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

[Darth Daiara]

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.

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.

 

[Julian Qar]

Medbay Stats

Doctor	Julian Qar
Resident	Hazel
Intern	Breycar "Puck" Ges
Supplies	100% Stocked
Universal Plasma	1000ml - 4 units
Bacta Spray	10 Canisters
Bacta Patches	100 [10x10]
Wounded	0 [2 inc]

FIELD MEDICAL REPORT
Protected Document: █ █ █ B-10070 █ █ █

Obj III: Breaking the Silence | Muunilinst Ground
- - -
Field Hospital | Triage Ready
Medical Narrative

☤
✚ C A R D I O V E R S I O N ✚
[+++]
​

Silence was welcomed here, for once. It meant no one was coming, it meant no one had gotten hurt. It’d be naive to think that could ever happen but, it was always a hope. It’d been a few hours since they’d finished setting up the field hospital just on the outskirts of battle. A part of him wanted their efforts to go to waste. Julian had always wished for moments where all they’d pack up were supplies and no wounded in the process. Naive but always something he wished for.
“Ya know guys...it’s awful quiet for a fight…”
“No...Puck…No….” Hazel shook her head, eyeing the door of the Mobile Med bay. He should’ve known better. No one ever says the q word.

✚ ✚ ✚

“Doc we got two incoming from the Watchmen! One in critical condition!”​

His heart instantly sank at the sound of that name. Two words strung together ringing echoes of painful memories. Not now. Why them - again? He wouldn’t say it out loud but deep down he felt that unit was cursed.

“Medic! F-f-uck! We need a medic! S-someone please, HURRY!”​

Like clockwork that haggard voice bellowed from just outside the makeshift doors of the medbay. Julian didn’t even have to speak as the hivemind of medics draped in ivory swarmed the fumbling trooper. Two nurses hoisted the slumped and scorched body from his shoulder and rested him on the slab just a few feet away from where they stood. There was no time for small talk, they acted quickly, stripping the body of what armor they could touch that hadn’t melted and cooked itself into his flesh. The suit had clearly become him.

“Puck, tend to Bones. Hazel with me.” A metal onyx hand conducted his symphony of care into their respective measures. That nauseating waft of blackened flesh cut through their noses, forcing the doc to pinch his brows in disgust. Unfortunately, not everyone was so keen to stomach the intensity. Puck groaned and gagged over its heaviness. Jules was quick to pick up on his distressful notes. “Don’t you fucken dare, Puck. Stomach it! - Hazel, start the line and the leads while I get the report.” For once the rowdy resident had been quiet, she just nodded, working as quickly as she could alongside her mentor.

It was unlike her to act so stoic and not retaliate or even talk back with some sarcastic quip over their work. Heads down the green-haired gremlin thumbed through collapsed and tighten veins, looking for any sign of hope to get a proper line started on the struggling man.

For the first time as he worked Julian felt his heart pinned tightly against his ribs. Was he anxious? Scared? Nervous? It’d been some time since he’d been back in the trenches, tending to more than just a break or a runny nose. The diagnostic scanner sent a relay of information into the doctor’s internal HUD.

[Diagnostics report . . .]
[River]
[Injury: Third and Forth degree burns.]
[Cardiac Injury: Atrial Fibrillation]
[Heart rate: 165 bpm]

The monitor shot its first beeping display of frantic flutters that belonged to an organic machine trying to regulate itself. It was as though his heart were clawing at the water’s edge, hoping not to drown under the heavy current of its disorganized beats.

Heart first. Burns Follow.

“Hazel get the defib, this kid’s heart is strugglin'.” Julian pulled the cart to his side, plucking a jelly-like solution to slather over River's chest where the paddles would rest. If an outsider had looked in and seen the jumbled rhythm without a typical flatline they would found the decision to be an unorthodox and cruel form of treatment. But it was the only way they could get his heart beating normally again.

“Charge to 200.“

“Clear!”

River’s body jolted upward, slamming back down onto the aluminum slab with steady force. It was a split second when the heart monitor sang its rightful chorus. The sound of his gasp provided them with some grounding. They weren't out of the woods yet, but close enough to see the clearing.

+beep.beep.beep+

​

“Doc, we have normal sinus rhythm.” Hazel exhaled quietly, slipping the paddles off of River and getting back to work on stripping him clean of what gear she could cut into.

His burns were the worst and they were clearly not equipped with the proper tools to tend to him where they stood. “Alright, so we don’t gotta fucken tank to put im’in. Get the bacta patches and some cold compresses. We’re goin’ ta have ta do this the old fashion way until we can get’im ta Carlac.”

The others buzzed around quickly, bringing forth bacta patches and cool compresses to drape over the man as the doctor worked on the painstaking task of debriding the pieces of his suit that had melted into his flesh. Inch by inch Julian cut away at the tissues and metallic second skin. Blood and dissolved fat dripped down his side and onto the slab. Small windows had finally revealed themselves, exposing connective tissues and even bone underneath the armor that had liquefied onto his body. At some point Julian found himself more a butcher instead of a doctor, carving more than he had to. Just to make sure the areas were clear before the patches were placed there. “Once the skins starts healin’ on the areas we couldn’t patch up, it’s gunna tighten and choke his body...be ready for cuts.”

“Yes,sir.”

As he worked through grueling hours, brows dripping with sweat from the heat that emanated from the body, he tapped into his comlink to send a message to the Major. Even as the waters roared with anger, sometimes a clearing in the clouds could make all the difference.

<” Major Noel Strasza , this is Doctor Qar. River is stable.Over.”>

█ █ █

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The journey towards the mainframe room was mostly uneventful - ignoring the dozen or so soldiers consumed by the eternal hunger of his staff. They'd proved little and less than a challenge, even armed with weapons meant to crush traditional saber jockeys. The part many of their weapons designers was that the Force was not so easily reachable by mere technology - and a particle beam broke against his shield like anything else. So little occurred besides the intermittent screams of a dying soldier, and the click click click of his staff against the floor.

"Second room on the left, Darth Maliphant.", the AI offered Maliphant, glancing down to the hologram of him forming on his forearm.

Wordlessly, Maliphant glanced to the otherwise unassuming door - and with two fingers, broke its internal mechanism. The sound of shearing metal and gears grinding echoe'd down the hall as they parted, sparks trailing from the doors even as he passed into the server room. On either side, windows into the deeper confines of the mainframe were visible - tibanna glass flooding each to no doubt keep their powerful processors cool. Maliphant even felt like he recognized them for a second - likely one of Jaeger's own computers.

He acknowledged it with a hum then turned towards the central computer - typing away quietly before linking a small S-Link into the system. It would've been nice to have a computer expert like Arken Lussk be available - but the AI would suffice once a permanent connection could be made. Slow and steady, a few clicks and he'd bet set; but it was the darkness behind him that seemed to draw his attention. For the briefest of moments, he paused in his typing - but did not ordain his new visitor with a glance over his shoulders.

Instead, he simply went back to typing, eye's and fingers dancing across the keyboard as he spoke.

"Welcome.", he said flatly, obviously more concerned about his work than her appearance.

"I assume you've come to stop me?", another pause in his typing, as though he expected some physical response, then began once more.

"You would do better to wait until I'm done, then find an excuse as to why I got away."

Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt │ Darth Carnifex │ Irveric Tavlar

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

VII
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 Jin Kyrel
Ravraa Vyshraal Zakaria Black Hâwmâr Lurais Julian Qar

Allies (NJO/GA/FO/SJC/): Aerarii Tithe Ishida Ashina Aaran Tafo Bernard of Arca

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 Evalina 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)
55 Cataphract Tanks
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
2 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad
Other Vehicles
4 Stolen MLVs
2 Stolen Ammo-Transports

The Glow of Death IX - Scott's Rampage​

'Davidson? Hey- oooh, right... How many this time?'

'Aw'ready confirmed those kills ti oor left, but ah've spoatted two repulsorlift-tanks - scope-up dead ahead, sir.... Have a gander for yersel if ye want.', Guard-Leftenant Scott's subordinate responded in a very deep, calming tone, something of an anomaly to the gruff, huskier voices of his peers. Making sure to enjoy his sniper's perch as much as possible, (before the eventual order to move was passed down the line) the young sharpshooter had politely rejected all offers from potential spotters to immerse himself fully, something his Leftenant understood on more subconscious levels than Davidson would ever care to believe or give a second thought. As he turned back to his own scope, the young sharpshooter pulled a cigarette-pack out, took one out for himself and patted his commanding-officer on the shoulder before muttering,'Take two... Wan for noo, wan for smokin' doun the hill. If we can track your movements on the way doun, we'll know which angles to cover oan your way t'cover again.'

'Eeeeeeeh..... No, mate. I'm hopping up here to take my feet, and yours, foward - not back the way. The Imperator is on Muunilinst, and do you know what that means, Davidson? "Forward, only forward!", as the famous Irveric Tavlar maxim goes; and I quite like that idea, what about you?'

Lance-Corporal Davidson sneered with the usual fare of Tuath-born delight, and as he saw the secret-Laird's wide-eyed nod of vehement approval in response, the marksman asked,'Ah quite liked it up here, but stealin' tanks sounds waaaaay more fun. So what's the plan, sir?', with a slight giddiness of excited anticipation. Lighting his cigarette, passing it over to his visibly pensive Leftenant, Davidson would allow Scott some more time to light his own cigarette, and to carefully plan each step required to complete the task successfully. Something was telling the marksman that more of the same shadow-hugging successes were to be expected, that more stealth-kills and vehicle-thefts were the order of the day for the undeclared nobleman, so silence, observation, and their mutual enjoyment of fine tobacco would take precedence until the eventual plan had been rendered comprehensive enough to list off vocally.

'Tac-Teams One and Two, listen up! Tac-2 will drop every piece of gear they have on them, everything but your Fairbairns and the clothes under your flak-gear. Tac-1 will cover Tac-2's approach and escape, but I ask that you prioritize for handheld anti-armour ordnance whenever the need arises. this should be quick and decisive, gentlemen. No mistakes this time, I need you all as silent as possible until it's too late for your opponent to answer with anything meaningful. Any questions?'

The Glow of Death X - Fine Additions

​

Getting tipsy whilst Harnadian crumbled and exploded above ground, Gowrie and Reed would watch a fair portion of the developments from the comfort of the well-protected lounge that doubled as their command-centre, sometimes with gleeful approval, other times with grim prayers for the souls of troopers they'd never have the honour of meeting in person. Seeing every one of Tavlar's playing-pieces settling into their chosen tactical roles in such a manner, watching as they immersed into the struggle for the city itself in their own individual ways, and how each New-Imperial was fighting, all of it was igniting a need to play his own role more actively; as if the lounge itself only served a purpose for as long as Lord Aron was stuck for things to do, as if he was letting Scott carry the weight of the battalion for too long already. This thought, and this thought alone, would prove to flay Aron's patience most effectively out of all the weights his conscience had already encumbered his mind with, though it was still made much easier by the fact the Lord-Colonel cared little for sitting on his backside whilst the others fought and bled for the cause in his stead.
Not my style, not when ah've got the Vibrosword oan me this time.

'Haw, Aron! Ah hink Scott's gawn for another steal, mate! Check this oan the top-down!'

Lifting his head from the datapad, (after waiting a while for Lockhart's reply with affirmatives) a furrowed-brow and a sneer of confusion accompanied Gowrie from his seat overlooking the spycam monitors, but seeing the truth of the matter as he turned to see on his way to sit with Captain Reed, Colonel Gowrie chuckled with a childlike joy, but then grimaced soon after. The grimace even tightened to jaw-clenching extremes when he looked back to the map-holographic display again, which irritated the Kellas enough to ask,'Ye fancy gawn up t'ground level? It's fine doun here - but aw the best fun is t'be had at surface level, mate. Like, whit are we even daein' overthinking stuff that's like an instinctual second-nature ti us anyways? We should be gettin' stuck in like we ey-ways dae, or am ah jus' glory-huntin' an' canni see it 'cause it's me?'

'Datapad's gawn off, mate.'

<<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!>>

'I like yer style, Lockhart.... No bad!'

<<Wildcat one again. No worries on the delays, you've been putting work in while I've been enjoying a rye that's God-knows how old. However, seeing everybody having so much fun has finally got me in my warfighting mood again, so I'm going to join in and maybe steal some enemy armour as well. Speaking of which - if you find any more useless armoured-vehicles, tow them and use them to choke for sudden ambushes. If they can't see it until the last second, they can't formulate plans for counters until it's much too late. Wait until the last second like I said, then tow the useless junk into the middle of the road and have your driver bail as soon as he's clear. And as for the last matter, likewise. Wildcat one out!>>

 

[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
​

It would seem that the new combatants, ones that Damian recognized as Death Troopers, had decided to charge his squad alone. Screaming and raving more as berserkers than proper soldiers, their speed would see that they closed the gap quickly. But their lack of discipline showed, especially as one decided to directly engage Damian alone. He thought to shoot first and ask questions later, however he spotted something in the thing's arm. A clenched fist revealed a mostly hidden item, something to watch for aside from the ridiculously obvious power sword. When he charged Damian and slammed into the smaller individual, Damian made a mental note that he very easily could have dodged. These soldiers were wearing super heavy assault armor whereas he himself was wearing a very light and mobile kit. They were designed to charge heavy defenses and deal with swarms of enemies trying to overwhelm, using brute strength alone to seize objectives. And while he could feel his brain rattle in his head from the concussion of hitting the ground, and the clearly super heavy weight try to pin him by sitting on his stomach so as to prevent from being easily thrown, Damian was calm. Where others might have panicked, acted rashly, or otherwise went with instinct, Damian's blood was cold as ice as he took stock of the situation. He finally saw the item in question, a syringe of some kind. Some kind of weapon, poison, biological or otherwise. A new trick for the New Imperial Order to use as they saw fit. And this clearly over confident who was probably foaming at the mouth underneath that helmet of his was so confident that he was moving in for the kill. That he had this man pinned and there was nothing Damian could do. His training kicked in, and a thought would run through his head as the demon smiled inside as well.

Because most people, if not all felt safest right before they died to someone they underestimated.

