Public Operation: Nightfall

[Race Tolsen]

​

Admiral Tolsen watched the tactical screens intently as data streamed in from the Imperial forces at the edge of the blockade. He knew the Alliance was attempting to deceive them, disguising their true numbers with a clever deployment of starfighters and bombers. But Tolsen was not fooled. Having dismantled such tricks in the Unknown Regions, he was adept at recognizing their subtle machinations.

"Captain, I want our TIE Interceptors and TIE Bombers to engage the enemy squadrons," Tolsen said, turning to the Captain of the Fulminata. "Keep them occupied and draw them closer to our formation. We must not break the blockade under any circumstances."

The Captain nodded, relaying the orders to the crew as the Fulminata's fighters launched into action. Tolsen turned back to the tactical screens, his mind focused on the task at hand. He thought back to the Battle of Jakku, where the Imperial Remnant had used a similar strategy to devastating effect. The Super Star Destroyer Ravager had been the centerpiece of their formation, allowing them to concentrate their firepower and present a formidable barrier to the enemy.

"We will use the Intercessor as our centerpiece," Tolsen mused, more to himself than to anyone else. "It is a deadly weapon, perhaps even more so than a Super Star Destroyer in the right hands."

As the battle unfolded, Tolsen's confidence grew. The Galactic Alliance may have thought they had the advantage, but Tolsen was determined to prove them wrong. Victory was within reach, and he would not let this opportunity slip away.

Spoiler: Main Fleet

Fulminata, Erebus-class Sith Battlecrusier
Matrix, Praetorian-class Star Destroyer
Titan, Praetorian-class Star Destroyer
Minos, Judgement-class Light Cruiser
Rhadamanthus, Judgement-class Light Cruiser
Yama, Judgement-class Light Cruiser
Morrigan, Judgement-class Light Cruiser
Tyrant, Sovereign-class Star Battlecrusier
Kronos, Titan-class Star Destroyer
Hyperion, Titan-class Star Destroyer
Iapetus, Titan-class Star Destroyer
Crusader, Intercessor-class Star Destroyer**

Cessair Ideon | Kaine Hamilton​

 

[Veylin Torque]

Objective 1
Wayward Children Privateering Company
Aboard the Dream Chaser​

"What the hell is that," Veylin asked as he observed the newest arrival on his screen.

"Looks like a fleet-shaker, Sir.," Cheyla spoke up from the signals station, "Two-kilometers long, and equipped with enough weapons to rip a Republic Cruiser in half without straining itself."

Was that an Imperial ship? It looked as old as it was dangerous. He hadn't seen anything that looked quite like it before, though it kind of reminded him of an old CIS design.

Cheyla spoke up again, "The GA is making its move. Moving several squadrons of fighters forward. I'm putting it on your console now, Sir."

Veylin looked over the Galactic Alliance formation.

The formation seemed... odd. Spread out, almost disorganized.

"Okay, circle around the battlefield, slowly. As soon as the engagement starts, skirt around the edges and gun it for the atmosphere with everything we've got. I don't think the Imperials will divert forces for little-old-us once the big fight starts."

"Monitoring now, Sir. I'll let you know as soon as it goes hot."

---

Cessair Ideon
Zark San Tekka
Valut Amanya
Atin Tracinya
Race Tolsen
Jonyna Si
Akhuul Sautra
Derix Tirall
Marlon Sularen
Ignacious Korvan
Kazian Blackwood
The Vulptex
Onrai

 

[Thomas Barran]

2nd Post

-A SECOND PRELUDE TO TERROR-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARLORD OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags(Friend): Keilara Kala'myr Kurineth Cull Marlon Sularen Arminius Kroeger

Tags(Foe): Brak'rra 'Red Scar' Anakwor Farlorn Gress D'ran Vulpesen

AT THE PRECIPICE II: DISTANT SHOCKWAVES - PART 2

BYABBA VILLAGE OUTSKIRTS, BADLANDS FRONTIER,
40-KM NORTH OF BATTLFRONT: IZIZ, ONDERON (901 ABY)

<"We'll find you, bastards! We know you're underground - somewhere!">
<"Gather your bands, your clans, your tribes! It matters little to the end res-">
<"-I'll take this one, Ghoul.">
<"Standing by.">
​

'Everybody's in such a rush the-day.... Eager beavers to the last, so they are.'

​

The local Beastriders had taken the deathly, explosive trap personally, and though the raiding-band who perished likely died with more than enough enemies among the local, blighting culture, the raiders who remained to resist the occupation would no longer be harrying their subjugators lightly. Under other circumstances of lesser dispute, there was a chance it would have taken much more than this to force Beastrider factions to align so easily, but with all things Iziz considered, it seemed as though their impending doom was enough to let bygone be bygones for the final clash of their culture.

In the eyes of the Scar Hounds and their Mawite comrades, and especially in Barran's own personal viewpoint, this was more than admirable to see, though this would work to their ultimate misfortune before the end, as none with all their eggs in one basket fared well against the Bloodhound's merciless methods of warfare. Though this time, there was a goal much more intricate than the initial plan had implied, though this was not without purpose, and for as long as Thomas remained as willing ever to play into the psychological aspects of combat, he would have no issue with behaving as any unprepared occupier would in the same predicament. It made no difference to the end result, just as Ghoul almost gave away in threats to the chieftain just moments before, though it was mostly owed to the resourcefulness of the Horde's scavenger mentality, ringing especially true in times of operational scarcity.

<"So who might I have the pleasure of addressing on this fine evening?">
<"And who the kark is this? The supervisor? Bring me your leader, stop stalling!">

Good one.... I like a little sass every now an' again.
But I wonder if he'd try the same with my blade in his throat.

We'll find out soon enough, I suppose.
​

Expected was the bluster, expected were the outbursts, and even the hubristic feeling of infallibility and imperviousness alike, as everything and more was expected in the process of playing the role of the hapless invader. However, what wasn't expected or previously accounted-for, though Thomas soon understood that this should have been (and at the very least-) factored into their plans, was the overriding stupidity of his opposing counterpart. Naturally there was every chance that the chieftain himself was playing dumb as the Bloodhound was, as it would have been yet another of war's many historical coincidences, and in the increasing likelihood of mutual-feigning - a small, nagging chance that the local leader knew the Khan was playing dumb in turn.

