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

[Errix Feh'room]

OBJECTIVES: Assist in rescuing the Eternal Empress.
LOCATION: Aboard Raider Class Corvette
TAGS: Caarlyle Rausgeber Albrecht F. Herlock

Spoiler: 890m Fleet Under Errix

• 1 - Raider Class Corvette(150 meters)
  • Audacity - Errix’s Ship
• 2 - Lancer-class Frigate(500 meters)
  • Pride
  • Prejudice
• 2 - DP20 Frigates(240 meters total)
  • Bellicose
  • Belligerence

The Audacity and its contingent forces had continued to loiter in the debris field as best they could. The explosion of a large ship had disrupted their continued presence however, causing them to set themselves adrift with the flotsam that had swept across the space surrounding the planet using chemical based thrust in lieu of the easier and quicker ion based engines.

It had taken little to adjust themselves with the cover that they had, even having a few pieces of debris pushing them along with the push after some harrowing moments of damage control. The Lancer Pride had suffered topical damage, leaving a few of the ports for their hidden armament in questionable status, but with little chance to make a space faring voyage in the time being, there was little they could do to secure the damage other than hope and pray it operated properly in the times to come.

All the ships had been pushed outwards from the planet. The passive systems aboard the Audacity keeping track of enemy incursions while simultaneously giving the commanding officer a chance to survey the scene. The ship the boarding party had attached themselves to seemed to be making a desperate maneuver while other fleets had begin to engage one another in standard orbital battle.

His own vessels had held fire, remaining little more than part of the slowly dissipating debris field as he weighed his options.

From the sensor array, a voice came bearing alarm. The sensors had picked up an ion trail from something nearby, though it couldn't be identified or spotted. Errix’s lip twitched, knowing full well something was abroad and on he prowl. The Raider Corvette was good for assault, but not for prolonged evasion. It was too noticeable for such a thing.

The odd shapes of the other vessels would help, but the delta shaped structure of his vessel would eventually give them away paired with the reflective array of solar panels on his sides.

His lengthened canine bit into his lip. Not wanting to commit to anything without further chance to observe the enemy but knowing they would be found out in time.

"The Audacity will move out and attempt to aid the vessel the Empress is on. Prepare the blue flares to signal the Bellicose and Belligerence to follow shortly after in attack formation. I believe we have a guest that needs a welcome surprise."

There was an affirmative from all around him. Sensor crew preparing to open up their active scanning systems while the small off handed section of the pit began to operate the jammer systems aboard the vessel. An active communication jammer began working, attempting to cut off any nearby transmissions as the Audcaity lurched in the debris field.

"All power to shields, shunt as much as we safely can to the rear section and full burn to the offending vessel." Errix commanded, feeling the ship brush against nearby debris after it collided with their shielding system briefly.

The ship pushed past, slowly beginning its ascent out of the field as the four vessels that had once been around it watched silently. The Crews aboard each vessel prepared themselves, sealing off bulkheads and moving to their gunnery positions and waiting for the appropriate signals to move.

"Blue and green flares on my mark." Errix whistled, waiting silently for the first sign of contact as the Audacity turned to assail the prison vessel.

 

[Bernard]

Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
----
(What's The) Scenario​

Harnaidan, Muunilinst
+0:49 h after First Contact
Damask Plaza, Southern Cultural Centre

BLUFOR: GA, NIO, Ishida Ashina
OPFOR: TSE, Eva Betrik , Bastian Briareos ​

<Great. Get your plan on the move!> Bernard had to suppress a smirk, even as he strained to hear what the Padawan was saying. He could barely hear anything over the ringing echo of the explosion bouncing around in his head.

<I'll get the bomber,> Ishida continued.

<Don't run too far, I'll need a hand in a minute,> he replied.

The searing ache in his back didn't let up, but he decided to walk it off rather than spend precious time resting. Crimson troopers were pouring into the bazaar and Bernard wasn't sure how they'd take to a gathering of civilians under the protection of hostile forces. Stories of Sith cruelty ran far and wide across the galaxy.

He stumbled through the portière of the first tent he saw, leaving a trail through the rubble leading up to it. The shop was filled to the brim with fine dining wares, colourful glass bottles, and painted ceramics art, half of which had fallen and shattered. The floor had turned into a minefield of shards and colourful dust. Bernard sighed and began to wade through the mess. Shards crunched under, and the white exterior of his shoes soon took on a rainbow of hues. Small dust clouds puffed up where he set his feet, clinging to the damp fabric of his trousers. By the time he'd crossed to the other side of the store to pick up a few of the vials that held the dust his lower half had turned into a mess of shades from blue, red, yellow, black, to pink and purple.

<We've got a walker incoming! And red-domes coming up on our left flank!> One of the rangers yelled into the comms, blaster bolts sounding in the background.

Bernard cursed under his breath. The Sith were moving faster than he'd anticipated, there was a chance his efforts would be in vain if he didn't move fast. He charged out of the tent, trailing rainbow dust, and pulled up a strategic display on his vambrace.

Blue dots were scattered on the southern half of the plaza, he assumed the civilians would be in clusters around them. A large number of red dots moved along the western edge of the bazaar, some along the centre. The blue dots began funnelling into the southern exit, slow and steady. Others remained pinned near Sith troops around the central line of the plaza. The Alliance's zone of control was decreasing quickly.

His back burned more fiercly, and his breaths became more difficult to draw. The duracrete had become slippery, and the shards in his boots didn't make it any easier to run along it. It took most of his concentration to avoid slipping.

He nearly missed the larger tent near the southern centre of the plaza, sliding to a halt before it to push his way inside through its flaps. If his guess had been correct, this would be where they stowed the-

Black eyes stared at him from the other side, wide and trembling. A Nautolan sat crouched behind some crates, one arm held in front of two smaller ones. Something metallic glinted in his other hand, and it became apparent to Bernard the man was poised to lunge.

"Whoa, hey, I'm one of the Jedi, the good guys," he put his hands palm-forward in front of him, "see, I even have the sabre," he pointed towards the hilt at his belt. "And a badge," he held tapped his vambrace, which materialized a holographic starbird that gave blue light to the inside of the tent.

The Nautolan relaxed visibly, sighing in relief.

"In the darkness it was hard to tell- It's good that you're here, cloak- err, Master Je-," the nautolan started.

"Bernard," he interrupted.

"Khoan,"

"Nice to meet you. Have you seen any of the rangers around?"

"He ... he got hit in the back. He didn't make it," the Nautolan's gaze lowered.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Things are going to be fine. We'll get you out of here, don't worry," Bernard pulled off the vambrace, flipping on the strategic display, and approached the Nautolan. "Take this. We're in the centre, the blue dots are the rangers, the red-domes are the red dots. Try to get to the southern archway, you'll rendezvous with the rangers there and they'll get you out of here. Promise."

The Nautolan took the vambrace and slid it onto his arm. He nodded in thanks, then took both of his kids by their hands and made off towards the tent flap.

"Dad, why's that man got red on his-"

"Shhh, come on, we're going somewhere safe," his father replied, pulling the kid closer to him as they walked out into the rain.

The kids stared back at Bernard. He gave them a smile and a wave. Was he a Jedi, was the last he heard of them. He gave a prayer to the Force, that they didn't find any legionnaires along their path, then turned to survey the tent. Before him were arrayed lines of bulky crates and rectangular cases, stretching wall to wall. With any luck, some of them held just what he needed, but there were so many he barely knew where to start looking. He walked along the rows and started pressing open cases and crates at random, finding various kinds of junk of different measures, until he set eyes on a stack of red crates bearing the company logo of Bazco Entertainment Solutions.

He couldn't suppress his grin this time.

<Ishida, I found them. Do you have a way to get to my location?>

 

[The Amalgam]

The Amalgam had been happily decimating the guns in the Corvette with the Assistance of Seela Leini , who remarked that Hayabusa Starfighters under command of Albrecht F. Herlock were close to engagement distance.

"Negative. Concentrate fire on the Corvette. Fly closer to its hull if they close in to frustrate their attempts to target and hit us. They'll be at great risk of hitting their friend if they do."

