Invasion Operation Shadowdance: TSE Invasion of NIO-held Muunilinst, Orinackra and Ord Thoden

[Ishida Ashina]

MUUNILIST | HARNADIAN | DAMASK PLAZA | SOUTHERN CULTURAL CENTRE
+0:54 FROM FIRST CONTACT
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;
the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

​

Bernard’s reaction to the shards of metal, not unlike an exploded spine, was crude and uninformed. For someone who didn’t have The Force, his pain tolerance was..almost supernatural. Or the adrenaline was just overwhelming the senses in his brain that should have reported back the pain.

Whatever he was feeling, or not feeling, took a back seat to his explanation –– the big plan reveal –– and she stepped forward to observe that which was instrumental to his theory. The Marshal lost her interest for half a second when he went into the legalities and manufacturing quality of the entertainment sticks, but quickly recaptured it when he invited her dialogue back in and mentioned explosives.

She peered at the cylinder he used to gesture with, and shook her head, her patience thinning for the grand reveal.

It wasn’t disappointing.

A low, impressed whistle of approval sang-song through her teeth, and she reached out greedily for one, plucking it from his cradled pile in acceptance to her role in his plan.

"Now how about we put on a show for our red-dome'd friends? I figure the people of Muunilinst would be delighted to give them a proper welcome."

Tightening her lips into a narrow line, she considered telling him more about the wounds he seemed to have incurred from the explosion. When she’d first arrived, all she’d seen was his back. But now, it was...all over. Instead, she made a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat.

Still, she now had a job to do. And he’d said it was more important than his well being. It wasn’t in her nature to argue. The first firework was already in her possession, and hesitation only started to weigh in her steps when she started to look for her targets. The Red Tops were less clear than they’d been at close proximity, only shaded grey silhouettes in the distance.

The distance.

“They’re not chasing us.” Ishida whispered, mostly to herself, as she looked through the steady fall of precipitation to the place she’d come from. What had been flames from the wreckage was now a pillar of smoke, doused by the rain. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, held it, and let it out slowly to calm herself as she strained to see their nefarious silhouettes.

A foreign feeling in her stomach churned, tightening beneath her ribs and hardening behind the cage. Unconsciously, she smeared her fingers over the stick of dynamite she held before looking down at its small little button that would activate the countdown to fatality.

They were soldiers of evil. Come to undo the civilization that had been liberated from them. They were evil, spreaders of wickedness.

But they weren’t chasing her.

In her uncertainty, she forgot about the Walker, and all the soldiers that hadn’t been a part of the wreckage. Ishida shook her head, steeling her resolve. Her purpose. They were here to defend. To eliminate darkness. To protect those that had found a home on Bastion.

Hesitation is defeat. The mantra of her father's scolding blossomed in the back of her mind. Even in her memory, he sounded irritated and tired; but absolute in his instruction. Their family had not survived by pondering.

How dare they poison her with doubt.

How dare they!

Decisiveness thrust the first firework into the sky, and a clean, swiping gesture from the Atrisian sent it rocketing in the direction of the looming walker. If she didn’t spend time thinking, and just doing, the momentum satiated her initial apprehension. The Force would be her guide, and she in turn, would guide each party projectile to an early celebration of life for each of those rotten soldiers.

It was soundless on approach, and for several heartbeats, there was only the grey of the sky and the silhouettes of approaching threats on the horizon while the bazaar continued to clear out. And then –––

A silent spark exploded into a thousand technicoloured particles jetting upward in a dazzling coil. Soundless in her appreciation, Ishida watched the first display; enamoured by the trail that rocketed upward in a shimmering trail of red, then pink, then twinkling orange before it started to spatter out into a delicate blue; and then engulf in flames.

No more hesitation.

Quickly, the intial spectacular eruption was joined by a crate with tens of similarly constructed festive explosives. The vibrant, multicoloured display amplified in beauty and devastation around the walker.

​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | NJO | Bernard of Arca
ENEMIES | THE SITH EMPIRE | Eva Betrik | Bastian Briareos

 

[Darth Ahriman]

​

Objective: Sabotage the communications.
Location: Landing on Ord Thoden.
Allies: Darth Strosius , Laertia Io & Aurelion Nova .
Enemies: Konrad Bolter , Djorn Bline , Hyperion .

​

​

There was a time where Valen had been a lot like Aurelion was today, or at least what the Acolyte assumed was the new entry into the Sith Order. Valen's own entrance unto the Sith Empire was one of uncertainty and clumsiness, however voluntary he had desired to join them, he had not known the path that lay before him, nor imagined the power and knowledge he would have acquired through his Master Zeptepi Zambrano 's cold and calculated teachings.

Whatever ability that their new companion seemed to be practising however wasn't at all familiar to Valen, he who glanced back across to Darth Strosius with as equally an uncertain gaze while Aurelion's painful recovery seemed to be waged beneath his armour, his bones cracking audibly, joints dislocating and for all Valen could presume, Aurelion would've been having a hell of a time. That is, if Valen understood it right, that which could not be seen, yet only heard from beneath their companions battle wear.

"I'm not entirely convinced..." Valen responded sceptically, however his voice soon trailed off and he turned his attention back in the direction of their objective location, the Communications Complex still some ways off yet; "We're too far behind schedule already" he added in annoyance. No fault of his fellow team members but the situation at hand proving most unwelcome where this had all meant to be a swift and precise strategic strike against the facility.

However, the sound of an incoming vehicle cut his train of thought, his right hand moving to his utility belt where the lightsaber was magna-clamped to his right side. Alisteri had asked them to follow his lead, and so Valen nodded in resignation, yet meant to keep a sharp weather eye on the situation for any sign of their new company making a report back home about their whereabouts. Any questionable act, would in turn see the Acolyte's blade drawn with the slightest suspicion or doubt.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
1st Brigade 'Ready-First' Combat Team
BREAKING THE SILENCE
LIFELINE | THE HEAD OF THE HYDRA
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades | Melee

OUTSIDER

Fear is a reaction.​

Carnifex, for all he was the defiler of worlds, the once Sith'ari and Emperor, Irveric had made him much smaller in his own mind. To do otherwise would have forced him into that natural reaction, the primal state of fear, to shudder in the wake of someone far more powerful, someone very willing and very capable of dealing death unto him.

He had to shrink him down to near nothingness. But what Tavlar had forsaken was one of the many tenets which made the warrior. Or at the very least, the warrior at his best. He who is at peace with himself but has the capability to protect himself and more importantly, those closest to him. For the strength, the invigoration is not in the hate of those in front of him, but the love of those behind him. Lyra, perhaps, in the end, still the most persistent soul in seeing his worth beyond what he could do on the field of battle, his worth as a man.

Then there was the 501st, the very souls who volunteered to march side by side, at each flank to each command and will of his authority that he sent down to them, even if today, they were helpless. In facing Kaine Zambrano, tours of duty, combat deployments and irreplacable experience all became one with the dust, with the ash of Harnaidan, where their military forefathers fought in the same streets to ensure the Crimson clawed banner of the SIth Empire was burned and stomped down beneath the Iron Sun, a new dawn.

Even if none of them knew it then, regardless of the collective strategic fate of Muunilinst, they were heroes, treading the same paths of glory that Tavlar led the way for five years prior. They paid the ultimate sacrifice - for this they'd defend. Even after the taunting rhetoric of Carnifex matched in grievous compound with the Force power he'd channeled through himself and unto Tavlar, one flurry after the next, he was helpless, the carnage blasting against his armor with a horrid burn that burrowed itself into the composite. Bacta and stimulant injectors worked to jolt him through the pain, an ever persistent process that seemingly managed every time.

The first wave of energetic fury threatened to throw him on his back, just as the concentrated light did. He jolted his right, cybernetic arm infront of his face to take the punishment, saving him a far worse fate as the energetic seized the synthetic limb. He was alive - but his heads up display was telling a foreboding tale, whenever it could manage it - as it crackled and shimmered to continue the now corrupted and damaged flow of information to him.

But that didn't matter. He had to finish the mission. He mustered that last mortal drive to fight, to kill Carnifex.

He managed to control and sustain his breathing, enough to speak, a voice tortured past the blackened, charred composite of his helmet, damaged electronics exposed from Carnifex's fury.

His flame burned bright, as Carnifex put it himself.

Slowly, he managed his way toward Carnifex again, nodding once with his sentiment.

<"All I have-...is one death to feed you."> He pulled a thermal imploder from the webbing over his armor once more with the cybernetic hand, crackling and faultering with the miniscule movements before moving to slam it into Carnifex's chest, pressing down on the activation charge of the explosive, the beeping beginning immediately before the silence preluding the detonation of the charge ripped at the air around them, his grey-green gaze locked with the infernal blackness of Carnifex's eyes.

<"Yours.">

Courage is a decision.


IMPERIAL SOVEREIGN
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

DISCIPLIES OF DARKNESS
Darth Carnifex | Darth Empyrean​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

Tithe was quickly starting to realise that his pursuer would find him long before he found the secret escape tunnel or safe room. While he had spent his life surrounding himself with credits, priceless valuables and rare artefacts, he had no intention of dying in a vault deep beneath the surface of Muunilist. His only means of escape would be to go through the Sith who stalked him. The likelihood of both of them leaving the Trade Federation vault alive was dwindling.

"I will confess that while the adulation is nice, it's far from my motivation," he called back. She sounded close. It could be a trick of the Force, but even though she was an Apprentice, he was far from a threat to her. Theatrics and subterfuge were hardly necessary. "My motivations are strictly, ah, monetary."

His own defection from the Sith Empire had been just that - a business transaction. While the Sith had once held sway, their influence had been on the wane in the face of the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance. He'd never been driven by their religious fanaticism, only his ability to accrue wealth. When opportunities and potential had appeared elsewhere, he'd quickly followed. The galactic economy did not reward hesitation.

“But I wonder, my dear, what motivates you?” Tithe swung around another corner with his electrohammer raised, only to find the row empty. He could have sworn he’d heard the Sith lurking nearby. He needed to end this soon. “What could the Emperor possibly offer in exchange for you bending your knee at their feet?”

Tithe swore he could her a few rows over. He inserted his TF code cylinder into one of the towering storage racks and used a small control panel to deactivate the subtle repulsor fields which kept the enormous frame upright even through the most powerful earthquakes. Bracing himself against the rack, he pushed back with all his might. At first, the storage frame held firm, weighed down by the countless valuables nearly arranged on each of his shelves. Only when a surreptitious timed artillery shell hit the surface above did it begin to lean over. Digging in his heels, Tithe managed to topple the rack just enough for it to tip past the point of no return.