<"This is Bloodhound speaking, so yes.... Apparently mine is the skull you wish to find on your platter.... My spies tell me something molten gold, something-something new drinking-cup, something to that effect.... Is that the way of it, Warchief?">

<"Indeed it is, a demise of which you should be proud.... Now I'll admit, we abandoned such practices centuries ago, but I am more than willing to make an exception for a scion of the Dark Empire.... For there is no grander expression of dominance in this life, or rather - at least none that are known to the peoples of my homeworld. None that matter enough to be remembered.">​

Expecting someone almost-entirely different to the man on the other end of the Comm-Link, someone who might have lacked the eloquence of his opposition, though it would certainly be welcomed when compared to other potential surprises of the sort; however, there was much revealed of the chieftain's mind, his habits and behavioural leanings by then, and in this much of a detrimental impatience that explained the quickness to react. Quite the revelation, explaining much about the decision to challenge their occupiers as one fighting entity, explaining the eagerness of the other Beastriders' and their respect for strong leadership, though unfortunately this was little and less help as to whether the warchief knew the Khan was playing dumb or not, with the same ringing true for the likelihood his opposition was also playing the same sort of game.

What a waste, man.... Under other circumstances, this one would be an asset.

Another Magnar for the horde.
Another wave of dread for the Galaxy.​

The change was sudden, almost as if the role Barran was playing was the very thing he felt was inhibiting the very thing that kept him a step or three ahead of most other Generals and commanders of the sort, a trait of which had served any of history's greats in the Galaxy by then, though this would likely mark an unceremonious end for the Scar Hounds' immediate plans for the region. But the curiosity, the sudden respect, (along with the underlying, ambitious plan that hid beneath all the bluster of the main outline for their deployment to Onderon) it was all too enticing for Thomas to recuse himself from this opportunity, these makings of a memorable turning-point for the Bloodhound's reign as Khan of the Mawite Horde.

But the Bloodhound wanted to know, needed more than ever to learn if he had that same persuasive power his mentor possessed in life, and with it, needed (and more than anything in his own life in turn-) to know whether it was possible to lead zealots farther than the tortured, enslaved conscript-raiders he had utilised for so long. Great difficulties were already a factor on the issue, as it would always present difficulties to the Magnars who admit,"What the Heathen Priests taught you was right - but I personally believe they were wrong to do so under the pain of torture. I believe it sullies your warfighting potential in a time when our numbers matter more than ever.", but the following decision to reveal his innate, mentored nature, as much as it would present new difficulties in the following years, would be the watershed moment for all who fought under the Khan's Golden Skull.

It would be decision that threatened the very unity that held the Scar Hounds together for so long, as there was still much in the way of merit to the subservient masses on whom the Mongrel and his Bloodhound relied for decades, and the Heathen Priesthood would doubtlessly have much and more to say in resistance to the effectiveness of Barran's intricate philosophy of,"Death to the Galaxy, Life to the Great Cycle". However, in the Khan's great culmination of risky gambits, aligning in a domino-effect like a Tri-Lunar eclipse over Rhigar, Thomas would seek compromise, patience and understanding, preemptively searching for suitable solutions before the great leap of faith could be made. It was then that Barran decided to make himself a life-changing promise, one that not only changed everything for the One-Eyed Woad, but this would likely be a choice that changed life for the Scar Hounds in their entirety.

If I persuade the chief to accept my offer,
I persuade all detractors of a zealot's merit.

Here goes nothing-

<"Not gonna lie - as far the skull thing goes, I like your style. No, seriously.... But I think you ought to know that I have similar intentions for yours now. Fair is fair after all, an' from one Raider to another, it would be my honour to clash swords with you tonight.... Its the nomadic way - winner takes all.">
​

Met with silence on the other end of the line, initial knee-jerk reactions in the Khan's mind would point to self-chidings of every sort, blaming himself for overcooking the offer, perceiving indecision between intimidation and enticement, along with doubts of the warchief's intellectual capacity. Yet these thoughts and doubts of the sort would be silenced before long, stifled by the Bloodhound's commitment to the gambit, devoted to the betting-man's deadlock until there was reason enough to adapt to the changes in the situation, a trait that was potent enough to walk many a burgeoning legend beyond the point of no-return.

<"Winner takes all.... If you die, I take your army for my own, and if I die - the Beastriders are yours to command forevermore. Is that the way of it?">
<"Precisely that, nothing more - nothing less.... So what is your answer, Warchief?">

<"You have yourself a deal.">

And so it shall be - the greatest of all gambits begins.



Nature reclaims all that was snatched from Rebirth's embrace,

Devoted hearts - lo, will they cleanse the air of smoggy civilisation,
The tools they wield - lo, will they clear murky, decadent waters,
And the beasts who carry them - lo, will they frost the bedrock.

 

[Valery Noble]

Dxun

​

Outfit: Factory Link | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Lightsabers
Tag: Maestus

Onderon.

Once a planet with little meaning to Valery. It had been just another world that became a battleground between the Old Republic and forces of the old Sith Empire. But it became her last battle of that time as well. After fighting off waves of Sith and their soldiers, the Jedi Master had been gravely injured. In an attempt to save her life, the Jedi had placed her in a medical stasis, but despite all of their efforts without her presence, their base was eventually overrun, and with a collapse of the facility, Valery had been trapped inside on life-support.

When her eyes opened once more, the Galaxy had changed.

"Back again," Valery muttered under her breath, as she moved through the dense jungle without much trouble. Having grown up on New Cov, a jungle far more treacherous than Onderon or its moon, Valery knew how to avoid its dangers. The real threat today, however, wasn't the fauna or flora — a new darkness had risen in the Galaxy and decided to show its face. Already, she had seen vague visions of what was to come, but it would take time to decipher them.

For now, the Sword of the Jedi's duty was clear — these forces of darkness had to be stopped.

Up ahead, Valery already saw the faint outline of the ancient tomb sticking out over the tree tops. Its encroaching darkness was a weight on her mind, but the former Jedi Shadow kept herself shielded and fought her way through. Sith were undoubtedly going there, either to draw strength from it, or perhaps to find something to gain more power. Whatever the reason, Valery was going to be upon them very soon.