Damian would react quickly in a simple one-two punch, revealing his abilities to the would be attacker and turning the tables. First he would lash out with the hand holding the sawn off shotgun, still clutching the weapon but strangely he wasn't aiming it as it instead looked like he was throwing a punch. Such a move would have been futile though, especially from this position looking as though he was just struggling a little if futilely. The truth would only become evident when as it finished its arc, falling just short of its intended target due to their positions at the Death Trooper's armpit. What came next would happen before either could react as the Death Trooper brought down the syringe, and liquid metal would shoot out both from his fist and arm directly aimed at the Death Trooper's armpit and wrist. The outer shell would harden almost instantly with the strength of the alloy inside of it, drawing from it's primary component Phrik-B, allowing it to strike with the strength to punch through solid durasteel walls and plating, while the liquid inside would itself harden and seize the internals of the mechanical arm. This would be to freeze the shoulder and wrist in place, rendering the syringe useless and would only cause Damian's second blow to become that much more apparent. He would yank down with that arm using the enemy's own body as leverage to bring him closer before grabbing at his throat with his other hand. And the moment it made contact a solid spike would do something similar except it would be solid and punch through the Death Trooper's soft armor. His aim was to destroy the jugular vein, sever the wind pipe, and shatter the trooper's spine in a single killing blow. Unlike the Death Trooper's full sized sword, his hands would be faster, more useful, and less clumsy this close. Where this supposed Death Trooper's demeanor and actions were savage, undisciplined, and downright maniacal, Damian's were cold, calculated, and quick moves. Where the Death Trooper had moved to savage him and probably give him a slow and inevitable death, Damian would strike like a viper with pure killing intent. His enemy had superior strength, possibly even reflexes, but he'd made the mistake to think that would be enough. If he was foolish enough to try and use a syringe full of some strange fluid rather than kill him like he'd done to most of his squad, he would pay the price. Because Damian was no ordinary man.

HE IS SITH​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

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

​

​

"Do you possess the strength to atone for that sin?" Carnifex watched with disinterest as the Imperator of the great New Imperial Order pulled the pin of the Voidstone Grenade hitched to the webbing of his chest plate, acrid black smoke spewing out to blanket the foyer with obscuring smog. The Dark Lord watched forward and tipped the balcony banister over by idly walking through it and dropping down to the ground floor, ending up on a level field with Tavlar and his 501st soldiers.​

​

Despite all of the Force inhibiting particles floating through the caliginous air, Carnifex did not appear perturbed by it. He walked forward slowly, letting the black smoke wash over and around him without concern. Reaching out with his left hand, Carnifex ran the tips of his fingers across the flat width of his blade. Lightning danced from each finger, crackling across the blackened metal and causing the entire blade to glow red-hot with intense heat.​

​

"We shall see."​

​

Eyes scanned the position of all of Tavlar's soldiers, even though the haze obscured their surroundings. Mathematical equations and trajectories played within the Dark Lord's mind, mental gears churning quickly as he formulated his next action. With great speed and strength, Carnifex swung his blade through the air releasing it just before the apex of the swing to send it careening towards the nearest 501st trooper. The moment the blade moved a meter out from Carnifex's person, the ability for the Dark Lord to control it grew noticeably more difficult. Regardless, the Dark Lord would attempt to butcher each and every one of Tavlar's soldiers one at a time with his dreaded blade.​

​

As for the confrontation between Carnifex and Tavlar himself, the Dark Lord stood silent and still; almost taunting the Sovereign Imperator to react. His burning eyes, bright and fierce, stared out at Tavlar from behind the sockets of his skull half-helm. His mouth was set in grim determination, not a hint of devious mirth or sadistic glee to be found anywhere.​

​

Long ago he had stripped himself of emotion, depriving himself of a Sith's most potent source of energy in exchange for a mad hunger for power and immortality. There were many among the Sith who viewed what Carnifex had done as the antithesis of Sith nature, a betrayal of the tenets he continued to espouse even though he had essentially abandoned many of his supposed comrades in pursuit of his unknowable ambitions. One of the only Sith that had any inkling of what he was seeking was Taeli Raaf , but even then he kept secrets from her; just as she kept secrets from him.​

​

In the end, Carnifex cared for no one but himself.​

​

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

 

[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]
Enemies: Alina Tremiru | Kuben Woods
Allies: Trajan Fett
VIP: Ingrid L'lerim

​

Rexus yelped as his wrist seized up and his shoulder was blasted with this liquid metal. He felt it seize and constrict, grunting as he wrestled aggressively against it. Hoping the shear force of the hydraulics and willpower of First Imperial bioengineering would slight him. "You..." He grunted, "Just happy to see me?" He teased, before his windpipe was clasped. The Death Trooper dropped the Blackwing Blade in an instant, he could feel his windpipe crush, heard the armour strain as it was slowly punctured by a blade. Rexus brought a clenched fist down on the man like the mallet, using it to try to arrest himself from the mans grip but to no avail.

"Twigg!" Rexus' screamed, voice strained from the force enacted. He could feel and hear it. The alarms blaring the armour was not lasting. "Twigg get over-!" Rexus' last words were interrupted by the piercing of his bare skin by the Sith. He began to gargle, and rapidly, again, and again, began to strain against the Sith's trickery. The frenzied slobber which filled the helm of a ravenous animal was replaced with blood. Rexus felt himself gargle, and choke. He could feel the cool of the blade entering him. Painkiller autoinjectors ran their way

The gargantuan Twigg stormed over to his master, looking at his mentor, "NOO'!" Twigg bellowed, voice ripped with passion. If Twigg's earlier beserker cry had been deafening, this was ear shattering. The one man army barrelled toward Frost, the deck plating shaking beneath the force of the man. An array of blaster bolts aimed at the mans back did not stop him. Twigg barrelled onto his friend, knocking him off. The gargantuan Twigg, towering over the man, thrust his boot into his ribs. "Don't!" He roared like a ravenous gundark, "You!" He continued, "Hurt!" It was a flurry, of attacks, each with intensifying power. "My friend!"

Rexus rolled over onto his back, panting and clutching at his throat. He could feel his life ebbing. This was the first time he'd brushed the void in a long time. His mind flashed to Kaeshana. When he'd lost his arm, and feeling the burning of baradium against his bones. Then to the surgeries, and endless therapies in deep Dosuunian bunkers. He could feel it again. That sense of despair. Loneliness. He winced, looking up slightly and gazing over as the Stossjaeger unit, arms raised, began to enter the fray. Seven charged forward, masers flying all across the place. While one knelt before Rexus, trying to pry his hand from his neck.

Twigg, maddened with passion, and a new found vigour. Looked down at the man. "D I E!" He punctuated his last attack, with a swing of his leg to the Sith's head. Phrik may not yield to most force. But Twigg sure as hell was banking that this kick'd hopefully deliver at least a dent.

 

[Allyson Locke]

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

​

The Corellian cursed under her breath as she tucked and rolled out of the way of the returned arrow. She hadn’t expected the Sith to be able to react the way he did from an attack conducted in the shadows. She remained within the Force Cloak, watching Hel move in on the apprentice. Tucked behind a building wall that sat destroyed near the tower, she watched the Emperor move leaving chaos in his wake. Allyson frowned; she hated the cowardice the man displaced. At least, the Emperors before him stood their ground in a fight.

Hel moved, Allyson, snapped her attention to her padawan. Through their mutual connection in the Force, she could feel the hesitation in the woman. Unlike Zaavik, Hel was able to discern the battlefield; she knew her limits and where her strengths lie. But, with these hesitations, the padawan would find herself slower and potentially on the wrong end of a saber. Worry weighed on the Master’s shoulders, torn between staying and shadowing her padawan or chasing the Emperor.