The result was loud and violent. The massive storage rack tipped a short distance and smashed into its neighbour. The repulsor field held for a split second before failing under the sheer weight. From there the chain reaction was unstoppable, and racks toppled over in an ever-building domino effect. The sound of antique vaults, camtonos of credits and century-old artworks hitting the duracrete floor of the vault was deafening.

The Vice Chancellor raised his electrohammer and clambered over the piles of fallen artefacts as the dust settled, intent on finishing off the Sith.

 

[Areyon]

A R E Y O N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Lightsaber Pike | Armor​

She was in the building. This they knew. Her exact position was unknown.

The young stormtrooper continued to make his scans across the interior of the building. Aryon could hear his steady breath through his helmet. He had tried to keep a composure of calm while in front of him, although his fear was starting to break through his act. He was just a young boy. Areyon did expect him to be fearless during the time for challenging. Fear is a hard thing to overcome, especially if it's constantly there at each and every turn. He would need to get over it though. Fear on the battlefield leads to hesitation, and hesitation in the wrong moment can lead to death.

An eerie silence remained in the room. The air was still and no movement occurred. They stayed completely still...

A loud crash came from below them. Falling debris made a particular noise on the crumbled support beams of the fallen building. The exact location was found. They scrambled to find an exit to lead them downstairs, however, the stairwell had been flooded with large pieces of wreckage. Nowhere to go except straight down. Areyon gripped his lightsaber pike and handed it to the stormtrooper, how looked back at him in a puzzled demeanor.

"Use it to cut a hole in the floor!" Areyon yelled at his companion. Time was of the essence.

"How do I turn-" His sentence was cut short as Areyon turned on the blade himself. "Go!" Areyon beckoned.

The stormtrooper flipped the pike over and rammed its white-colored blade into the ground. Areyon placed his hands on the pike as well, using his body to help push the blade in a circular motion. It didn't take long until the floor was cut enough that it would give out from a simple push. Areyon put his hand to the dismembered piece and pushed it to the floor below with a Force push. The stormtrooper went first through the hole, touching the ground below. Areyon took his lightsaber, switching it off and following right behind his helper. His feet touched the floor under him, and he witnessed what the source of the loud boom was. The floor had caved in to meet the floor below, most likely caused by the sith. They repeated the same process, the stormtrooper sliding down through the cave-in with Areyon next. They touched the next floor down and scanned profusely. Their opponent was not there. Areyon reached into the calm place in his mind to sense the path, but the scent was foggy. It was everywhere, no clear path was taken. The stormtrooper started to flip over desks and moving furniture to potentially find the threat, to no avail.

"She isn't here," Areyon announced. "I can't get a feel for a location. We'll have to search elsewhere. The stormtrooper said no words but nodded in acknowledgment. The room that they stood in looked like it was a second from collapsing. Rubble and flaming debris littered the ground and broken furniture had been placed randomly by his companion. "Go to that wall," Areyon said, pointing at the wall closest to them. It would be the closest way out. Areyon took out his lightsaber and ignited the blade. Shoving the blade into the wall, he began to cut. The stormtrooper came to support.

"I never asked. What is your name?" Areyon asked as they cut an entryway through the wall.

"Dyson. My friends call my Dye." He responded.

"Dye? What a unique nickname for someone who goes into battle consistently."

"Yeah, but it's always kind of stuck since childhood. So why not?" He replied, a bit of cheerfulness in his voice. Anything to take the mind off of was good, even if it was conversation. "Well Dyson, pull one more time," Areyon exclaimed, struggling with the last part of the cut to make a hole through the wall. They worked together to get the final piece cut, and once done they pushed through. Areyon wiped the sweat off of his forehead and pushed the hair out of his eyes. Dyson still had his stormtrooper helmet securely stuck to his head. Climbing through the freshly cut exit, they made their way down to the first floor of another collapsed building and made their way out.

"Keep your eyes posted to the buildings, her scent is still potent," Areyon warned. He kept his lightsaber close to his chest and the stormtrooper pointed his rifle at every window he saw. The eerie silence was noticed again before Dyson was suddenly slammed against the ground. Areyon was taken by surprise as he took a step back. He gripped his lightsaber, activating the ignition switch. His opponent repeated a similar attack earlier in their fight, using her tails to go for the lower leg. He lifted his foot to avoid the spiny tails and slammed his foot back down to secure the tails in place on the ground. They were her biggest advantage apart from her slender frame and agility, and if he could isolate them it would make the battle quicker to finish. Areyon noticed that her claws were digging into Dyson's chest plate, so instead of attacking outright, he offered mercy. The one and only time he offered mercy to a Sith.

"Remove your filthy claws from the boy. You do that, and your tails don't join pieces of you that I cut off," Areyon said through gritted teeth. His emerald green eyes stared right into the eyes of his opponents, showing what she accused him of not having.

Emotion.

ALLIES | NIO | GA
HOSTILES | SITH | Lady Marrow

 

[Eva Betrik]

Objective III - Front Chimera
​

Location: Harnaidan, Damask Plaza
Allies: TSE | Bastian Briareos
Foes: GA | NIO | Bernard of Arca | Ishida Ashina

At any other time, Eva would have been beyond thrilled - positively fangirl-ing, in fact - that THE Bastian Briareos had asked for her name. As it was, she barely heard the question. Sergeant Zenik was dying. His burns were severe, his borrowed civilian clothes melted to his chest until it was hard to see where the fabric ended and his mangled skin began. He'd had his arms in front of his face, and that had saved his head and neck, but his hands were near-skeletal now. Eva couldn't even imagine the pain he must be in; praise Typhojem that he'd passed out. She wanted to scream, wanted to beat her hands against the duracrete of the plaza, wanted to kill something.

He'd saved her life. Those burns could've been hers, but he'd jumped in the way. How could she live with that?

"Corporal Betrik, sir," she said, finally processing Briareos's question. "SICA Soullex, Third Division." She considered explaining why she was there, how her squad had been sent in ahead of the invasion for recon and sabotage, but found that she just didn't have the words right then. It didn't really matter anyway; that part of the mission was over, and her squad was dead or dying. Vaguely, though a haze of grief and guilt, she'd heard Briareos calling in a medivac ship. She wondered if it would arrive in time, and what exactly they could do for the Segeant if he even pulled through. His arms would have to go. Who knew what of the rest they'd be able to save.

Eva felt the start of tears forming in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, getting herself back under control with little more than a single, angry sniffle. She would not break down, not here, not now. When the mission was over, when the KIA lists had been tallied and the maimed were in sickbay, she'd find an isolated 'fresher and weep until she had nothing left inside... but for now, there were still people counting on her. She was a teenage girl in her first battle, watching friends die, but her drill instructors had taught her that her first and foremost identity was now soldier. Soldiers didn't have mid-mission emotional collapses, so neither would she.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she straightened up and saluted Briareos again. "Reporting for duty, sir." In the distance, she thought she heard the whine of a repulsorlift engine, perhaps the medivac shuttle coming in to take Zenik home... but it might have been her imagination. The whole city was in chaos, and picking out a single, helpful sound was probably just wishful thinking. They had to get back to restoring order here, and that meant killing, capturing, or driving out the Jedi - those mystical terrorists who had unleashed all the chaos in the square. Despite their casualties, they still had numbers on their side. Eva retrieved her dropped rifle and got ready.

They could do this. SHE could do this.

But just then, a strange shrieking sound filled the plaza - the trails of a huge bundle of fireworks. Eva looked up just in time to see the makeshift missile slam straight into the Sith-Imperial walker, then threw up a hand in front of her face, trying to block out the blinding flash. She cried out in alarm - and pain, the impossibly-bright light stinging her eyes despite her attempt to shield her vision. She couldn't see how badly the walker had been damaged; that was a concern she'd leave to Bastian, since it was his command. Instead she tried to track whee the rockets had come from, following the smoky trail they'd left on their way across the plaza.

"There!" she shouted, pointing in the general direction of the fireworks' origin. "After them!"

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | COMPNOR
HARNAIDAN '65 | POINT KANOS, HARNAIDAN
S L A V E S _ O F _ T H E _ N E W _ W O R L D _ O R D E R

THE HARRSK GAMBLE: ENDGAME
OPERATION: DAALA

​

Enlil's words would've struck like a dagger through a heart had Harrsk's heart not grown into a stone - an unbreakable rock of conviction. Many years ago the Vizier's words would've stirred rage, fury, and even...doubt, but this was no longer the man from a decade ago. From the diligent agent of the One Sith witnessing his Sith superiors sacrifice his comrades to the COMPNOR Commissioner who had sacrificed Tulan Kor 's men on Dantooine without a blink of an eye to the scarred mastermind who would sacrifice a whole world to fulfill his father's legacy. Enlil spoke the truth - Harrsk had become the monster he had sworn to slay.

Yet, behind the sunglasses of the Commissioner, there were eyes that had become blind to anything but his final gambit, his final masterstroke to complete the legacy that had been passed down the Harrsk lineage from his father.

As Jaeger's vibrodagger plunged down upon the Vizier, his hand suddenly flinched at the burning heat of his melted wrist launcher forcing him to drop the knife. It fell to the ground with a loud rattle and as Harrsk shook the slag that remained of the launcher from his forearm, he tried reaching for his hidden holdout blaster only for his hand to sizzle at its touch. Left wide-open - for the first time in many, many years - Jaeger's scarred face contorted into lines of dreadful shock. Fear. Eyes wild like a prey gazing at the eyes of its predator.

<"Sir, we're in position. Awaiting fire approval."> the comms crackled in the command room indicating the inevitable fate of Muunilinst.

<"Fi-!"> Jaeger barked in panic but his words trailed off.

ALLIES: NIO | Irveric Tavlar | Zakaria Black | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Aurelian Sigismund | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Willan Tal
ENEMIES: Grand Vizier of the New Imperial Order Enlil [ENGAGING] | TSE

 

[Darth Daiara]

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

The room rattled with a sudden and extended roar of large objects smashing down on each other. Aradia tensed and jumped out of the row she was creeping down, only to watch as shelves collapsed like dominos in front of her.

Behind her, the rows remained untouched, but walk three more forward and she could see... the one that started it all... and the vice chancellor standing atop it like an idiot trying to stake a flag onto a moon.

She stared dumbly at him...

Then at the endless carnage...

She could still hear shelves fall in the distance, hinting at the true size of this chamber.

She looked back at him, the shock wiped away by careful impassivity.