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Tomb of Freedon Nadd, DXUN, Onderon System.
Allies: Knights of Ren: Cairan Shannon
Enemies: Jedi: Liorra Joran Olan
Equipment: Black Imperial Knight Armor, Robes, Crossguard Lightsaber
Objective: 3

​

Detritus would further devote himself to the onslaught of power strikes he had launched against the Mandalorian. Her Beskar moved in tandem with her form, her blade meeting the orange blade of his with each furious stroke. Detritus wouldn’t allow this Mandalorian to simply get away by merely blocking the overwhelming force of his strength. The more he roared, and bared down upon his foe with his saber the more the miasma of dark side energy, albeit ancient was flowing rapidly against his own body. The darkness was fueling his drive, his power to claim whatever secrets were inside. There were no words spoken between them just yet, all the Mandalorian would see was the angry orange blade, and eyes that blazed yellow under the influence of the dark side’s potential.

Watching her movements closely with the Beskad. He recognized her fighting style as to follow with the basic forms of the Jedi Arts. She would do her best to dance around his power strikes. His form relied on a more brutal, savage variant of Djem So. His saber while wasn’t as high powered as a normal lightsaber, was able to deal horrible cuts and nasty burns that didn’t cauterize due to the mid power. Although doubtful he could cut through Beskar, he intended to crack this shell open to the fullest. His mighty form continued to attempt to push the Mandalorian back. With each step he took forward, he forced her to take a step backwards. With each agile block she made, he would press harder with an almost bestial force. The dark side continued to pump through his veins, he felt limitless and only wondered how long could his foe remain on the defensive?

“Enough of this!” He growled through gritted teeth. The more she would dance around him, or pushed back on the defensive. Detritus was quickly growing tired of the opening dance, as soon as he saw an opening he took it. Instead of aiming to pierce through her defenses, or landing a singular strike with his blade. His next attack would be counted as unexpected. Instead of launching yet another flurry of power strikes to crush through her defenses, his hand through the strikes and blocking of blades, he would reach out and grab the Mandalorian by her vambrace. “RAAAGHHH!!!” He declared with another roar, using his amplified dark side strength, he attempted to grapple onto her vambrace and launch her into one of the three tunnels. Using her own form to throw her off balance carried by the momentum of dark side imbued strength. If successful he wouldn’t give her time to regain her bearings. Like a predator who had his prey cornered he would charge her again shortly after his attempted grapple and toss of her. Once more keeping up the ferocity of his power strikes crashing down upon her.

 

[Joran Olan]

BRINGER OF LIGHT

Tags: Cairan Shannon

Joran had prepared to throw himself at the leader of these vagabonds when another of their number launched himself at Joran. The Jedi brought his saber around, the emerald blade weaving an arc of defensive blows. At first glance, one might have assumed that hie foe was striking wildly; launching a series of uncoordinated and random attacks just trying to bludgeon Joran down. Joran could see through it though. While he was a Jedi, he considered one of his first priorities to be that of a teacher. He used a few telling strikes, and watched how his opponent reacted to them.

Djem-So. His foe was not uneducated.

"I am Joran Olan," he said, parrying another strike and moving from his pure defensive form into a new combat form. His broad, overarching strikes became much more controlled and directed. Strikes would be diverted away instead of parried, and Joran focused on attempting to control his opponents movements as much as his own. A small button on the side of his lightsaber was pressed, and the straight hilt suddenly became curved, allowing for Joran to fully exploit Form-II, Makashi.

"You are not a Sith," Joran said as he began to press his own offense, "nor a true Knights of Ren, but the Dark Side permeates your being. What are you?" Joran sought to exploit any opening in his foe, so that he could move to aid his comrade in this battle.

 

[Cairan Shannon]

Location: Dxun
Tags: Detritus Ren | Joran Olan | Liorra
Equipment: Lightsaber​

Emerald pushed back against crimson.

The Jedi had identifed himself as Joran Olan. It wasn't a name Cairan had ever come across during his time as a Jedi, then again he hadn't heard the names of a lot of Jedi. He'd kept himself to himself whilst he served in the Jedi Order, just him and his master exploring and learning. Until he decided to strike against his master, then it was him alone.

Cairan's blade met the Jedi's blade, defending against each offensive strike pressed by the older gentleman. Cairan had recognised the style adopted by his opponent quickly, the duelists style. Makashi was designed for lightsaber on lightsaber combat and a true master of the form was neigh impossible to best in straight saber to saber combat.

Lucky for Cairan, whilst his foe was clearly an accomplished duelist he clearly hadn't taken the time to master one specific form. Djem-So was all around waiting for an opportunity to push the counter attack and the moment that Cairan spotted even the smallest mistake made by his opponent, he aimed to exploit it by aiming a well placed boot to the chest of the Jedi Master.

One swift kick later, and Cairan pressed himself back onto the offensive. He kicked off of the wall of the tunnel, launching himself towards his foe. His style became a mixture of Djem-So and Ataru, he began utilising the acrobatics of the more flamboyant form whilst keeping the aggressive nature of Djem-So in a bid to overwhelm his opponent.

"You asked what I was? The answer is simple. I am the last thing you will see, Mister Olan."

Cairan let out a smirk, and locked crimson and emerald blades together in a saber lock. He didn't try and physcially fight the lock, instead he aimed to just hold it in place. Mentally however, he was reaching out in the force, feeling each of the rocks in the tunnel above. Using the force, he began to start crushing smaller rocks, allowing the larger rocks to break free and be pulled down by gravity.

He would bring the whole tunnel down if he needed to, allowing the rest of the Knights of Ren to continue onward.

 

[Anna Carden]

En Route to Iziz, Onderon
Objective 1: Defend Iziz
Jenn Kryze | Atin Tracinya | Khaostra Devoid
​

"Oya manda!"

Anna couldn't help but feel indebted to Jenn, but that's not why she answered the call, and not because she knew Atin would be present. Perhaps, ever since the leader of Clan Kryze left the Enclave after the internal conflict, Anna regretted not coming along and showing that she was done with the warmongering stuff.

"Su cuy'gar," nodding at the Alor, the Red Raven paused, looking at the person who freed her back then.

She envied her bravery.

