Invasion Rage Awakened (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Bastion & PL-40112-CE-021105)

[Moff Drybis Lyken]

Location: HMIS "The Wrath" (Marr-class Star Destroyer)
Objective III: Space Superiority
Allies: SV-2121 Thaelius Ordo Onrai Grand Moff Aut-X
Enemies: Savoh Muska Var Koon Des Harz Naier Rambeigh Fiolette Fortan Gordon Captain Gallius Orcana Dracken Pryce
Engaging: Naier Rambeigh

Spoiler

Flagship:

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

Other Forces:

-"The Black Bishop" (Baras-class Star Destroyer) (Severely Damaged)
-"Death's Door" (Baras-class Star Destroyer) (Destroyed)
-2x Tammar-class Corvettes (Slightly damaged)
- "The Reaper", Audax Class Cruiser
-Helix Squadron, 8x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter
-Obsidian Squadron, 6x Caldoth-class Bomber
-Ember Squadron, 6x Caedus-class Superiority Fighter, 2x Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor
-Shadow Squadron (Moff Lyken's personal fighter squadron), 5x Rogue-class Starfighter
-20x Scorpio-class Sith-Imperial Droid Starfighter, in Reserve

He saw the enemy force advance towards him and prepare their attack.

"Sir they are attempting a hard turning maneuver" "They're turning around by shutting down their engines and keeping their trajectory".

"Yes I see it Colonel".

"Tell all ships to ready deflectors and gun batteries". "Move Obsidian Squadron to rally point Nova and execute a dead duck maneuver on the enemy fleet".

"Sir look, they are accelerating so fast", said Ensign Burik.

Drybis stood at the viewport as he saw the fleet of Naier Rambeigh reverse their course almost immediately. They then shot forward like a slingshot towards him along his left flank.

Drybis was a bit shocked, very rarely did an Imperial officer have this kind of audacity, but more over, it impressed the Moff.

"Once they get in range, fire every gun battery, deflectors, and concussion flak guns we have".

"Yes sir".

He know watched as the enemy forces prepared to launch seismic charges. That wasn't good, but the Imperial captain should of understood that Seismic charges only work on smaller craft, not Star Destroyers. Aye they would cause temporary harm, but nothing really severely damaging especially if shields were at full.

He now saw the Cuirassier-class Cruiser take the lead and move right towards the Black Bishop.

"Sir, he's going to fire at Arandis".

"Good".

"But sir".

"Commander Arandis has done her job, Colonel instruct the Reaper to pull back to be next to us". "Tell it to keep firing at ships in range while moving".

"Uhh Y...Yes sir"

"Sir, what are you doing!", shouted Threcki.

"Captain don't worry, he fell into my trap".

"Sir, I don't understand".

"I know you don't and I don't expect you to either", he said to the Captain as he now walked past him and reached the front viewport on the bridge.

"Colonel, Now!" "Engines full stop, same to the Reaper".

"Engines full stop!".

The Imperials had advanced towards the Black Bishop, but he had distanced himself and the Reaper, possibly leaving Arandis to her fate.

"Sir, they are really close to the Black Bish.......Sir they are opening fire at very close range!"

"She is firing back".

"Protons, gun batteries, they're giving it all they got".

"Good, let the Black Bishop advance, the perfect bait".

"Sir what are you doi....".

"SILENCE!!" "MY GLORY WILL NOT BE DENIED". The crew now stared at the Moff in appall and shock. He wanted this bad, really bad, and he would have it.

"Commander Arandis report, over".

He could hear the hectic mood of her bridge, judging by the loud and various shouting and panicking he could hear in the background.

"Sir, my shields are holding, but they launched Seismic charges, and I can't slow her down!"

"Aim for only the lead vessel now".

"Yes sir".

The Black Bishop now directly fired everything it had at the lead Imperial vessel, the command ship led by Naier Rambeigh . However, the seismic charges were more powerful than the Moff thought, and her hull started to creak and crack when the charges struck her ship. Her shields were low, the charges had ravaged the already weakened side hull. Her options were few as the rest of the Imperial ships continued to pour fire into her vessel.

"Hull breach in deck 12 and 9, deck 8 is gone, losing pressurized air in compartments 3 and 4". "Engine 1 has failed!"

"Commander Activate your tractor beam Now!"

He would provide the option for her, go down in victory, for the Empire.

"Yes sir, activating tractor beam on lead Imperial vessel".

"Got it, ha!", said the commander over the comm.

"Good work Arandis, shields?"

"30%, I'm going to order my crew to abandon ship, it is too late, we will return to th......"

"No Commander"

"Why sir?".

"You will not leave, if you do your transports and shuttles will be gunned down by their fighters or their corvettes".

"So, you engage your engines full, turn 180 hard left, and set self destruct".