"That was worth a lot of money." She said simply, breaking the developing silence with her own voice. He would find her approaching him from behind, her steps just as steady and unrelenting. His actions had already showed her that she had him cornered. She was in no rush for anything but answers.

"I wonder then, how much would you say a life is worth? One thousand? A hundred thousand? Judging by what you did to this room, I'd say at least half a million." She wasn't one to understand item value. She was a slave, after all.


Tendrils of the force wrapped around his ankle. It yanked, trying to send him tumbling down the haphazard pile and to her feet.

"Do you know how many you have killed?" Her nostrils flared with passion, the heat of her saber moving towards his neck.

Spoiler: The Story

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

The streets of Harnaidan, the capital of Muunilinst, were no stranger to well-dressed bankers and their entourages hurrying between meetings with prospective clients and business partners. Indeed, Aerarii Tithe knew the streets of the Muun city as well as New Escrow, the capital of his native world of Aargau. His former life as a Sith-Imperial Banking Clan official, and earlier as a successful corporate banker has called him to the world more times than he could recall.

An auspicious occasion - the fifth anniversary of the New Imperial Order’s capture of Muunilinst and neighbouring Mygeeto and Scipio - had brought him to Muunilinst to celebrate. At the time, the NIO victory had not been a great day for Tithe. The then-Moff and governor of Sector Group II had led the Sith Empire’s defence of Mygeeto alongside Grand Moff Madelyn Lowe and had only just escaped with his life, narrowing escaping death at the hands of Gat Tambor in the vaults deep beneath the planet’s surface. He doubted that the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan had ever truly rebounded from the loss of its key banking worlds.

Fast forward half a decade and the Aargauun was here as a representative the very antithesis of his old employer - the Galactic Alliance - of which he was but a heartbeat away from leading. He had shared a meeting room on Muunilinst with the NIO, not as an enemy but as an ally. The small collection of medals he wore, presented by the Lord Imperator for his role in the battles of Bastion and Ziost, spoke to his support of Tavlar’s regime, a nation that had once tried to kill him. The Sith Empire, once a sprawling galactic power, was beset on all sides from all size with enemy occupations deep within their once strong borders.

And yet, freedom remained elusive. Emerging from the galactic west, the Bryn'adûl were driving deep toward the core, consuming everything in their path. While surgical strikes had been the favoured tactic to head off their encroachment, it was quickly becoming clear that only a united front could bring the invaders to a heel. Thus will the convocation on Muunilinst had sought to celebrate the five years of victories achieved by the New Imperial Order, it also sought to devise a strategy to counter the Bryn'adûl.

The Sith had other ideas.

Despite arriving under the impression this journey could be another meeting of powerful politicians and business titans, events had taken a turn for the worst when the Sith Empire had arrived in orbit and began besieging the world.

What had promised to be a soiree of like-minded individuals and the potential to build his business contacts had become a flight to freedom. Tithe hurried toward his shuttle, surrounded by his Alliance Senate close protection team, having excused himself from the proceedings when it became clear this was not a simple hit-and-run raid. Sith Imperial starfighters swooped overhead as reports were circulating that Sith Legionnaires had landed within the city limits. While the NIO was initially caught off guard, they quickly responded and redeployed their forces to hold the city.

Come what may of Muunilinst, all Tithe needed was a few more minutes to make it to his shuttle.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

​

Thing were not going as planned.

Aradia leaned forward from her perch, her blue eyes following the figures down the street. One such man walked beneath her, his steps quick and full of intention as he fled the other way. He looked rich. In the important kinda way. If he was one of her targets, what was he doing leaving early?

Something had gone wrong.

She dropped down from an ornate gutter, her steps light as she landed between the five guards. Two were dead before they could hit the ground-- the first lives taken by her new saber.

She straighten unflinchingly between the final three, her yellow blade held alight. Thruuuum. Thruuuum. Thruuuum. It pulsed in sync with the pounding in her ears. Her eyes slid left... then right.

She side-stepping to the left.

The tension shattered into a flurry of shots. She moved like water, advancing with seamless footwork. The shots she did not block, she dodged. Blaster holes singed through their chests. By the time she was on them, they were already dead. Make that five.

The yellow blade turned onto Aerarii Tithe next, wavering as each breath brought Aradia's shoulders up and down.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

*Death of npcs were done at the invitation of Aerarii Tithe

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

Sith forces continued to pour into Harnaidan as Tithe and his retinue hurried toward their waiting shuttle and their chance at freedom. Already the scars of battle, wrought by friendly and enemy weapons fire, were appearing on the Muun's neoclassical buildings. While the Sith had bombed the planet in the wake of their defeat to deny it to the New Imperial Order, a massive rebuilding project funded by the Trade Federation and the IMP500's immeasurable proceeds had restored the city to its former glory.

But that glory was under threat. The Sith and their war machines threw themselves against the New Imperial defenders, who were joined in battle by Galactic Alliance soldiers and Silver Jedi Concord warriors. Fierce fighting in the streets was matched only by the aerial and orbit combat high above.

Tithe and his close protection team rounded another corner, drawing closer to his shuttle and their means of escape. The Vice Chancellor began running through what he needed to do once they were airborne - contact Adhira and give her an update on the summits with the NIO and the Sith invasion, have his senior chief of staff draft a statement condemning the Sith attack, call his accountant and get his credits off Muunilinst as soon as possible…

His careful planning was interrupted by a figure dropping from overhead. Within seconds a golden blade had cleaved through his close protection team. He backed into a wall, finding himself with nowhere else to do and the only survivor of the sudden yet deadly ambush. The lightsaber was levelled at Tithe, its wielder demanding to know where he was going.

“Evacuating the city,” he explained matter of factly, a career of finance and politics giving him a level of deception rivalled by few in the galaxy. He would not have found success in either career were it not for his opportunity to talk his way out of dangerous situations. “I’m but a simple banker, caught up in this most distressing assailment. I’ll gladly go on my way, I’m sure you have more pressing, ah, matters to attend to.”

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

Aradia tilted her head.

"A simple banker," she repeated, enunciating each word.

"Leaving that building." Her blade flicked east bound.

"With five armed men."


She didn't buy it, but that didn't give her anything to go off of, either. Her brows furrowed as she struggled to pull up the files she had studied. Faces, locations, titles, they were all vital intel in the war against imperial terrorism. He felt familiar, but from where? And ho-

A gasp pulled from her chest.

She had seen him before. Before this week, before Bastion, before anything that had ever mattered in her life, yes-- she knew those doofy glasses and conceited smirk.

"You," she spat, her saber recentering on his chest. She was young, but her gaze carried the fire of a thousand suns. The weight of what she had experienced since his defect sat in the hallows beneath her eyes. She had seen things, and she knew that face.


"Hands up. On the ground. Now." She had never arrested someone before, but boy could she think of things to worth doing with him.

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

His ruse - and his opportunity to escape Muunilinst unhindered - sadly failed. The Sith warrior recognised him, which wasn’t entirely unexpected given he was both a wanted traitor with Sith bounties on his head and a political leader of the Alliance. What struck Tithe the most was that he was still alive. The woman appeared young, was possibly a little unsure what to do with him, and hadn’t removed his head from his shoulders on sight. An apprentice perhaps?

Being captured by the enemy was always bad, but if she wasn’t a fully-fledged Sith Lady, his chances of survival may have ticked up from zero to unlikely, which was a start.

The Vice Chancellor was ordered to get on the ground. While he had not been able to bluff his way out, he had brought himself enough time to think through his next course of action. His powered-down electrohammer was within reach, though by the time he got the weapon into his hands and activated its energy blade, no doubt fumbling once or twice, the Sith would cut him down.

Thankfully, his pockets were customarily stuffed with credits. He knew the Sith would never accept a bribe.

So he employed the credits in a less conventional approach.

“As you, ah, wish”, he replied as he started to bend down and feinting surrender. He quickly dipped a hand into one of his pockets…

…and withdrew a stack of Trade Federation Credits which he threw at the Sith. Without pausing to see if the gambit had worked, Tithe was on his feet and barrelling down the street.

While he was no fighter, he was skilled and very experienced at fleeing. Drawing upon his knowledge of Harnaidan from countless visits, he cut through laneways and side alleys to the grand IMP500 stock exchange. If there was one building he stood a chance of losing his pursuer in, it was this one.

“I’m being pursued!” Tithe yelled to the TF01 Battle Droids mounting a sentry in the entrance lobby to the IMP500. “Prorogue her!” The droids recognised Tithe from the deep-system Trade Federation programming and waved him through the security checkpoint without stopping him for identification. He heard the droids organising themselves into a firing line as he hurried toward the turbolifts.

The Aargauun swiped his IMP500 stock brokers code cylinder - he always kept his licence current - inside the liftcar and sent the turbolift hurtling down to the deepest vault. He withdrew a second code cylinder bearing the Trade Federation logo and used it to call up a command console for the turbolifts. He locked out the other lifts so no others could use them with a few keystrokes.

Tithe took a moment to exhale as he leaned back on the wall of the liftcar. Between the battle droids and the frozen turbolifts, surely he must be safe.

Surely.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

He threw credits at her.

She flinched back from the metal projectiles, her brain screaming at her to look out! Knives! Bullets! Poison! ... Even though she could see clear as day, they were nothing but little round coins.

The fecker.

A growl rumbled threw her as she dug in her heels and took chase. He might have had a head start but Vice Chancellors rarely had time for cardio. For the first time she felt close, so close, to achieving something of value.

The winding streets barely slowed her, a glimpse of orange always visible whipping around the corners if he managed a glance back. The hiss of her saber signified her arrival at the droids, but he would not be there to witness her cut them down.

She could feel him sink deeper into the building.

She scowled as the last droid fell smoking at her feet. The heat of their melted casings thrummed against her. A bead of sweat caught on her upper lip as walked, now alone, through the security checkpoint.

The air controlled building was cool. Silent. Wherever its occupants had fled to, they wouldn't be found in the open space of the lobby. She let herself sink into the force and pressed her palm against the turbolift's panel.

The lights started to blink... then spaz, as she used mechu deru to hack in. Zaavik taught her this. She wasn't the best, but it was enough... enough to make the door woosh open. Stale, warm air scattered her curls as she beheld the drop into nothing. She stepped forward, welcoming the dark that encased her as she willed herself to fall faster.

Thunk.

The lift rattled as she slammed into it. A moment later, a yellow saber pierced through the ceiling, it's molten path drawing a circle.

