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

[Calruss Shiman]

Objective: Extract the empress safely
Location: Space/Raider Class Corvette
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO and GA
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim / Trajan Fett / Alina Tremiru / Open​

The war torn walls of the silent corridors led the way on his quest to find the Empress, as well as the countless bodies that lay dormant on the floor around him. They mainly consisted of sith and imperial troopers who had died passionately for their cause, a priceless trait that any soldier should have in serving their empire. Even when dead, the lifeless corpses still had a use for the living.

He was beginning to question the dead atmosphere until he turned right into another corridor, leading him directly into a group of sith soldiers who were looting a pile of bodies in his path. They didn't notice the teen at first, but as soon as one noticed all of them turned at the same time and shifted their attention to the kid. All of them seemed unsure of how to react, it was strange for a boy his age to be in such an atmosphere, but at the same time they were figuring out if he was a friend or foe "Step aside..." Calruss said in a commanding tone, his grip slightly tightening on the red lightsaber that was itching to be used

At first, it seemed like they were going to say something smart, yet they soon felt unusual energy surround them. It felt dark and miserable, just like their masters above them. Although, even they knew it wasn't the same.

The soldiers all looked at each other for confirmation before slowly stepping aside, voluntarily letting the teen go through while they all stared at him in visible dismay. All of them stayed locked on him until he reached the elevator, only leaving their gaze once the doors shut on him.

With most ships of this design, the bridge was more likely to be on the upper levels compared to the easy to access lower. And with the destruction and pile of bodies leading in this direction, the point only seemed to be right. Yet, he was in a tight space called an elevator right now, so he needed to be cautious as to whatever was on the other side of that door when he exited.

After minutes of annoying cracking sounds being played through the sound system, the elevator slowly began to halt on the supposed bridge level. He tightly gripped the handle of his saber and looked to jump out of the space as fast as he could, but without even getting a chance blaster fire erupted from the corridor. A squad of imperials was held up on the corridor, all of which were hiding behind pillars as they fired upon the elevator. From the looks of things, sith troops had already had the same idea as he did, but they had all been swiftly cut down when the doors opened to their death.

Calruss himself barely had time to react, however, his quick reactions saved him a body full of blaster fire. Snapping his arm up in front of him he used force stasis to stop five or more shots coming at him. Things got heavier when more blaster fire joined the rest, leaving some to get through while his arm began to shake from the pressure. Suddenly, he released a loud yell and fired it back at the soldiers, peppering the walls and pillars they hoped would protect them from harm. Some of the imperials were unlucky enough to get hit by the wild outburst, leaving them to fall in a heap on the floor while the others tried to prepare themselves for another volley.

Sensing the chance to strike, Calruss jolted out of the elevator and lifted a sith body into the air using the force. When the blasters erupted once more they instead peppered into the lifeless body, something of which was increasingly getting closer. Once close Calruss threw his saber into the first soldier's chest before slinging the cold body into the other, crushing him between the sith and the wall. The last imperial panicked as he tried to reload his blaster but was swiftly put down when Calruss forcefully threw him into the wall like a ragdoll.

His eyes scanned all around him and noted that everyone had been taken care of, other than one thing. When he took a step forwards a sharp pain came from his side, a wound that made him twitch slightly when he looked down. One of the blasters had caught him badly on his thigh, possibly when he was struggling to defend against the blaster fire. Although it would hinder his movement, he still needed to carry on and find the empress more than anything else.

All he could do was limp through the blaster doors, almost hoping he'd see the sight of the bridge just about now. And thankfully, his wish was granted. Before him were two figures fighting, a Mandalorian and an individual that appeared to be of sith origin. The teen painfully scooted himself behind a pillar as he got closer to the action, being careful not to be spotted or involved in the conflict while looking through the doors. He could see what appeared to be the Empress on a seat facing away from them to his relief. Nonetheless, it was unknown as to what her condition was right now.

All he needed to figure out now was how in the name of the empire he was going to get her out

 

[Vilaz Munin]

V E T E R A N
SONS OF MANDALORE
MUUNILINST
HYDRA
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | KINETIC SPEAR | VARIOUS GRENADES | KNIFE

​

There would be plenty of metal for him to salvage and smelt into new purpose from this the deceased Kyrdol Mandalorians of this battle. A practice he adopted long ago when he had fought against others of his culture through various schisms of ideologies, one triumphing to rule Mandalore and her warriors. Vile? Decadent? Dishonorable? Yes, it was; but he learned long ago his code of honor, something that didn't align with other clans. He thought little to how others judged him from his past deeds, though he dedicated himself to redeeming his grave sins of serving the Sith by aiding the cause of the Sons of Mandalore.

Even if it was a lifetime debt.

Even if had to fight every battle clean his filthy hands and serve his culture with heart.

And the blood of the Kyrdol clansmen would help accomplish that spiritual cleansing he sought for.

<"You recognize the clan, Alor?">

<"No, they must be a modern clan is my guess.">

Clans of old he had crossed paths with whether it was mutual or hostile. Not many new ones formed in this era of their history, never has been. The old warrior and his warriors would violently infiltrate the spaceport through windows or any delicate access point that didn't require much force to break through. Battle and death awaited within the spaceport, though those under his banner would fight in a pragmatic way that even some Mandalorians questioned the nature of their tactics. No holds barred. The time of fighting honorably was a fool's virtue. Honor did not win battles, this he had learned.

<"Scourge them, we will take back this site no matter the cost.">

To fight for a great cause was worthy enough to die for, that was a sacrifice he and his clansmen were willing to live up to. There would be no retreats or surrendering, each of them would rather die than live as a coward.

Spear in his hands and thrusted into the breastplate of a Mandalorian, sending them off their feet and flew backwards several feet away. Broken ribs was the least they suffered. Many more to maim and kill as he searched for the nearest foe to engage.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Kar Bakar | DECEASED Aron Gowrie
ENEMIES | TSE | Shuklaar Kyrdol | Arctus Silmar | Eva Betrik

 

[Larro Paeb]

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

————————————
​

Though the Knight started to understand where his brothers minds were at, he still couldn’t stand by and watch as his new brothers within the New Imperial Order were slaughtered by the Darjetti.

“I will go to your Alor’s position alone. Comm ahead if you would like. But I want you to think to yourselves for a kih’nara. These verd you attack and kill fight for something that is their’s as well: their Yaim.”

Shutting off his saber, he lowered it and clipped it to his belt. With a simple head nod towards his once brothers, the Knight turned around and headed for the tower. Hopefully his duel would convince them to change their mind with the attack.

————————————​

A little while later

The Knight now approached the building where he supposed their Alor was. At least, the fighting around there made him believer it war their position was. With a loud call, he shouted to where he hoped they were.

“If you are in those buildings, then you will come out and fight me like a true Alor, not like a hut’uun! Your attack on these verde is over!”

Igniting his saber once more, Kar made sure to stand his ground as he waited for the Alor. A fight was sure to come soon.

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

XIII
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 Noel Strasza

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

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

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

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

Wildcat Battalion (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
42 Cataphract Tanks (-3)
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
2 Predator Launch-Platforms
2 Guardian Tac-Teams
1 Field-Medic Platoon
1 Combat-Engineer/Logistics Squad
Other Vehicles
2 Stolen Repulsorlift Tanks
2 Stolen Scout-AFVs
5 Stolen MLVs
2 Stolen Ammo-Transports

MAKE OR BREAK III - THE WAXING ONSLAUGHT

<"Davidson to Guardian One! Swoop bikes in sight, I repeat - swoop bikes in sight!">

As arranged, the route for the baiting manoeuvre was followed to the letter, letting the long trail of ambush set up for their arrival as all the Sith's engaging denizens followed, and like the Iron Wolf's contingent, completely unaware of what was about to transpire. The ambush itself would have multiple overlapping layers in it's application, starting with the timely blocking of the enemy advance with two wreckages in tow setting the quick-placed baseline for the others, also screening the escape of the swoop bikes so they could readjust and attack again from other angles at the right time. Not that this would be an issue, as the next two (and arguably the most explosive of the ambush's many elements) layers would involve a rocket and anti-tank barrage from the Dunwall Irregulars and Guardians lining the rooftops above the blocked tanks, followed by a barrage from the MLVs and Predator Launch-Platforms moments later. Everything else would rely on the counterattacking capabilities of the Wildcats' tanks and Jin Kyrel's swoop bikes, and if they could get into the fight in time, Noel Strasza's contingent also, but time would be the teller in this fight whether Byron Scott liked it or not.

'Scott to Guardian One-Three! Order the tow-tanks to move in! Move them in NOW!!!'

As Jin's speeders roared by the Guard-Leftenant, the even louder scrape of metal could be heard down the road, giving the secretive Tuath nobleman every reason to allow himself a nervous grin at the very least. All the opposing vehicles in the front had crashed into each other as they failed to push past the charred remains of the tanks the Irregulars had towed in their path, at least not until the pile-up grew large enough to spill over the top of it; not that it mattered to the troops on the rooftops, to the front or those looking to the sky (with artillery readied) to see if the destruction had begun yet. Other metallic scrapes could be heard after the crashing commotion had died down, giving the rooftop ambushers their signal to unleash Hell on the vehicles below. Leftenant Scott wouldn't even need to make the orders over his comm-link channels, watching as the smoothbores and PLX-rockets to the front let loose soon after, bathing the three-mile stretch of inner-city roadway ahead in light, force, metal and fire.