The Commander didn't respond immediately. Drybis asked for her again.

"Commander?"

"Yes.......sir, proceeding with hard engine maneuver".

This move wouldn't catch most of their forces, but their rear ships would be caught. And maybe even the Main Imperial Cruiser still caught by the tractor beam.

"Colonel order Obsidian to hammer the bridge of the NIV Inexorable Valediction of Summer, As well as send Helix to give them cover".

"Double time Colonel"

"Yes sir, they are nearly there already having hid out of scanners with their dead duck move behind the Black Bishop". That was where they moved close to the enemy, but then immediately shut down all systems, making them disappear on scanners. They would reactivate them when orders and strike from close, surprising the enemy who didn't know they were there.

"Tell them to target the bridge, his shields must be low".

Even though his pilots were outnumbered, they served with him for a reason, cause they were the best. Many had been flying for 5 or 10 years and were expert killers in a dogfight. Helix Squadron Vaeghar zoomed towards the Valediction, and as they did, they took out half a wing of fighters just on the first pass. By the time they got to the ship and buzzed the bridge hard, rocking the Imperials out of their seats. Obsidian was there too, having been concealed earlier, so the enemy scanners didn't pick them until it was too late. With the Valediction still in a tractor beam, the Obsidian bombers closed in on the bridge and dropped at least 30 Concussion Missiles and 6 proton warheads.

The enemy forces must have been worried when they saw the Wrath and the Reaper having pulled back farther, at least many leagues away from the Black Bishop and the ongoing fight near it.

As their payload prepared to hit their targets right on the Valediction's bridge, the ship was still caught in a tractor beam. Its commander, had made a mistake in underestimating Lyken's ruthlessness and cunning.

"Send Ember now to engage their fighters"

"Yes Moff Lyken".

He no watched as the Black Bishop was moving fast for a Star Destroyer towards the back of the enemy fleet, preparing to detanate its self destruct in a matter of moments

The enemy could only watch or flee in horror. Unless they could break away from the tractor beam, would be when the Black Bishop explodes, which would free it, but that is if the ship isn't already destroyed when the bombs and missiles hit its bridge

"Now that we have their primary vessel, instruct the Tammar Corvettes to engage the rest of their forces". "As well as send the Reaper into battery range".

"Sir!", shouted Ensign Akura standing somewhere behind him.

"Yes Ensign what is it now?", said Drybis in a frustrated mood.

"Sir, Alliance ships are dropping out and fast".

He raced over to the visual scanners and now looked through the video screen showing the Alliance ships dropping out diagonally behind their position.

"Great, more enemies, this just keeps getting better and better", he said with a sarcastic tone.

He would deal with the Alliance interlopers later, now he had a fight to finish, and it looked like he might finish it soon.




Theme: The Fleet Assault

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
71st GHOST VIPERS | MAMBA COMPANY
ARMOR | RIFLE | PISTOL | GRENADES | MELEE

How were the others he wondered? Communications were still tampered from whatever source that was unknown to them. Only thing available to him was the line between him and Lyra. Anything else was static and incomprehensible to understand. Though as long as there was the roar of war endlessly screaming on Ravelin, then that’s all he had to know they were still in this fight and holding their ground. And the only way to find out if they had lost? By being engulfed and overwhelmed by numbers that would eat through their munitions. He would find out sooner or later what fate would come to Bastion when the last blaster bolt was fired.

He who controls the battlefield controls history.
​

As far as he could remember war was an endless surplus across the Galaxy. Wars fought for many different reasons, but ultimately the victor would control the stars and have a grip on history. The Will of Defiance when declared by Tavlar threatened the history of the Sith, and the Imperials persisted in that goal. Control the war to rid of the Sith from history. The ultimate goal that was fought for by the New Imperials. One Sith alive would be a jeopardy to all that they’ve built.

A mission worthy of any sacrifice.

Finally, they had reached Lyra’s position as he saw a Red Rider flagging him down from across the street in an alley. The street that was torn and desecrated was what separated them. In it? The marching of armor that wrought destruction, no matter what collateral damage was made. It appeared they were scaling the buildings to have a tactical advantage over their foes below them. Hopefully they had enough to make a dent against this unit.

But Djorn wasn’t going to base off anything on hope. Hope was a dangerous illusion to gamble with. He had his own measures if they had to retreat further down.

<“Platoons Solid and Venom, I have a task for you. In case things don’t go as planned, set up charges to topple down some buildings. Await for my orders when you’re finished. Go.”>

Waste the enemy’s time. A crucial factor when on the attack. Minutes wasted only meant losing chances of securing victory. Ideal for the Imperials.