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

The loud thud as something hit the roof of the turbolift was the first sign that Tithe was still in harm's way.

The flash of light as a golden blade began cutting through the roof of the liftcar served as confirmation that his Sith pursuer had not been deterred by the battle droids or the hijacked turbolifts. She was determined to not let him get away easily.

The turbolift came to a hold and Tithe hurried out into the high-security vault. Using his Trade Federation code cylinder he opened the heavy blastdoor and slipped inside just as he heard the Sith finished her cutting and drop into the turbolift. He slapped the close button behind him though doubled the reinforced doors would seal in time.

The cavernous vault was truly a wonder of engineering. Over generations, the Muuns had perfected the art and science of storing and protecting the galaxies valuables. Rows upon rows of shelves, storage racks, repulsor pods and carbonite blocks encased untold riches, piled high toward the distant roof of the vault. Material from any planet or environment could be carefully catalogued and preserved down here for an eternity.

Tithe selected a row at random and hurried down it. He recalled a TF meeting as part of Muunilinst’s rebuilding where the discussion had turned to escape tunnels and safe rooms build into the vaults to offer a means of safety for personnel trapped inside during a robbery. While he couldn’t recall the exact location, he could know it when he saw it.

The distinctive thrumming of a lightsaber warned Tithe that the Sith was nearby. He slowed his pace and began creeping between priceless objects, looking for a means of escape. The Aargauun took up his electrohammer and activated the crackling blade. Far from a trained fighter, the best he could hope for was to hold her off long enough to find a way out of here.

“I can’t help but think we got off on the, ah, wrong foot,” he called out as he continued creeping through the vault. “Allow me to start - Vice Chancellor Aerarii Tithe of the Galactic Alliance, formerly in the employ of the Sith Empire as a Moff. But you, already knew that, yes?” Maybe if he could get her talking he could buy more time to find his way out of here in one piece.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

For someone so frail and old, he was putting up quite the fight. He had to be at least, what, sixty? Judging by that hair, likely seventy. She didn't rush her way through the vault. She didn't care to be sloppy. She could feel his stress rippling throughout the force. She almost thought she could track him with it, but that wasn't needed. He started the conversation on his own.



Her heel scuffed against the tile as she pivoted left... and started walking towards the voice.

HIs question made her blood boil, as did the title he used for himself. Yes, everything was clinking into place now. She could hear the thrumming of his hammer as she drew closer... there. Just beyond this row. He was standing on the other side.

She stopped short and turned to face the invaluable objects that stood in the way.

"Yes."

She adjusted her grip, her palms sweaty on her saber as she thought about that day. "Vice Chancellor now, is it?. What, do you run the whole core? Do they even know what you are?"

It took every ounce of her control to keep her voice steady. It was like corralling a wild animal, it was easier to grab them with their guard lowered. Silent steps led her to the end of the row, the girl trying to turn the corner before he could bolt.

BREAKING THE SILENCE // MUUNILINST
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Attire
Darth Daiara

Tithe was quickly starting to realise that his pursuer would find him long before he found the secret escape tunnel or safe room. While he had spent his life surrounding himself with credits, priceless valuables and rare artefacts, he had no intention of dying in a vault deep beneath the surface of Muunilist. His only means of escape would be to go through the Sith who stalked him. The likelihood of both of them leaving the Trade Federation vault alive was dwindling.

"I will confess that while the adulation is nice, it's far from my motivation," he called back. She sounded close. It could be a trick of the Force, but even though she was an Apprentice, he was far from a threat to her. Theatrics and subterfuge were hardly necessary. "My motivations are strictly, ah, monetary."

His own defection from the Sith Empire had been just that - a business transaction. While the Sith had once held sway, their influence had been on the wane in the face of the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance. He'd never been driven by their religious fanaticism, only his ability to accrue wealth. When opportunities and potential had appeared elsewhere, he'd quickly followed. The galactic economy did not reward hesitation.

“But I wonder, my dear, what motivates you?” Tithe swung around another corner with his electrohammer raised, only to find the row empty. He could have sworn he’d heard the Sith lurking nearby. He needed to end this soon. “What could the Emperor possibly offer in exchange for you bending your knee at their feet?”

Tithe swore he could her a few rows over. He inserted his TF code cylinder into one of the towering storage racks and used a small control panel to deactivate the subtle repulsor fields which kept the enormous frame upright even through the most powerful earthquakes. Bracing himself against the rack, he pushed back with all his might. At first, the storage frame held firm, weighed down by the countless valuables nearly arranged on each of his shelves. Only when a surreptitious timed artillery shell hit the surface above did it begin to lean over. Digging in his heels, Tithe managed to topple the rack just enough for it to tip past the point of no return.

The result was loud and violent. The massive storage rack tipped a short distance and smashed into its neighbour. The repulsor field held for a split second before failing under the sheer weight. From there the chain reaction was unstoppable, and racks toppled over in an ever-building domino effect. The sound of antique vaults, camtonos of credits and century-old artworks hitting the duracrete floor of the vault was deafening.

The Vice Chancellor raised his electrohammer and clambered over the piles of fallen artefacts as the dust settled, intent on finishing off the Sith.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

TARALRAISKAZ BATTLE PLATE | HELM OF MALIGNANT AURA | FIST OF MORIDIN THE GREAT
DERRIPHAN THE DEVOURER | EMPYREAN GLAND (INSIDE BODY)

​

Smoke coiled out from under Carnifex's hand, creating a plume of acrid smog that rose up into the air before dissipating with a sharp gesture of his hand. To untrained Force-sensitives, Sith magic was often comprehended as musical ripples of energy. The energy which radiated off from Carnifex's imposing stature was chaotic, dissonant chords creating a symphony of death and fear. To those who were attuned to the Force beyond the perception of a novice, the energies unleashed by the Dark Lord were akin to a beacon whose lumens were far too great to behold directly. ​

​

Electricity crackled in the air, sharp lines of blood-red energy streaking through the air before violently disappearing only to reappear in another location. A perfidious stench, akin to burning rubber, permeated the smoke-laden air. Molten eyes peered through the gloom, sizing up Tavlar as he staggered back from the blow inflicted by the Dark Lord's beam of dark magic. Had the Imperator not been quick enough to put his arm in the way of the blast, it was very likely that the energy would have overwhelmed and killed him. Through the man's sheer strength of will and perseverance, he had survived where a weaker man would have crumbled and fallen.​

​

If there was anything Carnifex respected about his adversary, it was that.​

​

But respect did not save one from death.​

​

Carnifex pressed the tip of his sword into the floor, the blade sinking several inches and lodging between the riven marble and stone. Unarmed save for his fists and the power of the Dark Side, Carnifex approached his wounded foe. ​

​

"All I have-...is one death to feed you."​

​

"You've fed me plenty over these last few years, Tavlar. You and I are traders of the currency that is life, and we spend eagerly."​

​

Tavlar tore a thermal imploder from the webbing around his armor, telegraphing his movements as he reached forward to pin the explosive device to the Dark Lord's chest. Had Carnifex the mind to, he could have stopped him; severed his arm, knocked the grenade from his hand, pushed Tavlar away. Instead, the Dark Lord watched hungrily as the device was affixed to him, the activator key depressed and the internal mechanisms thrown into action.​

​

Once, long ago, Carnifex had faced a similar dilemma on Telti. A Jedi by the name of Damian Starchaser had confronted the Dark Lord, then known only as Darth Vornskr, as the Sith rained down upon the factory moon. In a desperate attempt to stop him, Starchaser had thrown an explosive satchel at his feet. It had exploded with the full force of its magnitude, throwing him down onto the ground and rendering him immobile for several seconds. Ultimately, it had been a futile effort, but he had respected the Jedi's willingness to go beyond what their comrades would have allowed in the pursuit of victory.​

​

"Yours."​

​

The edges of Carnifex's mouth subtly turned into a grin as the device detonated. A wall of fire rushed out from the point of detonation, bathing the two of them in tremendous heat before the flames were sucked back by the vacuum created by the rapid compression of the surrounding atmosphere. A second explosion followed, far greater than the first, sending Carnifex onto his back as his body was wreathed in flame from head to toe. His body crashed against the floor, cracking it in the process, and skidded several meters from coming to a stop.​

​

For several seconds, agonizingly long seconds, nothing happened.​

​

The building groaned and whined from the stress put on its supports, fire climbing up anything that was flammable and turning everything it touched to ash. Portions of the marble floor were superheated from the exchange, shattering into innumerable shards of shrapnel as the heat pushed the material beyond its breaking point. ​

​

In the gloom, a figure rose up from where it had fallen. Still coated in flame, the creature stalked forward towards where the explosion had taken place. Reaching, the Dark Lord extinguished the flames which had continued to burn on his flesh and the soft fabric of his armor. The armor where the explosion has struck its hardest was unphased, the material far too resilient to be compromised by a simple explosion; even if it was one as destructive as that generated by a thermal imploder. His soft flesh had fared less fortunately, dozens of burns coating the exposed parts of his arms and his legs.​

​

His lower jaw was set askew, the skin and hair burned away until the whiteness of bone shone through the blackened remnants. With a twist of his hand, his jaw was realigned with a grotesque crack, the Dark Lord rolling his jaw in his socket to test if it was still connected properly. The upper portion of his head had remained intact, the half-helmet shielding it from the majority of the blast and the flames which arose from it.​

​

"Irveric Tavlar," croaked the smoldering ghoul that was Darth Carnifex, "Suicide will not be your salvation, only through me can you fulfill your destiny. So get back up on your feet, and bring me more death. I grow famished."​

​

Darth Empyrean | Irveric Tavlar | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt ​

 

[Laertia Io]

He dropped the sword. She had been expecting that. Waiting for it. It was a distraction, one tried against her by a few dozen past opponents as well as Ursula herself...

Sixteen year old Laertia Io slammed her blue training Lightsaber against Ursula Sandraven's blade in a frenzied offense to try and crack through Ursula's staunch Form 3 defence. The Purple Skinned Twi'lek, whose white catsuit seemed eternally glued to her flesh, expended as little energy as possible as she was driven backward in the fields of Dantooine.

Ursula, as always, gave her critiques when it mattered most.

"I notice you don't seem to be taking advantage of the blow you delivered to my arm earlier." Ursula remarked, parrying the heavy vertical strike delivered by her student.

"I wanntz tuh beetz yooz Fayrez annd Squayrez, no cheetinz."

"A noble sentiment..." Ursula trailed, dropping her Lightsaber to distract her Padawan, feigning weakness before she stepped forward and lunged with her uninjured arm, grabbing the surprised Laertia, lifting her up and slamming her to the grass hard, knocking her Weapon free.

