miss Child. For I certainly will not."

It was only because Lirka Ka had not pressed her attack that Beltran suspected he was still alive. That woman's penchant for monologuing would be her ultimate undoing. Pulling his now broken helmet from his head he tossed it to the ground and spit out a tooth along with a spirt of blood. His pike remained activated, the yellow blades at the tip of each side humming softly.

Sighing softly, Beltran let go of his pike with one of his hands and allowed it to drop to his side. With that free hand, he would draw his hand-cannon and level it at the beast-woman as she finished her taunting of Inara Basai .

"You know," The Lorrdian said simply to Lirka. "You talk too much." Flicking his glance to the medic, he favored her with a tight smile as he spoke. "Basai...light her up!"

He then squeezed the trigger three times, sending three cortosis jacketed, depleted baradium slugs flying at Lirka Ka at several times the speed of sound.

 

[Mathieu Brion]

K H E L. vs. .B R I O N

Objective: Defeat the Sith
Group: None
Tag: Khel​

The Sith was arrogant. The way in which he walked looked relaxed and nonchalant and he was goading Mathieu like there was no tomorrow. But there would still not be any response to the words - for the Padawan focused on the defence too much to care.

As soon as Khel raised his hand, the Jedi raised his - he had expected to be attacked and to counter it - but apparently, this was not done for that purpose. At the mention of rubble, pieces of it soon started to float behind the Padawan. It seemed like Khel didn't make any real efforts to hide what he was doing and so, Mathieu could hear as the pieces of rubble brushed against their surroundings on their way up.

Reaching out through the force, the Morellian soon felt as the chunks of scrap were being flung towards him. Instead of turning around to destroy the pieces of junk, Mathieu opted to evade them buy taking quick steps diagonally sidewards and backwards. Seeing as the debris came from behind his back and that he was facing the Sith, most pieces would continue flying towards the dark-sider. The Padawan didn't stay idle either - throughout the journey of the debris, he used his own force capabilities to try to manipulate them into flying towards Khel and at increased speeds. While success was not guaranteed, it did add a threat to the foe and made it harder to actually hit Mathieu himself.

By the time the attacks were all over, the Morellian had backed enough to be just by the pathway leading into the plaza they had started at. He kept moving backwards to keep an eye on Khel. The area was relatively narrow, making it more pleasant to defend in. It was still possible to comfortably fit another person to Mathieu's right, but he had no troubles reaching either the left or right side of the pathway with the perished Knight's lightsabre. If the Sith just kept following calmly, Mathieu would stop near the end of the path leading out onto a wider street behind, meaning that Khel would have to attack with limited space to maneuver while Mathieu still had plenty of room back at the wider street.

 

[Mi'la Undari]

Equipment:
Adar-Class Combat Flight Suit
Lightsabers x 2
Tech Ranger's Field Pistol
Tags: Salamander


She caught the evasion, but she found little reason to press it. Sith and Jedi weren't meant to play nice, which was why this whole conversation was bizarre. Seriously, why wasn't he killing her? Probably to satisfy some other end, though the idea of not wanting to fight was...strange. He seemed to just be a normal man, aside from the facial mutilations, but that was aside from the fact. "We don't have to be enemies. There was a time where dark and light could agree and disagree without coming to violence." She started, before turning her attention to the smoke rising in the city beyond. Clearly the time for that had passed some time ago. How unfortunate. "You know it's funny. I've always ventured into the tombs of Sith and dark siders, hoping to understand them, and all I have found for them, was pity. They held onto material things, fleeting moments of power, only for it to crumble underneath them when they did themselves in." She spoke softly, knowing that the Sith would probably ignroe what she was saying. And that was fine, perhaps it was just her jedi mindset viewing things from that lens.

The mention of the brand earned a stern look from the woman, though she didn't voice a condescending tone to him. "It's deeper than that. It's..." She stopped herself, and for many reasons. The reason she hadn't gotten rid of it was due to her own past, her own families crimes. It was a reminder that she was guilty of that crime, that she profited from the slave trade that her parents flourished in. Funny that a Sith of all things was trying to give her a pep talk, strange world wasn't it? She looked back to the strange man, shrugging her shoulders. "It's complicated, but that's also applicable to you. The one thing that tethers you to the Sith doesn't mean it has to define you." She replied, struggling as she found the strength to get back on her feet. She made no effort to instigate a fight however, knowing that she wouldn't fare well in the slightest. "So, you going to get in trouble for not killing me? Don't they give you guys medals for that sort of thing, or do I have the wrong group?" She asked, not entirely sure if she was thinking of the Sith, or the Blackguard.

 

[Salamander]

Mi'la Undari

"We don't have to be enemies. There was a time where dark and light could agree and disagree without coming to violence."