As for the man to her side, it has been several moons since she last saw him. She didn't bring up anything about escaping and leaving his duty to the Jetii anymore, knowing it was only going to hurt them both; but so did pretending that she was fine. Even reuniting under a battlefield was enough to put Anna's heart at ease. At least they were on the same side, for now.

"Why fight with jetii?"

The question wasn't directed at her, but it didn't stop her from chiming in. "Mando'ade don't need reasons to protect." She slightly elbowed Atin, signaling to him that it was time to deploy. "Let's go." After nodding to Jenn one last time, she put on her helmet, turned back and walked towards the bay, waiting to deploy onto the surface as their vessel exited hyperspace into the heated orbit of Onderon.

"Any other plans other than dropping straight in the middle of Iziz?" She turned to the man.

 

[Akhuul Sautra]

Tags:

• Allies: ---
• Enemies: Jonyna Si

Location: Vicinity of the Tomb of Freedon Nadd, Moon of Duxn, Onderon
Equipment: In Bio
Objective: 3 - The Dark Within

This one enjoyed talking. I certainly kept that in mind. A typical specimen of Jedi as one who enjoys banter in battle. The reflexes of my newfound opponent, however, were more of interest to take note of. I then saw the face of a Cathar, and new not to be terribly surprised. The Jedi training likely accentuated natural talents. My war staff continued to hum with life. No longer was it merely like that of a vibro-blade like the rest of the galaxy used, but rather something akin to the lightsabers so often used in the present times. This fool knew little of who they were trifling with. Thousands of years of Sith wisdom would teach this interloper a lesson.

Another quip, and the interloper turned to my shuttle. My advanced cognition worked in my favor to calculate in less than a second that my opponent would try to compromise the vessel. Through my connections to the ship through signal protocols, the shields of the vessel rose in time with the mockery of Sith power crashing into it. A slight exertion my part, but worth it as the slaves loaded the last of the cargo containers. Silently, but through my authority protocols, I sent a signal to the to the soldiers, Enact Guardian protocol on the vessel., where the soldiers adjusted their formation into a phalanx by the ship and creating a pincer around the attacker, leaving cover for the slave that was cut down with the preservation protocols still attempting the repair with more tendrils of the metal attaching the severed pieces together.

Another fraction of a second would pass, as the soldiers formed into the phalanx, and I would signal to the slaves inside the shuttle, Ready the vessel., and shortly after the ghost engines began glowing with their feint hum of life sounding off. Immediately after that, I signaled to one of the slaves, Enact Recovery Protocol behind the phalanx., where one slave hunched behind the formation of soldiers and dragged the fallen servant onto the shuttle. My cognition made note to issue a scribe to oversee the repairs. All that was necessary now was to defeat the insolent Jedi. My war staff hummed in my hands as I stood in a defensive posture ready for another attack. I decided to give this one courtesy of speech. I cared little if this Cathar attacker could understand the Sith tongue. "If you think you are here to stop an acquisition of relics used for destruction, you will be disappointed to find nothing but historical records. The cultists search for tools of death. Go bother them instead, child.", was what I dismissively spat through my vocabulator. This pest was beneath much of my rage and effort. I could see in the feline eyes the intention to thwart the effort to recover ancient tools. I had lost the zeal to slay the idealist fools of the Jedi centuries ago. This was no act of mercy or pity, but rather my knowing of things more deserving of attention.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Orbit of Onderon
| Objective | Prepare to Drop
| Focus | Anna Carden Atin Tracinya Izah'zore

Ah, the Red Raven. A sister in arms, to be sure - and one she had freed from imprisonment at the hands of the Galactic Alliance before she took up the mantle of Alor. Someone who fought with bravery and honor both, to be sure... a singular soul she would have very much liked to take along with her during the departure from Kestri. Even now, the Alor knew that some within the Enclave were good souls, and Anna Carden proved it more than any other. They were pressed for time, she knew that much- and oh, how she resented it. More than anything, she wanted to speak at length with these two, to let them know that there was a better way, that they could join her-

But there was no time. Before long, they would emerge from hyper space, and they would need to act fast if they were to deploy on the surface. The words she could impart upon them were bound to be few - fewer than she would have liked, but such was war. The thought that the two might very well perish crossed her mind, the leader within her reminding her that she could not afford to spend time on two possible casualties, but she brushed the notion away quickly enough.

"Why fight with jetii?" Atin asked. "I was disgraced, owe the oya'la entye. Your clan doesn't, so why?"

Atin's words earned him a sharp nod: more than anyone else, Jenn understood the binding bond behind it all. Just as she was about to answer, however, Anna gave an excellent response, and one she wholeheartedly agreed with.

"Mando'ade don't need reasons to protect."

​

Jenn brought her hands towards them, each of them resting on one of their shoulder with a slight clap, very much intent on letting them know the word of the Alor of Clan Kryze, and all that it entailed.

"She is right. These people need our help - and if we must fight along the ancient enemy of our people to deliver them from oppression, then we will do it. Think what you like of the jetii, but some among them are just as courageous as any of us. They are stalwart allies. Now... if the both of you survive this battle, come find me. You can join us. You can put your might to the service of the helpless, the weak, the innocent. You can be warrior-heroes, as our people were always meant to be."

It was time for them to go, and not just the two righteous souls before her. all of them. The Alor gave them an upnod, then hurried on over to her own dropship, the ramp closing soon behind her: as for Atin and Anna, they were all too eagerly beckoned into another one by the warriors of white and blue already on board. Once buckled into their seats, a peculiar figure adorned with feathers around their shoulderpads and neck approached the two, carrying a small bucket of paint with them. Slowly, calmly, they brought two fingers to dip into the liquid, their voice rising from their helmet shortly after, the Mando'a uttered reverently.

"Honored ancestors, hear my plea, and cast your gaze upon these warriors as you would any who fights for the name Kryze. Accept them in your embrace, should they fall, and welcome them as your own." And, with such humble beseeching, the shaman daubed the pair's shoulderpads with diagonal marks, and their helmets with a downward-facing chevron above the visor.

Jenn, for her part, found herself contacted by the grizzled captain of the Enduring Flame as they dropped out of hyperspace.