'TAKE COVER, LADS !!!! GET DOWN, GET DOWN!!!'

In a blaze of destructive glory, a chain-reaction would send chunks of the tank-pileup fragmenting everywhere, severely damaging the tanks behind them, the buildings on all sides of this onslaught and generally scarring everything the shockwave scattered across the area. But the fun wasn't over yet, not by a long chalk, as the MLVs and Predator Launch-Platforms sent their payloads swarming to the back of the formation as the horrified crews watched on powerlessly, snatching all hope of escape from those still trying to survive in the center of the ill-fated mechanized mass. And just like it was near the front, it was to be much of the same for the routing vehicles at the back; with more explosions drawing the formation in tighter, the time to counterattack was night at hand for Gowrie and the Iron Wolf, and the roaring engines all around the district served as perfect confirmation.

'Everybody alright? Good, stay alert-'

<"Gowrie to Guardian One! As soon as the tanks fire, we're all moving in with them! Ready your men for the final push, Leftenant!">

'Gladly, Milord! Guardian One out!'

MAKE OR BREAK IV - THE WANING THREAT

​

'Gowrie to Deader! Apologies for datapad-messaging, we had to be sure our comms weren't being monitored. Ambushes can often be the most delicate ops, after all.... One set of loose lips can sink any proverbial ship of this magnitude. In any case, if you hear tanks firing in unison, then you're good to charge in with the rest of us. Eyes an' ears open for-'

Like a military-policeman's lash to everyone's backs, the close-range smoothbore shots lit up from within all the accessways and alleys that brightened every nook and cranny by the roadsides with armour-piercing shells; following soon after, the roars of the speeders with their heavy-duty, tank-killing armour lancers in hand would rumble into everyone's eardrums as they hurried down to ground level. Every soldier still standing to fight would be needed to prevail in the next part, as the speeders softening up the opposition's exposed flanks were making the prearranged exits so as not to incur any unnecessary losses in the fight, and the tanks and AFVs that remained would need all the help they could get as the fight progressed. Their true challenge, the real fight, awaited in the flames of their creation, but instead of fear, the Dunwall-Tuath method, as a whole, had given the previously-outnumbered Galidraani a large collective dose of much-needed bloodlust.

'For that, basically.... So, I'll leave it at,"Happy hunting, an' we'll meet yees in the crucible!", an' leave ye in peace to have some proper destructive fun! Wildcat One out!'

As Tyrell Lockhart personally led the Irregulars for their final charge, the Wildcat vehicles rushed in with them, going all out for the sake of those still trying to get down to the fight itself from the rooftops, dealing with stairwells and elevators as the others fought every part like the lions on their banners. The lines would clash as Gowrie pushed forward with the others closing the pincer around the trapped Sith armour in the third prong, driving, climbing over the wreckages or moving around before openings were found, but as soon as the others joined, the hellishness would increase tenfold for the previously-overconfident opposition, with smoothbores firing off at point-blank as the trapped Sith-loyalists struggled and failed to turn their turrets in time. When Noel's contingent arrived on the scene, jetpacking right into the midst of the hostilities, the last fight for the city was already looking to be well underway; but that didn't stop Strasza from leading her own charge into the organized center of the kettled-in attackers, sending rockets, anti-tank fire and themselves into the melee as everything erupted into chaos around them.

'DRAW YER SWORD, GINGE!!!! IT'S TIME TO GET STUCK INTAE THESE SCUMBAGS!!!! DIA SAOR GU TUUUUUAAAAAAAATH!!!!'

 

[Vesta]

RAGING ON A SUNDAY​

Muunilist

Breaking the Silence: Front Hydra​

Location: Harnaidan Streets -> Government Sector​

Equipment: Talon of Typhojem, Lightsaber​

Allies: The Sith Empire | Lady Marrow , Darth Daiara ​

Enemies: New Imperial Order | Noel Strasza , Jaeger Harrsk , Aerarii Tithe , Vilaz Munin (Tagging everyone in the objective)​

To disappear, as a predator, is often one of the best ways to lower the guard of unsuspecting prey. Perhaps the soldier and their group thought an abandoned fight meant a discontinued siege, or perhaps they simply assumed that the Sith was of no consequence so close to the Muun capital, but it seemed that Noel Strasza was far more keen on leaving the burning wreckage behind in search of an ally or maybe someone else more willing to play games of cat and mouse - Vesta Zambrano, however, had no qualms with continuing on her trek towards the political heart of the city.

Smaller, diminutive, and entirely unintimidating in appearance, the Shi'ido had chosen to shift her look back to something that most of the Empire might've seen as more familiar, a face she'd worn much more commonly in the past before she had begun a short campaign into Silver space. To be a Shi'ido was a boon in and of itself, one that most perhaps contributed to the ability to blend in - to be what amounted to a chameleon in regards to appearances - but that was hardly the peak of the benefit to shapeshifting. Inferior species could only imitate others, shifting their outer appearance with their heights or their weights fixed by their base, but the Shi'ido knew no such frustrations. A reduced profile, a more lithe and agile figure, arrived at from a much stockier and taller build just moments before would've quickly put to rest any further debate on the merits of which of the handful of shapeshifting species could claim superiority.

There were New Imperial Soldiers everywhere, and tank fire just a few districts away rocked the very ground both they and her maneuvered across, and for their part they were well trained - cover was taken, fire was suppressing, and not a single one of them ran towards her like some kind of untrained buffoon. They were still, however, taught to train what they could expect. Tall buildings created a corridor that blocked the street she ran down, that she found herself slowed on, from much of the fighting that was spawning explosions that erupted far into the sky over Front Chimera. Lady Marrow had been kind enough to provide as much a map as one could ask for in the stakes she had found herself in and the Sith silently reminded herself to give her appreciation for the assistance as she leaned back and bent at her knees as she turned, sliding out on the pavement to avoid a wall of blaster fire that would've otherwise been quite a bit more difficult to deal with.

She slide her left leg out, it having been resting over her right as she slid, and provided an approaching set of soldiers with perhaps their final surprise - the ground in front of them losing its integrity and washing over them like a wave of sand while she shoved her foot down to the ground as her slide slowed and used the force to leverage herself up and onto the same limb to carry herself into a sprint. The sand-like material made of what had been a permacrete road? A tomb for a handful of soldiers, of course; the gesture of placing her heel to the ground had immediately drawn all of that fine material together and condensed it like one would with wet sand, the sickening pops of their bones and joints cracking and the spray of blood through the cracks all the evidence one needed of what remained of the men.

That, of course, wouldn't stop a dozen or so men and women that stood at various points, staggered in position, from simply continuing to rain ammunition on her - and indeed it shouldn't have, she might've lost her appetite if they had, after all. Tossing her sword away and towards them through the force, a bubble of iridescent energy forming around her to shield her while she reached out with both of her hands to gather the power she needed. The sword, of course, wasn't meant to strike at everyone, perhaps noted by someone that would've been a bit concerned by a seemingly indestructible hunk of steel being thrown down the middle of the road and towards just one of them in particular, but the electricity that played at her fingertips as she dropped to her knees, the barrier falling, was quite the cause for alarm.

There was a flash, blinding, and one of the most raw expressions of the dark side of the force, force lightning, ripped through the air and struck the blade, the sword itself humming with the electrical surge. "That's a mis-" One of the men said, his words caught by the movement of his lips in the eyes of the Shi'ido, but it was a statement he would never finish - the blade, the Talon of Typhojem that struck him dead in the chest, was a creation of her own making and this was one of its purposes. All at once the electrical energy caught by the sword erupted across the street and struck many of the soldiers where they stood, illuminating the bone structure beneath their bags of flesh.

She smiled, rising back up to her feet, her breathing a tad bit ragged, and retrieved her lightsaber from her hip.

A lone blaster bolt fired straight for her head from some thirty meters away, a pillar of red erupting while she lifted her hand to bat it back to its source. And then another, and another, as the ones that either survived or had managed to evade the electrical pulse recovered from their momentary disorientation. Still the Sith had an open hand and a sword that was now laying in the middle of the street, a sword she planned to take back. Turning, pirouetting, ducking and weaving, she moved with all the grace her smaller size could grant her to deflect and avoid oncoming blaster fire while she drew steadily close to her blade, a blade which, after ten meters of walking at best, was swept from the ground as she ducked to the right with a gesture of her open hand. It flung out and through the side of the woman closest to her, impaling her mid-way down her ribcage, putting her down for good.

"Should've played dead." She remarked as she lifted herself up from behind her cover, batting away another bolt sent her way.

The capital building was close enough, and her stamina was, unfortunately, not without its limits - as was her patience. Rather than playing games with the force any longer she flung herself forwards, wholly unnatural in the manner in which she did so, towards another soldier that met her saber with the center of his face, which she cleaved through without even a hint of remorse, only to use his shoulders as a jumping point towards another, cutting her clean in two from shoulder to hip. The greatest benefit of a Shi'ido's ability to shift their form? Vesta considered it the versatility it added to her repertoire as a combatant. From Niman to Ataru, from Ataru to Juyo, she shifted again and again until the street was littered with bodies. Tired, but not yet exhausted, the destination of her mission was now easily in view.

To break the silence, cut off the head of the snake.

Harnaidan would fall.