<“Sir? Transmission from the general.”>

<“Patch me in.”>

<<”Bline, I don't recall saying we're evacuating the whole street-”>> <<”If you can’t reduce civilian casualties however and do your job I’m going to need you to leave it to the professionals. Otherwise you’ll keep your mouth shut. If they fire off a volley, any building or collateral you will be moving civilians out or if they start parading them through the road, you’ll be the one coordinating that clean up-am I clear?”>>

He shook his head, sighing deeply after hearing her words. She was upset and angry, directing it at him for his suggestion. Was he wrong to do so? He liked to believe not. Emotions didn’t win battles. They were Imperials, but not everything was black and white as it seemed to be. Djorn expected a little more rationality from Lyra, especially her position as a general. He could understand where she was coming from, but he wouldn’t compromise himself to pursue that.

Dammit, Lyra.
​

<“If you wanna play being a hero, fine by me, Vindicate. My men have their orders and I’m not going to compromise that. It’s the Sith we’re dealing with and they don’t care who or what they kill. If we lose Bastion, then others will follow suit. I hope you understand the stakes here.”>

The transmission to the General was sent, knowing from what he could tell that she would not appreciate his demeanor and stance. That was her problem if that was the case. For Snake? He had a battle to win here.

<“We’ll continue coordinating with Vindicate and her Riders, but we have our own orders from me. It’s what the Imperator would’ve wanted, understand?”> directing his words to his platoon leaders of his company, all unanimously agreeing without question or hesitation. Loyal men to a fault.

<“Everyone else, let’s take these bastards head on. We take the fight to them on the streets. Let’s move it!”>

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Kolson Vrask
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | OPEN

 

[Lirka Ka]

With each passing moment grace began to descend into raw, animalistic, ferocity: the monster that was Lirka Ka tore troopers apart with her clawed gauntlets, swearing cries to her Dark Patriarch at the sky as the kills mounted. The Grand Moff was gone now, all that remained now was the Dark's Icon, the End of All Things, carnage, slaughter, unending bloodlust.

"Like maggots beneath my feet, unworthy of life."

Another squadron of warriors approached, allowing herself a vicious smile: a mouth of razor teeth beneath that blank faced helm. She pounced upon them without any thought, flinging the bisected corpse of one of their comrades as a makeshift projectile. She barreled into the squadron like a missile, practically bounding at them on three limbs: her blade running through the earth and leaving a burning rent in her assault.

And so did the massacre continue, more troopers throw to the slaughter of the furious Sephi.

"Ai eis si ael os eir sol! Give me a challenge!"

With her cry bellowed, she brought her armored boot down upon the head of a prone trooper easily a dozen times in rapid, furious, succession: the sound of cracking plastoid and bone echoing around them. It had seemed Squad 1-1 had signed up for more than they realized.

Anden Fancelo

 

[UX-0626]

Location: Imperial Headquarters, Ravelin - Bastion
Time: 1200 Hours
Objective: Survive
Allies: TSE ( Alina Tremiru Kesran Opadal ) │ CIS (Dimitri Voltura)
Enemies: NIO ( Kolson Vrask FN-999 Noel Strasza )
Theme: Dance in the Dark (Lady Gaga Cover) - Rina Sawayama

There was no beating them back.

The stormtroopers came for her all the same, as there were more barbarians to take the place of the last, stepping over the fallen bodies of their comrades as they moved on her position en masse. Slugs rained down on her in a torrent of fire, with one striking her armor’s mangled gammaplast cuirass, rendering the piece now entirely useless and forcing her to rip it wholesale from her chest, lest it get in her way. Another struck her pauldron, drawing a pained cry from her lips as the kinetic force from the projectile carried through the armor and thermal gel, bruising her shoulder in the process. And yet...

There was no retreat.

626 fought all the same, failing to lose her grip on the pulse cannon in spite of the pain wracking her body. Faced with an unending horde of bloodthirsty barbarians, the will of defiance remained unshattered, holding as strong as a rock under the fickle tides, which had now turned against her Empire as the uncivilized mobs who had failed to realize the deliverance earned in service to the Sith profaned the sacred gates. Fear, rising in her heart, briefly manifested itself as tears in her eyes. However, the gentle, paternal voice of her Eternal Lord spoke in her mind, casting the invigorating shadow of darkness into her soul, willing her to fight, yet to also take fulfillment at the imminent prospect of her death, for she had earned his eternal approbation in service.

For a servant of the Sith’ari, there was no surrender.

After sparing only a brief moment for the pulse cannon to cool down as fire rained down on her position, 626 leaned out from the side of her cover, exposing only her head and upper shoulders as she scanned across the crash site, her sharp, yet night-blind eyes immediately picking up the signature a white-armored snowtrooper as he prepared a grenade. The strand-cast’s aim was quick and methodical, her breath held tight in her chest as she lined up a shot on her target and squeezed the trigger. However, instead of going for the snowtrooper’s head or upper chest, she had instead aimed her shot to potentially strike the explosive as it rested in the soldier’s hand, in an attempt to trigger a backfire explosion to the detriment of the enemy.