<Alor, we have arrived! The Galactic Alliance is already here- and they've moved into formation. What are your orders?>

The thought of making themselves inconspicuous crossed her mind - to let the Imperials and the Alliance engage one another and stay as far away as possible in order to deploy to the surface. A sound course of action, and yet... the Mandalorian rejected it. Ever since Clan Kryze's departure from the Enclave, they had lived in secrecy, hiding out in uncharted worlds and constantly on the move, letting only small scouting parties leave the sector... and now, this time was about to come to an end. One way or another, Onderon would be the crucible upon which the future of her people would be forged.

And she was done running.

<Patch me through to them. I have a message to send their way.>

Five seconds of silence. Long enough for her to appreciate just how incredulous the Captain was, or apprehensive - but not long enough for her to perceive this as insubordination. Although her Clan sometimes met her decisions with some amount of resistance, they were doggedly loyal to her and the vision she held. This would hardly be the first time she found one of her warriors putting their doubts aside for the time being.

<Link established, Alor. Patching your comm through now. I will be on standby for orders.>

Although the man could not see her, she found herself nodding, more out of habit than anything else. Before long, her HUD showed new codes, and she was allowed a connection.

<Hail, fighters of the Galactic Alliance! I am Jenn, Alor of Clan Kryze. My warriors and I have come to assist the people of Onderon in their hour of need - but for us to do so, we must reach the surface unscathed. I humbly beseech you to send some of your starfighters to assist in this task, that we may reach Iziz unscathed and aid in the defense.>

​

Anna Carden Atin Tracinya Aron Thress Darth Saevius Ignacious Korvan Izah'zore ​

 

[Atin Tracinya]

En Route to Iziz, Onderon
Objective 1: Defend Iziz
Allies: Jenn Kryze | Anna Carden | Zark San Tekka
Hostiles: Khaostra Devoid
Others: Veylin Torque​

The answer to Atin's question came not from the alor, but rather the red-clad woman beside him, who nudged him in a particularly sore spot in the ribs with her elbow. Atin couldn't help but let out a short gasp of pain, helmeted head swiveling towards Anna, the words almost going unheard. Almost.

Hands clasped both the warriors on the shoulders, and the Kryze woman spoke. Not with words meant to rally, or words to convince. Words she believed. And though Atin made no sign of motion, his gaze did not falter as he heeded her words, and tucked them away in a quiet corner of his mind to ponder later. For now, they had Imps to kill.

"K'oyacyi, alor," Atin said as Jenn departed, and Anna began to make her way towards their own dropship. "Find Master San Tekka," Atin answered. "His paladins need assistance. We could use your gun in this fight, Carden," the man said as they stepped onto the ship and buckled into the jumpseats.

Before Atin could say more, an armored figure, adorned with feathers boarded the ship, staring at the two Mandalorians, the only ones not bearing the blue and white of Clan Kryze, carrying a bucket. Paint, Atin realized. They must've been a priest of the Old Ways, older than Atin's own orthodox upbringing, because he did not recognize the prayer they uttered as they emblazoned their armor with blue. A respectful nod of his head as the figure left, and Atin looked towards Anna. "Guess we're Kryze for today."

 

[Arminius Kroeger]

D R E A D N O U G H T
IRON LEGION
2nd SQUADRON, 34th ARMORED ASSAULT REGIMENT
'FEAR IMPERATOR, DREADNOUGHT!'
DARK EMPIRE - Marlon Sularen
ALLIANCE - Gress D'ran

FIREPOWER
​

The Cataphrachts continued their dance back and forth unto the enfilade with the approaching walkers, talking guns of tank caliber autocannons ringining off devastating bursts before creeping back, adjusting position and letting another post up and deliver another violent dervish of destruction. It was effective in most linear combat situations, the line of repulsor tanks slowly creeping into a screen along with the still thrumming smoke mission and advancing Imperial infantry. The Stormtroopers were quick to disembark, setting up in difficult terrain, establishing hasty fighting positions where they could. Heavy repeaters, anti-tank teams in tandem with heavy fire support Imperial Battle droids set up in a bold flank of the Alliance approach. Guided anti tank rockets surged out of their tubes before rainbowing upwards and down unto the top armor of screening Alliance APCs and heavy walkers.

Though it seemed to be a miscalculation of priority of fires from Arminius's part as surges of ion splashed from the Alliance super heavy walkers into the formation of armor. What the Cataphrachts lacked in size and firepower in counter to these Alliance Hellstompers, they made up for in lesser profile and general maneuverability. Repulsor tanks generally were harder to hit than bipedal walkers, it often caused a rift of philosophy within the New Imperial ranks back in the day, many Armored officers citing the heavy firepower and morale burdening factor of heavy walkers as opposed to the pragmatism and mobility that came with repulsorlift tanks.

The numbers served to benefit them here, able to hone in on individual walkers with concentrated firepower from multiple vectors though, if they continued to hemorrhage numbers, they'd be well out of luck. An ion blast splashed over the top of one of the Cataphract hulls, knocking out as the others managed to veer away from the trajectory, countermeasures, reactive armor and maneuvering able to save them the worst of the blast as Kroeger grit his metallic teeth, a flashing red alert signalling that one of the cuora plates of ablative armor had ignited to dampen the blow of an ion round.

"Driver back!" He commanded, the tank pulling down from the berm only for two other Cataphrachts to roll up and take their turn, immediatley delivering a thumping, punishing burst of armor piercing mass driver rounds at a single Thundercat walker. Arminius pulled up his tactical display, pinging one of the Sphinxes as he flicked the comms net to ring up another asset.

Dagger Squadron.

Though hardly at full strength, the six TIE Interceptors and two TIE Maulers of the formation should undoubtably be able to do some damage.

"Dagger this is Dreadnought, comms check." He rung up curtly, composing himself as he spoke rather placidly, gritting his teeth as he heard another armor piercing mortar round crack into the scarred earth beside his vehicle

"Dreadnought this is Dagger, thirty minutes to play, full payload, two 'x' maulers, six 'x' int. How copy?" The deep, muffled voice of Dagger Leader, piloting one of the two Maulers rung over the net.

"Copy Dagger, standby for target brief..." He said, pulling the targeting information to the Sphinx in question on his tactical display.

"Elevation...three hundred feet, Alliance heavy walkers in the open, location- one six hundred south east my position. No mark. Nearest friendlies, 'Death Dealer' one thousand meters. MANPADs and anti-air in area."