 

[Trajan Fett]

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

SON OF MANDALORE
​

It is a sin. A sin to deny ones self a good death. There was only so many opportunities that had ever arisen for Trajan, this wayward Mandalorian. Even in those moments seemingly mundane, be it saving Lucien Dooku in the prison pits of Diab, or Caeos Prahl during her hunting rite on Shili. Or defending his Riduur, his Adi'ka on Manda'yaim. He thought, they might have wanted him to live on in happiness, the better way to carry their memory.

It took him until that final moment to realize that, that those he loved, who loved him...would've only ever wanted to see him...happy. And in that stead, he lived in misery and anguish. A horrid existence, in pursuit of ghosts long gone, in the aim of agitated long scarred wounds. Nothing would ever fill the void he lost.

In that moment, that final, vindicated moment of which he stood at the razor's edge, the precipice of vengeance.

He realized however, in the end...he'd be coming home.

He'd see them again.

He fired one last burst of his disruptor rifle before before peering down to the bomb strapped to his chest, reaching the end of its fuse and let the rifle clatter to the floor before him. He wrought forth that projection again, of those he'd lost.

<"I'm coming home...like I promised.">
​

He said, what would be final words before closing his eyes and letting the blast of the baradium charge bring the self wrought coup de grace unto himself and the rest of those aboard the bridge should be so fortunate as the ship around them entered its chaotic death throes, spiraling into certain destruction into the heart of the battle around them.

But in the end...Trajan's fire had gone out as violently as it ignited. And at long last...he had been granted his peace, as tortured as it might have been...ever deserved.



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

 

[Kiara Ayres]

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

The Jedi felt some of the strain of holding the ceiling up alleviated. She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was none other than her Padawan, which was confirmed by the familiar voice. She hesitated for a moment before replying, quickly assessing what little options they had. "Try and clear the tunnels. I'll protect them when the ground falls." She told him, her voice straining a little under the pressure.

The pressure against her was immense enough to cause her to be forced to her knees under the weight but her arms remained skywards, dutifully protecting the trapped citizens, but the cracks began to seep up further towards the edges of the ceiling as she supported the weight of the ground above and all who were on it. All it took was one vehicle too many for the weight to become too much to bear.

There was an almighty sound of groaning metal as the ceiling and the ground above it gave way all at once. The Jedi Master instinctively threw her arms out to create a Force shield, protecting all those in the immediate vicinity. It was still a strain but it was their last resort. There was nothing more she could do in her stalemate but rely on someone to assist her.

All around her, there was death and decay. She could feel lives gradually slipping away and into the Force. They were in a dire situation. "Any time now..." She projected onto her allies.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Location: Orinackra System, NIV Confidence, Command Deck
Objective II.: Surviving
Equipment: Military uniform || Empyrean gland
Writing with / Tags: Trajan Fett | Alina Tremiru | Rexus Wenck | Delvrarus Sanders | LT-137 | Viers Connory | Kuben Woods | Alina Tremiru | Calruss Shiman | Darth Banshee | Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Cara Dorniarn

[ Requiem for a Dream ] ​

No, the only thing she couldn't let happen, it was that the man tried to kill hundreds of soldiers. They may have been members of the enemy who tortured her every day, but the majority only complied with orders. As a military leader, she could never understand what Kurze planned. The woman respected the soldiers, they did not deserve such a fate. It will not let this be the end. She clenched her fist and tried to reach into the Force. She wasn't trying to stop Trajan Kurze, it would have been no use. It took a much more drastic method.

She had gathered enough negative emotion, managed to reach out to the Force, but it was painful now. She wasn’t trying to use others, she was trying to get “home”. Ingrid whispered ancient Sith words to herself, not caring when Adrian shouted to stop. She could feel the energies condensing around her while still unable to move. When enough energy was concentrated in one node, she made a cut move within her mind.

In the fabric of reality, not long in front of the woman, a tiny rift opened on the bridge into the Netherworld. Ingrid "clung" to it, the shadow tentacles reaching out in the rift's direction, clinging to it with rest of her power. The woman has been part of Netherworld since Byss. Where she died and returned, but she couldn't bring Adrian with her, just a soulshard. And she left one too with her husband; thus became part of Netherworld. And with that power, she reached out to her other home world.

She let the forces there run through her, so her body absorbed them. When she became Shadow-born, she absorbed Tharagorrogarah, or the Night Spirit's all powers, and she became the Night Queen. And Tharagorrogaraht was none other than the Sith God, Typhojem, or the Left-Handed God's sister. The red-haired woman never used or tried to achieve the power of the Night Spirit within herself. Until now.

She used the absorbed Force from the Netherworld to achieve the power that was locked up in her soul and body. As soon as she injured herself, she was in such severe pain that she did not expect. She endured all the torture speechlessly, not even screaming under Rausgeber's brutal beating, but now yes, with loud, her voice mixed with true pain. Then the pain suddenly passed as the power inherent in the woman was released. The real power of the woman was known only to Adrian and the woman's aunt, they saw, felt, this, which was suppressed in her, what she never used before.

Ingrid's power swept aboard the Confidence, perhaps even felt by those who weren't Force Sensitive. Something woke up; and in the woman's strength, power, the coldness of the Netherworld was also there, death, not just the life that the Force meant. Life and Death, though Night Spirit was once a Dark Side Force User, Ingrid’s presence was still neutral, and even shone in the Force, with a more powerful and clearer presence than ever before.

She focused briefly, the next moment she was no longer in the chair, teleported, the grenade exploded behind her, but had no effect on her. The darkness that formed the woman, the shadow tentacles covered the whole bridge, the bridge became darker, the Force blocking due to the gland had no effect on her. The woman was purple-black shadow in reality, she was in the same form in the Force, only in silver colour.

"You won’t get the joy of killing everyone in this place. You will perish alone, in dishonour, Mr. Kurze!" she felt nothing, no anger, hatred, she didn't want revenge, she just not wanted war crimes again.

Her voice was her own, but there was some other tone in it, something from the Netherworld. The moment before the explosion, she spread her arms as she made a few hand gestures, uttering some ancient Sith words, but her presence did not turn into the Dark Side. The woman's power swept across Confidence aboard again, but this time countless tiny rifts were formed on board, tiny rifts that opened straight into Netherworld.

~ Anyone who wants to live should immediately cross into the nearest Rift! You get to safety, you don’t have much time! ~ everyone on the ship could hear the woman's order, whether they were TSE, EE, GA, or NIO's people.

The explosion occurred at this moment, the rifts were tiny, they would have closed on their own within a minute, but the force of the explosions closed them all when they reached them. If she saw on the bridge here and felt that enough people had crossed the rifts on the ship, she had managed to save someone, then she too had crossed into Netherworld and her own rift also closed when the explosion also reached it.

As she stood at Netherworld, she felt again all of Adrian's soulshards, how much she missed that feeling. She was still in the form of a Shadow-born and suddenly felt very tired. This power really exhausted her too much. She also saw Telis and Cara among the rescued. The former tremendous force that could be felt in her had disappeared, retreated, back behind the walls to be unable to use, this “spiritual wound” had healed.

She has changed back into a semi-humanoid form, where her shape is blackish-purple, but her body is pretty solid. And by then, the organisms were really victorious. She tried to speak, but she wasn't successful, the presence of the shining in the Force disappeared, it became insignificant… she was dying, everyone noticed, the Force nearly ran out of her.

Telis could see her differently than the others, thanks to the close connection between the two of them. The man could see all the injuries, mental, physical, she had suffered during the COMPNOR torture that Rausgeber had caused her. That the mental wounds caused by Adrian's death did not heal anything. He could see that Ingrid was broken both physically and mentally. The man had never seen her so vulnerable, weak, mortal… human. The woman who always tried to look strong.

Even now, with her last strength, she pulled herself out, she was a soldier, a ruler, the physical injuries were not visible on her, the mental injuries could not be seen. Her posture is elegant and graceful, though she used almost all of her vitality to save everyone. Never show weakness. These were her last thoughts before she felt that the organisms had almost completely finished the work, and she helped with that.

The Empress of the Eternal Empire fell unconscious to the ground at the next moment.



TL;DR: She open rifts on aboard the Confidence, so anyone can escape to the Netherworld if you want to survive the ship’s destruction. The rifts are closing when the explosion reach them. But I think it give enough time to everyone to go safety, if you don’t want to kill your character.

 

[Kesran Opadal]

Location: Muunilinst
Objective 1: Slay the Padawan
Allies: Arctus Silmar
Enemies: Allyson Locke Mrurh'en'lase | Hel



​

Kesran now stared at her briefly. He took a step back with his left foot. He prepared for another assault and then glanced at the expression on her face.

Doubt...

Exactly what Kesran wanted to see in his opponents and what he expected to manifest in those who faced and who perhaps previously underestimated him.

He now at last ignited his single blade red lightsaber. The hilt was straight and moderately long, not longer than any norm. He flung it towards his front and held in one hand as it hanged downwards diagonally.

He moved his feet into a better position and soon transferred that into a stance of Ataru, that was completed when he placed his lead foot forward.

Then he glanced again at the Padawan's expression. It had changed. She was more confident, almost revigorated in some way. Not just psychically but more mentally. Kesran meanwhile delved deep into his force power to feel where his master was, as he had seem him run off with the Jedi assassin hot on his heels.

There.

The Capital building. He could see with the force, a blurry vision of the gathered Muun and then the scene of the Emperor bursting in, causing a rather fun scene. Kes would chuckle if he had time. He soon saw the Jedi Master arrive and begin her combat with his master.