But as she continued firing she noticed the starfighters being pulled back, Frigates moving forward to try and fire in them.

"They're trying to cover the Confidence..." The Amalgam hissed in realization. "The Confidence is repositioning, launching escape Pods. This gives me an Idea..."

The Amalgam directed her squadron, breaking off from the Corvette and racing towards the Frigates.

"Gun it! Top Speed! FULL TOM CRUISE!" The Amalgam exclaimed.

She and her squadron raced towards the Frigates, directing her allies to fly now in a combination of corkscrew and sidewinder patterns as they closed on the frigates, and the shot under the hull of one Frigate en masse, directing Star Scythe 4 and 5 to harass the defenses of the Frigates they flew under, ordering them to mostly stick to evading turbolasers and only firing rarely or unless given no other choice while still dodging frigate fire before making a massive U-turn upward...into the Confidence, though she kept trying to jam the targeting of the frigates now behind them...

And directed her squadron to fly right through the path of the escape Pods getting launched, to further frustrate targeting attempts from either the fighters or the frigates, and she began firing at the escape Pods out of pure cruelty, destroying some.

"Star Scythe 2, target the Confidence's side guns with Star Scythe 6 and 007. Star Scythe 9, 8, and 12, continue firing at escape Pods and their launch bays. All others, engage the Confidence Engines. Launch everything you have to damage them. I'll be on engaging the Fighters."

The Amalgam began to dodge and weave through Confidence Laser fire, noting the smaller warship's were still sticking to a defense position that was rapidly closing ranks.

Caarlyle Rausgeber

 

[Darth Daiara]

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.

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.”

 

[Noel Strasza]

7 7 7
W A R M A C H I N E

4TH DOOM DIVISION
THE WATCHMEN 7/9

SMACKDOWN | Darth Mori

The synapses of her mind were the few organic features untouched by her reconstruction- her battle-hardened intuition was a precious resource that could never be replaced by an augmented process. The ability to make snap decisions and change strategies under pressure was what set cyborgs apart from raw machines; what made them more capable and reliable soldiers. <"Hold your fire."> Strasza's droning voice broke the static of the comlink shared by her squad the instant she noticed the storm of lead wasn't achieving anything. <"Save your ammo."> She paused briefly, glancing to the shuddering trooper beside her.

"Bones, spit it out, what is it?"

"Feels like energy's swellin'," the scout remarked, shaking his head, "somethin's not right." Like the other Watchmen, his trigger finger withdrew from its poise upon familiar comfort and he sat back, turning his attention to the spotter tucked beside him. "You feel that?"

Noel glowered towards the Sith on the street, realizing what the tactic had been. Spend their ammunition, it was obvious, now. But that was easy to adjust to, wasn't it? She drew a breath through the rebreather of her helmet, reconsidering the approach she wished her men to take. But amidst the mechanical thoughts meshing in the forefront of her mind, a siren wailed from the rear. It was a heat signal, an abrupt shift in their environmental temperature pinged by the droid socketed into the shoulder-roost of her shoulder. Data bled across her optics- a warning spouted through code with a meaning that seemed fruitless until the cyborg saw the first flash of crashing apocalypse.

Light screeched from one arcing charge to the next, interweaving across the churning air between their target and where she was, emitting a blinding flare and filling the air with lethal intent. A chain reaction. The tip of the electrical, latticework of a spear aimed right for them. "BRACE!" She shouted, flinging herself backward and away from the window, grabbing the arm of the trooper beside her and manhandling him to safety in the process. The heat felt through her armor penetrated the remnants of an office space evacuated to create a sniper roost. Glass exploded, shattering and skittering across the floor in the sparse places it didn't simply warp and melt from the point of contact. An unnatural static clouded her skull, ushered in by the temporary scramble of her onboard augmentations and systems.

Despite the nature of her eyes and the guard offered by her visor, she was blinded. Untouched by the lightning direct, she felt its effects regardless, surging through her chassis and fighting to overpower and fry her servos. "River!?" She shouted into the hissing air, rolling over onto her arms to push herself upright. Bones scrambled away, moving toward the trooper who had been closest to the blast, coughing all the while. Noel joined him by the man's side, hooking her grasp beneath his arms to drag him away from the shattered window frame. "C'mon man, you're alright!" It tasted a lie, and she knew thoroughly that it was precisely that. His heart rate was stuttering, struggling, and offset by the surge of electricity that had bitten him.

"Major, h-he got hit." Bones stuttered, cradling the trooper's helmeted head between his hands, "His armor's fried on that side, look."

Leaning over, she saw it.

The entire right side of River's armor had been licked by the lattice of electrical power, scorching and melting through until his bodysleeve melded with his flesh. Braised skin filled her nose. It was a grievous wound, one which masked a much deeper problem, as she knew. Pieces fell into place, connecting to draw her to a conclusion then. The reason she and Bones hadn't suffered the same fate. The same reason the lightning had arced through their comrade in the manner it had: he had tried to absorb it for them, and as inexperienced in using his Force power as he was... he had been unsuccessful. The realization brought nothing but a hateful grimace to Noel's face, masked by the indifference of the war-scarred helmet she donned and hidden behind the confidence of the toothy grin painted along its side.

<"You three alright!?">

Hidden from ground view by the angle they had taken in retreat, Noel stared out of the shattered window and toward where the voice originated from- the building across from theirs. <"River's wounded, Bones is going to take him to the medics on the ground.">

"Maj-" Bones spoke up, attempting to interject.

<"Rally up with Bravo, I'm getting them to the ground and linking up with you six.">

<"Copy, we're on the move.">

She turned her attention back to Bones, "Let's go, we're moving."

"Where can I take him?" he grunted partially, assisting her in hoisting the unresponsive soldier up between them.

"Medevacs are stationed central to the south of us, get him there. It isn't far; you two are done. Go with him, make sure he gets sorted out. Julian Qar should be there." She kept to the point, shoving open the door and stepping out into the dead, darkened hall.

They would have to be swift to ensure River survived at all; bacta auto-injectors could only do much.​

 

[Kuben Woods]

Equpment: Combat Harness | Lightsaber | Disruptor Rifle | Sawn Off Shotgun | Body

Objective: Serve the Empire by rescuing the Empress

Tag: Alina Tremiru , Caarlyle Rausgeber , Trajan Fett , Rexus Wenck
​

To say that Damian was expecting the enemy to arrive with heavier reinforcements would have been quite an understatement. This slaughter had been clearly too easy for them, which was why he and the other shock trooper were pulling security down this side of the hallway while the others did the same to their opposite and the slicer worked. The few troopers they'd seen try to counter attack their position before hand had given away most peaking positions from the attacker's side, which meant that Damian was in prime position to shoot anyone stupid enough to poke their heads around the corner to attack. He sat and waited, covering the side across from him down the hallway so he could peak just inside each hatchway. He could tell which doors were open, which weren't, and that limited the number of spots he'd potentially have to return fire on. His compatriot was doing the same, a tactic developed in the school of infantry that they were raised and in some cases bred for. When the slicer finally finished, he would speak quickly as he downloaded a small copy of the layout and forwarded it to the teams, each now being updated with more clear directions to their specific targets. Damian was about to call for them to resume their advance when the wookiee said something he didn't quite catch. He wasn't fluent in Shyriiwook, as he left tasks like that to interpreters and others who might be attached to him. But when they disappeared and there was the slight movement of light from the entryways before them, Damian decided that a warm welcome was in order.

He didn't aim for where they would be, but rather, for the corner of cover they'd be using to conceal their chest. Disruptors were nasty weapons, and while they disintegrated what they directly hit, whatever was around it was still quite mangled and able to be used as shrapnel and concealment.

And if it punched through and hit the poor sod on the other side, that was their problem.