Spoiler: Gear and Equipment

• Armor
  • Sith-Imperial Legionnaire Combat Armor Mk. III
    • Undersuit
      • Viper Mk. I Skinsuit
    • Utility
      • Neural Band
      • Taozin Skin Nodule
      • Revealer
    • Left Wrist
      • Whistling Birds
    • Right Wrist
      • Wrist Laser
    • Energy Shield (Replaces Integrated Deflector Mobility Shield)
      • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Small Arms
  • “Extinguisher” Precision Pulse Cannon
  • SIF-7 ‘Minos’
    • Multi-Optic Holographic Sight
• Melee
  • Whimsy Knife
• Grenades and Explosives
  • Impact Grenade (3)

 

[Marrow]

Location: Tunnels beneath Ravelin, close to Library "ad hoc entrance to Library basements".
Objective: Recover abandoned artefacts, slay the unworthy strange pyromancer.
Equipment: Sith Warblade, Unspecified Talismans, Glorious Golden Mask.
Writing With: Elpsis Kerrigan

Utter chaos had erupted as a result of their confrontation, sundered duracrete and melting stone thrown hither and dither as opposing forces met, driven forward by their respective wills. With a thunderous blast, the wave of animated stone he had conjured met her explosive fire. Such were the forces at play that the integrity of the very tunnels in which they did battle was compromised.

Abandoning his offensive efforts, Aurum formed a dome of shimmering energy around himself - such acts were not his speciality, however, and within moments of rubble covering him from above the energy flickered and gave way, the Sith Lord swallowed under a tide of stone.

---

Some time later, a single gilded glove pushed its way upwards to empty air, the shattered detritus of their duel pushing itself out of the way to see him freed from his stony grave. After painstakingly exvacating the rest of his body out, he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling unsteadily.

His sword was lost, buried under piles of rubble - he could still feel its presence, however, a muted call he was not yet ready to answer.

Above him, sleek stone had given way to what looked like the basement of an archive or library, stacks of sealed records sharing shelves with a variety of holobooks and even a few flimsiplast books. The only question was if his foe remained buried, or...

 

[Agrrur'arr]

OBJECTIVE II - TUNNELS - PURGE THE WICKED

ALLIES | NIO | Hans Rennagen | Jin Kyrel | Dorian Sicarrio

ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Xeykard

---

HYMN TO THE FORCE​

Agrrur'arr suddenly found himself being jettisoned from the cabal of knights, being sent stumbling through the air as a wave of energy washed over his being and carried his bones across the tunnel, slamming his back into the cobbled walls of the sewer system with a sickening crack of armor on rock. Slumping down, with his shield the only thing keeping his form standing as it sunk into the muck and mire, everything began to blur. He saw an overwhelming flash and sizzle of red as another saber came to life, held aloft by a massive beast of war. So much anger, so much hate and disdain for fellow living beings pouring off of the scaled one. It came as the ocean, harrying the Knights of the Empire. Over and over it seemed to come.

He blinked, the saber loosely rolling around in his hand, sparking against the floor.

Suddenly, he was back in the depths of the Jundland Wastes.

The harsh stinging hands splashed against his tunic and face-wrap as he tore his way through the dunes. Over and over came the waves of sand and nothingness, desolation as far as the eyes could see. Tanned bumps along the great mother that was the planet Tatooine. His people had been here for eons, longer than any sentient cared to recall, longer than any cared to tell. But the sages and storytellers of his village filled the young Tusken with plenty, plenty of tales of the Firsts and the Lasts, the Alphas and the Omegas, of the greatest darks and the lowest lights, of the most Felborn nightmare to ever come from the stars above.

And ever since then, Agrrur’aar wished to see those bright, blazing stars with his own eyes. To reach out and touch the impossibilities that bore the fruit of fables and legends, the lifeblood of myths, those stars were. And he followed them, far into the sands, into those equally impossible wastes. Nothing besides the heartbeat of his own to guide him, a single round loaded in his cycler.

He was meant to die in those wastes,

He would be damned if he was done in by some Servant of the Shadow, some Barabel conjured by the most wicked sorceries that the Sith had to their name.

He would be damned if the True Empire ended here, the Heirs to All, the Last Civilization Worthy of His Service since the Builders.

His grip tightened around his saber, slamming the end of the shield into the ground as he lifted himself from the dredges.