Almost instantly as he had utilized his powers to see where his master was, he flashed back to reality.

He now suddenly saw the behemoth of a Padawan charge towards him. He immediately switched to a Soresu/Makashi hybrid stance, perfectly suited for defending and halting the advance of the psychically superior combatants.

Then he caught her trying to zig zig his movements. He guessed she was trying to mix up her movements, but like a pattern, zig zags are also pretty predictable if you have seen enough, and Kesran had. However, she broke the traditional patterns of the movement several times. No bother to Kesran, he simply slowed moved back as she raced towards him, nearing to strike. He soon would predict her movements within a split second, using his force enhancements to help with this.

Then the force warned him, with a booming slam that felt like it coming from the inside of his head. It got his attention instantly in the moment and out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The speed the force gave him, combined with his already natural quickness, took his senses and reflexes to highs.

Kesran spotted the debris she had picked up with the force. The Padawan clearly was not a force oriented combatant, for it took her several seconds to propel the debris at him. Then again, Kesran was a force prodigy, plain and simple, and to him it seemed to slow, however, to others, even other force wielders, it would seem normal and at the very least, slightly below average. Her skills were certainly formidable, but in the force, he would always triumph, especially against all that were near or equal to his own level. Of course, he would someday become 10 times as powerful as he was now and eventually rival the ancient and great Sith of all time. But for now, he was still young and with much still to learn.

Without even moving his arm much upwards, his flicked his free hand to the side. A motion such as this didn't require much effort, since the objects were small and medium sized projectiles, nothing that Kesran hadn't dealt with before. The rapid motion of his hand caused the debris coming at him, to plummet to the ground so quickly in a diagonal motion.

With that attempt she had tried, but she failed.

However, his arrogance had blinded him for a short second, leaving the Padawan to gain ground towards him. He realized his folly and switched entirely to a half squat standing Soresu defensive stance. Kesran wanted to unleash another force attack, but her own failed force attack had given her time to close the range. However, not enough time to find an opening, for when she would reach him and strike at his leg, he would be ready. Kesran could now read the intent on her expression and body positioning as she zigged and zagged back and forth, ready to pounce.

When she would reach him she would face a strong young Sith, though certainly psychically outmatched, not mentally or spiritually.

He razed his saber, grasping it with both hands and positioned it next to his face with his hands around hilt placed parallel and adjacent to his neck and collarbone.

As the insanely large female Jedi made her strike at his leg, Kesran summoned a good amount of his power in the force to boost his psychical strength to at least stand up to hers, and at most to be barely equal.

He brought down his blade super fast as just before her blade landed upon his lead leg. His red saber slammed against the blue of the Jedi weapon, catching the inside of the blade, the part of facing inwards towards him and the inside of his stance, for Kesran had positioned himself to where she would strike at his left side, which was the side of his lead leg.

The blades would clash hard. Kesran knew that even with the force boosting his strength, she might still push him back a little. But if she did, Kesran had a few tricks up his sleeve. He prepped himself for whatever happened after the blades completed their clash and the duel resumed.

When their clash would finish, Kesran would look up at the big female Jedi, whose face was closer than it had been during the fight, so he got to see her up close. Kes would say in a brash and arrogant way, "Hello Darling". Hoping it would annoy her and make her feel uncomfortable. If not, Kesran was not worried, he was apprenticed the Sith Emperor, a immortal demigod of the dark side. He would not fail, he would never fail, for he could never let himself think about the opposite.

In his head he recited the words of the Sith code that were the most relatable to him. This would keep his focus and sharpen his determination. For Kesran, this battle was just starting to get good.

"Through Power I gain Victory"


"Through Victory my chains are broken"


"The Force shall free me"


​

Wait, he felt something in her, something faint. He searched in that split moment as time seemed to freeze for just an instant. For him at least,

He felt it. It was. It was....

"Hahaha", he chuckled to himself inside his head.

It was........Darkness

"Oh boy this is definitely going to fun now"

 

[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​

​

He trembled, feeling the earth bearing down, and knowing they had very little time left. The battle above continued, the ground trembled, and with it his strength faltered. They would be crushed in due time, that much he had no doubt. They needed to change their situation, and fast. Looking about, he found there was only one potential escape, though even then he was unsure if he had the power to do so. Kiara warned him, told him to rush to the tunnels. Kadan had just turned his head towards to face his new objective when it happened. A section of the ceiling came down, smashing into the unarmored section of his left arm. He felt something give, a fiery pain sweeping up the limb, as he lost all sensation in the limb. He howled out in pain, his concentration lapsing, as the limb was at the very least fractured. More of the ceiling began to give, as without his aid, the weight came down to Kiara to bare. "I-I can still..." He sputtered, rising to his feet, grimacing as the pain came into focus. He attempted to ignore the distraction, his mind thinking to the civilians that were trapped within the tunnels. His master was hardly able to keep them alive. They were on borrowed time as is, the pain would have to wait. He tried to tuck his injured arm against his body, only to find it non responsive; not a good sign. The pain was exceptional, akin to reports he had read of people describing losing their arm, though rather than a swift cut from a saber, it felt as if his arm was being gnawed at by a pack of Firaxan sharks.​

​

He focused on the other side of the station, a wall of rubble clogged up several of the tunnels, barring their escape. Yet, it remained their only way forward. Moving towards the tunnel, he was already reaching out to find an opening, something he could cling to for hope, as the Sith were baring down on them on all sides. The very people they were trying so desperately to protect seemed to embrace their faith, as many looked up at the weakening ceiling above, unable to move, paralyzed by fear, or perhaps acceptance. All the more reason he had to try.​

​

Try to keep the flicker of hope alive.​

​

He stumbled towards the closed passage, his still functional hand being thrown forth, as it slammed like a hammer against the pile of rubble; no effect was noticed. He reached out, opening himself further to the force, trying to encompass all those near him into his senses, hoping to draw upon the life within this station as his anchor. He would need it for this. He sucked in another breath, not realizing he had stopped breathing several moments ago, hissing on the pain that pulsated from his arm with ever exertion; it was broken, that much he was certain of. The despair festered, he could hear the voices now, doubt trickled into his mind, as he could hear the people he was failing. Their accusations amassed, seemingly certain they would be allowed to die in this place.​

​

He dug his feet in, and reached out, pulling upon what little strength he had remaining to try and move the obstacle before him. He let forth another shove, this one faintly visible, ripples of blue energy traced the outsides, as it slammed hard into the rubble; it shifted ever so slightly. The accusations erupted, drowning out the sounds of the battle raging all about.​

​

'Save us'​

​

'Don't let us die'​

​

'You were supposed to protect us'.​

​

The padawan collapsed. Hurt, tired, and overwhelmed by the despair that had cultivated within this doomed place. He couldn't shut them out, he couldn't give them peace, and he most certainly couldn't get them out of this mess. Not in this shape. He panted, desperate to catch his breath, to steady himself, trying to focus past the thoughts.​

​

A hand grabbed his right shoulder, and in that instant, the voices were silenced. He found Autumn, looking down at him confusion etched on her face. "Mister Kadan, do you need help?" She asked nonchalantly, as if life itself was not endangered. He composed himself a tad better now, rising up to surpass her height. Words lodged in his throat, but he managed to force out a simple, "Yes". Her hand moved down, taking hold of his own. "Well, I think you just need to help yourself now. Then we can all leave this place behind." She said plainly, managing a smile as she gazed up at him. She raised her hand towards the rubble, though the world around them still shock violently. Dust fell down from above, more bits of debris coming with it. "We can do it together. Right?" She asked, her dirt caked face still wearing a smile, though he could see where streaks of tears had punctured through the dust. "Right." The pain was no longer a factor, though it still bit at him, crawling up and down his arm like fire. But his mind was elsewhere now. In-spite of all this havoc raging, Autumn wasn't succumbing to the fear. Which was exactly what he had been doing. The words of the jedi code came to mind, as he closed his eyes, and planted his feet firmly.​

​

He would move this, and that would be that.​

​

Fear was about him, death above him, chaos lingered in the air, and the enemy was ignorant of their plight.​

​

Emotion, yet peace.​

​

Ignorance, yet knowledge​

​

Passion , yet serenity​

​

Chaos, yet harmony​

​

Death, yet the force.​

​

He had never been fighting at a disadvantage, he could see that now.​

​

The rubble began to shift, as Kadan applied his will upon it, the force behind his command gathering, the pressure building, mounting as the rocks began to break. The force was operating with him on a level he had yet felt, and he operating with it.​

​

He had never been at a disadvantage during this ordeal, rather, he had lacked the knowledge to seize that what he needed most. Acceptance of the situation.​

​

There was a loud 'crash', as the tunnel was forced open, Kadan's force efforts worked as a drill, slamming through the debris, and clearing a path out a head; the faint hint of light broke through the way up ahead. They would make it out of this yet.​

​

Gathering what strength he had, he shouted aloud, the force echoing his words as he sought to reach all within the station. "Everyone, through the tunnel! We have precious little time!" He called out, moving towards the front of the tunnel, then looked to ensure Autumn was safely with him. Only to find the girl had vanished. He frowned, hoping that perhaps she would be safe. Though, he had more pressing matters to attend to. A pair of rangers moved to scout the way ahead, as the refugees began to trickle out.​

​

Saber in hand, he ignited the weapon, using it as a torch to lead the crowd out.​

​

Master Kiara had asked him to ensure the people got out, and he would see it done.​

​

He only hoped she would make it out as well.​

 

[Bernard of Arca]

Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
----
Collapse / collide​

Harnaidan, Muunilinst
+0:57 h after First Contact
Damask Plaza, Southern Cultural Centre

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

The world swayed for a few moments. In the foreground the tents swayed as though the ground had been set down on the ocean surface and was now rocking back and forth on stormy waves. Darkness encroached on the plaza from the distance. The explosion of colours in the distance lit up the world for a moment, but the shadows returned at the edges of his vision with renewed fervor.