This all happened in the span of a half second, and as the two primary issues of resistance ( Rexus Wenck ) finally revealed themselves, Damian would finish his trigger squeeze. Bolts of highly unstable rounds would zip through the air at the enemy, technically aimed in their general direction, but more of them would hit the walls just before the troopers. Crackles of energy, sparks of disintegrating matter, superheated slag, fragments, and even some smoke would be kicked up just in front of the Death Troopers' position. Judging by the wanton..... was it yelling or screaming by a boisterous one?

Someone had their spice spiked a little this morning.

For the love of whatever you hold sacred can you please shut up!

Pffffffft, I bet if I was stuck in his head we'd get along famously.

Sure I bet you love talking it up with lower lifeforms with lesser discipline.

How dare you!? Some of my best friends were lower life forms, right before I killed them.

It would take mere seconds for Damian to process the situation. At least two if not more enemies were posted up at the end of the hallway, which meant that trying to get past without killing them would be disastrous. At least for the rest of the troopers here it would be. And the Empress was waiting, something he couldn't abide. The slicer had given them the position of the objective, which meant he now knew where to go, and what stood between him and his objective. He would speak into his comms to the squad around him as a plan formed in his head.

"When I move, cover me!"

He would only pause behind cover to swap out charge packs for his disruptor pistol, and do something many of them had been either trained or otherwise figured out how to do. He began overcharging the rifle, jamming the trigger down into its charging state to allow for more powerful shots before doing a small juke into the hallway and rushing towards the enemy position. The rifle would hum as it began charging, and charging, and charging, starting to spark and glow as Damian held it in one hand, drawing out his small sawn off shotgun in the other. One of the many dangers of overcharging weapons is that they had a tendency to release said overcharge when they came over the threshold for the weapon's capacitors. This was something that would correspond to the weapon's damage type, blasters making a large blast, ion weapons serving as a larger EMP grenade, and disruptors being very, well, violently destructive.

Which was what Damian was counting on as his comrades increased their rates of fire to try and suppress the enemy, who could either stay in cover where it was safe only engaging with maybe two or possibly four to their six, or bring troopers into the hallway to be violently disintegrated. As Damian closed the gap, he had a decision to make. Right, or left? He threw caution to the wind and threw it at the door to the right, the weapon clattering to the ground as it began to glow ever brighter as got close to the trooper's position. And as the bolts seemed to slow around him, Damian would raise the shotgun mid stride. He would take careful aim, ensuring to sight in his target and hit center mass. Then squeeze the trigger as the right side barrel of the weapon would belch out a slug with a massive BOOM! It would take less than half a second for the slug to smack into the rifle causing it to detonate with a blast and crackle of light and energy. It would be as though a Class-D Disintegration grenade would have detonated right in front of the troopers, and right on its heels Damian charged past their position moving full bore to his objective. The shock troopers and the allies the woman had brought would deal with the enemy.

His mission, his purpose, was the Empress. And by his Emperor's will, she would be rescued.

At any cost.

 

[Larro Paeb]

​

Objective: Take out the Sith
Allies: NIO
ENGAGING: Shuklaar Kyrdol

————————————
​

As the tanks and droids moved ever closer to the young Imperial Knight, he made sure that his position remained unchanged. These Sith-aligned Mandalorians would not achieve their goal of taking over the territory of the New Imperial Order. Sith were murderous people, and would bring nothing but suffering to worlds.

Slowing to a halt, the tanks looked imposing over the single Knight. But that would not distract him from his goal.

“I shall not, vod! You aligning yourself with the aru’e is the reason blood is being spilled! The Darjetti only bring suffering to our people, not security! And you are foolish to be purposely blind to this!”

Swinging his saber around, he pointed the blade at the tanks. Through his helmet, he stared down his lost brothers, confused at how they could be so ignorant to this. He knew the only way to stop their support to the Darjetti would be through the traditional way.

“I wish to challenge your Alor. If I conquer them in battle, you stop your support towards the Darjetti. But if I lose, I shall find a way to combat the Darjetti some other way. No more of our blood should be spilled, but this aid to the enemy can go on no longer.”

The young Knight knew this was going against what the New Imperial ideology was, but his tradition bound to him too strongly. No more Mandalorians blood shall be spilt, unless things came to the worst.

And if so, he would not hold back.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective //: Protect Innocence //:
//: Aaran Tafo //:

Like there were many types of Jedi, there were many types of Sith. Some slew the weak, bathing in the blood of the innocent, and then some had morals. Quinn had only walked the bath of darkness to save someone. A part of her hated the choices she had made, but to see the woman suffer from cards dealt to her, she accepted her choices.

A hood covered her blonde hair as she knelt beside a small child. The child had just watched a Sith slay her parents, leaving her to her hiding place. A slender hand reached out to the child, the back of the hand caressed lightly, wiping away the soot-stained cheeks. “Shh, you’ll be okay- I promise,” a tender voice soothed the child as she moved towards the figure, clutching onto the dark cloak tightly.

Outside the building, more battle raged, and Quinn cursed under her breath. It meant either the Sith Forces were moving in faster than she expected, or the Jedi had pushed back the Sith and decided to stain the walls with more blood. “My Bruder,” a small voice drew Quinn’s attention. “Your what?” she questioned gently, trying to hide the strain in her voice. “My Bruder, he wuz playing in his room.” The girl pointed over her shoulder to the collapsed room. “Oh no.” Holding the girl close, Quinn moved quickly to the rubble and began to dig.

The Force helped lift the heavier rocks from the pile while her hands picked up the lighter ones. Quinn felt the soft skin of her fingers tear against the jagged pieces. Tiny muffled cries echoed as she began to dig deeper. The crying was weak, and Quinn could feel the boy’s life force beginning to fade.

She saw a group moving quickly through the building’s collapsed wall. Through the strain of trying to free the boy, her hood fell, and she cried out to the group - hoping that they were allies and wouldn’t decide to strike her down in front of the crying girl and the dying boy.

“Help! Help me, please! Over here!” Quinn cleared her throat, using the Force to amplify her voice. “HELP! There are wounded children!”​

 

[Ishida Ashina]

MUUNILIST | HARNADIAN | DAMASK PLAZA | SOUTHERN CULTURAL CENTRE
+0:50 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.

GUARDING WELL, PLEASURES

​

"Move!"
"Get to cover!"

Fury curled her lips into an indestupitable snarl that opened her mouth just enough to taste the rain and the residual saltiness of the noodle vapour. She heard the urgent bellows to get the soldiers out of her way. They’d been freed. The mindless legionnaires with sworn loyalty to needless slaughter, evil and tyranny were getting away.

Because she’d allowed it.

She should have killed them. Her mercy had prolonged their existence. If she wasn’t destroying darkness, she was only helping sustain it. The bitterness of that reality stung her tongue, overpowering any other taste that existed there and she gnashed hotly.

<We've got a walker incoming! And red-domes coming up on our left flank!>

She should slice them up into —— her eyes snapped up and followed the hyper speed of a shot that coloured the darkened sky. It peppered against metal, sparks flashing overhead in quick succession that left her little time to prepare.

An instant before the collision, she saw the eruption.

Master Sardun would have cut through the vehicles, using his hammer to redirect their fall to a harmless distance. Ishida lacked the luxury of his mountainous stature. She’d be crushed if she tried, nor did she trust the integrity of her shielding capabilities with the anger that swelled in her gut.

Before impact, the little warrior wrenched in a lunge and landed so forcefully it jarred her teeth hard enough to taste blood. The concussive force of the speeder against the ground was only the first wave that licked up her feet and vibrated through her body. Her elbows and knees burned. The second, was the after-effect of the fuel exploding and roaring out in another star-bright burst of flames. FWOOM!

And then another. The fall of the first brought the second and the third and they piled on one another, flames growing and consuming in an unstoppable roar of flammable materials.

What fed her raw, animal panic was the wind. A thick, fast whistle of fuel and flame rushed past her and pushed her from her original position on the surface and she rolled, stopping against the juncture of a building and the ground.

An involuntary bark escaped her throat, and she folded her hands back over her head to protect herself from the deadly blossom of fire and metal debris that seared overhead. The sopping ground pressed back into her, rejecting the Padawan’s desire to be absorbed by it and disappear.