"...but unfortunately naive." Ursula continued, hand still around an utterly calm Laertia's throat. "Your enemies will not nearly be so noble. Once you have created a weakness, you are to ruthlessly exploit that weakness. But even if you weaken your enemies, they will still use every desperate trick they have left to still kill you. A cornered fox is the most dangerous animal."

"Yess, Masstur Sandraven." Laertia replied respectfully. Her gray eyes glittered in the Dantooine sunlight, Ursula's face reflected in them.

Ursula relented, releasing her chokehold.

"Again. And make sure to exploit my injured arm."

Laertia attacked ruthlessly now, raining hammer blows on Ursula's weakened left arm, attacking it in any way she could. Ursula dropped the saber, then lunged forward, going for the throat as before, but then faking out and going for a leg sweep at the last second. Laertia corrected brilliantly, somersaulting over the sweep, then swiping at her injured arm again. This time, she connected with the arm, knocking Ursula down.

"Better. But your acrobatics are too flashy." Ursula critiqued. "High risk strategies in Lightsaber combat should only be employed when there are no, more pragmatic options. Pragmatism is the name of the game. If you must break a neck you break a neck. If you must exploit the vulnerability of an enemy, you exploit it."

"Surre tingz, Ursy!" Laertia replied enthusiastically.

"Now, let's try working on your feints..." Ursula said, standing up, activating her blade, this time attacking Laertia...

Xiphos let the grab attempt of Hyperion get as close as she dared, let him commit to the move fully...

Then, employing Form 2 footwork, she elegantly slid out of his way, raising her blade to make it seem like she was going to strike in a light overhead manner for his skull, it's teal flames hissing with power...

...only to twist the bottom half of her claymore like Lightsaber in a blindingly swift motion, disconnecting the bottom half, revealing a secondary emitter, that produce a blue, half length Lightsaber blade in perfect range of his damaged arm, and she swiped at it ruthlessly in an Iaijitsu-Type motion, trying to hit it. He tried to hide it, but it was clear she was taxing his systems. He could dodge if he was fast enough, but she swung it in an upward arc trying to sabotage any evasion or sudden counter assault as best she could, now ready to strike with her primary blade. Even if it missed his arm, there was a very good chance it could clip his shoulder.

"Soldier? I'd have been your General." She sneered at him. He was wounded. He talked a good game, but it didn't hide the fact she could see how badly injured he was, and she would hammer that weakness until he became desperate enough to sacrifice a strength to stay alive just a few moments longer.

Meanwhile...

"Gentleman..." Martin said to his brothers as they all stared at the terrified banking clan members in the massive Bullion and Gemstone depository. They were in the office and reception area. There were a combination of Storm Troopers and Purge Troopers taking up defensive positions.

"Let's broaden our minds. Hudson!"

On cue, Hudson intercepted a music station with his sensors to play a sick beat.

("Party Man." By Prince plays)

Martin opened fire with his Nightstinger. Tom unleashed his cryo bolt firing rotary cannon in a careless spray in front of them. Kabuto tossed smoke grenades. Lundgren, Bernthal, and Stevenson dual wielded their Model 1 Disruptors and focused on either the gun emplacements as the party music played. The Model 2's lumbered forward to terrified purge Troopers and Banking Clan members, either chewing them up with machine gun fire, or hacking them up with their machetes like it was a slasher film. Which in all fairness, it was.

"They're gonna make me a Major for this, and I ain't even in their fething Army!" Martin shouted, gunning down a banking clan member.

"It really is a lovely voice." Tom remarked as to the singer playing through Hudson's vocabulator as he beheaded a Purge trooper with an electro staff.

"Here, Brother." Tom said, tossing the Electrostaff to Kabuto. "This stick is too small for me, and ruins my cosplay."

"Haha o uyamau." Kabuto said, targeting a fleeing Muun.

"Heh." He chuckled, tossing the staff at full power like a spear, impaling the Banking Clan.

Stevenson in the meantime held up a Teller.

"This is a stick up!" The skeleton Droid growled. Tell me how to open the depository vaults, or you're gonna die!"

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

XII
Operation: SHADOWDANCE
MUUNILINST, 865 ABY

Objective 3: BREAKING THE SILENCE
FRONT CHIMERA

Commonwealth Forces: Willan Tal Enedina Tal Tyrell Lockhart

Allies (NIO): Irveric Tavlar Rurik Fel Enlil Jaeger Harrsk
Kolson Vrask Areyon Detritus Ren
Ravraa Vyshraal Zakaria Black Hâwmâr Lurais Julian Qar Noel Strasza

Allies (NJO/GA/FO/SJC/): Aerarii Tithe Ishida Ashina Aaran Tafo Bernard of Arca Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

Allies (RGO/SOM/OTHER): Aurelian Sigismund Vilaz Munin Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Enemies (TSE/CIS): Shuklaar Kyrdol Darth Mori Arctus Silmar Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex
Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir Eva Betrik Lady Marrow Bastian Briareos

Gowrie's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Rapier (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon: Barbershop Razor (Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)

Wildcat Battalion (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
45 Cataphract Tanks (-10)
14 AFVs (-6)
5 MLVs
2 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad
Other Vehicles
2 Stolen Repulsorlift Tanks
2 Stolen Scout-AFVs
5 Stolen MLVs (+1)
2 Stolen Ammo-Transports

MAKE OR BREAK I - HOLD THE LINE

As all had been expected, the Sith-loyalist forces beyond the loose static-line had chosen to make a final charge for glory, and like the Lord-Commander had predicted, the sight of so many of their vehicles near the center made the vanguard complacent in their advance; all proving fatal for a vast majority of the opposing forces on approach, and subsequently blocking access to all the remaining troops and vehicles still operating behind them. Utilizing the stolen enemy-vehicles to cunning effect had worked, much to the relief of the outnumbered Galidraani, and though the challenge would still be heard and seen across the line, the stiff resistance offered by the other chokepoints and ambushes (along with the feat they'd just achieved for themselves) gave a morale-boost that seemed to rejuvenate the perspiring, dust-covered defenders who readied themselves for another round. Dunwall and the northerners of Galidraan III, as worked to the bone as they were, wanted more to show for it, and Gowrie was all too keen to offer more, praying that he'd hear swoop-bikes on the horizon soon.

'The staggered-line idea was karkin' amazing! You can see our lads givin' 'em sweet Hell from 'ere, man!'

'All up and down the line as well, Tomlinson. Come take a look on this, you'll see-see it for yourself.', the Guard-Leftenant began, stopping to point out the progress on the map-holographic display he'd lifted out from his ACV. Letting the sharpshooter from Dunwall grab a seat on a half-broken cement-boulder next to him, Scott would let Tomlinson get a feel for the layout before he started pointing out the relevant blips, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned into the overturned personnel-carrier behind him. Taking a few draws, Byron would toss his cigarette to the Northern-Galidraani corporal and light another one, smoking a few drags before continuing,'We've had one hell of a fight here, but we still might need a little tightening-up for the next scrap we're expecting to get into.... See those speeder-blips up the top there? They weren't so close to us twenty minutes ago, I assure you. Friendly, but Gowrie wants them to bring all their pursuers into our line-of-fire.'

'You karking what, mate? Is Gowrie mad or summat? You can't possibly expect us to handle every last- just look! There's loads of 'em!'

Despite the damage inflicted on their ranks in the coordinated attack, with the Sith killing almost forty men and wounded almost three-times as many in total, spirits were high in the ranks of the Wildcats and the Dunwall Irregulars as the mop-up procedures were enacted across their lines in the background; and still, Scott could very easily understand the apprehension of his latest acquaintance, seeing the difficulty in the task that awaited them for himself as the wounded were loaded onto AMVs nearby. To survive the next attack would take a miracle, even if every tank in the Battalion had been brought out for the occasion, but Byron Scott had faith in the strategy, and even more so, had faith in the abilities of his Lord-Commander. Then, after turning to meet the gaze of the disbeliever, Leftenant Scott smiled warmly as he replied,'If we can handle Csilla, this should be a piece of cake. Believe in yourself, believe in everyone who's fought alongside you so far.... They genuinely don't know what's about to hit them, especially when the swoop-bikes finally turn around to inflict damage of their own.', playfully thumping the sniper on his arm as he chuckled with endearing encouragement.

'I hope you're right, Scott.'

MAKE OR BREAK II - TENSION AT THE LAST HURDLE

'Alun.... ALUN, IT'S WORKING!!!! THEY'RE DRAGGING THEIR BAIT INTO THE INNER-CITY DISTRICTS!!!'

After watching for over thirty minutes, the blips skirting the edge of the Thistle's top-down display began to follow the route that Gowrie had personally mapped out for them, inducing an ecstasy in Lord Aron that he admittedly hadn't expressed in months, perhaps not since the Stygian campaign; and though he knew he had to reign it in for the sake of the others, the Kellas' soul was reassuring him, letting Aron know he had more than earned that intense joy he could feel surging through his entire body. Feeling almost as elated were Captain Reed and the Thistle's crewmen, sneering with adrenal delight in contrast to the heartfelt joy their Lord-Colonel was feeling in that moment, and due to the fact they knew what Leftenant Scott and Lord Gowrie were all too quiet in discussing; the odds, after all, had been stacking up against Harnaidan's defenders with gradually-increasing momentum, and to an extent the numbers-disadvantage was too glaringly-obvious to ignore.

However, Reed would be the one who would bring the impending death-toll to his Lord's attention, picturing the burning destruction for both sides in the struggle as he asked,'Dae ye no 'hink this presents a challenge for a combined force o' three-thousand, an' three-thousand at best? Fae where ah'm sittin', even wae the swoop-bikes turnin' back t'lance their catches, we'd stull be outnumbered by at least five-ti-wan by the time the bikes make their escapes.... Sure we can handle that sort o' madness then, Milord?', with every sincerity in his heart. The Alun Reed of old was seemingly gone, as the Ginge of old had expressed too much of a love for the job to be overly-concerned by the death of the brigade's subordinates; but the Ginge standing before the Kellas was one with a heart for the struggle of the Battalion's servicemen, one with enough empathy to make the right judgement calls if Lord Aron was no longer alive to make them. Barran had chosen well, and Gowrie would never forget that fact, finally seeing in his 2-IC what Lord Erskine saw in him on Serenno.