Loud, high-pitched whines pierced the chaos off the plaza. A frenzy of screams and howls soon followed it, then a mass of boots shook the plaza. The murderous haze of war had descended on the Sith troops and they were out for blood. Few things ever stood after the Sith-Imperial had dozed its way through them, and especially not a Jedi and a glorified Marshal. The edges of the rounded plaza were overtaken with the sounds, filled with Sith troops, and the centre quickly followed, saturated with red-domed legionnaires. Above them all loomed the walker, barely visible above the tops of the tents, that shook the earth with a clattering thud each time it took a step toward the Jedi.

A crawling cold rose along Bernard's spine. He wouldn't put up much of a fight in his condition, not against this many troops and especially not against a walker. He ran out of explosives putting together the fireworks, and he didn't have anything else that could ever hope to penetrate the sturdy hull of a walker. More pressingly, he didn't know how he would keep this tempest from rolling through the streets of Harnaidan after the civilians. The fireworks would sow confusion and distract, but explosives would only do so much against the frenzied tide of troopers.

<We've linked up with New Imperial troops. Getting civilian elements away from the fighting now,> the Ranger lead's voice came like a gift from the Force.

<Good work out there.> Bernard replied.

"And you too," he continued, speaking only to present company. "The civilians got out fine thanks to your efforts out there. Good work."

Contended resignation crept through his body. Their mission had ended as successfully as it could in the chaos of a planetary invasion. The business of working as part of a team still remained foreign to him, however. It introduced a whole new set of pressures and variables to keep track of while alleviating and eliminating others. It wasn't so much better or worse as it was different. He wasn't quite sure if it was something for him, not quite yet, but for now, he didn't mind it so much.

"I'll get us a way out of here. Keep up the show," he started.

Then, weakness seized his legs and he swayed once. He brought his hand around the wrist of his bandaged arm and tapped a distress signal.

"Medic," he muttered and fell sideways.

His body hit the ground with a splash of rainwater. The steady downpour slowly spread and diluted the red spots along his back, while he drifted off to dream in oblivion.

 

[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

Black Out Days

​

In this line of work Sybila had learned well before how to put up with being down range of something, even when it meant it might be the end of the line. You kept your head down, but that perseverance never suited her. The Force connected through her limb and she was a lighting rod for it. For the briefest moment she was floating, but this thing and article consumed her. The screech of metal sounded, but the call pulled at every ligament-this void. It unstitched reality. Her cheek was pressed up against the fogging glass, ripped nails scraping down it, dragged further and further into the abyss. Ihis artifact was simply a terrifying beacon and it unlocked something worse. Red reflected across the HUD blinding her with the neon lights-warnings blared across the screen as the room melted away all too slowly into the dark and all there was left was the stranger towering over her-

“Remove the twelfth ribs and reinforce the bone along the sternum-” Maledictus boomed from the observation window, his voice metallic across the intercom. Lyra screeched, metal slowly bending from her constraints as she glared into his own infernal gaze.

The leather strip was driven further into her mouth by surgical tool, the deformed being that circled the table did not speak; only studied each reflex. The world swarmed as she reared her head back on the table, trapping her hair under her back-each strand slowly pulled from her skull. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead and engulfed her vision until it had become a permanent fixture imprinted into her retina of her eye. Tubes ran the length of the ceiling dangling overhead-her joints were locked by braces where they fed into her body. A milky liquid was pushed through the vein and her back hit the metallic table a final time-oblivion had come to collect.

“She remains awake for this procedure.”

Or so she had thought. Her throat slowly shredded as the medical table rattled. A hand with out face appeared within her line of vision with the scalpel-

Shards of Tenebrae erupted and no reflex could undo what she had started, cold air mingling with the tibanna gasses crept across exposed skin. Somewhere below the joint sheer agony had taken a chunk away at her knee where flesh was exposed. A wildfire raged her leg but lower and lower there was no feeling but ice. It burned and she choked and gaped behind the helmet, gagging before she could reign her breathing. Her mind fled and returned, one hand still anchored to the glass wall she had erected. She might as well been jumping off the ramp, with the wind ripping across her bare face and bulging eyes-

A thousand voices echoed in her skull. Three men’s height span the cell, but now a beady black liquid churned around her and filled it to the brim. It pulled her further from the safety of the ledge. These small cracks in the slate stone where she had bloodied her nails. Scraping stone, tearing it apart until it could serve as a foothold. She had given up by the third hour, she could not tear the foundation of the ashen fortress down. Her body was left to tossed through the black ocean as the floodgates opened and the current passed below-a dangerous tempest threatening to sweep her under.

“Again and again, gnashing at this cage. Filter your mind of this pain, you will find no mercy here. Remember this dear Sybila, child. You are what we made you, what I have made you. You tempered beast, balk and balk again. You will not escape.”

She was still suspended over the edge of the glacier in her mind, fighting the claws sinking into her neck that squeezed. The golden maned man would discard her from this ledge into the snowy abyss, or the ice itself would give under their weight and together they would fall-but he would pluck these thin scraps of skin from he face until there was nothing left first. The crack, and final snap of her body against the surf was a kinder sensation; quick and painless-

-It surged over her and Sybila lost track as thought and rationale fled. She was led back to the present by the ache that crept up into her thigh. Hard pressed digits clawed into seams of the black helmet as she swept up-the armored spine hit the floor first with a loud crack in quick succession. The all too distant voice of a woman passed over the radio and disappeared in the static, where they began Sybila’s own hoarse scream ended. Half howling and mad, she wasn’t sure. Any work that Allyson Locke accomplished was likely dependent on the back up files as emergency generators clicked, roaring with life. It was too cramped here, hot breath recycling inside the confines of the armor.

Her voice reverberated off the screen back into her face, as she screwed her eyes shut to hide from the crimson. Sybila just had a habit of picking the worst fights, but that ugly little voice in the back of her head celebrated it and the blood. The impact capabilities of a power suit wouldn’t stop the velocity of an ordnance shot-she knew this. Yet that’s all the A.I could rationalize it as, emergency protocol raced across the screen to stem the bleeding and all she could do was lay there in the dust. A distant hum from the burnt out mainframe and sparking wire drowning out the audio receptors as her chest raised finally, Sybila gasped-

It was the consistency of oil, blinding her eyes. Her head had sunk thrice, only to break the surface. In a single wet breath she roared, the sound reverberating off the stone and metal-spit flying from her lips before she descended into wretched coughs. Trying to rid the tar from her body, it was rancid and spoiled, burning her throat until it was raw. Choking on a final wisp of air, her cries died, but she fought these waters.

“You underestimate the man, he would confine you and carve out every piece that defined you down to the last cell in your blood on a petri dish. He’ll only be pleased with a husk or better yet a corpse.”

The weight of the boot would not lift, no matter how she pried at the sole and ankle or kicked out her feet. She could not topple this giant. A barrel burned as it was dragged across her skin, flesh singed black from the heat-and they drove it into her temple; pain blooming across her skull. Men’s laughter surrounded her and she screeched and screeched, begging until tears streamed down her cheeks. The white clad armor slashed in red surrounded her, the city road would be her grave. She had been their Commander.

“We will run another round of sensory deprivation-then begin shifting through whatever is left of the fortitude of her walls.”

-It didn’t matter how fast she built, how far she sought to elude the devil. The unknown charted stars on the horizon wouldn’t shroud her. It was the lucky one’s got killed, even if it left one man or a million to mourn them. It was a jealous pit that lived in her, uglier and overwhelming. It’s mire bubbled and rotted inside her. She could sink into it, it was where she lost the will that had emerged covered in envy. She was slipping again and her fingers left a trail down the unseen wall, disgust roiled inside herself but she couldn’t fathom why. Sybila’s helmet lulled, tapping against the metal floor as her mind narrowed in-barely recognizing the retreating form of the Sith. This degradation was her own monster, his words were a waste of garbled breath, dog. She had heard that..that and Korriban.

The face of her former Master plagued her and she swallowed roughly, wheezing on blood-god she was losing blood but her eyes were dry at least. Sybila was long tired of the tears and hurricane of emotion. The forsaken planet..where it all had gone right, and terribly downhill from there to today. Damage control fled through her mind as the wheels started to turn and Sybila, her vision doubled down and she dry heaved. She didn’t feel the kiss of the needle as the life support system ran diagnostics. One gauntlet dragged across the floor, to prop herself up. It left a path through the remains of the void stone as her whole body and armor creaked; in one breath forced herself to sit up.