A sob threatened at her jaw, the only thing keeping it from clenching so hard it might break. A whimper at her own mistake that resulted in her almost being blown to smithereens, that resulted in more destruction, more danger. That sob slipped out a shrill gasp. Her fist tightened, and she pound the pavement in manifestation of her emotions before bottling them up again, shuddering.

Whether they’d been left in the glovebox of a Skycutter, or belonged to a merchant of one of the stalls that had been crushed, a deck of Galactic Illusionary game cards in the glovebox fluttered amidst the flames like Atristian blossoms. They were drenched, scorched, the colours threatening to bleed and she scraped them toward her, flashing the surface only to reveal a set of Imperial Trooper eyes looking back at her. She reached for another card, the picture faded from the elements but the silhouette of Jedi robes and ignited blade were apparent. Without reason, she shoved them into her pocket and twisted to look over her shoulder at the throbbing flames behind her.

<Ishida, I found them. Do you have a way to get to my location?>

All that useless self-inflicted torment had nowhere to go but up, and she tilted to look through the pelting rain. Water stung at her eyes, running down her cheeks, into her ears, nose and mouth. She coughed through conflict that quivered along her lips until they twitched into something that recognized serendipity. Amusement pulled the corners of her mouth in a curved line and she nodded to herself, in vague disbelief at the fortune of the vehicle that had been used to try and take her life.

One, at the end of the tether, had been terribly tied. A poor parking job. And hadn’t collided down with the others.

Horrifyingly, a small, stressed but manically girlish giggle bubbled out.

<Unbelievably, yes.> Was her non-telling response, the crackling and constant din of the accident continuous behind her. She didn’t even ask what it was he’d found. Was it because she trusted him, or did she not care? Likely neither –– the reality was, the Padawan was too selfishly consumed with her own predicament.

Choice presented itself as two options.

One: Get to Bernard, disregard the enemy and continue drawing them toward them. Continue being that distraction. ​

​

Two: Destroy the enemy. Eliminate evil.​

Smouldering desire to crusade against darkness motivated her like a slow-burning fire turned wild, and burned away rationality that suggested she listen to Bernard. Help him with his plan as the priority.

But maybe..just maybe there was a chance option one would be a means to option two.

"The Force can guide you in more ways than one. You need not always ask."

Screwing her eyes shut, she whimpered again. She’d be a fool to ignore the subtle generosity of The Force. How audacious dare she be?

What was the likelihood she could accomplish both? Was that also The Force's will, or just...her own?

She needed to do something, to satiate the embers within lest regret consume her. Inaction would kill her before a blaster bold.

RAAUGH! The venom in her scream was the only warning for any attack, and the only evidence of her outpoured effort. It was less precise than she might have preferred –– but the absence of Force, and the line of sight Ashla empowered her with honed in on those that had gotten away and shouldn’t have.

From her outstretched hand, curled like a claw about to tear, a powerful blast bellowed out against the roaring inferno and husks of durasteel. It slammed against the bonfire, thrusting momentum against the wreckage and forced the vehicles in the trajectory guided by the Padawan’s mind’s eye. She could see them. She could feel them and their tenacious corruption.

Remorse stung at losing the chance to be a silent silhouette wielding her weapons and emerging with a leap out from the flames and coring through those unholy with her swords, Ishida instead was forced to pull herself to her feet and run as quickly as she could to the nearest still-standing stall, leap up, use it for leverage, and cling to the side of the skycutter as she clawed her way up and over and into it.

For a moment, she was perplexed by the controls and how to even start it up. She didn’t drive often, and her lessons had been going only moderately well –– but at least she knew the basic requirement of a key for the igniti––oh, there it was.

A satisfying purr rolled from the vehicle and she shoved herself into the seat, veering in the direction of the location Bernard marked on her vambrace.

It was...remarkably close.

Or maybe it wasn’t. The vehicle helped close the distance pretty quickly.

But she didn’t know how to park. So she just...vaulted from the car door, covered in soot, ash, debris, partly singed, blood dribbling from her mouth (her own) and rolled to a pained stop. Her knees were forming a bruise from the earlier collision. The vehicle drifted overhead unmanned.

On the ground, even through the rain, Bernard wasn’t hard to see. Neither was the crimson that soaked his back.

<You’re..bleeding.>

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

 

[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

MANY MEN WISH DEATH UPON ME​

Characteristically, he bared little response to Lyra's playful jabs to Irveric's behavior in her absence. His sensory focus was entirely else where. Even when in previous engagements, if she was apart of the equation, he'd always take her into account. Now- now was different. With the unpredictability of the situation and the fog of war that shrouded his sense of know how in this battle of Harnaidan, he kept quiet, ears close to the commo, overhearing static ridden commands back and forth between enlisted boots and overwatch set officers, all each an individual thread in the unfurled modus operandum of the New Imperial Order shaping its response to the sudden invasion.

And even beyond that, a far higher target priority awaited them, one that left unchecked could very well result in himself, Lyra and the rest of the leadership of New Imperial Order and Muun benefactors that supported them sported in bloodied crucifixtion in the streets of Kaas city.

He would not actualize this fate. He would press forward.

The Sith blade impaled the 501st trooper nearest to Tavlar with the sound of bone and flesh crunching beneath the sudden projection of Force with a noise that dashed against Irveric's audial sensors like a far too out of pitch note in a disorganized orchestra. Had he not been honed in the rage of battle, he might have been more shaken by the action. But this was war, men die, his men. His brothers, his sons.

But that was one of the harshest realities mortal men like him had to face in war. In a moment, a life was lost. No fanfare, no glorious clawing and wretching for that defiant grasp, that final drive to remain one and stay alive. Just a single reflexive note of pain and anguish in a tortured final moment before they could cross over unto the sacred silence, that mortal shell of flesh and bone slumping ingloriously to the floor, or in this case, impaled in Sith steel.

The Sith were experts at this, at imposing their will unto the lesser. With his rifle shouldered he glanced in the direction of the downed trooper, the lifeblood of the man splattered on Tavlar's plate along with remnants of gore, sinewy, bloody matter strewn over the Imperator's armor. His eye widened to the system shock, looking down to the slumped corpse before peering up toward Kaine Zambrano, the very man responsible. In the first time in half a decade of endless war between the two nations they'd each led to the front in these very streets at its onset, he looked down the sights in trained anger at Carnifex.

<"Vindicate - sweep and clear."> Irveric commanded, gesturing for Lyra to clear the ground level of the IMP500. All the while, the rifle barrels of a section of 501st trained on Carnifex as he stood over them atop the balcony.

"Lord General Irveric Tavlar,"​

"Native son of Dantooine, I welcome thee to Muunilinst."​

​

"Have you come to confess your sins?"​

​

<"I guess going by past titles fits you a bit more, Kaine. But I appreciate the welcome, I missed you the last time you visited."> Irveric states in reply before dropping his rifle down, a move that wasn't mirrored in the slightest by his 501st comrades who all had their blasters trained on Zambrano. He let the disruptor rifle drop down the one-point sling over his chest before speaking up once more.

<"I know you might lose track of your concubines but your pillow talk doesn't do anything for me, Zambrano. My only sin is that I couldn't bury you in Harnaidan the first time around."> He said before reaching to the webbing strewn over his chest plate, pulling the activation of the Void Grenade, billows of black voidstone smoke flowed from the charge into the air around him, compounded with his deadened void in the Force, the grenade created a choking rip away at the influence the Force had within its cloud.

IMPERIAL SOVEREIGN
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

DISCIPLIES OF DARKNESS
Darth Carnifex | Darth Empyrean​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

T h e _ R e n e g a d e
New Imperial Order // Genesis Rangers
Outer Rim Territories // Muunilinst // The Assembly
Task //: BREAKING THE SILENCE - LIFE LINE
Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Jackal / Grenades / Light Saber

I n t o H e l l

​

<“Don’t patronize me..This is nothing less than a parlay. Darth Maledictus will be on the move soon enough again and someone has to do the dirty work.”> Sybila’s voice fizzled across their comm links, the roar of bootfall surrounded them as the team pushed forward; maneuvering through the urban center.