“Those that have come before me, bring me the strength to battle this Evil. As I pass through B'Thazoshe, let my shot ring true. Even may the Black Demon of the Valley flee from my Gaderffii as I fight in service to my ideals. I march with the strength of the forgotten, lest my saber is laid next to me in the Funeral Urtya,” He chanted in his native Tusken, slamming the shield down once again at the end of every sentence. Bringing himself to stand.

Holding his blade aloft, high above his head as he stood, the Tusken let out the ancient warcry of his people before pointing the tip of the blade directly at the raging beast that was Xeykard. Shouting in Basic.

“A Krayt couldn’t fall me, can your strength match that of an Everlasting Dragon?”

With that, and a soft push of the Force against his heels, the Tusken launched himself forward. Bringing the crossguard saber down heavy in a vicious strike at the Sith.

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: Luna Terrik | UX-0626 | Iasha Rha | Alina Tremiru | Kesran Opadal
ENGAGING: Halketh
OTHER ENEMIES: New Imperial Forces and Allies
GEAR:

Spoiler: See update

Lightsaber
Force Imbued Sith Blade
Force Imbued Cortosis-weave Sith Armour
Pack of 9x Voxyn = UPDATE: Due to the ambush called forth by Halketh , 6 Voxyn were killed in the firestorm of slugthrowers.

He should have known better.

To dance with a Necromancer was to tempt fate. He was well prepared for most onslaughts of the Force. What he was not prepared for, was the faces of the past come back to haunt him.

They pulled him from his Vampiric speed, pushing him to his knees. His face changed to the true monster he was - dark with eyes glowing blood red, fangs elongating past his lips and a snarl escaping from his throat.

Forsaken. That is what you did to our ways. What kind of Dragon kills his own kin?

Darth Hydrus! The blood of these innocents are on your hands!

Wh-what are you? No human could do this.

All those he killed or betrayed, swam in front of him, their voices all ringing at the same time within his head, clawing at his conscience like hellcats. It all happened in the space of seconds.
“No…” The gasp escaped his lips in almost a whimper, his eyes still glowing.The onslaught of the specters from his past battered his psyche, the guilt he carried like a mantle being turned against him in hatred to be almost physical pain. The Voxyn raced to his side, leaving death in their wake, even as some of their brethren fell to the storm of slugthrowers.

More death. Excellent. That has always been what you were good at. Pure hatred.

Darth Anguis kept battering at his psyche, spreading his venom into the very heart of the Dragon.

Warm fingers eased into his mind, a familiar, healing touch. An almost loving presence.
Get up, Dimitri. Don’t let this be how it ends. Come back to me, please?
Her words were soft, distant, but they were as real as the ground beneath his clawed hands and the cacophony that raged around him.
“Eenia…” he whispered. She was not gone after all.

Dimtri looked up at the gilded figure who still tried to force his past upon him. Clearly this man was a force to be reckoned with. With his mind bolstered by the strength of his Apprentice’s, the Sith Lord flung up a wall in his mind with the strength of a legion of darkness, casting the Necromancer from his thoughts like the kick of a Bordok.

The Dragon rose to his feet like a golem from the earth. With a reinforced mind, it was his turn. Like a hydra, he struck at the Necromancer’s thoughts in multiple places at once, this being how he earned his Sith title. With these strikes, he injected a Dark fire - flames licking through the smallest of cracks to be able to rage through his opponent’s thoughts with fervor, grasping at any weakness it could find and fueling it ten fold.

At the same time, he cloaked himself in a barrier to ward off any other onslaught. The remaining Voxyn wracked through their new assailants, sonic screeches sending waves into the ambush, while the long, poisonous barbed tails whipped back and forth to the detriment of those that were standing too close.

Dimitri spread his arms wide, the barrier still holding.
“Now, how about that cup of tea?” he spoke, eyes still glowing red and voice deep, almost growling.

Spoiler: OOC note

Eenia's part was written with permission from Eenia Vahn .

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Ruina Imperii​

Leading the family out of the apartment complex was the first issue of the day.

Ravraa had an easy enough time getting them down the stairs and keeping them inside of a semi-circle created by his squad, infact, they were all too ready to comply and follow the soldiers as they led them past the ruined remnants of their neighbors living spaces as blaster bolt and artillery shell rocked the very foundations of the building. Only once they hit the main floor did issues become much more obvious.

At some point, the Sith had breached the building, the dead scores of Legionmen that made up a new carpeting for the room told the Moff that. Secondly, the Sector Forces had regained the room, with what looked like to be a hellish struggle with the amount of men from his own host that joined their Sith fellows along the floor. Though, for what it was worth, there was a countable ratio of 2 Sith per Shiliman as a rule. He didn’t have a proper moment to take in the actual cost of this single deployment, the lives that were wasted in just this tiny holdout, this tiny spite fight to keep civilians safe. Odds are, perhaps the Sith would have done the same that the Sector Forces had. It mattered little at this rate.