She didn’t have the will to argue, men would think what they wanted-inflated upon their ego. She pitied the woman in the reflection of the HUD, a self made catastrophe-she could blow herself a kiss. They could have chosen any other planet or system-this place was simply ingrained into her. That wasn’t a source of fault, it was just what it was. There was little else to fall for, it wasn’t weakness. Alas it draped itself around her shoulders and tightened like a noose, that was all their eyes could see was face value. All she had regarded Irveric with and a thousand other mad men. Sybila swore it a thousand times silently, loosing self as she cursed vehemently. The ventilators roared with cold air across her face-

Under layers of ribs and bruised skin of her chest, her heart quickened as all feelings fled her limbs, was it the cold or was it the fatigue? There was no sleep down here in the bowels of Credence, not by decree of the man himself. Seven days without rest, and now she would be drowned in this pit. Her hands slapped the surface of the freezing waters. The tip of her fingers brushed the ledge before she was stolen back beneath by the weight of the tar in a single breath. Her shoulders would give out in time, no matter how far she reached-the bars of her cell were out of reach.

“The skies are absent of any fleet or man, where are the thunderous Legions to save you dear child. You were expendable and you could not even offer them death as compensation, something to celebrate a meaningless sacrifice.”

A soft hand, tapered with a point-a nail that could easily rend flesh.. trailed over her forehead dragging the strand of oily hair from her face. The sole source of light burnt the color amber, from it-cast a wall of shadows marked by the bars that caged her within. Her lips were cracked, the taste of sulfuric ash permeated this far below the Keep. Her body, with it’s black swaths of bruises half melted, sweat into the stone at her back. She was floating, all the fight had fled her. Through the murky edges of consciousness a silhouette loomed over her and she rasped, she only needed to see her one more time. Her mother-here in the dim evening no one was coming. It closed around her throat and choked her until she could gasp and was lost to the misery. There was no one down here, not even herself.

“Your spawn won’t be safe from him in the end, I can see them both now with your sharp features and worse yet that temper. What will Engima do when they take after their mother-it won’t be kind surely.”

She was blind. They had taken all sources of light, Sybila was left to this vastness-this void and it did not matter if her eyes were open or closed. It was all the same, the absence of light. The tar poured in from the grate, the trickle of the liquid splashing across the surface like rain and down her face. Her body sinking below again, what breath she had seized fleeing out her nose. Her hand strained as she reached beyond across the veil through the Force. Her chest would seize, and her jaw cried for mercy as she clenched it shut, refusing to breathe before she slipped further under. The cold prickling along her exposed skin, her trashing had slowed and she was suspended there in the waters; drifting..The woman opened her eyes despite the deafening presence in the dark and kicked out her legs again-

Sybila’s gaze fell on to the gaping mess left of her knee, somewhere drifting far away from the anchor of her limbs and bones. Maledictus’ own chuckle pressed itself into the shell of her ear and she flinched. She didn’t want to dare move her limb for fear of the pain. White shards of bone from her knee jutted out, small chips of Tenebrae flaking away. A greenish foam erupted from the cracks as a bacta foam filled the space-if only to staunch the growing pool of blood under her. Her heart rate was dropping, the aurbesh ticked away as her body swayed. Two minutes and descending, she needed to cut off the circulation..

This was just sloppy work and a hollow..agonizing feeling swelled in her lungs. He couldn’t even finish the job and she seethed from behind teeth. It was an insult. It would have been a free pass to nirvana she didn’t realize she needed. A pained cry swallowed as she clenched her jaw shut until all the air in her lungs was expended. Sybila slammed her elbow into the metal of the floor, a single thud followed and she threw her weight, exhaling as she rolled over onto the swell of her good knee. Her shoulders shook under the weight of the blast plate as she held herself up, every muscle strained as she slowly inched up on the toe of her boot. Copper dropped steadily from the exposed wound and her own sinew.

So it was just another god complex, another certified narcissistic son of a queen who had been in the game a little longer than her. Her laugh sounded like a hack, the noise was trapped in her throat and choppy. She coughed until the surge of sheer mania passed and she was left wheezing, body balancing precariously on one foot. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins, metal scraping the floor, the sound of retreating footsteps growing distant. Sybila could see the canvas bag that had been tossed haphazardly at her side, medical wings stiched across it; just within reach. Past that and the remains of the terminal, the black scorched marks of the frag. The little party trick hadn’t left the building and Sybila found herself staring at the two mirages, wearing the trimmed face and red eye’d freak himself.

“If I didn't already have a vendetta..." She wheezed, it was something of a promise and she shook her head. Her copper tongue ran across her cracked lips, stining; voice mechanized by the audio output. "Fuck off already.”

The reflect across the visor melted away and she returned his gaze-an inferno haunting her eyes. Each finger sprawled out as her arms raised and her gauntlets flexed, somewhere unsteady on one knee with her arms strung up. The Force burgeoned from her limbs, ripples that rolled off the grey plate in a pale light. She inhaled sharply and with each exhale it revolted as it hit the dark barrier.

Imprisoned by the layer of fine ebony dust that coated the room, it closed in around and a lone noise crawled out from her throat that only grew into a wail. Sybila pushed forward as the energy stacked itself on every vertebrae down her spine and weighed her down ready to snap. Her fingers bent wildly, servo humming as the pent up energy reflected across the metal. She’d steal every scrap and wound it around her through the gaps as she focused, it was so brittle until she reached them. The stretch of the room was at hand and a long metal groan sound beneath her, body jerking as the floor dented-the only warning.

Sybila would drag it all kicking and screaming-the crown of her helmet hit the steel as she hunched over until her form convulsed. Void Stone, it was like a thousand cut mirrors of obsidian reflecting..herself all she could feel was herself but even that too was slipping away, lost in a thousand reflections. She wove through the ebon sheen until pain overtook her eyes until her vision threatened to fade. This labyrinth, as the weight tore at her hands, pulling back and slipping through her fingers, her jaw cracked as she clenched her mouth so tightly. The briefest moment of clarity revealed and she drove until something else gave. A wave through the Force burst from both hands in a single breath, driving through the shadows..These living replicants. Thrusting their bodies through the layers of durasteel like rag dolls. She was the anchor to this torrent that flooded from her limbs. The tear of metal-rend, down to the last bolt, it all imploded crumbling boomed as she pushed, lifting this burden off her shoulder. Her chest rattled as she swallowed the last sound in her throat.

The audio dampeners whirled as wires and pipes were exposed from the inner guts of the building. Tibanna flooded the room in full, the temperatures dropping rapidly-but her vision was already darkening. She was showered in in white hot sparks finally as the walls shattered under her hands, her own cybernetic shook and bent slowly back-ripping apart in the torrent in an instant. She took the lonely little terminal room with them; unable to control the surge. Sybila didn’t need to win here, she had achieved a final piece-she knew exactly how she was going to kill Kascalion Giedfield now and it was invigorating. The thought, the sheer power sparked some flame that reminded her of joy; it was warmth. She grinned through the pain as the edges of her form lifted, still tethered to the storm as she was consumed in the wreckage.

(Written with OOC permission from Darth Empyrean )

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

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

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

Tithe leapt up onto the overturned storage racks and began stalking through the rubble with his electrohammer raised and ready. Slowly he picked his way through the debris, careful not to slip over the piles of loose credit chits and broken pottery. His eyes scanned the mess before him as he looked for the injured Sith. In his mind's eye, he would find he pinned under a heavy and priceless artefact, injured and close to death. Finishing her would be a simple undertaking, after which he would…

A familiar voice cut through the otherwise silent vault.

Tithe’s heart sunk.

Slowly turning around, he spotted the Sith behind him, very much uninjured.

He hefted his electrohammer as he weighed up the options, variables and computations whizzing through his natural mathematically inclination. His weapon had a built-in system to augment and correct his attacks, however, the floor was unstable and he didn’t have the element of surprise. His opponent may have been an apprentice but she was young and fast - two things he was not.

The numbers just didn’t add up.

“Approximately 1,360 trillion,” he replied as he powered down his weapon and threw it to her feet. “Credits, that is, as in the value of my life. People killed? By my hand, ah, very few. Indirectly, well,” he shrugged. “Hard to say.”

It was over. No amount of credits, connections or influence could save him now. Aerarii Tithe was - again - at the mercy of a Sith he had moments ago tried to kill. That didn't exactly provide for the strongest negotiating position. It only seemed right that he should die down here in a Muun vault, surrounded by that which he had single-mindedly devoted himself to acquiring. It was almost poetic.

He removed his spectacles from his face and cleaned them on a fold of his shirt, intent to at least die looking his best. “Shall we get this over and, ah, done with?”

 

[Darth Daiara]

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

Spoiler: The Story

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

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

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

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

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

The Sith had other ideas.

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

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

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

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

​

Thing were not going as planned.

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

Something had gone wrong.

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

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

She side-stepping to the left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

Aradia tilted her head.

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

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

"With five armed men."


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

A gasp pulled from her chest.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

So he employed the credits in a less conventional approach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surely.

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

He threw credits at her.

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

The fecker.

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

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

She could feel him sink deeper into the building.

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

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

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

Thunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

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



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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BREAKING THE SILENCE | MUUNILINST
Aerarii Tithe

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

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

She stared dumbly at him...

Then at the endless carnage...

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

Tithe leapt up onto the overturned storage racks and began stalking through the rubble with his electrohammer raised and ready. Slowly he picked his way through the debris, careful not to slip over the piles of loose credit chits and broken pottery. His eyes scanned the mess before him as he looked for the injured Sith. In his mind's eye, he would find he pinned under a heavy and priceless artefact, injured and close to death. Finishing her would be a simple undertaking, after which he would…

A familiar voice cut through the otherwise silent vault.

Tithe’s heart sunk.

Slowly turning around, he spotted the Sith behind him, very much uninjured.