Fury burned in her chest, unwieldy and she cracked her neck-focusing on the creak of armor and men around to ground herself.

The longer the silence stretched between them, a hollow chuckle escaped the woman and she shook her head. Ban had tensed, and she could feel the Zabrak’s unease as he shadowed her mounting, raising her servo she flashed a silent sign with her hand as the team drew in. Shoulder plates knocked against each other as they turned on the street. Irveric was changing direction and she narrowed her eyes from behind the screen-

<”Your little bounty on my head was a nice touch though.”>

The haze from the S-IMP infantry’s shock landing drifted far above the buildings. Dust from the rubble and the fires began to swarm the sky above the city, choking out sights. Good work, she had never heard emptier or misconstrued words-what could she do with ashes? Nothing. She was looking for something in between the words and every action, and her eyes drifted away from Irveric-she was never going to find it here. A shame what hope did to a person, war was his consumption.

<<”Genesis-Actual what are your plans?”>> Sybila radioed the woman off the private link, it was time to get the ball rolling-her HUD flickered as a localized map generated on the cerulean screen. Shoulder to shoulder with the 501st, the woman was already keeping an eye on the men that swarmed around them and their trigger fingers. They were outnumbered and only a mutual goal aligned them.

<<”Teams are moving in to intercept the S-IMP infantry pushing up Market, what’s your location?”>>

Sweat built on her brow as evacuations began to affect the sector. Civilians were flooding past and she grinded her jaw, the ventilators kicking in as cold air rushed over face. In the back recesses of her mind, it whispered and Sybila’s senses drifted as the districts gave way to the wall streets. Holo projections still ran public stock information across the industrial walls, local ads interrupting and advertising-but the streets surrounding IMP500 were rapidly emptying and trash littered the roadway now. Her gut gnawed and the hair stood on the back of her neck, the terrible feeling she had encountered crept further and further into the light of day.

They had made war with only the arms they had carried off from the Empire, halved squads, and tenacity. The mounting tracking the Order had garnered in the few years, the credits that circulated-the attack here was more concise than all our war.

<<”Goldielocks..”>> Sybila started, she was loath to ask-It was manipulation. <<”Something’s happening-I need you to move in on my position and surround the IMP500 structure, no one gets in no one gets out.”>>

<<”So it’s Goldielocks now? What do we have-”>> the transmission cut short and Sybila’s eyes fled to the corner of the screen, cycling through the life line signatures for the woman’s; blaster fire carrying across the link. <<”-Negative Sybila, rerouting GB-one and GB-three teams to your surrounding buildings. That’s all I can do. ETA twelve minutes and counting-over”>>

The brunt of the assault echoed through the city, but there was something else and Sybila began to deliberate; aurebesh and numbers filing down the screen. Genesis teams pinged across the links, alot could happen in that much time and she listened with one ear, orders mulled on her lips. Whoever it was-whatever it was..pressure mounted behind both eyes. Through the unseen veil she felt the presence of the darkside and her sights blurred.

<<”Genesis-Actual, we’re facing a cyber attack,”>> Sybila pressed, her gauntlet hooking the worn cylinder off her belt in a single motion. Her thumb hovered over the switch as she un-holstered her Durin, staring down the sights of the pistol. Ban’s rifle passed by her sights, ascending the stairs up to the towering building beside Irveric in unison. <<”Forward transmission, locate call-sign Lucky and patch them through to me.”>>

<<”Waiting transmission ma’am..when you're ready. It’ll be delayed if we can find them. The local unit’s comms are still down. Emergency support teams aren’t in place yet,”>> the comm’s officer filled the gap, Sybila’s attention torn between the gallery as they breached the building. The Rangers spread out through the gaps of the 501st line, phantoms amongst the blue and white colors.

She was distracted by something simple as a name. She had been Colvy, Genesis, Hellhound, Vindicate through a mirage of uniform, oaths, and failure but she couldn’t even claim those titles-it was omittinience. Sybila. Darth. That was the issue about getting burned out, cooperation hadn’t accounted for this.

<<”Vindicate to Agent Lucky. Open terminal, access codes upon request. IMP500, national assets under threat by S-IMP database. Confirm task.”>> She had never met the likes of Allyson Locke - who ever was behind the fortunate tag. They needed someone in their corner, a professional-Sybila wasn't the back up plan, couldn't afford to be.

The HUD dimmed adjusting the artificial light of the modern foyer. Sybila was led by the nose by the suffocating presence-it reeked of something stale and damned but it wasn’t..right. It wasn’t-the woman inhaled her senses screamed as she delved; seeking the ominous pit. It was not the tidal wave that she faced down, the void that Maledictus wore like a mantle though. The woman’s gaze rested on the figure at the balcony. Carnifex, but there was someone else.. Her brows knit together behind the confines of her helm.

<”Fuck is that..him?”> Ban’s voice flooded their link.

There was a push and pull through the air, and it brushed past her like the tide. The hum of a blade drove her by instinct-slamming her shoulder in to Ban pushing him back, the woman’s foot sliding to brace herself. Sybila sensed the other blade like a fevered dream as it was driven into the trooper at their side violently executing the man, electric components rendered with flesh. With out warning it was gone as it's Master called it back-the blasted thing radiated like a beacon and she let out a low whistle.

The clatter of the dead trooper echoed across the hall, the man gaping for his last breath. The tension was ready to snap, overwhelming threatening to drown her. A pity, the sharp end of a life always stole her breath. The Sith’s opulence was a wide spread disease it seemed. Her thumb brushed the switch of her own blade as Ban dropped behind her shoulder rifle trained on the Sith Lord. A thrumming sound emitted as it ignited in hand-the hellish red blade crackled wildly as she flourished it before it. The well was damaged countless times over, feeding off energy she channeled.

She’d be gone by tomorrow, trying to forget this place-what would likely be sundered. Sybila jammed her fingers under the seal of the helmet with a hiss-dragging it from her head; inhaling deeply. She only glanced down to clip the thing off her hip. Her servo pried off the ear piece from the inner helm, slipping it over the shell of her ear as she craned her head. A bitter smile crossed her lips-mouth a jar as she ran her tongue across the back of her teeth. No more then a serpent tasting the air as Irveric stared down the Sith.

There would be no resolution from this, nor attornment, he would always be the broken man after Mandalore. She wasn't going to interfere with his revenge, let them sink their teeth in to what they could in this life and savor it sweet or bloody. It'd be over in a blink of an eye anyway. They had been both made in the crucible of places like this. Tibanna and smoke lingered on their armor and she inhaled deeply savoring the past, like a moth to flame she picked apart the final piece beyond the conflict moving in the shadows.

"How fucking dare they make us come this far when they should of known better. Their skies will be darken with our ships, the streets will quake, and we will tear each and every one of them."

"And here I thought he'd be taller.." Sybila lamented, holstering her pistol as the faint memory of Bastion stirred. An Irveric wondered where she had gone wrong, she could not bargain with it, it could not be reasoned with-it will never stop. Domination. The doctrine that was instilled in their youth-the conditioning of the Legion itself. Their Emperor. It was all shards left of the past now.

“We will stand before the palace of the Emperor himself and we unload every power cell and canister at his doorstep, we will spit on the ground he thought he could walk-we’ll get the work done and the galaxy will be glad we held this job, and maybe they’ll know better!”

Her head tilted, a swath of black hair tumbling to the side as she glanced to Irveric. All good things came to an end. She jerked back a step making room for his band of rabid dogs, her saber's hum growing erratic as she pulled and plucked at the Force around her. There was a entity burning a hole in mind's eye and she focused upon it beyond the layers of durasteel and wires. Ban was a step behind her as she stalked through the contingent of soldiers slowly but surely as her form distorted. The game was decided and she tossed her blade between her hands-with her left hand free.

"He's not alone, I'm intercepting. SS-One sweep up."