"Dagger copies all...ETA four-five, contact two super heavies, stand by to observe." The pilot rung out before Arminius took ahold of the commander's control stick again, slewing the viewer on target of the Sphinxes.

Off in the distance, the Alliance troopers would hear that tell-tale, terrifying scream that could only signal one thing. Twin Ion Engines.

"Tally target, two super heavies in open." Dagger leader said, training his crosshairs on one of them. "Dagger two, slew unto my mark." He said, painting it in their shared heads up display.

"Tally." Came Dagger two.

The two Maulers immediately brought their hands to the control sticks, flicking the red switch of the heavy concussion missile launcher up as they readied to fire the main weapon all the same. The missiles were in range first and as soon as they were in standoff range.

"Rifle! Rifle!" Dagger one yelled out, signalling he'd begun to make contact with the enemy as a burst of concussion missile flared toward the Sphinx walker and soon enough, the SHAC-60 began its violent rip. The mass driver rounds appeared with a bright coalesced stream of fiery orange before the sound echoed off with a gut turning rip through the air and then the TIEs veered off to try and attempt another run at the walkers.

Arminius watched with clenched teeth, giving the gunner control of the gun as bursts of armored piercing rounds continued to thud through the closed confine of the turret.

 

[Kazian Blackwood]

Allies: Ignacious Korvan \\ Open to Imperials/Sith
Enemies: The Vulptex \\ Open to SIA/Jedi
​

When Korvan's entourage entered the chamber, all eyes were on him. I'd never met the man, or even seen him face to face, but his image had no shortage of screentime in COMPNOR propaganda. He was going to be the saviour of the Empire, after all...

Though I kept a close eye on him and the queen, I reserved myself to speak only when spoken to. I'm certain the queen had already enough of me in the time that my team had been holding her essentially hostage, and whatever business Korvan saw to was none of mine. My duty laid in the defense, that I knew soon would get more difficult.

I scoured the piling information on my datapad, incoming reports from ISB agents all over Iziz. The city held, for now, but the workings of the stormtrooper corps and the naval blockade were beyond my imminent knowledge, and it ultimately relied on them as the backbone of this operation to ensure the iron fist remained gripping tightly.

As I flipped to the layout of the palace's defenses and poured over the details, none of which filled me with great confidence as status reports trickled in from CompForce units unable to make their way back due to the fighting. My command to double our perimeter would be tough to execute in reality. As I checked through the reports, one marked urgent shot to the top of my screen, listed as my sergeant within the perimeter. An explosion, he claimed? Within the walls? I hadn't heard nor felt anything from here in the throne room.

I barely had a chance to make any response or order before the pop and the immense cloud of thick smoke envelopping us. I dropped the datapad in haste and went for my sidearm, but as I drew it I couldn't see a thing around. I heard the Queen yelp, and guns being drawn, and foots stepping to battle.

"To arms, soldiers! We're under attack, clear this smoke!" I yelled to my CompForce soldiers.

Feth, how could this have happened? So quickly, too? I wondered if the Despot's transport had been targetted from the air and the insurgents had bided their time.

Not being able to see a damn thing, I held my pistol close and made my way towards where I thought I knew the edge of the room to be, waving the smoke away as I barrelled through it. With any luck, the smoke would limit the insurgents for a few moments longer, and a shot might be had to encircle them. Then again, this attack seemed awfully well timed...

 

[Jonyna Si]

​

Objective One
Allies: Jedi​

Engaging: Akhuul Sautra
Equipment: See Bio. Jonyna's normal full loadout
​

"If you think you are here to stop an acquisition of relics used for destruction, you will be disappointed to find nothing but historical records. The cultists search for tools of death. Go bother them instead, child."

"Knowledge is power, nerd. I don't want you having any." Was it a petty insult to call a sith lord? Oh absolutely. But Jonyna intended it that way. She figured, if she could take out this big guy, a sith lord clearly by the feeling of dark energy that pooled off him, she could deal with the phalanx pretty easy.

A Normal jedi would charge such a foe with saber drawn. Jonyna wasn't a normal jedi. She drew her Blaster pistol and fired 3 high powered ion shots at the android, before bursting straight upward, fire shooting from her boots to rocket her into the air, before she slashed in the direction of the android with her saber, an arc of flame shooting from the blade and towards the android.

 

[Gress D'ran]

The Hellstompers
34th Walker Battalion, 1st GADF Army Divsion
Operation Sunrise
Objective: Hit back at the Imps
Engaging: Arminius Kroeger

​

"Enemy CAS!" The comms officer called out, Gress spinning with a ferver.

"All guns train on them!"

Suddenly, as the Mauler began it's run, four Co-axil Blaster Cannons opening up on the Tie, while The Missile Launcher on the back of the Sphinx quickly spun and locked onto, firing 3 seeker anti-starship missiles out to shoot down the Mauler.

Finally, the tank ripper rounds hit, shredding into the side of the leg armor, before the concussion missile finally hit the side dead on, rocking the superstructure. Gress felt the impact, but...

It almost looked as if it only left a scorch mark.

"...report damage."

"Starboard shields is holding! We lost a couple marines in the impact, but we're still at full strength. Forward starboard leg is holding, but another hit like that will disable it."

"Tell Krayt to keep their Tusk Launcher on a hair trigger. Next time another one of those karking Maulers gets into a bombing run, I want them blown out of the sky before they even get close to the ground."

"Sir! The Falcons just got hit. Deflector Shields held, but they're repositioning."

Arty was offline, but they didn't need it for now. The Ravens still had eyes on the enemy, and they needed to keep the advantage. He watched his console. The APCs assaulting the mechanized stormtroopers lit up their turrets, automated warthog turrets ripping through the air and shooting down AT-rockets. The APCs came to a halt behind the Cougars, bubble shields opening up as the marine company piled out of the Lynxs, while the Cougars opened up. Turbolaser cannons rang through the air, aiming for the juggernaut battle droids that were harassing them with heavy repeaters, while the top mounted Warthog Cannon opened up on the entrenched infantry.

The marines piled out, 6 squads of nine each, all equipped with Manticore armor that shined like the sun. He hoped it would stay that way. He knew it wouldn't.

"Thundercats, status report."

"Solo's shields are holding for the moment, 30%, but the second to switch on the Horns it's gonna drop. Those AP rounds are gonna get through eventually sir."