He hefted his electrohammer as he weighed up the options, variables and computations whizzing through his natural mathematically inclination. His weapon had a built-in system to augment and correct his attacks, however, the floor was unstable and he didn’t have the element of surprise. His opponent may have been an apprentice but she was young and fast - two things he was not.

The numbers just didn’t add up.

“Approximately 1,360 trillion,” he replied as he powered down his weapon and threw it to her feet. “Credits, that is, as in the value of my life. People killed? By my hand, ah, very few. Indirectly, well,” he shrugged. “Hard to say.”

It was over. No amount of credits, connections or influence could save him now. Aerarii Tithe was - again - at the mercy of a Sith he had moments ago tried to kill. That didn't exactly provide for the strongest negotiating position. It only seemed right that he should die down here in a Muun vault, surrounded by that which he had single-mindedly devoted himself to acquiring. It was almost poetic.

He removed his spectacles from his face and cleaned them on a fold of his shirt, intent to at least die looking his best. “Shall we get this over and, ah, done with?”

Aradia had never had someone pinned under her saber like this before.

Not when she knew their name... their life. The control that she held over the situation was intoxicating. He controlled the lives of millions, but with one flick of her wrist... She could end that all. He wouldn't be able to trade lives for credits anymore. The carelessness at which he owned his affect on others made her stomach twist with fury.


Kill him. Her hand shook, her saber vibrating through the air as whispers snaked its way through her mind. It had been weeks since she last heard the darkside. In between her time with Zaavik and their travel she just... hadn't needed it.

Her eyes flickered closed, its powers kissing her limbs like bursts of sundrops. She felt stronger. Embolden.

Her eyes opened, gold flecks speckling the blue.

"My brethren weren't given a quick one. Neither will you." She brought down her saber, the hilt smashing across Aerarii Tithe 's temple with incredible force.

She could feel the darkness hiss in unquenched need. She clamped it down. The only thing his death would buy her was momentary pleasure.

She was after something more permanent.


The last thing the vault tapes would show was the redhaired acolyte dragging the unconscious Vice Chancellor by his ankle... only to disappear without a trace.

 

[Julian Qar]

Medbay Stats

Doctor	Julian Qar
Resident	Hazel
Intern	Breycar "Puck" Ges
Supplies	35% Stocked
Universal Plasma	1000ml - 1 unit [ Last Unit ]
Bacta Spray	4 - Canisters
Bacta Patches	0 [10x10] !! critically low !!
Wounded	450 [Evac Call Inc]

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

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

☤
✚ S Y N C O P E ✚
|| We are the reasons for health and light ||
[+++]

​

Steady hands wiped themselves clean of blood, of the marrow and ink of battle. Brow shifting as he watched the others work feverishly over the wounded. They had made their rounds, patched up those they could get their hands on with forceful beating drums. Others would shepherd the lifeless as their bodies lay there, draped with the flags of their surrender. It was never easy, and yet each day he would wake to do the same task over and over again. One life made all the difference. Even though their tears, he would always make sure they knew - One life saved. It was their duty to serve.

✚ ✚ ✚​

"Medic," he muttered and fell sideways.

The distress signal came through his HUD, blinking with its brilliant crimson light showering his senses with the coordinates of the wounded. “I need a group to he-” His words were cast away by the bodies zipping past him. There was no one, not a single soul that could carry out the call but him and his resident. Seems he’d have to put a pause on the agreement he had made with his wife..she would understand. He hoped.

“Hazel, les suit up. We need ta do a pickup and evac.” He kept his narrative short as he rushed to the trunk of armor pushed against the wall of the medbay. Hazel followed behind him, wiping her blood-soaked hands on her apron. It seemed as though she was still keeping up with the secretive vow of silence Julian had yet to understand. “Hazel, I’m goin’ ta say this once...Neuro when we get back, s’an order.” It felt odd to even utter that last word, their relationship had always been informal since the moment they met and signed away their lives to the Carlaci medical team. Julian let out a small huff, pulling out that dark suit that he once wore as a medic on the front lines fighting alongside the Watchmen. No matter how many times they scrubbed the stains from that dress it would never wipe clean its story.

“Les get a move on, we ain’t got much time.”

✚ [Location - Damask Plaza, Southern Cultural Centre ] ✚​

<”You two got fucken five minutes and then we ship out, got it?”>

<”Yep, jus hover high, Jack - I’ll give ya my signal ta bring’er low when we got the patient..”>

The retrieval coordinator gave them a thumbs-up as she positioned herself a few inches from the ground for them to make their jump. For the first time in years...his hands were shaking through their augmentations. Once again he would be taunted by the lines of code in his work, implemented to bring him closer to tiny blips of his humanity. Shaky hands. Anxious sweating...just a little more human than the kilometers of wire burrowed deep within his metal onyx cavity. Julian turned to Hazel, wiping the rain from his visor. Steady breaths kept him grounded and his heavy steps from moving around in disarray. “I know, s’been a while since we been out. Ya know what to do, I trus yer judgment.” He adjusted the reading on his HUD, nodding at his resident, “Shouldn’t be too much further. Keep yer chin up, kid.” he shot her a warm smile, finding a moment in their silence to tap into his encrypted chipset. One message, that’s all he would send - seems he’d learn from his past mistakes.

< Noel Strasza >
< “Tegaanalir aka - Cuyir morut'y. Haa'taylir gar Nusujii cyar'ika.” >
“Rescue Mission. Be safe. See you soon, Darling.”

The beacon had sounded its warning, the reading zeroed in on the Jedi’s location amongst the stray fire that followed suit. The two medics stomped through puddles, dodging the lines of fire to finally huddle up beside the man whose back acted as a shield from a heavy blast and a younger Jedi beside him. “Sir?” Hazel uttered softly, clearing her sleepy vocal cords. “Sir, we’re here to help.” Just as quickly as she spoke, Julian was quick to get a reading while they shifted him over, making sure he was still breathing while he addressed Ishida Ashina "I'm Dr. Qar and this is Senior Medic Hazel. We got a retrieval team hoverin' above us, wanna get'im stable and then we'll be lifted outta'ere."

[Diagnostics report . . .]
[Bernard]
[Injury: Shrapnel - moderate/high sevarity]
[Crtical: Blood Loss!!]
[Heart rate: 65 bpm]

The medics acted quickly, starting a line of fluids and their last unit of plasma to help recoup some of the blood loss Bernard had sustained from his injuries. “When we get’im to the bay we gotta take the shit outta his back.” Hazel nodded, spraying a thick coat of bacta over the visible puncture marks through his tunic to hold them over. They both knew they wouldn’t be able to work as the waters poured down on them and so did the Sith’s vibrant display of lights that illuminated pockets of space around them.

<” Alright, Jack - we’re clear. Bring’er down.”> Julian secured the patient to the gurney and leads, tapping the line as the retrieval team hoisted the four back onto the ship. “Do you think we’re clear to give him a round of stims to get him up?” Hazel asked somewhat sheepishly, recalling her last stim incident from some time ago. Julian nodded, though deep down he wanted to laugh, there was a reason they called him The Reaper. “Go’on jus,.be careful.” A gentle hand tapped the Jedi’s shoulder, hoping the combo would get him to regain conciseness again.

“Hello, Sir...my name is Dr. Qar. We’re here to help.” He offered the Jedi a reassuring smile, speaking as clearly as he could through the muffled walls of his helm. “We’re on medical transport to the Carlaci Field Hospital just north of where you fell. You’re safe.”


█ █ █

 

[Calruss Shiman]

Objective: Extract the empress safely and survive
Location: Space/Raider Class Corvette
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO and GA
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim / Trajan Fett / Alina Tremiru ​

One step was all it took for things to change in a heartbeat, something that quite literally knocked Calruss off his feet. An explosion, a magnitude he had not experienced up close detonated within the bridge. The force of the explosion sent him flying back to the elevators at bullet like speed, only stopping when a portal appeared at the far end of the corridor broke his speed. Upon impact, his world went black and left him motionless on the floor of the netherworld

In the dark abyss of his mind, he felt nothing but cold emptiness as his soul fell down an empty pit of hopelessness. In here he felt at ease, almost as if all the pressure and pain had washed off like an unsatisfactory piece of dirt. Although, something in the far distance below him began to show color. A white light weakly flashed in the far distance while what he presumed was his soul free fell towards it.

"Young Calruss, you still have so much more to see..."

A hoarse voice that he didn't recognise suddenly sounded off, it felt like whoever it was surrounded him totally. Almost like the darkness itself was living and breathing. Calruss tried to open his mouth to speak but found that he couldn't even make a sound, nor could he even move a muscle on his unseeable body.

"One day, we shall speak once again, but today isn't the day. You still have a purpose to fulfill, until then, the empire is in your hands..."

The voice was seemingly speaking in riddles as his speed towards the light turned supersonic, making him go more faster than he could possibly imagine "May the empress guide you" finished the voice before his soul snapped back into reality.