The concern brought dark memories of her first and how their first mission as Master and Padawan almost got him killed. Allyson could feel her stomach twist as she made a choice. Hel could handle herself, she was brilliant, and Allyson needed to trust her while allowing her to grow. A small voice in the back of Hel’s mind would echo, Stay safe, my padawan, I won’t be far - May the Force be with you. Allyson moved, following her target through towards the target; she watched as he entered the capital building and made his way to the meeting. Still, in the shadows, the Corellian moved, gaining access quickly to a balcony level through the use of mechu deru and subduing any guards that attempted to stop her.

Crouching on the ledge, she watched the man speak to the assembly. An explosive arrow would be a bad idea inside the building, no matter how much she wanted to bury him in the rubble. There were innocents, and as a Jedi, it was her duty to protect them. Her nimble trained archer’s fingers knocked the next arrow into the bow, her thoughts interrupted with someone tapping into her comms. Allyson raised an eyebrow; the Spy’s comms were typically unknown and routed to whoever tried to tap them through several loops with dead ends.

<This is Lucky.> ( Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt )Her voice was quiet as she quickly answered. She waited to hear the other voice on the line, suspicious of whoever was on the other end. Attention returning to the Emperor once more, the arrow was blessed with the light of Ashla. Upon firing the arrow, Allyson dropped the Force Cloak and Void in the Force with a grin as she knocked another blessed arrow and fired in rapid succession. “You know, the last time I fought an Emperor here, he fought back and didn’t run away like a scared rat.” She shrugged as the third arrow fired, “Didn’t look like one either.”​

 

[Moff Drybis Lyken]

Location: HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)
Objective 2: Free Ingrid L'lerim
Allies: TSE | CIS | EE | SV-2121 Errix Feh'room Tranquility Ingrid L'lerim Grand Moff Decimus
Enemies: NIO | GA Caarlyle Rausgeber Gallius Orcana Albrecht F. Herlock Scourge Harz Rexus Wenck LT-137

Spoiler

Flagship:

-HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)


-2x Tammar-class Corvettes
-1x Thanaton-class Corvette
-3x Gozanti Cruiser
-Helix Squadron, 8x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter
-Obsidian Squadron, 6x Caldoth-class Bomber
-Ember Squadron, 6x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter, 2x Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor
-10x Squadrons, Vulture Droid-class Starfighter
-3x Squadrons, Hyena-class Bomber
-2x, Munificent-class Star Frigate (In reserve, in outskirts of system)

The first thing the Moff did was face the holocom where the Emperor, Arctus Silmar was present, he soon spoke after turning to face it, "Yes my Emperor, our forces have already engaged the and several boarding parties have made their way onto the enemy vessel". After finished his words, he bowed his head low to signify his respect to the newly crowned Sith Emperor. Drybis so fair was inclined to like this new Emperor, unlike most, this one seemed to be more hands on and direct with his authority, something Drybis could certainly admire.

Moff Lyken now spoke into an adjacent comm to send a delayed response to The Amalgam and her accompanying squad, "Very good Star Scythe One". "No quarter". "I am sending Ember Squadron under Captain Yular to assist you and your squad".

He would soon walk away after the Emperor departed and continued the fight on the Muunilinst, and another Ensign would soon run up to him. "Moff Lyken, several New Imperial fleets have entered the system!"

"Where?"

"To the rear of the Confidence, sir"

"Very well, inform all ships in the fleet of incoming orders".

"Colonel, command the rest of the task force not already engaged to fall back to our position, we'll place ourselves out of range of their incoming warships". "Eventually, when we save Ingrid, we will rush back in and cover our people for the escape". "Also call in the two droid frigates we brought and have them advance and cover our front, to make sure no guests come to us uninvited".

"As you wish, Moff Lyken", responded the Duros.

The Moff soon walked over to the command Holoscreen and could now see two fleets emerging and advancing onto the battlefield and moving quickly, some already engaged with Sith-Imperial or allied forces.

"e soon spoke to the many comm officers and ensigns, looking for an answer, "When can we expect Commodore Rheardon to arrive with his three Harrowers".

"Not soon sir, he has been delayed"

"By what", Curtis being delayed was no surprise, if Drybis was a higher ranking Moff, like Decimus, he would have already executed this cretin, but the man had a few powerful friends on Dromund Kaas and a few on Bastion.

"Unsure sir, logs report they docked in the Vaal system most recently, on their way back from Galidraan".

Lyken now thought to himself, "Galidraan, is that where you will make your move, Curtis". "If so, then there you....will...die".


The Moff nodded to the Ensign and walked back to the comm with the Grand Moff. With more resistance arriving than what was given by Intel, they were going to need some reinforcements if Ingrid was to be safely escorted away form this place. Most of the high command were far away, but Drybis had a droid friend here and present.

"Decimus, its time". "I am calling in the full 2nd Droid Reserve Fleet, besides the battlecruisers, they won't be necessary". He continued briefly, "Intel aboard the Confidence shows that Ingrid is being moved and our forces on board are nearing to hopefully get to her in time". "If we are going to ensure this one, we need to make a move".

"Its time to drop the hammer".

He soon gestured to the comms and for them to signal the droid fleet. It wasn't the largest ever, but definitely enough to ensure Ingrid and her rescuers made it out of this system in one piece.

The Colonel walked back up to him. "Sir, several allied forces have engaged the enemy forces led by Commodor......."

He cut him off, "No time for that now Colonel, time is of the essence". "Launch all of fighters, every one we have left and have them support our fighters wherever they can". "Lastly, have Obsidian launch and completely obliterate the Confidence once the Empress is safely away".

"Our ships here sir?"

"Maintain our position, we are several sectors away from any of the enemy fleets, if they near we will deal with them, if not, then we get out of here regardless". "Don't worry Luk'Jo, when we beat them on Muunilinst, I'm sure our new eager Emperor will sanction more full assaults on these bastards, and then we can once again go to Bastion, but next time my friend....."

He paused.

"Next time, we.....will.....win".

 

[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

​

Equality was a false god. What are common men and women of the galaxy to those 'blessed' with the gift of the Force? To those capable of ending life with the snap of a finger? Nothing. Everyone was predestined with a role to play, a role that only held merit when it served a common good, a common idea. In the Commissioner's mind that was the idea of Imperialism - a strong regimentation of society, all working together for the collective for that is where true strength lied in. The strongest herd always culled its weak. It was a never ending cycle. A cycle had not begun with Jaeger and neither would it end after him. It was merely the natural progression of life. Harrsk was merely a harbinger.

The galaxy did not want equality. The galaxy did not want freedom.

It wanted order.

And those like Enlil - who merely delayed the inevitable with the fallacies of their skewed views - they would squirm on the floor and perish just like the Vizier. Jaeger's onslaught continued as he approached the Vizier, despite the man's unyielding will to stay alive. It was time to end his misery, to break this rock obstructing the natural flow of the current and deliver the wishes of the universe.

A few feet from the Vizier, Harrsk finally stopped firing the sonic gun of his wrist launcher and unsheathed a phrik vibrodagger from the back of his waist.

"I've never had ambitions to rule, Enlil. I'm merely the necessary transition to a new age." he explained, his smirk growing wider at the sight of the Vizier's pain. "If it isn't me, it would be someone else."

"All of this - it is inevitable." the Commissioner continued, while the increasing heat of the room further broke sweat over his brow and blazed his tobacco-stricken lungs into a series of coughs, before adding, "The galaxy has cried and cried for salvation for eons but none to hear it."