"Hold your fire and keep the mortars coming. Start hitting them with EMP rounds, they don't seem to have a way of countering them. Start hitting flak over the enemy mechanized. Pepper the Imps with durasteel,"

The mortars kept coming, now firing EMP, while the main turrets shifted, the flak cannons opening up just above the mechanized formation.

"Sir! The Ion blasts seems to have taken a couple of their sensor jammers offline."

Gress smiled. "Wildcats, pep your rocket pods. Moment you get a lock, smoke 'em. And Turbo-gunners."

"Yes sir?"

"Start shelling them."

Both Sphinx's suddenly came the life. Both the forward batteries, and the two side batteries on each started opening up as on the Cataphracts, a total of 12 guns opening up with a sound only equivalent to the low rumble of a tornado.

The Wildcats moved up, finally in range as their composite laser turrets lit up the enemy tanks, combined with rocket pods that fired heavy rockets that first flew up, then came down first with a Seigurium Dart shooting from the front towards the top of the enemy tanks, then the rest of the rocket, filled with HE, singing down like explosive rain.

Gress could feel it. The operation was going well. Too well. "Snipers, are you still in position?"

"Yes'sir!"

"Keep an eye out for enemy reinforcements. Once they realize they're outmatched, they'll start calling in the big guns. Bobcats, keep low and try and stay under the Sphinxes. I want you on AA duty from now on."

"Yes'sir!"

 

[Darth Saevius]

Objective: I - Subjugation of Iziz
Location: Iziz - City Streets
Tags: Alexander Garrick | [OPEN]
Engaging: Jenn Kryze | Aron Thress

“NO!” He screamed, his yell drowned out in the chorus of screams as the people began to panic. Some tried to run, pushed back and beaten by Stormtroopers…but none ran forward.

None but Aron. Who began pushing his way past the panicking masses, rushing as fast as he could towards his fallen comrade.

“HALT!” A stormtrooper sergeant bellowed, standing in front of Aron just as two other stormtroopers reached for both of his arms to subdue him. The rest of the captives were a hair’s breadth away from a full panic, of which an almost unnaturally loud voice roared above the dinn to restore order.

“QUIET!” What made the voice even more unsettling was that the mechanical mouth did not move as the words were uttered. The next sound to be heard were the impacts and clanks of metal feet against concrete, as Saevius moved from his observation position to the young man and stormtroopers. Saevius came within two meters of the young man, and appraised him with cold, unfeeling, mechanical eyes. His head craned over to the corpses against the wall, then returned to the boy. “You will watch as we continue.”

He nodded to the side with his head, clearly indicating for the stormtroopers to carry the boy off to the side where he could watch the atrocities that were about to continue. The Sith Lord’s gaze would remain upon the boy, however. Something felt... different about him - familiar.

As if he had encountered the boy before.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Objective: Do her old job
Location: Surface, Onderon
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Allies: Thomas Barran | Hex | Arminius Kroeger | Marlon Sularen | Kurineth Cull | Joseph Torson | Open
Writing With: Silas Westgard | Closed

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Ziare Dyarron | Freedom​

And they have arrived; once upon a time, in such cases, the echo in the streets and everywhere was War, Death, Rebirth. Times change; perhaps the Tribe is not as religious as it once was. Though I highly doubt it, thanks to the fact that Tommy was supposedly a Rebirth champion. Even I once said a prayer to them to protect Asher from the enemy. At the time I didn't think they existed, but now I know they do. Just like I know that everything promised in religion was a lie. The Valkyrja showed me the reality about them, just as I knew they were still hunting Asher to punish him. He was once their champion who betrayed them. Thanks to me, I saved him from their hunger. Unfortunately, I did not have the strength and power to fight them, but I hoped to protect my husband from them.

True, maybe I should hide too, before they find out I've slipped out of Valkyrja's protection. But the only thing that made me fear them, and perhaps even dread them, was that they had the power to devour my soul and then I could never return to Asher. That would be a very unpleasant outcome…

While I was thinking about it, the Dark Empire forces arrived and even launched a ground attack. As my cloak device was still online at the moment, I was able to move easily between my own forces and those of the enemy without any trouble. Tommy might be close enough now that I could even contact him telepathically, but I didn't want to tire myself out that much. We were close, but he was neither Asher, nor Kallan, nor Keilara, nor the twins. I could communicate with them without any problem at any time, without any difficulty or fatigue. With others, however, I had to concentrate a little. That left me with the biochip to send a message to others, which at the moment was Thomas.

<< Thomas, this is Mercy. I'm sending you the data package I collected. As far as I'm concerned, the Galactic Alliance has an Embassy here in the city, I'm heading there to inflict as much damage as possible on their personnel. >>

I said the message, in my mind. I used to communicate with Asher that way back in the day, and I still loved my biochip, except when I had to fight with the idiot AI. I didn't bother calling him Khan, to me the leader of the Tribe will always be a warlord. And of course, at the moment no one could hear our conversation because I called him directly on a closed chain. Fortunately, my hiding place was not too far from the Embassy, so I soon arrived near it. Now I regretted not carrying a sniper rifle, but I was really more of a melee fighter than a sniper.

I had a quick look around and managed to spot an elevated spot on the top of one of the buildings, from where I had a very good view of the Embassy. The rifle took me that distance anyway. From here I could also see the inner courtyard and garden of the building, where countless people were trying to escape and find cover. They are weak. It's burned into me for life that only the strong can survive; if I hadn't been, I'd never have gotten as high in the Maw as I did, I wouldn't have been second in the Tribe, and Asher wouldn't have noticed me. And I wouldn't have been alive a long time ago. And the GA didn't care about saving Asher, or any of the other Slave Soldiers, Marauders, they just wanted to kill them.

I aimed at one person and pulled the trigger; it was a civilian who I shot in the back, and the man was lying on the ground. The next target was an elderly and fat Rodian woman. Another shot, another dead. I continued this operation as long as there were still people out there and I had a target. I was hoping to hook some bigger fish. I just had to wait…

 

[The Vulptex]

Objective: Secure the Queen
Names: Sam, Alex, Lyra, Beatrix​

Equipment: Check bio​

Tag: Kazian Blackwood Ignacious Korvan
​

---

"Race you to the top!"

"The top of what? That skyscraper? You're crazy Sam."