'Aye, an' ah'm sure we can push the line as soon as we're done wi they remnants an'aw. But enough o' that! Aw that chite aside, makes me happy seein' ye actually givin' a feth for once.... Let's go meet oor vanguard, eh? Just need t'send wan wee message afore we leave...'

<<To the legendary Strasza,
Greetings from the Tuaths of Galidraan III

Our bearded mutual friend tells me much and more of your capabilities, and sends his regards. We used to be joined at the hip, but the Woad seems to think I'm responsible enough to build my own unit from the ground up. LOL! Great fun, but we both know he'll disapprove once he finds out how we've been behaving.

About that though, we've only gone and gotten our friends on the swoop bikes to stir up a hornet's nest of Sith-loyalists. And to top it all off, I've invited the lancers to entice the hornets deeper into the city, and perhaps even mapped out a specific route that draws them right towards our defensive lines. Fun fun fun all-round, but alas I would need to ask if this sounds like fun to you? If so, we can map out a perfectly quick route to the frontlines and meet you there.
Wildcat One out!>>

A brief distraction of a large series of explosions from somewhere else in the city would occasionally cut through the commotion of their celebrations on the move, giving a vivid, multicoloured backdrop to one side as they approached the frontlines. Whoever had set those explosions and pyrotechnically colourful detonations, the fact the charges had detonated in a near-rhythmic sequence indicated the Galactic Alliance's sector would be safe to make their next steps unopposed as a result, and the explosions that intermingled with the display were showing to be their own pretty, bright, loud proofs within that assumption. Even the shockwaves emitted by the blasts were colourful, kicking up dust in a multitude of eye-watering hues as the Thistle's crew stared on in complete awestruck reverence, as seeing such awesome displays of firepower was something of a beloved experience for the soldiers of the Free-State. They'd seen enough destruction and explosions to last a multitude of successors an even greater multitude of lifetimes, but to see it exuding such frightening colour and shade variations in unison was something entirely new to the Wildcats, something they knew they'd remember for as long as they lived.

 

[Noel Strasza]

F M J
W A R M A C H I N E

4TH DOOM DIVISION
THE WATCHMEN 7/9

OBJECTIVE | DELTA
DECEASED Aron Gowrie

Seconds dragged into minutes. Minutes into more. And with each one passing, the Warmachine grew irritated. Her brows pinched together beneath her helmet and she adjusted her hold on the weapon she clutched. Light flickered from the transparisteel panel fixed in the door she waited by, cluing her in to the dangers rising. The acrid smell of warping metal reached her before the groan of the building did. Before the heat signature warning from her droid. Fire. "You've got to be fucking me sideways," Noel hissed in her frustration, stepping forward to thrust a steel-busting leg into the door, kicking it open.

Smoke poured from the stairwell, rushing through her to spew into the corridor at her flank. Flames raged, ravaging the wall and rising as the integrity of the entire building came into jeopardy. It was no ordinary arson, of course, it was invoked. The lower levels were already compromised. Had she still natural blood in her veins, perhaps she would have felt the spike of adrenaline surging through her body. <"Well, looks like another disappointment, boys."> She lamented into her comlink, turning away from the boiling pillar to move into the hallway she had set up prior.

<"Bailed out, huh?"> The question was punctuated with amused laughter, making the woman's brow twitch, <"It's okay boss, we can just go back to poppin' heads.">

Hoisting her grenades back into their roosts as the heat rose further, rippling the air with its toxic fumes, Noel knocked her knuckles against the side of her boxed helmet. She muttered a slew of curses and kept her scattergun in her hands, still alert, and soon she found herself standing before the windows lining the East side of the hall.

<"Oh man, I can see your blue-balls from here."> Another unappreciated jest, <"Get out of there before the building comes down.">

A swift bash from her weapon saw shards of the glass scatter far to the busted ground below, raining down through the flames roaring from the shattered windows beneath. Smoke obscured her vision, rising high into the sky as blackened, choking tendrils. She glared at these, too, watching them for a few moments as if she couldn't grasp the fact that she had been so close to sating that endless, rabid hunger for violence of hers. Deciding it was best to move, at last, Noel returned her scattergun to the sling nested at the base of her spine and swept her scattercloak forward, tucking the frayed edge over her unarmored limb, holding it free from the thrusters of the jetpack secured in place there. Immolation of her own design was certainly not on the agenda for the rest of the day.

The cyborg activated her pack as she leaped from the building, allowing herself a fractional freefall before countering the heavy tumble with a swung of her legs and burst of counterpower from her jetpack. Halfway from where she was prior to her destination amongst her men, a chime of alert resonated in her skull. A message was displayed. "Why would you send me a message when you can just-" She huffed, the sound growing garbled with her bother. The text was dismissed from her HUD when her boots struck the roof of the building housing the rest of The Watchmen and her black-clad squad emerged from their roosts, beckoning her over and down to the cover of exhaust shafts.

"Silver lining? You won't have to go to repairs."

"Aaaaand you can't yell at me for missing again."

"We've got a summons to the front from one of DECEASED Erskine Barran 's boys." Strasza interrupted before their attempts at optimism could go off the rails, "And you bet we're going."

She lifted her left arm to access the tacpad situated into her gauntlet and swiped a metal digit across the surface, injecting her coms into the greater coordination channels shared by the New Imperial defenders.

<"Wildcat One, this is Deader, send me your coords, over.">​

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Muunilinst, outer city.
Allies: NIO, DECEASED Aron Gowrie DECEASED Erskine Barran Noel Strasza Zakaria Black Irveric Tavlar
Enemies: TSE
Objective: 3

The fighting was intense, chaos all around the battlefield as the speeder forces kept trying to hold mounting Sith lines. Jin was desperate for a plan, someway to reroute his forces in anyway. Anything that would stop the Sith assault from obliterating his forces. Such things he knew would not be easy, even difficult as defense forces all around were struggling to stop the slow encroaching forces, cries, explosions, and cries, the revving of speeder bikes roaring. Nothing but the never ending chaos of war and Jin grew desperate. He didn’t expect so many Sith, or at least ones that were brave and desperate enough to destroy the New Imperials. Filled with such dread, he feared that if he failed than the oppression of Sith tyranny would return, that the dream of a nation would be destroyed, it was only mutually assured destruction for the two.

“All bikes on me, pull back! We must regroup and rethink our plan of attack. There is just too many of them!” He said over the comms, the remaining units pulled out the best that they could. The Sith forces just taunting him, as the young Kyrel had been a coward. Foolish for this tactic, it didn’t help that the guilt of just sending young men to their deaths weighed deeply on his conscious. Even now with death all around him. The bikes speeding away in a tactical retreat, in that moment a transmission came through the comms. A wave of relief washed over him for the brief moment at least.

The voice offering hope, but only with his men goading the Sith to follow them. At first he thought the man was mad, why did he want the Sith, legions of troops to follow him. He gave it through before finally speaking, his tone not hiding his relief nor desperation. “Wildcat One... Iron Wolf here, boy am I glad to hear someone friendly. I almost thought this suggestion of yours was crazy.. guess they weren’t kidding when they mentioned you galidraan boys were ballsy. I’ll see about drawing them in, just bring in the pain and see if we can take Em with us!” He said ending the transmission looking back to his men, turning around his speeder bike starting to head back for the Sith lines.

“Alright boys, we got some help for us, all we gotta do is lead these karking Sith deeper into the city, there we are gonna get the help we seek.” Some reactions he got were hopeful, some even frightened but they all knew that this battle needed to end. It would not end with the Sith taking it from the New Imperials, not now, not ever. The rest of the speeders routing back towards the taunting and massing Sith lines. A few bikes running head on to the lines, and turning to head back. Goading them to follow. “C’mon you murglaks come get me!” Jin taunted.

The speeders moved, when regrouping the Sith lines started to move, the cavalry line didn’t move too fast, not to outrun them but to give them a target the couldn’t refuse, moving smoothly into the city, Jin spoke back into the comms. “Wildcat one.. Iron Wolf here, moving deeper into the city, gotta a lot of Sith here, whatever you boys got planned, now would be a good time to tell me what the hell is happening!” He said, anxious as the following Sith even fired at him and his men. Nervous for what the next move would be.

 

[Bastian Briareos]

Objective 3
Allies: Eva Betrik
Foes: Bernard of Arca Ishida Ashina
​

"Betrik. Stick close and I'll see you off this world. That's a promise Corporal." Rockets whined and roared over their heads suddenly. Their colorful explosions quickly informed Bastian that they were fireworks. Thankfully not hitting them, but the walker.. His focus turned back to the squadmate of Corporal Betrik. The light in his eyes dimming. Falling dull. Lifeless. A soldier to the end. Protecting his own.

Betrik called out she'd seen the enemy. Rising to the call to pursue Bastian rose to face his foes. He raised no gun. Nor his sword. He listened. As the explosions died down and only the rain and din of battle remained. "Hold soldier. Hold." Bastian held her by his free hand.

Stomp...................... Stomp

"It's still up. Ah ha ha. Betrik it's still up!" Bastian sounded giddy now. He took a step to see behind him. The walker faced his way. It's pilot clearly picked up where the fireworks were coming from. Bastian was smiling now. He turned back to look at the two standing there in the open. "You stupid Jedi. You're karked now. Do you here me! Karked!" Bastian released Betrik's shoulder. Fumbling now to retrieve something from in his coat.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp...

The walker was on the move. The pilot probably pissed someone was trying to kill them. Well fireworks penetration value against a shielded walker was basically nil. It served Bastian just fine though. He knew that walker wasn't unsupported. But had a whole bunch of little infantry swarming about it. Infantry that would follow that walker wherever it went.

Bastian got a hold on what he wanted, a whistle. In trench warfare they used these as the signal to go over the top. The men would scream, climb out, and charge across no mans land. Served the same purpose whether in a trench or not though. His plan was simple. To get all his soldiers screaming, charging, and worked up in to a frenzy. The psychological affect alone would hopefully unnerve them. And the charge would get more soldiers here faster.

He drew in a deep breath. Pressed the whistle in between his lips. And blew. Then again, and again...

"Hooraahhh!"

"Hoorah!"

"Hoorahhhhhhhh!"
"Hoorah!"
"Hoorahhh!"

More and more voices joined in. Screaming hoorah. A rising chorus of an army choir in the heat of battle. Oh it was a thing of beauty to hear. Bastian stopped whistling. Their symphony rose to constant roar. Boots hitting the concrete and puddles. Bastian raised his gun. Taking aim not at the Jedi buy a crate beside them. Staring down the sights. He fired once. The massive bullet he lobbed at them shattered part of the crate. Sending chunks and splinters back across the ground.