"People like you, Enlil... busy spewing false bile sugarcoated with naïve words such as freedom, equality and everything else that could suit your agenda of the day - people like you are deaf to their cries." he twirled the dagger in his hand.

"If it takes the decimation of one. Single. World to save the galaxy and usher it into an era where the common sentient may live safe..."

<"Sir, we're almost in position."> captain Varg's words echoed through the comms.

His eyes drifted to the comms behind and lingered over Zion, his trusted right hand man, lying dead before turning to face Enlil.

"Then it is a price I will gladly pay."

The dagger came down viciously to end Enlil once and for all.

Jaeger would make his long dead father proud.

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 | Lady Marrow | Darth Mori

 

[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 ] ​

He really didn’t like it all; why can't they just leave him alone? As he reached the corner of the next street as he ran and turned around, he saw quite a few Muun civilians trying to flee into cover. Would it have been the Muunilinst? It was really just a hint, it could have been any other planet where there were muuns. It’s not like the information improved so much on his situation or on anything.

They wanted to kill him because they thought he was a Sith, he didn't understand what was going on here. Ironically, years earlier, his father had also spent his “adventure” here fleeing while the NIO tried to kill him. Although the boy had no idea. It really would have been best if he simply went home. He didn't really know what he was looking for in this place.

There was no fight on this street, so he heard the soldier running after him shout and ask for reinforcements. Feth! Given that he had no idea where he should go, where he could hide so that the soldier could not find him, or perhaps the one he was bringing as reinforcements, he tried to look around the street to see where he should go. He saw some gutter covers and shops.

He really didn't want to go down the canal yet, so before the soldier turned onto the street, the boy rushed into one of the shops that had a broken shop window and was currently empty.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

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.

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity || Whilstone of Power||
Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian || Empyrean Gland
Voice Sample

The Shaper calmly laced his hands behind his back as the expected, droll cries of 'Tyrant' and 'Butcher' assailed his ears from the gathered masses of Muunilinst's government. Horrid, hurtful cries that would have wounded the pride of a different being. His eyes slowly, deliberately spreading a low, burning crimson throughout their irises as a corona of darkness began to saturate the air around him. A low, guttural, inhuman murmuring spilling forth from the darkness about him as each and every voice, every protest and every airway was seized by an unnatural silence. Strangling, gurgling oppression grasped the rulers of the economic metropolis. An unseen weight that pressed them all slowly, inexorably to the floor in submission as The Shaper idly glanced to the perched Allyson Locke with mirthful amusement. Maintaining his grasp on each and every Muun present as he extended a hand, the air about her arrows rebuffing them with another directed gale only now they were sent careening toward the ensemble of Muunilinst's government. A wicked grin parting his lips. "Oh my. A Jedi Shadow killing politicians in cold blood? How.... expected."

Of course the arrows had not struck home into any of the Muun's yet but even so the point was made. Such a weapon would do little to dissuade him while the Whilstones fed his power and rebuffed the Force Light from his presence. A low, rumbling laugh left him as he answered Allyson with a casual, almost playfully arrogant tone. "Oh? Well then you should feel doubly incentivized to slay me. I hear if you face three in a row you can redeem the experience for a free trip to Zeltros." Extending a hand The Shaper summoned Acharn to his grasp before planting the butt of the spear on the ground and, his smile turning from arrogantly playful to more focused and bloodthirsty. "But since you seem intent on engaging at range. Allow me to return....." Moving his arm back and turning his body, Shaper would snarl as Acharn was hurled with monstrous strength toward Allyson's torso. "..... the FAVOR!"

The spear had hardly left his hand before The Shaper slammed his thoughts into the assassin's own. Attempting to flood her mind with words and images of her Padawan laying dead in the streets. 'She will die without you, you know? Her blood will soak the streets of this planet, all because her Master chose to play hero instead of be there for her. But it's all a lie, isn't it Miss Locke? If you cared for your Padawan, her safety, you would be there to aid her now. Instead of dying here, alone, with no-one to remember her memory but you.... and how you failed her.' Honing his instincts in on Allyson he hummed with curiosity as one of her eyes seemed to emit a different aura than the rest of her. It was... mechanical? How insufferable. Where was Cara Dorniarn when you needed her?

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Equipment and NPCs: Hel's Lightclub | The Shroud | The Halo
Objective: Engage the Emperor and Emperor's Apprentice
Targets: Arctus Silmar | Kesran Opadal
Allies: Allyson Locke ​

The apprentice was fast, faster than her and by a lot. More than she could comprehend by the time the impact of the Force, extensive and harsh, pushed against her sternum like a hovercraft and sent her flying backwards some yards away. Only by the virtue of her hardiness, which some could say was unnatural for a hybrid, and the general stability of her balance off and on the ground, the young Padawan was able to recover quickly enough. Flipping back with the impact in a sideways corkscrew motion, Mrurh'en'lase rotated her body so that she could on her feet and slide the remaining distance from the push by digging her heels through the rubble and and into the soot-covered and blood soaked dirt. The body of a man, torn in half by some unfortunate death, marked the end of this backwards trajectory, allowing the Padawan to regain a solid defensive stance, although still baring the offensive natures of Form Vs Djem So.

Breath was bated in her lungs and only eked out of her throat in small gasps for a few seconds that felt like a few minutes, and when she finally exhaled and inhaled fully, that is when the pain of the attack hit her. It was a dull pain, nothing that was crippling in the slightest, but it was noticeable and a grimace appeared on her face in a flash. But that was not the worst of it. Nor was it the feeling of nausea that rose in her stomach, the feeling of sickness from such sharp motions and response to her attack that it felt like her breakfast would be hurled to the ground in an instant. Thankfully, she kept her cool and took a couple hesitant steps forward just as a mortar round discharged somewhere in the near distance. A clatter of shrapnel and screams echoed in the air, much to the enjoyment of the Shroud, whose face chortled in its black cloud in the sky.

No, the worst of it was the worry that the pain created.

Mrurh'en'lase was...not so much afraid of the man before her, despite knowing how horrific the Sith were by her own previous encounters with them and their wicked power. It was the worry that she would be unable to defeat him. In one move, he had already showcased himself as being quicker than her by more than her brain could process. And even reaching the man was a trek across a war-ridden world of chaos and destruction the likes of which she had never seen, even when she was serving the Hutts across their degenerate empire. Already, her mind was conflicted, hence the outward presence of the Shroud and the Halo, the latter of which seemed to becoming more and more resolute with holding back the former in its cloud in the sky. Was that a sign? That Mrurh'en'lase would not fall to the Darkness this day? That the Light could and would save her? She was uncertain when her first two steps turned into more forceful stomps, slow and purposeful, although clearly uncertain still.

Until the words of her Master rang in her ear through the Force. Stay safe, my padawan, I won’t be far - May the Force be with you.

These were words the Padawan needed to hear to take those last stomps into another sprint, despite the worry beating through her veins. The apprentice was quick, no doubt about that, but Mrurh'en'lase was strong, almost obscenely. Her blue blade of plasma hummed its song as she charged, this time taking a zig-zag weaving motion rather than a straight barreling run. Simultaneously, she would use what aptitude she had in the Force to lift some of the nearby rubble to launch at the Emperor's apprentice, in hopes that it would distract him enough for her to get in close for the strike to his leg - incapacitating as the Jedi would want rather than killing. She hoped it would work. Hoped that he would at least have some opening for her to have a chance and prove to Master Locke that she was not going to be like the other failures so many other Padawans had turned out to be in the Order.