The front windows, past the reception area, were shattered, and staggered lines of repeating blaster crews had been placed up, with the occasional burp of AK-57x fire echoing after them to help the suppression efforts.

A red bolt zipped directly past the Moff’s head, slamming into a motivational poster behind the reception desk.

<“Mister Vyshraal!”> Came a muffled shout, a Sector Trooper with plate patterns mimicking that of 501st command elements approaching the Moff, giving a lazy salute as he did so.

<“Shael Grecuss, Commander of the 2nd Corsin Rifles!”>

<”At ease, fella. Tell me what’s goin’ on?”>

<”Too many Sith forces hitting the Northside for us to push through, evac was to be hosted in the speederlot, but it’s seeming like that’d be suicide. Orders are to push back, make our way through Max Heights.”>

<”We got a back exit?”>

A harsh explosion sounded at the mention.

<”Now we do, sir.”>

A smile crossed the Moff’s lips as he nodded.

<”Right, gather your men, I want charges on the supports before we get out of here. Leave em a present, if you would.”>

<”Aye, I can do that, Mister Vyshraal.”>

 

[Naier Rambeigh]

BATTLE_IN_ORBIT
KINGS
ALICORN

Allies
Des Harz | Savoh Muskah | Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Kormov Alten | Dracken Pryce | Gordon | Captain Gallius Orcana

Hostile Combatants
Thaelius Ordo | SV-2121 | Onrai | Moff Drybis Lyken | Grand Moff Aut-X | Sith Vessels
​

Commodore Naier Rambeigh was under no delusion that his maneuvers were anything but suicidal insanity. The systems officer threw her hands in the air to shield herself from the sparking console, and an ensign hurriedly enveloped her workstation in white flame retardant foam, leaving flecks of white snow hanging adrift in the air. "Shield capacitors blown, backup shielding in place while we reboot main shields-"

The worse was yet to come. "Tractor beam locking onto us!" Naier quickly thought back on the days of sitting within the halls of the naval academy. Standard tractor beams had to be activated manually, with the computer doing most of the calculations for trajectory interception automatically and without any input from the user- it was, in practice, very user friendly. He also knew that user friendly meant it was harder to fix it when some monkey threw a spanner wrench in the gears. "Gunnery, get me dumb-fire on conc' missile rows B1 to C5, now! I don't care where it hits, just get it on interception with their tractor beam!"

Quick fingers flew across the panels as the officer hurried to activate nearly 200 octets of concussion missiles from nearly 6 of the Valediction's batteries. Tractor beams were not nearly the end-all-be-all weapon the enemy fleet officer believed it to be. Soon as the swarms of missiles ejected themselves from their launchers, many flew directly into the tractor beam- whose onboard computers began to recalculate to account for the sudden 'shadow mass' that appeared on its sensors. In the few seconds it took to confuse the enemy tractor beam, his flagship had relinquished itself from the death-grips of a dead ship.

"Keep flank speed, adjust to avoid the Bishop! Comms, get everyone else on the horn, avoid that ship now." Captain Simone appeared at his side, a concern look on her face. "What's going o-"

"That ship's a beached whale: it's going to blow, and I know it Captain. The Black Bishop's a carrier that the enemy officer wasted in a spearhead formation- the intent was never to catch with us, it was to act as a fire ship. Get moving!" Her face turned deathly white, and she leapt over the railing and landed on her two feet, earning a clap from a passing ensign. Admiration ceased as she charged to the comms officer and coordinated the communications between Autumn Division.

Yet even with Naier's quick thinking, there was never enough time for his fast-flying escorts. The carrier ceased all activity for the briefest of moments- Ulterior Motives was the closest to it, and the captain realizing what was going to happen, surged the ship forward on a collision course. Admirable, to sacrifice oneself, but ultimately in vain. Explosions wracked through the length of the carrier, starting from the engines before it shattered the hull and catching Ulterior Motives and Anonymous Anarchist in its shockwave.

Motive simply ceased to exist on their sensors. Anarchist limped out, holes belching fire into atmosphere. Then bombardment from the Reaper hammered its tiny hull. The poor vessel didn't even go out with a bang, and simply sputtered out of action. Communications from them died out.

The rest of the fleet suffered minor damage from the suicidal stunt that the enemy had pulled, but burned great speeds to follow after the Valediction. Even as the scores of bombers flew into attack positions for his bridge, local CIWS platforms and support from The Wild Rode caught many of their formation in a crisscross of AA, chewing up the slow, unfortunate and stupid.

But it wasn't enough.

"Brace!" The first payload shuddered the hull. The second missed its mark by a fraction, and instead slammed into another dangerously close sector. The rest had to offload their bombs far too early to save their skins, damaging various other parts of the Valediction. But her hull held miraculously, and Naier capitalized on the good graces of Imperial construction by pressing the attack.