Messala shrugged. "There are many different ways of interpreting the nature of the Force, and I have my own just as you do. In my view, Light and Dark are opposites, and the Force is always striving for balance between them. That means that there can be no true end to the conflict. It is a cycle that will always begin anew."

"You know it's funny. I've always ventured into the tombs of Sith and dark siders, hoping to understand them, and all I have found for them, was pity. They held onto material things, fleeting moments of power, only for it to crumble underneath them when they did themselves in."

"I wholeheartedly concur," he replied. "Material gains by their nature can only serve you in this life, and perhaps not even that long. Any Sith who invests their time and efforts into conquest for the sake of it is a fool." There was a tinge of amusement in his tone, not only at the silly exploits of his fellow Sith, but because if she was trying to guess why he became a Sith, she was so far off the mark it was comical.

"It's deeper than that. It's... It's complicated, but that's also applicable to you. The one thing that tethers you to the Sith doesn't mean it has to define you."

"What makes you think that the Sith is all that I am?" he replied in almost a purr, his tone smooth and devoid of anger. "Do I not also contain multitudes?"

"So, you going to get in trouble for not killing me? Don't they give you guys medals for that sort of thing, or do I have the wrong group?"

"Not unless you report me to the Sith. And even then, I'm not a soldier. I have no post to desert." With that, he stood up. "But if you find my company less than pleasant, then I will take my leave of you."

 

[Inara Basai]

Location: Onderon
Objective: Support the defense of the planet
Allies: Beltran Rarr & SJC allied personnel
Enemies: Sith & allies, Lirka Ka

Loadout:

Spoiler

Equipped with Katarn Mk. II Combat Armor and wielding Predator Assault Projectile Rifle loaded with Incendiary rounds and normal 10mm slugs

• Medical Backpack & Supplies
• Ranger's Field Pistol
• Cracken Combat Knife
• Tactical Teddy Bear!

It happened in slow motion.

Red bolts all around her took the longest time to find their marks. And the blow that glanced Captain Rarr's helmet. Even from her position, she could see the damage done to the plating. His feet stumbled back, and Inara's heart was in her throat, making it so she couldn't even call out to him.

Inara swallowed hard, and tried to keep the rifle from shaking in her grip. She watched with wide eyes as the beast-woman circled Captain Rarr like a viscious predator. Lirka's voice found Inara, traveling through the din of battle, words that struck fear right into her very core.

Though, the beast's attention was on her – Inara knew this moment would not last. It did, however, give her Captain time enough to recover. She caught his glance and lowered her chin slightly, steeling every nerve against the task that was to come.

Light her up!

Beltran's trigger finger was far faster than her own, but she steadied herself and fired off three incendiary rounds. Not all of her shots ignited, but she if she hit her mark with at least one fiery round, it'd do some damage. I won't miss, she thought.

Inara's finger pulled the trigger three more times, hoping to at least by her Captain a few more seconds. She suspected it was far from being enough to bring this enemy down; but if she could leave her wounded (and likely annoyed), she'd take it. And if she could expose any vulnerable spot for Beltran to exploit, then all the better.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Onderon, Iziz
K Kaine Australis
Armour, Spear, Zaudraka, Sidearm.

She let go of him as he slashed with his black sabre. The phrik sparked in contact with the blade as black lacquer was burnished away, revealing the metal beneath. Elements made of weaker materials were shaved off the back of her right hand in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. She regretted that he did not meet his own weapon, but that much she expected.

He was a seasoned toymaker after all.

As Australis turned by way of his thrusters and retaliated, she brought up her left hand, not to parry with her sword but seemingly gripping the sword in both hands. By the look of it, she was too slow. She inhaled deeply through her nose.

Then suddenly, a burst of translucent, red plasma extended from her left arm, covering her head and shoulders: A plasma shield. It would not hold up against his blade indefinitely, but gave her a moment. The front of her helmet, where the jagged teeth of the vornskr-headed helmet interlocked, the seams split open. Joycelyn pushed her shield to the side, deflecting his downward stab as flame erupted through the gap of her helmet.

As she shifted the shield to the side, she turned her head toward Kaine. The fire belching from her helmet changed from orange, to yellow, to blue and nearly blinding white as it focused like a gigantic cutting torch now chasing the Mandalorian.

Zaudraka afforded those who wielded it with mastery of fire, empowering an experienced pyrokinesisist like Joycelyn, who was born to wield the fire of Vahl against the Jedi and their lackeys. Her flames were like the fire of the mythical dragons, peeling lacquer from her armour like the sabre had.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Onderon, Iziz
K Kaine Australis
Armour, Spear, Zaudraka, Sidearm.