Locke was her last chance. Mrurh'en'lase knew this. She had to prove herself. She had to win. Survive.

She had to.

 

[Kadan Scipora]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: III​

​

Tags: Kiara Ayres Varn Barakis​

Equipment: 1x lightsaber, Kadan's Armor, 2x OS-101 Retractable Vibro-Sword, OS-PBC-770-FFE, OS-104 "Reaper" Variable Strength Blaster Pistol​

​

They hadn't made it very far before the first salvo struck. Kadan had only felt the force scream at him, louder than he had ever felt it before, then his feet were kicked out from under him, he was hurtling backwards, and had a front row seat to watch his ranger support be vaporized by the ensuring barrage of cannon fire.​

​

He hit the ground hard, and felt the world go dark around him. A ungodly ringing filled his ears, and his body felt heavy. Unnaturally so. Rising, his armor was coated in dust, his visor was obscured as well, something was splattered against the inside of it, and he soon realized he had bitten through his lip, the copper taste of blood filled his mouth, and the scent caused his nostrils to flair. Time seemed to move slowly, as he struggled to his feet. The ground seemed to rumble, his saber rattled against his thigh, and for a moment it felt as if the ground would give out from under him. The sensation was unreal. He had been in battle before, but this sensation was something else. Uncertainty maybe?​

​

He was still in shock as Varn took him, the padawan reeling from the initial shock. But it was the voice of Kiara cut through the ringing in his ears, the situation being announced to him snapped him out of the daze. Clarity took the place of the haze, though he had no real way to assist in the ordeal. He found his feet, though removed the helmet so to free his vision.​

​

They had to get these people out of here, but there was no way out. Not that the Empire would let them take. He moved towards Kiara's side, planted his feet, and gave everything he had into assisting his master. He could support the ceiling as she was, but he could take off some of the pressure from the collapse. Even then, he felt the strain, and for a moment he feared it would send him through the floor of the station. He couldn't afford to falter though, not with so many lives in stake. His mind reeled, trying to think of a solution, but found very few that were agreeable.​

​

Master, perhaps we can control the collapse, make a shield with the debris, it could buy us time.​

​

It was a risk. A rather large one at that. But it was the only thing he could think of to buy them time. Something they were in short supply of.​

​

He could feel death pressing in from outside, the lives of their own soldiers, enemies, and allies being spent by the dozens, a consistent reminder for what was about to happen to all of the civilians trapped in here with them. They would have to hold, somehow someway.​

 

[Varn Barakis]

Tags: Kiara Ayres Kadan Scipora
Gear: Lightsaber, Silver Jedi Knight Plate
Allies: NIO/GA/SJC
Enemies: TSE/Open

The defense the joint NIO-SJC forces mounted wasn't what he had hoped for, but it was something. Digging in, bunkering down, the soldiers of Light and Order did all they could with what they had. The thunderous report of a heavy repeater split the skies as the Sith forces appeared one after another across the ground that made up the No-Man's-Land Varn currently occupied. Dark figures, they had repeaters of their own, and soon the space between the opposing groups was streaked with red and orange. Explosions. Screams. The groan and shriek of metal as a tank took a missile to it's belly. A good shot. Varn wondered who had fired it. Then, he didn't wonder about much of anything.

Something loud and destructive happened nearby, off in the direction of the station. The Zabrak didn't turn to look. He already had enough problems without having to worry about the Master and her padawan, and the people they protected. It was a distraction he didn't need right now.

Peering out from behind cover, Varn quickly ducked back in as a salvo of bolts warmed the air where his head had been. The sergeant looked at him from across the room, a fresh power pack in his hand. "How many?" He asked. Varn shook his head in reply. "Three squads. All I could make out."

"Fair enough," the Sergeant said, slapping the power pack home.

The first Sith trooper to reach the burnt-out building where Varn's NIO squad sheltered died in an instant. Three shooters, one target. To say he or she -it was hard to tell in all that armor- simply disintegrated before his very eyes would not have been an exaggeration. Varn had seen it happen dozens of times before, sometimes to friends and comrades. People he actually cared about. He didn't feel much of anything as what had once been a human staggered, fell. Another life snuffed out in an instant, like so many before. The trooper would not be the last, the knight knew.

Blasterfire raked the house, ripped through brick and mortar. The NIO squad answered in kind, letting their training override the innate fear that came with facing the foe. Varn joined them, his saber making him an attractive target to most as stepped out into the open. The bolts that came his way moved at half-speed. His Soresu was too good to let that any of them to strike home. At this range, anyway. Deflecting one after another, he watched as five troopers went down. Six. A grenade arced overhead, and Varn swatted it back the way it had come.

Kiara's strained tones cut clear through the sound of detonation, the shouts of pain that followed.

Spinning back into cover, Varn listened as the Jedi Master explained her predicament via telepathy. So, all this excitement was causing problems down below? That didn't surprise him. Glancing across at the NIO man, Varn said, "Have you tried to call for reinforcements?" The sergeant stopped what he was doing to stare across at Varn. Had he not been wearing a helmet, the Zabrak would've sworn the man was shooting him daggers. "Yes, sir, I've tried. The answer I got said they were en route nearly fifteen minutes ago." The man shook his head. "If they were coming, they would be here already." He paused. "Probably ran into something along the way. Wouldn't bet on them making it here anytime soon."

"-Wouldn't bet on us making it." One of the squad grumbled. Varn ignored her.

Reaching out to Kiara, Varn felt the link that bound their minds connect, hold. "All ready done." He told her, hoping his inner voice hid the sergeant's doubt. "Reinforcements are inbound. They'll be here soon. You just have to hold out a little long-" A sudden, sharp sense of wrongness cut Varn off mid-sentence. Standing, his mind's eye told him what it was he felt, and why he felt it. "Get clear!" He shouted, the panic he felt not making it into his voice. Looking across at the sergeant, he stopped and stared as the room came apart around him in a fiery blaze.

The shock wave knocked him off his feet, buffeted his ears until all that was left was an endless ringing sound. Piercing, it hid the noise of battle and death well. The stink of blood and smoke became pervasive as Varn's consciousness swam hitherto. Darkness pressed in on his vision; it took a strong effort of will to force it back. Groaning, the knight rolled to his feet, the pain in his back and legs something he was growing all too accustomed to. Something wet and sticky poured down from his brow, marred the cheek just under his left eyes.

Reaching up, he wiped away the blood with the back of his hand, the shock and aftermath of what had just happened not yet fully registering in his mind. A part of him knew something bad had happened. Another part refused to believe. The sergeant and his squad lay scattered. The former sat propped against one crumbling wall, his blaster laid across his legs; the latter -most of them, anyway- were in bits and pieces dotted around the room. Blown apart. Wholly dead. Varn would've found it morbidly funny had he not felt like throwing up.

Two dark figures landed in the room to either side of him, the red blades they held betraying what they were long before either spoke. Looking from Master to Apprentice, Varn couldn't help but feel like someone had just played a cruel jape on him. Maybe they had at that. Standing taller, he felt more than saw as the surviving members of the squad shrank away. Or into themselves. The knight couldn't blame them. Smiling, the Sith Master nodded his greetings, all mock courtesy in the wake of so much death. The Apprentice was smiling too, and hers was far uglier.