The first of the Tammars had wandered too close to the sleek, grey hull of Spring. As its guns powered up, the Cuirassier was faster- and deadly accurate. Turbolasers tracked the craft and hammered it at close range- where the enemy had fighter superiority, Autumn relished in swarming isolated foes. The rest of his corvettes pounced on the corvette, disgorging the full breadth and depth of their armament to vaporize the foolish captain.

The second Tammar was not so stupid, and at the last moments, decided to stay away from the fleet whilst taking potshots from afar. Though still dangerous, Naier counted on the captain to remain smart for the rest of the battle. "Maintain formation and speed. Crew, prepare to disengage."

"We're not continuing this fight?"

Naier shook his head. "We've done all that was necessary for us to do: we held our ground, cut the enemy fleet by a significant portion while at minimal cost to our own division. The enemy cannot do much more with their current forces-"

"Friendly signatures, flooding our sensors!"

"-and we've been relieved. We'll take whatever victory we can get Captain." He stood back up from his seat and walked down to the station deck. surveying the damage wrought on his ship personally.

Shields had suffered greatly, with its coolant system leaking in various sectors throughout the ships. Hansen was quick to point out in the report that the new capacitors he had installed had been fried- melted in its place, was the term used. Naier didn't want to imagine how it looked up close. Other readouts were also similarly optimistic- hull had taken serious damage, though none in her critical sectors. The bridge suffered most of the damage, as the enemy had tried- and nearly did- to decapitate the Valediction in one fell swoop. On the whole, the ship remained operational, in the same way that an expended contraceptive was still operational: technically correct, but also dangerously foolish to recommit.

The communications network was still down, and Naier didn't want to waste time in bringing it back up- he wished to remain in ignorance for now, and hope that the rest of the defensive fleet was in a far better condition than his. He noticed, as their formation burned past the enemy fleet, that they were in range of the enemy flagship- at a theoretically safe distance from their bombardment by now, after course corrections.

"Aim our arrays at the- Sensors, I need a name on that flagship."

Sensors spoke up after a few seconds: "The Wrath, sir. Maras-class."

Naier snorted. He had seen a few pretentious names, and to say nothing of his own naming conventions. "Right. Comms, note this down, I want this beamed to their ship directly. Message reads: Wild rodeo sir. Stop. Enjoyed the ride. Stop. See you later. Stop. Don't lose more carriers in the future. Stop. You got that?"

The Zabrak nodded calmly, as his finger furiously tapped into the console before him. Valediction's external laser arrays slowly turned to face The Wrath, and hammered out the commodore's message in short bursts. He repeated the message over and over, until Naier waved him down. He wasn't sure if the enemy understood, or if they even cared.

It really had been a wild wake up call for him.

And Autumn burned at full speed, past The Wrath and the leftovers of her fleet, towards the recently arrived reinforcing fleet of the New Imperial Order.

---

---

Fleet Roster Composition​

---

---

Autumn Division - 3rd Fleet

Vessel	Description	Status	Commander
NIV Inexorable Valediction of Summer​	- Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Severe Damage, Active	Naier Rambeigh​
NIV Silent Contemplation of Spring​	- Cuirassier-class Cruiser	- Sustained Damage, Active	Captain Williams Arburke, [NPC]​
NIV Lack of Subtlety​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Light Damage, Active	Commander Serena Libertam, [NPC]​
NIV One Big Gun​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- Sustained Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Kerin Erkhart, [NPC]​
NIV The Wild Rodeo​	- Escolta-class Frigate	- SustainedDamage, Active	Lt. Commander Geller Janovic, [NPC]​
NIV Poor Deliverance​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Light Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Ciroix Amende, [NPC]​
NIV Ulterior Motives​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- SUNK	Lt. Commander Louironna Blithe, [NPC/KIA]​
NIV Gargantuan Rooster​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Sustained Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Eric Bentham, [NPC]​
NIV Anonymous Anarchist​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- SUNK	Lt. Commander Rickard Pline, [NPC/KIA]​
NIV Blue Sky​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Light Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Krantel Geisling, [NPC]​
NIV Ironic Tragedy​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Sustained Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Allison Vantam, [NPC]​
NIV Confidently Nervous​	- Caçadore-class Assault Corvette	- Light Damage, Active	Lt. Commander Otto Bahez, [NPC]​

---

---

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Objective II
Allies: NIO | Jin Kyrel| Agrrur'arr | Rurik Fel
Enemies: TSE | CIS | Xeykard
They need you buried deep

It seemed that nothing could destroy the reptilian hulk in front of them. It threw aside his brothers like nothing, but they were not nothing. The sprung back to their feet with more determination than before. The New Imperial Order had proven it could fight, and the Sith Empire had shown it could fight back. Yet, this was less a test of skill, and more a test of faith, of resolve.