This was his warning to them. A chance to run. The Sith Army were going to take this square. That there was no question. Bastian didn't know about the civilians, but there should have been enough time by now for the Jedi's troops to have gotten them on the move. In actuality though he wanted the Jedi alive. Not to capture them or anything like that. Just a far more calculated purpose to him.

The move was theirs to make now. Soon a heck of a lotta shooting was about to go down.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
SONS OF MANDALORE
NIV 'CONFIDENCE' COMMAND DECK
Beskar'gam | Main Weapon | Side-Arm | Melee | Grenades
Cradle | RUUSAN Injector + Chernil'borg | Ravenous Grenades
STRAPPED WITH EXPLOSIVE

PAIN
ORINACKRA '65
In Command of NIV 'Confidence'
​

Hypotheticals. Ingrid began to badger his thoughts with 'ifs' and 'buts' of these horrid circumstances he'd placed her within. No doubt, to cope, to give herself some delusional grandeur of the thought that she might have a choice at all. He ignored almost every word she said, he didn't care what she 'thought' she might be able to do. Sith were aboard this vessel already, he could track them all from the ship's motion sensors, the escape pods were ejected and as soon as he might get word they might try and dash for escape, the vulnerable belly packed full of armed and ready Petard-class Droid Starfighters would reign in Trajan's revenge in an instant.

And just as his mind rung the thought, a Sith came closer. He watched her intently on the motion scanner attached to the bridge console before soon enough. She was at the entrance way. As Ingrid spoke, Trajan looked right past her and toward the door which, in spite of the lockdown he'd placed on the bridge, managed to be opened. No doubt a Sith slicer was responsible, he wasn't all too surprised and figured they might have had someone working on prying open the bridge as soon as they boarded.

Being the man with a bomb strapped to his chest and a death wish in his heart, he seemingly wasn't too worried by her abrupt entrance.

"Ah, Mandalorian. That makes the suicide more believable. How selfish of the commander of this ship to set it to you to throw your life away while he runs."

<"Sure.">​

He said, blatant apathy in his tone before he slammed a fist down unto the command pinned to deploying the Petards, all against a closed launch bay, the exposed and armed explosive cores would recieve enough punishment to detonate within the belly of the ship. As far as he tried to drive into the Sith formation, he ultimately didn't care. He was going down today and all aboard the NIV Confidence were going with him.

The next move, he pressed the fuse of the Baradium charge secured to his chest. Shrouded in the force obscuring cloud emanated by the Ysalimiri he approached Alina with a slow stride as alarms and alerts rung out through the command console of the bridge and the otherwise sterile lighting reverted to a deep crimson through the ship.

He walked toward her with that characteristic rattle of his boots in each step, firing burst after burst of his disruptor rifle, single handidly wielding the carbine in his right before willing his left wrist up, taking aim down the vambrace and firing a shrieking burst of whistling birds locked unto her figure.

AFTER ACTION REPORT:
THE PETARDS HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED AND BEGIN TO EXPLODE IN THE SHIP'S LAUNCH BAY
TRAJAN'S SUICIDE BOMB IS ARMED​

ALLIES | NIO | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Gallius Orcana | Jivim Vaak
ENEMIES | TSE | Ingrid L'lerim | Alina Tremiru | Damian Frost | Moff Drybis Lyken | Errix Feh'room | Tranquility | SV-2121

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Orinackra System, NIV Confidence, Command Deck
Objective II.: Surviving
Equipment: Military uniform || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Trajan Fett | Alina Tremiru

[ Requiem for a Dream ] ​

When the man didn't answer, the woman understood that if she even told the others, they might no longer have time to get off the ship. Not only the bridge was undermined, but the entire ship was a trap. That's why Caarlyle Rausgeber escaped from this ship and that's why Ingrid shouldn't have been here either. The last-minute occurrence of her transfer to this ship was a trap that could have leaked. Maybe because this information was what lured the Sith into this place. She then tried to send a telepathic message along the ship, but was unable to do so due to her injuries.

From trying, from exertion, her nose also began to "bleed", black smoke leaking out of it and she started to gasp the air again. She still looked at Kurze with a cold look, when she heard someone arrive through the door, not in the most peaceful way. Because that part was behind her, she couldn't see who it was, and because of the back of the chair, she couldn't turn her head to see who they arrived.

"Run… this is a trap!" She tried to shout, but could only make a hoarse whisper.

Heard a woman's voice, but she didn't recognize who it was, she hadn't heard it before. But after all, there are quite a few Sith, the woman couldn’t know everyone. Trajan answered the woman, then hit the consoles. Ingrid could feel the very faint vibration even before the consoles and the bridge turned into deep crimson color. There were explosions on the ship. Soon the whole Confidence will explode.

She regarded this kind of act as cowardice, not caring if she'll die, but for others to die that way. There was arrogance and cowardice in that woman's eyes. Not for the soldiers; she considered Trajan as invertebrate and infinitely cowardly. To a disgraceful, someone who brings shame to all of the Mandalorians. No, she couldn't let thousands die because of a cowardly worm. Her military honour did not allow this, maybe there will be time…

As more people are likely to start to fear and worry about the explosions and certain death, Ingrid set out to try to absorb these feelings to see if she could do something for the last time in her life, even if chances are it would be her last act, because this action will certain consume all of her power and strengths maybe her life force too what she still have.

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

OPERATION MALICIOUS ENDEAVOUR
Allies: LT-137 | Albrecht F. Herlock | Gallius Orcana | Scourge Harz | Trajan Fett
Enemies: Darth Banshee | The Amalgam | Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Decimus | Ingrid L'lerim
Location: The NIV Grimace

​

Carlyle beamed as the interdiction mines came online. Trade Federation Defence Forces. Who would have thunk it? The corporatist state, the smarmy and slimy bastards who had their pockets in every little warren of the New Imperial Order finally paid their due. This was a most... Fortuitious state of affairs. At least for now. And now, it appeared his enemy was launching an all or nothing attack. "Milord!" A call from the crewpit, "The Confidence has primed its compliment of pertards for detonation. How do we proceed?" Rausgeber's brow quirked. The pertards was it now? He had to give the Mandalorian credit. There was flair in that. Bombacity. A real statement. One which he could abide by. The desolations of both Dosuun and Mandalore almost, almost made them kin. Only Rausgeber was a better class of warrior, in his so haughty opinion.

"This changes nothing." Rausgeber quietly drawled, musing with a smirk, "Proceed to starboard, close ranks." Carlyle continued, "We will launch fighters, and move to delay their force." Rausgeber could see it now. It struck him much as L-49 had. With the indomitable Itsutusk, bearing down on his command as he held the line. Obviously now in this day and age, it was different. That had been a battlecruiser, primed for detonation. This was merely cruisers and the like. Smaller, but the dramatic tension still creased with every moment. "Hard to starboard. We'll cut around. Give the Confidence the.... The space she needs."

The task force moved around the vessel, providing a widened arc for it. The light turbolaser guns on the escolta and warrior-ii class vessels were ideal at probing against the Sith forces attack. Nimble batteries on fast tracking mounts allowed for a comprehensive spray. One which simultaneously worked to eliminate fighters, or at the very least catch them unawares. The waves of fresh faced New Imperial pilots swarmed to the challenge, pressing to engage as the Sith made a final gambit play toward the Confidence. "Move our bombers," Carlyle commanded, "Petards, all others," Carlyle commanded, "Target priority one, their command vessel." Carlyle added.

If the Mandalorian were to have his fun aboard the Confidence, then it would be Carlyle's duty to engage and engorge. One more Sith scalp to his name. One less inept commander for their failing navy. And one more rung up Carlyle's ladder. Oh this was delicious.

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Adrian L’lerim Terassi Vandiir
Prince of the Eternal Empire, Disciple/Acolyte, assassin, sorcerer and alchemist
Uncrowned King of the Pocket Sand, Heir of the House L’lerim, Member of the Primyn Group​

Location: Muunilinst???, Definitely not Kalidan
Objective II.: Breaking the Silence; Survive
Equipment: Mnami Mirsûra, The Crow Cane | Deck of the Pocket Sand | Estran Attire | G1 OmniLink || Empyrean gland
Tag: Jax Thio (planning) | Open

[ Supreme ] ​

Adrian's situation still didn't get better because one of the soldiers got into the store where he was. If he comes in, he will surely find him and kill him for his former actions. He had to start and go back to the only exit, he meant that door what he saw. Meanwhile, through the Force, he followed where the soldier might go to make sure he didn’t notice him. So a very unpleasant cat-and-mouse game started. In any case, the young man finally arrived at the door.

He was even lucky because he could open it so he wouldn’t have a voice and the soldier wouldn’t notice it. However, Adrian's luck to this day has run out here. For he found no escape route behind the door, only a small storage room from which a single door continued to open, and that led to the refrigerator. And from here there was nowhere to go. Feth! Not to mention the fact that he was already trapped here because there was nowhere to go further because the soldier was about to arrive.

After that, Adrian really wasn’t capable of much. If the soldier sees him, he will surely shoot him or call others. Either way, the boy would end up dead. Fortunately, there was an option. The tactical retreat! Or, as his sister, Eina called… the escape. It didn’t really matter, but the point is that he can survive the events.

He began to concentrate as the soldier turned to where the boy was. He immediately raised his weapon, saying nothing. Adrian looked at him and smirked. The soldier fired, but by the time the shot reached where the boy was, Little Vandiir was already back in the Netherworld.

Last post.

 

[Gallius Orcana]

ALLIES | NIO | GA | SoM | SJC | NJO | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Trajan Fett | Jivim Vaak | Rexus Wenck | Albrecht F. Herlock | Delvrarus Sanders | LT-137 | Viers Connory
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | EE | Grand Moff Decimus | Damian Frost | Alina Tremiru | Tranquility | Errix Feh'room | SV-2121 | Moff Drybis Lyken | Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman | Darth Banshee | The Amalgam

NIV PRIDE OF THE EMPEROR

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AZURE HAMMER COMMAND

​

"Sir, we have spotted them! The Sith and the surviving Legionaries have attacked chokepoint 33-Derek and are fighting through. Casualties estimated to 35 per cent of the force. The alarm had been triggered by yet another camera technician that had tracked the nearby operating systems. The corridor was engulfed in blaster fire and lightning, the two groups fighting with all their strength to hold the other at bay.