"Ready to die, Jedi?" One or the other asked as the lone knight reignited his lightsaber. Varn couldn't tell which of the two had said it. They both looked alike. Leaning to one side, the Jedi smiled as the vertebrae in his neck popped. "Always." He replied, unphased by what fate intended for him. For them. "You?"

The Sith snarled and charged.

 

[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

16 Shots

​

The hum of the mainframe bordered hypnotic filling every crevice of the room with an electric current, the towering presence that bled across the Force burned before her. Hemmoraging wasn't successful but she had stuck the landing...to well infact. Heaving for breath, she pried her eyes open-the fluorescent lights stinging her eyes. The flicker of her blade stabilized and hummed still in her hand. Sybila’s chest rose and fell steadily as she came down from the surge-digging her gauntlet into the wall the world settled around her. A stranger’s voice crossed the remote link, stalling any thought resting on the tip of her tongue. Sybila faintly recognized the likes of the agent Lucky. Even if it may very well be too late.

<<”Lucky, I have a hacker on the IMP500 mainframe. I need you on damage control-Can you identify or destroy the traces before it goes down?”>>

The entirety of the processor was a beating heart practically and her eyes wandered across the outline before the glass frame, the silhouette of a being; methodical in their work. Callously she dragged the back of her gauntlet under her nose, blood still beaded down her chin, dripping across the floor with a quiet splash. The woman shook out her hand, blackened armor creaked as she rose up-taking stock of the man as he spoke.

“Yeah it’s an occupational hazard-” Sybila muttered, it was almost amusing the idea of walking away. It wouldn’t be a matter of a conventional fight here and the gears started to click away. “-plus seeing as I bodied a few of you before. They’d say I am full of shit.”

Her attention drifted past him then, creeping through the Force unto the metal and terminal-flexing her hand idly. She wasn’t good with computers necessarily. Not that ripping things apart to root and stem required any finesse. Sybila chuckled, head drooped as she spat on the ground-bodies, one glance around betrayed the handy work. Men died, heroically or not it was something they had all signed on for. It was dying in fear, perhaps that was the sad part of it.

“I doubt you’d take it but I had a counter offer time, you let me...unfreeze my assets and maybe we both go on our merry ways…?”

It wasn’t supposed to be personal, she wasn’t going to get paid-Irveric wouldn’t hand over that sum nor had any of her team gotten this close to cracking open the system. The woman glanced over her shoulder weighing the options, her servo’s digit brushing the trigger of the lightsaber as it fizzled out. Oh well, woe was this weight on her chest. The faint reek of tibanna on her breath, and she eye’d the windows catching but a glimpse at the wires. She might as well have been playing with fire.

Sybila traded the worn saber for helmet as she slipped the armor back over her head, the seal hissing as it locked in and the faint light of the HUD greeted her. Ice crept it’s way through her veins down as the coils of the servo charged idly, and she funneled her adrenaline behind it until the pressure weighed down her palm, a high pitch whine steadily rising from the cybernetic.

Quick hands made work of a pin and Sybila yanked the grenade off her hip as she surged a few steps closer. A sharp flash filled the room, reverberating off the walls as the percussion slapped against her cuirass. A thick smoke proliferated from the canister in hand leaving her ears ringing over the audio dampeners; the ebon dust filtering through the air. The first crack of electricity betrayed her as she languished as the cloud settled over her and the entirety of the room. It smothered the connection between the living Force and she seethed-a pale arc jumping between her fingers as the lightning was trapped in the cell.

Martyrdom didn’t fit her well, if she couldn't have her due no one would.

Sybila grinned painfully through the likes of the void-stone, metal hissing as she tossed the remnants of the heavy canister at the feet of the man. Reaching up her hand seized the rifle off her back, a mechanical click resounding as she locked in-the tip of the blaster angled toward the windows separating them from the economy. The recoil of the rifle hammered into her side as she pulled the trigger, a low pop followed as she fired off the under barrel.

The condensed thermal sphere shot past-shattering through the glass planes as the coolant leaked from the cracks in the glass. Seconds filed down the corner of her screen in hideous neon red, in a split decision the woman adjusted the rifle in both arms-unloading a smear of golden charric across the panel as the terminal sparked. She targeted visible controls, tagging ports with a precision as the metal rend. She didn’t care if hit the man, the detonator erupting in a great fury of blinding flames before the both of them in the act.

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

 

[Darth Banshee]

Allies: Grand Moff Decimus Kuben Woods Alina Tremiru Errix Feh'room SV-2121 Moff Drybis Lyken Ingrid L'lerim

Enemies: Caarlyle Rausgeber Trajan Fett Albrecht F. Herlock Gallius Orcana LT-137

Spoiler

Hull/Shields Name
Fleet: 1x Harrower-class Cruiser 150/00 Decimator jumped
1x Tammar Class Corvettes Destroyed Exar Kun, Self-destruction
1x Tammar Class Corvettes Destroyed Jurak Uln
1x Squadron of Caedus-class Superiority Fighter (0) Deployed, to intercept, enemy fighters (3 destroyed, by debris field, 7 destoryed in dogfighting)
3x Squadron of Scorpio-class Sith-Imperial Droid Starfighter (13) Deployed, to intercept, enemy fighters (24 destroyed in debris field 24 destoryed in dogfighting))
1x Squadron of Caldoth-class Bomber 1 left, 10 shot down, 1 crashed into the particle shield generator
2x Squadron of Vindican-class Troop Transport (10) fully loaded, with one space free For Darth Banshee (9 have been shot down 5 damaged making a stair case)

As her troops fought, the hanger bay doors closed and sealed. Soon the fighting became less intense, as the enemy numbers began to die out. She then shouted at them, Lay down your arms, and Surender and you will not be injured. She not like most sith, as she knew that murder for sake of murder, was inefficient, and she perceived that as going against the sith code. As the code shows, corner an animal and they fight harder, as they nowhere to run, as they have fear on their side, remove that fear, and the fight will go away from them. Soon they began to do so, as they had to where to run to, and choice between fighting and possible certain death, or a chance at survival, they chose the chance.

As that happened, she ordered her men, Destroy all CCTV cameras now! Her troops began blasting any camera they could see, she hoped that they got them all. Then she meditated for a moment, focusing on her healing amulet. This began to heal her wound, which she sustained in the initial firefight. As she did, her men began tieing up, the New Imperial Soldiers, she was going to be the to her word. As this may help her in the future, as if they thought mercy was possible, they will not fight as hard, as they will not have to worry about surrendering. As she did she got an incoming message from her second in command on Decimator, We are taking too much damage, as he spoke the Jurak Uln, exploded, and the ship she was on rattled a bit, but the Decimator, shook violently more, he then continued We stay, we will be destroyed, permission to jump. She grimaced, and gave him an order, Take a short jump, and be on call if we need a pickup. As she spoke, he nodded and gave his helmsman the signal, then they took a short jump, to just outside the system. As he did, the last of the ships that were serving, boarded before they jumped with as many escape pods as he could.