All Calruss could feel was pain he never felt before, everything in his body felt wrong and displaced. His clothing had been scorched from the explosion, but that by any means wasn't the worse of it. His breathing was labored, pretty much a wheeze as he soon figured out some of his ribs were broken. When he tried to use his right arm to touch them he soon found out he couldn't move it at all, its only use now was now to leaving it hanging uselessly. The teen knew he was lucky not to get anything worse like a broken back, and only a major pain that seemed to make it hard for him to bend. Other wounds also littered his frame, but it was going to take a long time to account for all of them. The explosion itself had shredded him, but if the portal didn't appear behind him when the explosion happened he probably would have been squashed like a bug or a pile of dust right now

The rift didn't just save his soul, but as well as the others who were lucky enough to jump in before the ship exploded. He could only weakly gaze around through his foggy vision for a few seconds before his body gave up on him once again, leaving him to drift into his mind as the Netherworld hosted and protected all from the harsh reactions of a madman. Everyone who was saved the empresses mercy owed her an unpayable debt. From today, his strength in the empress only strengthened. He owed her his life, and for the rest of his days, he was going to repay that debt.

 

[Enlil]

At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

​

Never Again.
​

Jaeger's fear met with Enlil's calculated stoicism. Enlil's life was dedicated to civilization, to a world that rose above predation. To identify it in one of their own only hardened his heart further. The base, animal instincts that drove the Sith, the belief in purity- these things had no place in the Imperium. Peace and prosperity for all people, regardless of their choices. That was what they claimed to fight for. Regulation. Order. Law.

It was time for him to restore those things.

The metal liquefying around Harrsk's wrist and the weapons he sought to bring to bear on the Grand Vizier had turned against him. Enlil had constructed a world where man and machine were as equals- one where heat made it impossible for the two to maintain civil discourse. This was the only application of Chaos that Enlil would ever accept- the kind where chaos served the purpose of returning all things to Balance. He stood now, looking down at the aged man with no end of sympathy.

"All I ever wanted was a world we would all be proud of," he said quietly, "but now I understand the sin of pride."

Enlil brought his gauntlet, hot and unbearably painful just as Jaeger's weapons had become, toward the man's face. The tools of war and death that the Commissioner had borne to Muunilinst with him were pools on the floor, blaster components indeterminate from the shape that once more them. With a deft, albeit subtle motion of his fingers, the King ran his mind through the malleable form, his own body shaking beneath the unbearable burden. Every breath had become a Herculean labor.

<"Fi-!"> ​

He shook his head grimly as his hand formed a fist. The first metal to harden was the muzzle. Around Jaeger's contemptuous lips, around his face, Enlil fashioned a means to silence the creature that had debased itself. He was beneath his own vaunted Salvation, unfit to live in the world they once glimpsed together. "No. Your words will never again poison our Imperium," Enlil spoke softly, in a voice shared only between them. "You will never again draw breath as a free man. This is your fate, as one who would deprive millions of their freedom. I will mourn you, Harrsk, contrary to what you may think. This is a fate no man should have to suffer. But you have chosen to live as an animal, and so, as an animal you shall die."

Enlil kept his eyes locked with Harrsk's, regardless of what he might see, the horror he might find in the other man's eyes.

"And even in death, your eyes will never again glimpse any purpose."

That was when he raised his voice, and he spoke in place of Harrsk.

"Not authorized," came the command. Stern, pained, but as the world slowly began to cool it became less so. "Divert your efforts toward the defense of Muunilinst. There are yet men to save. We have not lost so badly as to sacrifice ourselves and repeat the atrocities of the Sith."

Jaeger Harrsk ​

 

[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​

As Damian ran he could hear the tell tale shakes of the ship starting buckle under the various assaults she was under. The various boarding parties had done their jobs well as explosions would rock the ship alongside its very own attempt to kill itself. When the portal appeared before him, the voice in his head could smell the figure of the Empress, having been given such a tell from the Emperor to locate her. So Damian didn't hesitate as he leapt forward through the portal and into the swirling darkness that was the Nether. They would land and to Damian all he saw was darkness and the whorls of swirling currents and energies. This was new to him, alien, and to someone as inexperienced as he was he would surely be lost almost instantaneously.

I guess it's a good thing you have me to guide you huh?

The voice in his head would point Damian in the direction of the paths to follow, being in his original home now or at least somewhere relative to it. It would lead Damian across many winding paths, through many swirls and currents of both darkness and light until he found the Empress laying on the relative floor of this reality. The voice could already tell something was wrong and spoke quickly.

Give me control now.

What? No!

If you want to achieve your mission you must, I am the only one here who knows how.

And how do I know you won't just kill her, that you'll just run off.

Oh come now and abandon you, trust me I get way more amusement out of pestering and tormenting you than coming back to here. So you'll just have to trust me.

Damian would yield as the being took over, the voice in his head now becoming the self while he instead took a more backseat presence. It was a strange feeling, as though someone else were moving his skin and bones. The being would approach the Empress with a wicked smile under the mask as it spoke.

"Your Highness, you seem to be in a rather tedious predicament. Allow me to render aide on behalf of this meat sack I inhabit. Try to grit your teeth, it wouldn't do for you to bleed out because you accidentally bit your own tongue off. Because this is going to hurt. A lot,"

And without a single word further the being would place Damian's hand over the small of her back and various lights seemed to glow. It physically searched through her body locating all of the parasite, and physically drawing it from her. Each and every midichlorian was being forcibly removed in what could only be described as one of the most painful and intense procedures ever possibly performed. It would feel as though bones were being removed from her body without incisions, and a mass would grow at the small of her back where they were all pooled and gathered. But simultaneously something else more sinister would happen. White light itself would be pushed back into her body as the being forcefully fed her Damian's own life force to keep her alive, replacing her own life and force with Damian's own. Internally he felt as though he was being ground away with sandpaper as it forcefully replaced just enough of her damaged self so that she would survive. And finally with a massive heave, the mass itself would be ripped from her, a congealed mess of dead and dying tissues that was casually tossed away into the dark confines of the Nether. When it was finally finished, Damian and the Empress would both be barely alive, however the Empress would be in a much better state all things considered. Meanwhile the only reason that Damian would be alive was because the demon in his bones decided that to let him pass on was just too easy all things considered. He wanted to see this little thing do more.

"Sleep tight now, I'll keep a watch over you as you both heal. Wouldn't want our little damsels to get themselves into even more trouble now would we? By the way this one calls itself Damian Frost, and if you're looking for great conversation he's single,"

 

[Ishida Ashina]

MUUNILIST | HARNADIAN | DAMASK PLAZA | SOUTHERN CULTURAL CENTRE
+0:58 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.

​

Brilliant spirals of red, white, green and blue sparkled in the rain. Flames from the detonated explosives continued to engulf the hull of the walker.

Crate after crate was hurled in it’s direction, guided with an uncanny amount of precision for such bulk. Ishida’s lack of hesitation now had her operating like a targeting system, honing in on disruption.

It was cruder, and less elegant than her usual blade-based preference, but it worked for Bernard’s intentions.

And what was more delightful, was the issuance of orders to continue attacking them. There was vindication in their re-focus. Evil would always be evil. She’d been a fool to consider for half-a-second they had the propensity to operate in any other way.

“Not bad.” The Ashina youth complimented, exhaling and resting to place her hands on her knees and observe the spectacle of typhonic flames and rainbows littered amidst their enemy’s ranks and sewing destruction and confusion.

"I'll get us a way out of here. Keep up the show,"

"Medic,"

She was mid-nod when she heard the splash and snapped her attention back to the fallen mortal. Grimacing, she dropped to a knee to put her fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. The puddle he’d fallen into was quickly becoming coloured with the red that poured from his back.

Gratefully, the medic corps arrival was well-timed.

"I'm Dr. Qar and this is Senior Medic Hazel. We got a retrieval team hoverin' above us, wanna get'im stable and then we'll be lifted outta'ere."

Ishida backed up, keeping her eyes on the fast-approaching red tops. Once again, she felt the insatiable yearning to penetrate their ranks, plunge her swords through their throats and add their blood to the stains on her clothes.

But circumstance suggested otherwise, and she gave way to a small accepting nod.

"Thank you."

While they went about stabilizing Bernard, Ishida kept her poise to look out at the glitter and flames that fell from the sky. The Bazaar had been well-evacuated, thanks to the help of the Alliance personnel, and it was now turning into an irrefutable warzone with only soldiers and Jedi and medics left.

And now Jedi and the medics were leaving.

With a grimace, she accompanied the retrieval of the Arkanian, sidling along the gurney he was unceremoniously strapped to.

“Well,” she muttered. “You got us a way out of there.”

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

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

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

THE HARRSK GAMBLE: ENDGAME
OPERATION: DAALA

​

Enlil's words faded away as darkness converged across his senses, the cold reach of death finally catching up to the man who had cheated her for ages. There was no grace, no peaceful passing, no boatman on a ferry. Just darkness. In his final heartbeat, Jaeger's mind blazed to life his first memory of where it all had started for one last time.

The warm sun of late spring. The big terrace overlooking the fields. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and the figure of his father reading a book.

"What is imperialism?" he hears his childish voice ask, his eyes linger over the cover's title.

The old man pauses, puts his book down with eyes shifting, contemplating.

"Well...that's never really clear on itself.." he finally replies, turning his attention to his son. His initial reluctance to answer - gone. A spark picks up in his voice. "Like any other kind of government, it's got something to do with young men killing each other, I believe."

"Why don't old men kill each other?" the son asks, curious, baffled.

"Well the old men are needed to keep the home fires burning."

"Couldn't the young men do that just as well?"

"Young. Men. Don't have homes. That's why they must go out and kill each other."

"When it comes my turn--" the son squints, thoughtful, hopeful, confused. "--will you want me to go?"

The father looks up to his son, gazes lock.

"For imperialism, any man would give his only begotten son."

end.
​

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 | Himself