Let all be set aflame, let the sky be stained red, and the cinders blot out the stars. By the wrath of Vahl, let it burn.

She fully focused on the fire, letting it envelop him and press in against his armour. She could sense victory close at hand; at last this pesky foe of her house would be dealt with. And in her black plate she felt nigh untouchable. Around her, the heat of the flames warped everything into a wavy dreamscape.

Then, the Force recoiled in her.

She reared to her back foot just as the repulse released and slammed into her breastplate while her quarry disappeared the other way. Joycelyn flew back and crashed into the scorched dirt with a crash of black plate, while the flames she had held under control fanned out into an infernal wall of unchecked fire. She had lost her breath and struggled to catch it where she lay.

Aware of her opponent, she thought of his thrown weapon.

She thought of her own thrown weapon, and as she pushed herself to a sitting position with a groan, she asked it to return.

Smoke rose from the front of her helmet where the lacquer boiled and flaked off. Joycelyn counted some broken ribs, a broken nose, and a lot of bruises. Zaudraka was still in her hand, but her wrist was hurt. She did not feel the pain yet, the adrenaline saw to that.

"Strife is how we grow."

She hadn't noticed how the air returned either, only the surging power of adrenaline and the dark side of the Force. She rose to her knees, but not to a standing position yet.

 

[Plume]

Plume was lost ... She heard voices in her ears, people were talking to her, but she could not see them. She was just looking around, trying to figure out, naively, where Venku's voice was coming from. The cat boy asked her what she was doing here ... what a trivial question. Couldn't he figure it out by himself ?

"Why do you think I'm here Venku Bralor ? I'm here to fight for the homeland ! And for the Union too !"

She clenched her teeth. Some of those Sith bastards visibly spotted her, she didn't know what was coming to get her yet but it wouldn't take long. She heard the noises made by those uncoordinated zombies while walking.

"I know we're fighting the Sith Empire. Did you really believe for one single second that I was going to ignore a battle against them ?"

She would answer present to any battle facing those monsters. They destroyed Mandalore, her tribe, and her past. The Mandalorian girl would not let them destroy her future. Torrack Torrackstur was sending reinforcements to her position, everything will go well she thought ... That was when she saw the undead comings. It was her first time seeing corpses risen from the dead. She knew that the Dark Side's powers could produce such atrocities, and some way worse than that too. But the scene remained shocking to her young eyes. She stopped talking. She reached her left hand to the right side of her chest, Thunder her cloak, her only piece of defensive gear. She closed her fist on the metal rod covered with leather and pulled it hard from where it was attached.

Her blade was finally free ... It was nothing more than an inanimate object but she felt like it had its own feelings, its own personality. It wanted to be used. It wanted to serve. A bright red beam of light and energy gushed out of her lightsaber as the former Sith apprentice activated it. She could hear it sing inside her head. She could hear it sing a victory song. She used it again, the weapon which killed her parents, her people and so many of her loved ones. Those were probably just hallucinations due to her extreme state of mind at this time.

When Plume got angry, stopping her was almost impossible. As the first undead started to come at her range, she entered some sort of a battle trance. Her movements, the ones of her blade, and the enemy's death were all that mattered. Her feelings were fuelled with every "life" she took. The smell made her remember the time where she killed this poor pilot, once they arrived on Nar Shaddaa. The view and the sounds made her remember the most horrible training battles and expeditions she had to undergo as an apprentice.

She was doing her best. Never was she a better swordsman before. Her lightsaber became, at this time, a natural extension of her arms. But the zombies kept coming anyway. A few powerful Force pushes saved her life quite some times. Who knew how long she could handle them ...

Tags : Pom Stych Tivé Forjund Australis Kreslin Westwind

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Onderon, Iziz.
K Kaine Australis
Armour, Spear, Zaudraka, Sidearm.

Joycelyn watched his ascent and subsequent free-fall from her kneeling position, letting her helmet track his trajectory while her mind focused on the spear which had now wrenched itself out of its resting place, turned, and shot back to aid it's master, slashing through whatever stood in its way. It shattered a window and sheared through the arm of a bystander caught in its path. It crashed through the chest of an emerging undead, scattering ribs and dried flesh, but also clipped through the neck of the undead's opponent, leaving the head hanging by a strip of flesh.

It was like a dog called by its master: Relentless.

Without looking, she gripped Zaudraka with both hands and with a swift, circular motion deflected the incoming boomer. With a flick of the tip, she tried to send it into the ground.

Joycelyn wanted Kaine to lock in on her position, to be confident that he would strike her before she moved. She still felt the blood pooling in her boot, trickling out of the hole in her sole. She was uncertain how much blood she had lost. The Force blurred the lines of her limitations when it empowered her physicality. It mattered not.