The Force submerged her as she beckoned it, distorting the lines where her armor began down to the red light of her saber. The troopers balked at the blant display, Ban slipped past her lost to the faceless lines of soldiers as the rest of her men broke away. Her brows were set together deep in concentration, feeling her tendons and joints lifting-pulling away. Somewhere tethering herself and tearing a hole through the perceived reality. A sharp pain spiked through her skull as she cast her sight out, vision engulfed by liquid fire. Crimson sprung from her nose and pooling down her chin. Sybila drew in a bloody breath, maintaining a legacy was difficult work in the end and Avernus had warned her. The woman's servo flexed, joints sparking as the vortex engulfed her and she disappeared before the man detonated the Void Grenade.

Somewhere within the bowels of the high-rise, she came crashing out of the shadows.


NIO // Irveric Tavlar
TSE // Darth Carnifex Darth Empyrean

 

[Rexus Wenck]

​

ROMMULUS AND REMUS | PREFSBELT SPECIAL WARFARE COMMAND
OPERATION: MALICIOUS ENDEAVOUR
Location: NIV Confidence
Force Capacity: Dergan Twigg [x] | 8x Stossjager [x]
Equipment: Project RUUSAN 24 Syringe [Chernil'borg] | Ravenous Grenades [x] | Darksabre Armour [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x] | Lightsaber | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x]
Twigg Equipment: RUUSAN 24 Syringe [Chernil'borg] | Ravenous Grenades [x] | Darksabre Armour [x] | Blackwing Electric Sword [x] | G-6E Blaster Pistol [x] | G-12A Blaster Rifle [x]
Stossjaeger Equipment: PC-03 Armour [x] | VW-864 Rifles [x] | Blitzkanone 862 [x] | Project RUUSAN 24 Syringe [Chernil'borg] | Ravenous Grenades [x]
Allies: Trajan Fett
Enemies: Kuben Woods | Alina Tremiru
VIP: Ingrid L'lerim

​

"Remus'll have them," Rexus warned the Stossjaeger, "You and your men stay here until called for," He added, "Head off any of the pricks who try to move past this position." He then licked his chops, "I think I'm gonna take my cut of the action here then." Rexus slid his rifle to his holster, and took out both one of his model 24 combat syringes and the blackwing blade. The latter, in his left, mechanical arm. The former was ignited in his right. "To the last man." The Stossjaeger motto, before racing through the hall, and following Twigg. Twigg, standing at 7'5 in armour was a monster to them, charging and darting around the field of battle, firing his rifle at pointblank range, and bludgeoning any soul stupid enough to get close with the butt.

"Come here you filthy lil knob slobber-er!" Twigg screamed, as he knocked a Sith trooper down, he then rushed forward, and with the hydraulic boot of the DARKSABRE armour, turned the soldiers head into a Pollock painting. "Come and take it!" The Death Trooper giant was absorbing the fire as best he could. Lightening fast reflexes to dodge. But there was something he could not dodge. The blast from the back of some sort of shotgun. The Death Trooper was launched forward, and slammed into a Sith trooper on the ground. "Gah!" The monster of a man snapped, "You!" He grunted, clearly in pain, "You dumb bastard!" He stood, looked to the Sith trooper below him, recovering as well, and decisively put a fist through the man's skull. "Rom!" Twigg called, turning back to finish the shock troops, "We 'ave a runner!"

Rexus could see the man trying to make his way around. It was stupid of him to wear something so aesthetically different. Some kind of cloak? They always looked stupid. Stood out in special warfare operations like what the Sith were doing. And Rexus was going to make the man pay for it. Rexus counter charged the man, blackwing sword at the ready, and pressed his full force into the enemies core. Not to kill. Oh no. What Rexus wanted more than anything was to test the nice new weapon he held in hand.

Rexus did his damndest to body the man. Knock him off kilter, before then jumping on him. The Death Trooper was far taller than this whelp at 6'8, and his armoured weighed more, able to pin. But also more manueverability. First Imperial Engineering at her finest, "Time to die you smarmy lil bastard!" Rexus snapped, searching the man's body for some kind of entry wound. Some way to enter. When he found a place, he assumed would be slightly less weighty, he raised the syringe, containing the infamous Chernil'borg strain, and plunged it. Hoping he would get to watch the man's whole life melt away. Skin and all.

 

[Tyrell Lockhart]

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

Call Sign: Devil One

Location: Muunilinst Ground

Personal Loadout: DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System, Vibroknife, Brass Knuckles

Allies: DECEASED Aron Gowrie Willan Tal Enedina Tal Irveric Tavlar Rurik Fel Enlil Jaeger Harrsk Kolson Vrask Areyon Detritus Ren Ravraa Vyshraal Zakaria Black Hâwmâr Lurais

Engaging: TSE (open for opposition)

Part One: Snatch N' Go

Night Moves

Gowrie replied to Tyrell's mission much quicker than anticipated. A real soldier, that one. Tyrell hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the man on Csilla, but he knew all too well of his contribution to the fight. It gave the madman some comfort knowing that his men would be supported by such a hardened figure. Upon receiving the message, one of his men gave him a nudge on the arm.

"Our orders?"

Tyrell took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking.

"The man has a plan alright. Real solid one too. Got my gears turnin'."

He turned to the lad, eyes lit up with the fires of violence and war.

"Right, so, we're gonna be takin' some enemy armor. Got a couple of locations we can hit. We'll take a few of the lads, swoop on in, and use their own tools against them."

The young man gave a simple nod in return.

"Should we report back to the Kellas sir?"

"No, no point till there's progress. Time is somethin' we 'ave little of, lad. Best be movin' before we get back to talkin'. Grab the last of the lads and follow me."

As the remainder of the DI lads rallied up, Tyrell relayed the objective. The plan was simple; sneak up on a few key bits of Sith armor, infiltrate, and borrow them until further notice. The lads began slipping in and out of the shadow and ruins of the city, moving as silent as the night itself. The questionable terrain and hidden nooks were their comfort zone. They had years of experience avoiding Sith patrols and carrying out missions unseen. As Zed had told Tyrell back on Galidraan...

This was right in their wheelhouse.

Part Two: I'll Take Two

The DI had made short work of the patrols that they came across as they made their way to their targets. The vehicles themselves, while intimidating to the average civilian, didn't cause a single one of the lads to miss a step. This wasn't the first time they had "borrowed" vehicles from the Sith, and it likely wouldn't be their last. They eliminated the crews like clockwork, relying on the silence of blades and garrotes. Once they had taken a plethora of vehicles, the DI began getting to work. They kept a handful of useful vehicles, including some tanks and a few speeder trucks hauling some useful items. The rest were left at various choke points throughout the city. The DI had made sure that those left behind were left inoperable, creating makeshift roadblocks along the city streets.

Tyrell put another silent message through to Gowrie as they pulled the useful ordinance back toward their own lines.

<<Devil One here. Apologies for the delay. We 'ad to get movin' while there was still time. Managed to get a bit of the Sithie's armor, as well as a few trucks carryin' some mortars and other such fun items. Any armor we came across that wasn't particularly useful was left broken and blockin' the roads. The Sithies are gonna 'ave a hard time movin' 'em. Even if they do... well, lets just say that it may be hard to blow up their armor from the outside, but if you blow it up from the inside, well... that's a whole lotta shrapnel waitin' to lodge itself in a Sithie's spine. And that's just what we wired 'em to do. As for the armor, by all means, bring 'em over. Got plenty of room for more. In the meantime, we've got some new toys to play with. Lookin' forward to collaboratin' with ya. Devil One out!>>

He motioned back to one of the lads, who promptly made his way to Tyrell's side.

"Right, yer gonna be posted up in that bombed out building down the way. You should 'ave a good look at the area from there. Yer gonna be our spotter. Don't fethin' move from that position until I say so. Quiet and still, you'll be. Now get movin'."

The lad when bolting toward a tall section of ruined building, quickly taking position on what remained of the top floor.

The Sith were lookin' for trouble, and the madman was ready to deliver.