As she finished, she looked around, she used Force Sight, to try and map the best route to the bridge. She soon realized she had to go up, and take down the power as she goes, to stop the ray shields. She then turned to her men, they were scared, as they had nowhere to run, they were also corned. This was useful to her, as they had the strength of fear with them. She turned to them and told them the plan, We are stuck here, and waiting for them to come to us, or we can get out here, fight our way to the bridge, and take this ship, and use it to go home! She then pointed to them, You are soldiers the empire, we can do this. The plan is simple, we can go up, that will avoid the first problems we would encounter. Then I will look for our next route with the least resistance. She then paused and gave an order Use the plasma cutters, to seal the doors, we don't want them coming from behind us, we need to keep our rear safe, as we pressed forwards. They started to get on with sealing the doors, which from outside might look like them trying to cut their way out for a little while. She then used the force, to start moving the transports, by pilling the ships up. She sat down, and reached out with the force, and picked them up, and put two of them roughly twenty meters apart, then put another two on top of them, they crunched a bit as they did, then across them too she put final one on top of them.

She then ordered some men, Find what you can and make this a stairway, so you can get up easily. She then jumped to the top of it, and ignited her saber, by this point any force user on the ship, would be alert o her presence, as she cut through the ceiling, angling her blade to make sure no molten metal hits her. She kept her face away from it, as if any metal heats up too quickly it would spit at her. She would soon be through, and she would have to destroy the power coupling to stop any ray shields from stopping their progress. She had to be ready, and she was watching for movement, she can move to destroy what tried to stand between her and control of this ship.

 

[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

i n t e r l u d e
ORINACKRA '65
In Command of NIV 'Confidence'
​

"How am I expected to be onboard this damned ship with a maniacal- suicidal-!" And not a moment later, the Naval Officer was flourished in an envelopment of hyperactive suffering as a disruptor bolt burst against his neck and disintegrated the man nigh instantly, leaving only an ashen pile in his wake. Now- there was no contesting Trajan's control over the vessel any longer. No doubt, the consequences he'd face if he some how survived would land him in a far worse fate, but that wasn't an option even in the periphery of Trajan's consideration. He would die on his own terms. And all those with him aboard the Confidence, would die on his terms all the same.

He turned to the control console of the NIV Confidence again, dragged the target indicator over Darth Banshee 's flagship and pushed the thrusters forward once more. In the fiery envelopment of war, the Confidence would press forward into heart of the enemy and its organs of command. Immediately after, he seemed content to let the ship burn its course, red lights and flashing alarm indicators were strewn across the control panels of the vessel spelling the fate of a vessel undermanned and punching far above its weight class in contrast to the concentrated fury wrought upon it.

Ingrid continued to speak, even if she might have known her words fell on deaf ears considering Trajan's earlier sentiment directed toward her and largely - the Galaxy and mortality itself moments before.

Still holding the Baradium heart over his own still beating one he looked toward Ingrid once more, supposedly cold military eyes meeting the T-visor once more. She sought to build a bridge, connecting the struggles of one with the other, however she also sought to deliver emotion with no vessel delivering or conveying the sentiment with any degree of believability.

<"Not sure how many different ways I have to put it to you, your highness but- I don't care why you're still here. But I am grateful you have refused escape because you are the vessel of my revenge, my final vengeance unto the thieves and killers who took everything from me."> Trajan iterated once more, stepping toward her, kneeling down before thumbing a button on the side of his left vambrace that dimmed the tint of the crossing T of his visor, revealing a pair of icy blue eyes staring toward her own before he spoke again.

<"Revenge is seeing the people that defiled your life, killed those closest to you, burned the fruits of you and your family and staked their flag over it only to walk away and claim that they're the damn heroes, that they're the damn saviors of the Galaxy- and all these brainwashed insects marching in line so that a pack of inbred fools can continue to lock them in chains...and then ripping it all away. You might not have ever felt that for yourself- but you and every other Sith here...will feel mine. Will feel my vengeance. Because you or anyone else, you're not escaping it. I can not go to the hereafter without forcing as many of these demons down with me as I can. You won't find any sympathy for you from me, your Highness. You're apart of the same rotten machine all the same."> Trajan said, venom tainting his voice with each word.

He then produced a Ravenous Grenade from a pouch on his belt, pulling a line of grappling cord from one his gauntlet before he moved to secure it to the activation pin of the explosive and wrap the line around the main leg of the chair on one end and tie it around her ankle in the other end. If she moved to get up, the pin would pull and the Ravenous 'blood' would explode around her, sapping her ability to use the Force, should all go well. Granted, it was a relatively simple trap to deconstruct from a third point of view. One Trajan had no intention on letting be introduced into this.

<"Do you understand?"> He asked, not as if he was too concerned if she did or not.

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

 

[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
​

Damian would let the smile flourish just a little as the Death Trooper seemed to mock him right before feeling the blade start cutting through his "soft" armor and into his throat. A grin that was mirrored much more vibrantly by the voice in his head as the smug demeanor turned to terror almost as soon as the blade made itself quite apparent. When the man, if he could even be called that, brought his fist down onto Damian he silently thanked that their arms were locked together as he could feel his bones rattle from the blow. His voice would be but a barely audible whisper only able to be heard.

"This is what happens when dogs play at being soldiers,"

Damian had him in a death grip, when the blade clattered to the ground and the syringe did as well, he made a mental note to try and grab them when he finished. At least he tried to right before the blasted idiot's counterpart came barreling over and slammed into the Death Trooper that had pinned Damian, only to send them both flying as Damian's arm was still quite attached to the Death Trooper. And the blade in his throat would be jostled around doing even more damage by the hairbrained scheme because while Damian's right arm was locked in place, his left was being held on by sheer death grip strength alone. The almost wounded cry of the other savage would cause the voice in his head to mock him, regardless of whether or not he could hear him.

Oh so now that we killed his friend for trying to kill us like some captive to be tortured suddenly we're a bad guy?

They are not soldiers. They will not understand.

Oh don't get me wrong, you and me are the different sides to a sick and twisted coin but at least you just kill people. I wonder what was in that vial?

Please be quiet so I can focus.

As Damian landed and finally managed to look over at the other massive Trooper, he would pull the blade free and retract it into his arm, the metal in his right arm similarly retracting back whence it had come. Now able to move a bit more freely, he would take a small quick juke to deftly avoid the massive trooper now barreling down on him. He was fast in that heavy armor, but Damian had no such weight restraining his movements making it much easier for him to move. His first juke however put him right next to one of the storm troopers that had followed the Death Troopers in, right next to the downed one, causing Damian to not hesitate as he simply planted the barrel of the sawn off into the knee joint of the trooper below his hard armor shin plates and fired. The scream would only belly the fact that Damian essentially cut the man's leg off at the knee, causing him to topple over as he decided to place his mission priority first. As much as he wanted to teach this other Death Trooper his place in the pecking order, he had his mission and orders.

"Seems you have a choice to make dog, try to stop the bleeding, or try to stop me. My mission comes first, so either get in the way or don't,"

He would then sidestep another storm trooper attempting to blast him, as again they were rushing forward and Damian was silently chiding them for their lack of discipline. The other shock troopers would turn their own weapons on the storm troopers, and while they may have had masers they were being shot at with disruptor rifles making each shot against them that much deadlier. Masers were much deadlier than blasters, but disruptors were king of that arena for a reason. Damian meanwhile would start slowly backpedaling before quickly turning and charging down the hall, breaking open the sawn off shotgun to reload it as he ran while leaving his squad to either deal with these foes or be dealt with. In the end it didn't matter as this squad was only sent to recover the Empress.

The others that had been aboard the ship were still right on time and heading to their targets.