Following through from her deflection of the Boomer, the armoured Sith brought Zaudraka to her shoulder, she twisted as if preparing to strike, then quickly went the other way. Without standing, she moved in a kneeling position. The pointed knees of her plate armour dug into the ground for purchase as her feet pushed off from the ground to make her step out of the presumed line of attack and turn to face it.

Zaudraka remained on her shoulder, held in both hands. Her feet set themselves solidly on the ground and her thighs prepared to push her up to a standing. She saw his blade coming down in a thrust and she prepared for a counter-cut.

And in the periphery, silver and furious red came returning, not for Joycelyn, but for its originally intended target: For Kaine.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Agony was the partner of Lirka, the two had worked in tandem for decades now: Lirka gave out agony to the Galaxy, as she broke and destroyed all that she touched, and agony seeded itself within the Sephi's flesh when she failed at being the destroyer of all things. It was as the Dark willed, and she bowed to it's infernal power.

She let out a distorted sneer, these humans, they lacked any sense of drama and theatrics. This was a dance, a performance for all those whom watched it. And Lirka was reminded that Beltran Rarr was quite the horrendous actor.

"And you not enough, Boy."

The first round pinged into her breastplate, the Sephi's unnatural form twisting some as the blast pinged in: digging into the metal, the second and third made there mark as they ripped through Lirka's armor and flesh. There was a low hum from the Beast, pain returned to her form: the reminder she was alive, a reminder of the misery she would inflict on all who opposed her. Inara Basai followed suit of her command, a handful more rounds splashing into the armored woman, fire dancing around her form as ribbon burst alight and some of her undersuit became a liquid that clung to her brutalized flesh. She did not weep, she did not cry out in pain, instead there was only a wet, distorted, laugh.

And then she sprung into action.

Still having flame dance around her dark-metal form, Lirka truly looked like the demons of myth that she so attempted to emulate: one of her smaller blades flung out at lightning speeds, trying to slice through Beltran's shoulder: or whatever soft bits she could reach. As usual, Lirka did not waste time seeing if the blow had landed. Those glowing emerald eyes had honed in on the medic, so fresh, so unused to the misery her Dark Patriarch brought down upon her kind.

There was no flourish or theatrics there, instead Lirka merely threw her spiked and flaming bulk at Inara: already her flesh twisting and warping around the wounds within her form. Some tricks Lirka just couldn't abandon so easily, even after fixing herself from the hulking monstrosity she had been,

 

[Hix Tribbul]

Pom Stych Tivé

The man had trailed behind them, his presence never truly hidden as his visor kept pointed their way until they landed. They were pretty, but that was of little interest to the man. They had knowledge, and plainly knew of some...home remedies to deal with Rancor. His hands were placative as he stepped closer. Not that he closed the distance to much before speaking.

"Those little bundles. Don't know what was in 'em, but they did a number on my Rancor." He nodded as he spoke, if the helmet hadn't been on, they would have seen a growing smile. "You seem to know Rancor. More so than myself. Was wondering if you wouldn't be interested in sharing some of that knowledge." His hands slowly came up to the visor, releasing the seals before the visor was removed and held on his hip.

"I don't know what I can offer in exchange, but the chance to learn is always welcome." He shrugged while looking around them. "At least for me anyway."

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Onderon - In combat
Interacting with Kat Decoria
Equipment: Armor, lightsabers

The echani was fast, and that had meant the difference between being skewered and getting grazed. Hits such as these were dangerous to land, often spurring the mind of the inflicted to redouble their focus. Pain was a motivator, whether her opponent would've admitted that or not. Those who stood in the Light didn't draw their power from it, but it served as a wake-up call nonetheless.

The thrust of the echani's saber towards Avacyn constituted her opponent's answer. After a short sidestep the Sith lady brought up both of her blades to push the incoming blade away from her, though it didn't cleanly fly past her. Sparks flew off her armor where it grazed the side, eating the blade's cutting power. While the armor resisted a lightsaber blade, it wouldn't be able to take more damage there without getting cut through.

It seemed the element of surprise had been the most successful so far, and so Avacyn decided to- instead of go back on the attack- leap backwards to create distance. After landing, she let the blade of the saber in her right retract back into the hilt and clipped it back to her belt. One free hand meant more freedom to draw upon the Force in different ways. One of those ways would affect their environment quite drastically.

The woman summoned a ball of flame in her hand, filled with ill intent. Quickly it was tossed forward, but not towards the echani. Instead, it engulfed part of the bushes near her, causing it to catch fire. It would, no doubt, not take long for that fire to spread. Onderon needed to burn, and here it would help making the echani's encounter with her just a bit more stressful.