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Objective II : Rising Resistance
Location: On board of the Pride of Anaxes, Orinackra's debris field
Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope
Post's theme: Uchuu Senkan Yamato 2199 - Yearning for Earth


ALLIES | NIO | GA | SoM | SJC | NJO | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Trajan Fett | Jivim Vaak | Rexus Wenck | Commodore Curtis Rheardon | Gallius Orcana | Delvrarus Sanders | LT-137
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | EE | Grand Moff Decimus | Kuben Woods | Alina Tremiru | Tranquility | Errix Feh'room | Seela Leini | Moff Drybis Lyken | Ingrid L'lerim | Calruss Shiman | Darth Banshee | The Amalgam

Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 composition:​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes (flagship)​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Captain Albrecht Herlock​
X102 Audacious​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander Julius E. Mannerheim​
X103 Courageous​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander James Halsey​
CV-1 Foudroyant​	Foudroyant-class fleet carrier​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Erika Richthofen​
Silencieux​	Stealth Corvette Silencieux​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew

"The ennemy fighters are still on our tail!"

"Take the Pride out of the battle line. Contact the Foudroyant, the Audacious, the Courageous and the Silencieux. Tell them that we will hold the ennemy fighters so that they can pull back safely."

"Roger!"

"To Task Force 58 ships, this is the Pride of Anaxes. Our ship will break formation and provide cover against the ennemy fighters. Courageous, Audacious and Silencieux are to protect our HVU (High Value Unit), the Foudroyant. Pride of Anaxes, over."

"Hard to port. Make a full U-turn. Ahead full!"

"Ahead full! Steady as she goes!"

As the ship moved along the rest of the Task Force, all the crew members on the bridge gave a salute to the Foudroyant, the Audacious and the Courageous. Herlock was nervous. He didn't know how badly his ship would be damaged or if the mighty Pride of Anaxes would sink. But one thing was sure. If the ship is bound to go down in the endless sea of space, he would do anything to save his crew.

"Prepare for anti-ship and anti-air warfare. Hard to port, 90 degrees."

"All the anti-air guns, main and secondary batteries are ready Sir." announced the Artillery Officer

"We are in position Sir" declared the Navigation Officer.

"All guns to starboard side. On my command...Open fire!"

The eleven gun turrets opened fire quickly followed by the anti-air batteries, firing towards The Amalgam 's starfighters who were coming to them, taking some of them down.

"The shields are taking damage Sir. If we keep up like this, we might take heavy damage. I suggest that we pull back to the fleet." said the Executive Officer.

"I have no objections" replied Herlock "Hard to port once again. Ahead full. Put the front turrets on the axis. Keep the rear turrets and the anti-air system firing. We can't let thos starfighters getting close to us."

And thus, the Pride of Anaxes pulled back again, still firing at the starfighters with her aft gun turrets, while gaining speed and catching up to the battle line formed by the other ships of Herlock's Task Force.

 

[Hyperion]

OBJECTIVE I //: MEDIA BLITZ
// TARGET >> LAERTIA IO //
haunted

The electrifying red eye diligently continued to track and learn Laertia's way of conducting combat, the information dialing into Abaddon's cognition in a matter of nanoseconds. She was unpredictable, or at least relied on an unorthodox approach in her bladework against the assassin. Her use of teleportation had not gone unnoticed during his assessment prior.

All the reports, all the intel he had accumulated from her belligerence in the war against the New Imperials would now come in handy. She was a capable foe, perhaps Abaddon's greatest challenge so far; without the knowledge prior, the prep time devoted to examining her for months, then he expected his chances would be far slimmer than they were presently.

Their dance of blades, almost a blur, was like an impeccable choreography with an unpredictable finale. Its culmination - a series of gives and takes, highs and lows. Inches of ground taken, then ceded, then taken once more and ceded again. A deadlock between chaos and order in a game that was both roulette and chess.

As she grew more relentless in her strikes, Abaddon shifted to the next step of his multi-faceted plan. He ceased his attempts to counter-attack, going fully into the defensive closing further openings giving her complete control of the initiative in the duel drawing her closer and closer onto him.

"PROVE YOURSELF A HARBOR MASTER, THEN, ASSASSIN!"

The sudden rush of the Force around him took him by surprise, and while his absence in the Force proved to be resistant to the telekinetic attempt of ensnaring the assassin, one of her strikes found purchase cracking in half the wrist launcher over his sword arm and the weave beneath. Insufferable pain surged only for a moment as the scorching plasma cut into flesh, before his modifications neutered his receptors.

"With pleasure." a hideous smirk tugged at his lips beneath the helmet, his red eye piercing straight into her raving gaze. His free hand appeared from behind his back with a grenade in its grasp, his thumb flicked and his grasp over it loosened. The Void grenade dropped and midway exploded in a blinding flash of light akin to those of flashbangs seeking to blind and disorient the balance of targets. Abaddon's anti-flash lens and sonic dampeners diluted the effect upon him but the Force Suppression attributes of his blade were the cost to pay for the move.

"Welcome to the world of mortals, Io."

​

He stated as the voidstone particles discharged with the cloud of smoke severely dampening the use of the Force, before Abaddon pulled his blade back and plunged it forward at her center mass.

ALLIES | NIO | Konrad Bolter | Djorn Bline | Djonas Val
ENEMIES | TSE | Laertia Io [ENGAGING]

​

 

[Eva Betrik]

Objective III - Front Chimera
​

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

The hovering skycutter, its engine ripped apart by blasterfire, crashed down to earth and exploded. Eva had expected that much, even counted on it. Heat washed over her and her squad as the fuel line exploded, sending a second shockwave across the market; the four of them ducked behind a speeder truck full of cheap souvenirs, good cover against the flames and debris. What she hadn't expected was what came next: the chain reaction that brought down two more of the aerial vehicles, spreading chaos and fire across the entire plaza. Eva sucked in a breath, feeling a pit forming in her stomach. She really hoped her little stunt hadn't ended up hurting any friendlies.

It seemed like the situation was starting to get back under control. The young corporal could see a friendly walker moving up the right flank, clearing the way for the Legion troops to advance with its armored bulk. While they moved up, supported by the center, the right flank was holding position and laying down covering fire. It would soon be easy for them to encircle the plaza, the last step in pacifying it so that they could move on to their next objective; Eva and her squad still carried explosives destined for the central tram station, and no doubt others were continuing to move on the spaceports. But all that assumed they could actually defeat the pair of Jedi.

Eva hadn't seen a body, so she had to assume the pale Jedi woman had survived.

The thought was driven from her head, however, when Bastian Briareos himself approached... and actually spoke to her. Eva snapped to attention, saluting frantically, her back ramrod-straight. Her eyes were wide with awe. No one back home was ever going to believe this, not in a million years. "Y... yes, sir!" Starstruck and tongue-tied, she stumbled over each word, and cursed herself for it. Your doing. Was he angry? Had she acted out of turn? Or was he pleased with the tactic? She couldn't tell, and it was killing her. She wanted to impress the Hero of the Empire more than anything; she could die happy with a single word of his praise. He was her childhood idol.

As it turned out, she should have kept her focus on the Jedi.

A primal scream of anger and anguish was the only warning before a blast of invisible force ripped toward them, smashing into the burning hulks and sending huge pieces of them flying. In the end, it was only Eva's sudden compulsion to stand and salute Briareos that saved her life. Red-hot chunks of durasteel, some of them a meter long, ripped clean through the souvenir truck, propelled by the terrible power of the Force. Kafka went down instantly, a jagged engine fragment passing cleanly through her skull and dropping her without a sound. Irinov wasn't so lucky. A chunk of hull as long as his forearm embedded itself in his chest, slicing through flesh and ribs.

He had time to turn around, shock on his face, and gurgle blood. Then he fell.

With a loud fwoosh, flames rushed around the sides of the speeder truck, filling the area with terrible heat. Eva threw herself in front of Briareos without a second thought; he was far more important than she was, and couldn't be allowed to burn to death in some meaningless side-conflict. She closed her eyes, accepting what was about to happen; if only she'd had the armor they couldn't risk smuggling in. But although heat washed over her, singeing her eyebrows, flames did not. Eva's eyes shot back open as a scream of pain split the square. She looked around, confused; somehow, the worst of the fiery shockwave hadn't hit them.