Gallius came to the camera monitoring station and watched with interest as his troops were slowly pushed back. The Sith-Imperials were fighting valiantly, despite their precarious position. They were weak, indeed, but they were fighting like rats. Cornered and trapped, they were standing their last ground with the desperate hope of winning. How pitiful. The Commodore had felt what was going to happen next. Now that blood was spilling, his visions were increasingly clear. Bathed in blood, his mind was becoming aware of many things in the back of his conscience, he could not see but he could now sense. The feeling of a cold shiver refused to leave him. It seemed an invisible being was standing behind him, its icy claw caressing his spine. And whispering.

doolB...
reffus meht ekaM.
meht lliK. meht miaM. meht nruB

doG ym, uoy tsiser tonnac yehT.

​

With a painful shock, the cold hand disappeared. The officer had to fight to stay up on his legs. He had lost all sense of balance. He grabbed the closest computer and made sure not to let it go. It was his anchor. His failsafe.
The voice was gone. He had not understood what it had said, but he knew perfectly well what it had demanded. Blood. As always, the voices were only interested in what quantity of haemoglobin he could spill. The moment he was unable to provide them with what they needed, he would be cast aside, left for something else. Maybe Jax? Maybe the Sith? He could not tell who the voices would champion next. But this would not happen. He would use the voices to stay in their influence. Aided by the visions, he could not be losing. He refused to.

The voices continued feeding him with intuitions of the near future. He was certain the Sith would break the barricade if it was not reinforced, albeit with heavy losses. Doubtlessly, the New Imperials were entrenched behind a heavily armoured barricade and supported by a number of automated turrets of varying calibre. And that would play in their favour. The Sith had shielded her men when they were exiting the hole in the floor, but under the heavy fire, it had seemingly disappeared. Now, the Legionaries were taking damage like anyone. But the voices warned him of a possibility. Rerouting Jerec would prove useful, undoubtedly. He would be the hammer crushing the Sith on the barricade's anvil. His troops were deployed a few hallways away, and they could be deployed before the defenders broke under pressure.

But Gallius doubted. Could the voices leave him? If they preferred Jerec and his more bloody manners, he would be in trouble. Surely the voices would help him defeat the Sith. But it could mean he had a rival. One he would have to subdue, or his authority would be challenged. Starting thinking about the possibilities of his crew turning on him, the Commodore realised what he was doing. The voices were influencing him deeply. He had to fight back these thoughts. His crew wasn't going to rebel anytime soon. Jerec would not get the voices. He would keep them. At all costs.

"Order Jerec to engage. Crush them."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

AZURE HAMMER COMMAND - FIFTH FLEET​

Name​

Class​

Status​

Commander​

NIV Pride of the Emperor	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Commodore Gallius Orcana​
NIV Conqueror	Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Kir Ralkhone - NPC
AIV Foudroyant	Foudroyant-class Fleet Carrier Vessel	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Erika Richthofen - NPC
NIV Revanchist	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Captain Gar Ventanus - NPC
NIV Percussor	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Sev Vatar - NPC
NIV Shadow of the Emperor	Donnager-class Star Destroyer	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Ma'nuu'roduo - NPC
NIV Anaxes's Honour	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Commander Viel Yularen - NPC
NIV Iron Fist	Inceptus-class Assault Ship	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Jurg Haskler - NPC
AIV Pride of Anaxes	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Albrecht F. Herlock
AIV Courageous	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander James Halsey - NPC
AIV Audacious	X100-class Escort Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Julius E. Mannerheim - NPC
NIV Cygnus	Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant-Commander Len Pard - NPC
NIV Imperial Paragon	Escolta-class Frigate	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Giel Thrackan - NPC
AIV Oceanos	Veers-class Star Galleon	- Fully crewed, Active​	Commander Delvrarus Sanders
AIV Silencieux	Silencieux-class Stealth Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen - NPC
NIV Imperial Hand	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Dek Rakad - NPC
NIV Eternal Crusader	Caçadores-class Corvette	- Fully crewed, Active	Lieutenant Fulthius Rax - NPC

FIRST TODHUSARS REGIMENT

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
FIRST ANAXSI FREE BRIGADE​

Jerec was on the hunt. His men had been patrolling the Pride of the Emperor since the first boarding alarms had been triggered. But the Sith was yet to be found. And truly his sword was beginning to itch him. Since Concordia, he had not been able to trade blows with a Sith, and he was ashamed his victory mark had dried before he could add another one. Not to worry, though. He knew that, as long as the Force Iconoclasm remained a vivid principle of the New Imperial Order, he would trade blows with the Sith, Mawites, and every warlord that would stand in his path. His eagerness for fight and violence would be satiated, and, if he was lucky, he might as well leave this world for the other a smile on the lips and a Sith's throat in the hands. Spilling blood.

Suddenly, a communication ended his thoughts about dying in glory. The voice of Commodore Gallius Orcana was deformed by a visible control over his body. Like he was fighting something. And he did not like it.

"Captain Jerec Yularen. Order is to reach chokepoint 33-Derek and slaughter every Sith-Imperial you find. No survivors. Authorisation to use sonic weaponry, but preference should be given to explosive maserbolts. Go, and spill blood."
"Understood, Commodore. They are already dead, the TodHusar replied. This evolution of his deployment was welcome. He wanted to kill badly. And he knew how to do it.

He gathered two squads of TodHusars and had them prepare their weapons. Each one was reequipped to sport a sonic carbine or an explosive maser rifle, along with blaster-dampening grenades, vibroknives and sidearms of various sorts. The heavy weapons specialists grabbed flamethrowers and maser assault cannons.
Jerec himself took care to tidy up his blue and white cape, clearly denoting him as the leader of the force. Forgoing any rifle, he preferred to stick to his shatter gun Verpine pistol and his explosive maser pistol. This unusual pair would wreak havoc with surprising stopping power and rate of fire. Finally, he also made sure his vibrosword was right in place. He would need it. He added three grenades and a knife, then commandeered his troops to the targeted hallway.

He was surprised to see the Sith-Imperials pouring in such a high number of a small hole on the floor. And a Sith along with them. Of course. He was going to challenge her to duel. And claim her head, of course.
The arriving reinforcements opened fire at extreme range while charging towards their foes. Explosive maserbolts and flames began raining in the corridor, allowing the New Imperials to push forward. In the seconds it took them to acquire cover behind doors, prefabricated barricades and other types of cover, dampening grenades had been thrown, creating a deep smoke barrage masking each side to the other and weakening the blasterbolts flying towards the New Imperials. On the other hand, maserbolts and flames weren't affected by it all, and retaine their strength.

The berserk knew what he had to do. Walking towards the enemy, he opened fire repeatedly using his infrared vision, using the HUD to assist his aim, in hopes of headshooting the Legionaries as quickly as he could. Jerec was eventually forced to take cover, but he was close, now. In the meantime, the heavy assault cannons had been positioned and were ready to open fire and slice the Sith soldiers.

Jerec waited for the fog to dissipate then stood up. Raising his sword towards Darth Banshee , he theatrically proclaimed: "I challenge you, Sith. You have killed enough men today, and by the great Kraig, your reign of terror ends here. Face me, and I will add a victory mark to my helm. Flee, and I'll kill you anyway. It is time to face your destiny."

The TodHusars were holding their fire, now. It would be Jerec against the Sith, or else everyone would die.

Spoiler: TodHusars Equipment

Captain Jerec Yularen:

• HK-01 "Steelfist" Jumpsuit
• ZXR-1 "Precision" Energy Sword
• BH-Specter Slicer Vibroknife
• DM&S-AC01 Assault Cannon (Pistol configuration)
• Verpine shatter gun
• Thermal detonator (1/1)
• Project RUUSAN MK1 Ravenous Grenade (2/2)

TodHusars Squads (20/20)

• HK-01 "Steelfist" Jumpsuit
• BH-Specter Slicer Vibroknife
• DM&S-AC01 Assault Cannon (Rifle and Assault Cannon configurations)
• DM&S SR-MAS Sonic Rifle
• DM&S-125 Flamethrower
• Thermal detonators
• IL-62g Null Grenades
• Rhypalm (Grenade delivery method)

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Objective //: Hunt the Emperor 2.0 //:
//: Target //: Arctus Silmar //: Kesran Opadal //:
//: Allies //: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //:

​

A foolish moment for the Shadow as she watched her arrows that had missed her sight burrow themselves into the Muun officials. The feeling of the leather glove tightened as she held onto the bow tightly. She had assumed that the arrows had been blown aside - forgotten by the Sith. But, instead, it was apparent she was messing with someone far more intelligent than he looked.

Allyson did her best to not seem bothered by the act, but she feared the worst. For so long, she tried to keep her hands clean, but the Sith did their best to help the Jedi stain them. Maybe she was no better than the others in the Alliance; she wanted to be so desperately - but the Emperor had ruined that.

Eyes followed the man's movements as he dissipated into the dark clouds towards the weapon that had been thrown at her. The brief moment that Allyson had been in contact with it, she could smell the power that lingered on it. It had been imbued, formed with the dark side of the Force. Unfortunately, there was little time for the Corellian to try and analyze the possible materials used for the spear's design.

He drew closer, the spear slashing towards what he possibly assumed to be her weaker side. Stepping back and leaping with the aid of the Force, the agile Jedi avoided the strike, and despite the glowing of the Force light on the tip of her arrows, she still fired the nocked arrow. Still being in close, she hoped that he wouldn't have much time to react. She aimed tried and true to his neck, hoping to end this in a swift execution.

Feet gracefully touched down as if she had flown to one of the Muun's benches. The Spy's trained fingers nocked another arrow into the bow and fired again. It landed where she once stood, causing a small explosion in front of the Sith and releasing a thick smoke between them. Already seeing their fellow politicians die, those left of the Muun government took a chance with the smoke as a cover. "Mongrel, that's a new one." She quipped, crouching where she had landed, eyes scanning the smoked room. "Doubt these guys have anything to say about the planet though, you know how Imperials work." A slight grin appeared on her face, though hidden. "Could always just surrender, and I can escort you back to talk to the Imps if you wish, or you can just die here - no skin off my back."

Allyson remained where she was perched, another arrow drawn, waiting to see where the Sith would pop out - if he decided to pop out. "You know, I'm a bit surprised I didn't see any of your Confederacy buddies. Did your party not impress the Ice Queen Srina Talon or sway her buddy Metus?"

In the background, the slicing spider continued to work. It weaved through the networks it could reach from the Muun terminal. On Sybila's side, the green light would flicker briefly showing that the spider had done its job and its work. Whatever and whoever was trying to infiltrate the woman's tech would find a looped image of dancing crabs and Sybila would find relief. ​