"Yes that skyscraper! Come on, this world is our playground! Someday we're gonna rule this place."

"Maybe in your dreams, Vixen."

"Come on, it'll be fun! We can test our skills that Sensei taught us!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I enjoy living!"

"You enjoy being boring! Come on, we gotta prove ourselves, maybe steal a few things along the way for ourselves. Who's gonna stop us, the SIA?"

---

Not being able to see a damn thing, I held my pistol close and made my way towards where I thought I knew the edge of the room to be, waving the smoke away as I barrelled through it. With any luck, the smoke would limit the insurgents for a few moments longer, and a shot might be had to encircle them. Then again, this attack seemed awfully well timed...

Four shadows tonight.

Four Identical Vixen.

Four, yet somehow not.

The first thing to happen after the smoke was the lights going out. Easy to shoot out with a silent blaster. Then, the four fell down, lightfooted. A Cortosis blade slipped into the throat of one of the troopers, as yet four more masked figures burst through the shadow. And four more. And four more. All of a sudden, the troopers were outnumbered, and masked figures, in the visage of a Vulptex, were upon them. A chain loosed, aimed at Kazian Blackwood from one of them, while others dealt with the guards. They needed to secure the queen. Three dashed forward through the smoke, aiming right for her. Another burst forward, aiming right for Ignacious Korvan , who loosed what looked to be a cloud of unknown substances at him from a hand.

 

[Akhuul Sautra]

Tags:

• Allies: ---
• Enemies: Jonyna Si

Location: Vacinity of Tomb of Freedon Nadd, Moon of Duxn, Onderon
Equipment: In Bio
Objective: 3 - The Darkness Within

Petty insults? Did this interloper think so low of me as to let such a small flapping of gums undermine my thinking? I guess I could not blame this Jedi, as most who carry the name of my people in present time do have rather fragile sense of pride. Spending multiple millennia hiding in the shadows does much to strengthen one's pride. Such tiny, petty slights had lost their sting thousands of years ago. All I that would have been gained, was knowledge of how petulant my opponent was. If it was a fight that was desired, then a fight this Jedi shall receive.

My ocular receivers noticed motion towards a spot often used to hide a blaster pistol. As fast as she drew and fired, my frame's systems allowed for quick dodges of the three blasts. The sensors in my cognitive center made note of the magnitude of each shot. Even if they were to land, it would have still been somewhat recoverable. However, recovery was not desirable for when a fight began. A leap into the air caused split-second calculations to be made within my cognition. A rather trite strategy I often saw exhibited while observing the galaxy all those years. A mere step to the side placed me away from the landing area by several feet.

It was there, the advantage of reach of my staff worked well. In one second, I make a thrust with the burning pommel towards my opponent's spine, where then the head of my staff arced to slash across back horizontally in a fraction of the next. Forsaking flesh certainly had its benefits with my current form able to perform movements most organics could barely dream of. My strikes were quick enough to allow me to return to a defensive guarding stance where several feet stood between me and the Jedi interloper. They were probing strikes at a weaker location. If they were to hit, it would prove advantageous with the calculations being run in my synthetic brain proving greater odds of victory. If they were dodged and parried, there was a minimal probability of any negative circumstances now in my stance ready for another attack.

As I whirled to my current position, split-second calculations allowed me to throw the last of the artifacts over the phalanx and into the shuttle. Simultaneously, I signaled, Retrieve., to one of the slaves. Signals returned of success, and at least the primary piece of this haul would be stowed. All that mattered now was fending off the intruder so I could leave this place and expand my archive. All the while, my cognitive center was calculating numerous scenarios my opponent could create upon potential retaliation. With such a demeanor, and quick action, it was clear the best course of action was to simply outlast this Jedi and whittle her down. Ever since I gained this new body, time has always been a good friend.

 

[Corlys Skirata]

DT-1111​

Objective: I - Subjugation of Iziz
Location: Royal Palace Throne Room
Tags: Kazian Blackwood
Engaging: The Vulptex

"To arms, soldiers! We're under attack, clear this smoke!"

The sounds of... gunshots? Explosions? Some loud noise echoed through the chamber some 50 feet away, which drew the attention of the Compforce perimeter. It drew the attention of some of the Death Troopers accompanying the Despot, but not all.

“Secure the Despot and the queen! Get them away from the windows!” Corlys bellowed as he caught sight of some cutting apparatus working its way through the transparisteel glass, as well as a faint shimmer on the opposite side of the glass. The material was hard enough to prevent any regular tool from cutting through, so whoever was making the attempt now was undoubtedly using a specialized tool for the task. Coupled by the armor each Death Trooper wore that filtered through the effects of smoke grenades, it afforded enough time for Corlys to catch a glimpse of the irregularity from his visor, and for his call to action to do some good.

The two Troopers standing behind the Imperial Despot and the Queen quickly set about physically moving the pair out of the way of the glass and to the back corner of the room. Four others shifted their position to protect the Despot with their armor-clad bodies as the other eight sprung into action. Unlike the majority of those in the room, the Death Mask’s Acumen HUDs built into their Hellion-clas Commando Armor permitted them to pierce through the smoke layer that was meant to obscure vision.

As the lights went out and the intruders breached, the thermal vision of the death troopers took over. There appeared to be some additional versions of the intruders coming from within the palace, but given their lack of thermal signatures, and with the initial salvo of bolts having no effect; the true targets were easily identified as they came in through the window. The majority of the Death Trooper’s firepower was focused on the thermal signatures with their BKM-62x Particle Beam Rifles. Corlys noticed some stray bolts impact into the illusions to no effect, which caused him to turn to Agent Blackwood, and yell over the din: “The contacts within the palace don’t have heat signatures. They appear to be illusions!”

Despite the efforts to confuse the Imperial bodyguard, it would appear the infiltrators did not account for the technological superiority of the Death Mask unit, nor for their sharp aim. They would be like fish in a barrel lest they adjust tactics and break off the attack. Nary a hand would get close enough to touch the Queen and Despot otherwise, as the Death Mask closed ranks and laid down a near-impenetrable layer of fire as they did so. Whomever the infiltrators were would need to cut through 12 hardened and deadly elite bodyguards. Corlys got on the comm once again: “The throne room is under attack! Repeat, the throne room is under attack!”