Looking at the ground, she understood. The young corporal choked back a sob.

Sergeant Zenik, the only veteran out of the squad, had acted quickly; he'd managed to push a hovering drink cooler between them and the flames... but sliding it over to them had meant giving it up as his own cover. He lay on the ground, his breaths coming in shaky gasps. His hair and eyebrows were gone, his clothes melted to his charred skin; the burns to his face and chest made him almost unrecognizable. Eva stumbled forward, falling to her knees at his side. If she'd been carrying her SICA standard gear, she'd have a medkit... Feth this infiltration method. "I need a medic!" Eva screamed, her voice raw with emotion. "Stay with me, Sergeant."

A sob tore loose from her throat. Just like that, Kafka and Irinov were gone. Eva had trained with them since her first day in the SICA, and they were gone. Kafka had been from the town nearest Eva's family farmstead, a local beauty who turned every head in that little one-horse place; she'd just wanted to get away from all the marriage proposals. She'd taught Eva drinking games and gossiped with her about the other troopers, always ready with a wink and a dirty joke. Irinov had been another farm kid, fresh from an orchard on the southern continent. He and Eva had swapped stories about hunting womp rats and dealing with crazy livestock and ignorant townies.

And the sergeant, who'd looked after them all... "Left-Handed God, please spare him," Eva whispered.

 

[Enlil]

What is "order"?
Who does it serve?

​

What is the law with no one to follow it?
​

How many people would die to prop up horrific ideas? The Sith wanted to maintain control of their worlds so badly that they considered any loss of life a necessary sacrifice. They would rather silence any dissenter than relinquish their dwindling control of a world. This attack on Muunilinst represented an infantile desire to retake that situation, to take back what they believed was theirs; but how was Commissioner Harrsk any different? Clinging to antiquated ideologies about Imperialism, policies that stripped away humanity and viewed people as numbers, and that eschewed diversity in favor of austerity, he would willfully decimate his own people and warriors.

Jaeger Harrsk saw himself as different. He could not relate to others. He saw only his way, and any deviation as wrong. This sociopath could not be reasoned with. "If you can't see slaughtering millions of people as ruin, the failure lies with you alone," Enlil rasped as he choked on dry air and gulped desperately at the saliva that flooded his mouth in the wake of extreme heat. His desire to broker an understanding with the man had all but died with those words. "How many people will die to sterilize the New Order to fit your idea of Imperialism, Commissioner?" he questioned; but no sooner had the words left his cracked lips than did Jaeger unleash a torrent of sonic energy.

The pain was immense. Vibrations wracked the King's body and he clutched his ears as the pitch rose, desperate to protect at least his equilibrium. His body was filled with liquid, organs that deviated from their normal functions, bones that reverberated on a new frequency and found themselves struggling to adapt. Sonic weapons were not inherently lethal, but exceptionally useful for robbing a target of their senses and mobility. They were not new to Enlil, but he had never been subjected to them directly.

Blood trickled from his nostrils as the Grand Vizier looked up at the Commissioner, the ground between them all but leveled.

Equality was never a goal for men like Harrsk. His goal was power and and the ability to leverage it over others. This type of weapon was perfectly suited to the man wielding it. As his intestines and stomach churned, Enlil fought the rising urge to spew bile across the floor. Such an ignoble tool. The King gasped for air, using what facilities he could to ground himself. He knew that the man wouldn't waste any time.

"Men like you..." the King rasped, calling on sheer determination as he distracted the COMPNOR agent with his words. "Men like you don't understand what it takes to rule."

Tears stained red welled up at the edges of his eyes as he stared up at Jaeger, not out of hate, but with pity. A man like this must have suffered greatly. How bleak life must have been to teach someone that lives were expendable. How very sad.

All the while, the room grew steadily hotter- something Jaeger would likely dismiss as the byproduct of exertion and adrenaline, certainly.

Jaeger Harrsk​

 

[Kiara Ayres]

Objective: III - Breaking the Silence | Lifeline
Allies: NIO | GA | SJC
Hostiles: TSE | Open
Tags: Kadan Scipora Varn Barakis​

The ceiling above the Jedi and the displaced who filled the station began to groan under its own weight. With her hands remaining skyward, the Jedi Master used all the strength within her to prevent the collapse of the ceiling which would lead to their entombment. Around her, panic began to spread as the civilians faced being sitting ducks or taking their chances in escaping through the active battle above.

"Varn, we're running out of time here." She transmitted a message telepathically to her ally to warn him of the urgency of removing the civilians from the tunnel. "They're collapsing the ground in on us."

The cracks in the ceiling grew larger so the Jedi fought back harder under the growing strain. She closed her eyes to focus her full attention on ensuring the safety of those around her. She trusted that her allies would be able to relieve her since she wouldn't be able to continue maintaining the ground above indefinitely.

Some of the braver and more scared people began to edge towards the exit, willing to take their chances on the battle field overhead since the strain on the Jedi was becoming apparent. For now, she held the ceiling in place despite the cracks which continued to threaten those within.

"Call for reinforcements. If there is anyone who can hear us. We need to get these people out of here." She told the Jedi Knight telepathically.

The Jedi would only have a few more minutes before she would need to be relieved of her position or find the inner strength to continue to protect the thousands of souls around her.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

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.

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Orbit of Orinackra
Craft: Ragnos Fighter/Interceptor - Designation: SV-2121 - Lobeha Mwadu
Call Sign: Star Scythe Two
Onboard Equipment: FAE/A-09 Anti-G Suit │ “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
Allies: TSE ( The Amalgam Moff Drybis Lyken Errix Feh'room Darth Banshee ) │ EE ( Tranquility )
Enemies: NIO ( Caarlyle Rausgeber Gallius Orcana Albrecht F. Herlock LT-137 )

Surprise initially colored the Twi’lek ace’s cyan features at the Amalgam’s answer, but in seeing the torrent of laser fire cast forth from the frigates, she quickly realized the wisdom in the Witch’s decision. As such, SV-2121 continued to run her interceptor close along the hull of the corvette, turning her disruptor cannons on the gun batteries in the process. Then, once she reached the rear of the vessel, she focused yet more fire on the engines, before pulling a chandelle to begin another attack run.

“Understood, my lady.” The Twi’lek answered, but it was only moments before the Amalgam changed her mind, characteristically breaking the fourth wall in the process.

“What’s a ‘Tom Cruise’?” SV-2121 asked, but she nevertheless understood the Witch’s orders, activating her interceptor’s SLAM as she raced towards the frigates, while shunting more power into her craft’s electronic warfare systems in an attempt to confuse the enemy targeting systems. The breathtaking, intoxicating sensation of speed struck her like a bullet, momentarily overwhelming the inertial dampeners as adrenaline electrified her nerves.

Before long, they were upon the frigates, but the Amalgam led the Star Scythes underneath them, driving at full burn towards the Confidence instead. Immediately, fresh data streamed into the Twi’lek’s awareness, the onboard computer brains filtering out and conveying information to the pilot in a manner she could comprehend, in order to avoid overwhelming her attention. Escape pods, small craft, and other relevant signatures were given shape in her mind, allowing her to roughly visualize their positions relative to her own in the ever-shifting cosmic battlespace.

“Copy that, my lady! Targeting the guns now!” The Lobeha Mwadu’s disruptor cannons once more whined to life, discharging coruscating magenta beams that threatened to disintegrate the guns that were in the pilot’s sights. She engaged with a particular focus on the point defense lasers, which were the biggest threat to fighters. Concerted jamming efforts continued to work to confuse and slow down the enemy targeting systems, but they did little to hinder the veritable beehive of TIEs the Star Scythes had provoked in their aggressive assault on the Confidence.

The neural interface prodded at her awareness to indicate a trio of TIE Outlanders closing in on her six, compelling SV-2121 to pull her interceptor into a sharp break turn, working to place them all to one side of her craft, intending to elude their visual sight so that she could more easily isolate and engage them...