It was a side of justice and security against a side of tyranny and despair. Both sides knew that their way of life was at stake if they lost.

As his friends were embattled with the Barabel, Hans picked up his lightsaber from the floor and pushed himself off of the wall. The room was piling with bodies, and Hans could hardly remember how long they'd been fighting over this one part of the tunnels. Each moment from entering the subterranean nightmare had been an adrenaline filled fight of survival.

“Stand your ground lads! Master Fel is coming!!”

Jin yelled out across the room, a renewed spirit in his call that Hans too felt washing over him. It was a feeling of relief. In a moment of letting his guard down, Hans was rushed by more soldiers and a Sith Knight. The flow had been endless. As Hans realized the new arrivals too late, a scarlet blade struck his back.

His armour's shielding system stopped the blade from going through him, but the impact of the weapon sent him to his knees. He quickly rolled onto his backside and put his blade up to the Sith's. As they locked blades, the Sith pushing down on him, he felt the small pinprick of his armour's stimulant injector. In an instant he felt as if he was twice his size with muscles of corded durasteel.

Pushing back the Sith's saber became all too easy, and as Hans jumped to his feet, he slammed his shield into Sith's body. The Sith legionnaires that had entered with the Sith Knight waited a moment in shock before firing rapidly in Hans' direction. The strength stim coursed through his veins and the beating of the blasters on his shield and his armour felt like nothing.

Hans raised his hands as the lasers reflected from his armour, and began to focus on the cracked ceiling above them, grasping it with the force and pulling it down. Hans let the ceiling collapse onto the mouth of the tunnel, crushing the squad of legionnaires and sealing the tunnel to more invaders. The other tunnels remained, as did the ever present threat of the Inquisitor that tossed around his friends.

Holding out for their commander seemed as if it was getting easier, if only slightly.

 

[Enlil]

The siege fell hard.

The Sith-Imperials sought to bring firepower and allies that sought an end to what they viewed as insurgency. They did not legitimize the New Imperial Order as a sovereign nation. As Stormtroopers railed against various Sith elements, the King watched with an unreadable expression. Mourning their sacrifice would tarnish it. Instead, he stood unflinching at the helm as batteries continues to cut a swath through the back line of the encroaching force. "Cut them off," he commanded.

"My lord, we have exhausted our Stormtroopers just to hold the line. We cannot hope to break through."

Enlil frowned. It was the only show of emotion he'd given since he joined the fray, and it made the Gunnery Sargeant uneasy. "I advise that we have our forces fall back at the first available opportunity and redirect artillery at the enemy Frontline."

"Unacceptable," he shook his head. "We have done all we can to delay them. If we run now, Fortress Imperator will be overrun."

"It may be that we have to accept that as inevitable, my lord."

"It is only inevitable once we exhaust every option. Look around you, see how every Imperial struggles just to defy the enemy. Simply to hold tight to what we've sacrificed so much for. We've carved a place in this hell of a Galaxy where Order can exist."

"With respect my lord, sentiment is important, but we are steadily losing men. Unless something happens soon-"

Enlil had heard enough.

He stepped forward, past the bulkhead. The King stood in front of the defensive line and stretched out a hand. "You want a miracle, Sargeant?" he questioned. "Are you looking for something to believe in?"

"I just don't want anyone else to die!" the man practically screamed. "If we lose everything, what is the point of being an Empire at all?"

He was open now to the world around hihim. War tore apart Bastion, Ravelin burned. Fear gripped the people. Death surged higher with every passing moment. The King swallowed the gravitas of his responsibility and let it grow in the pit of his stomach.

Enlil stared out over his palm, beyond the splayed fingers beyond. The Stormtroopers, the Sith forces, Ravelin itself. He slowly curled his hand into a fist.

"Until this moment, the Will of Defiance has been with all of you," his voice lifted, resounding through friend and foe indiscriminate. "For some, it has uplifted, for others it has cast them to the dirt. As King, I now command that you offer up your lives."

"Shoot him!" roared a voice from the crowd. "Its the enemy leader!"

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, through his nostrils. The air around him was thick and hot. It resonated as the Force swirled around. With his hand now held high overhead, the King drew all of the heat that permeated from blasters, from artillery, from within each sweating, heavy breathing body inward toward himself.

"The fire in your hearts will become the sword of my Judgment," he intoned.

A Stormtrooper threw himself in the way of a shot intended for their leader. "Ave Imperator!" he barked as he sailed through the air and fell to the ground, writhing from the intense burn.

"Ave Imperator," the King agreed grimly. The energy that coalesced over his head now shifted, tangible. A molten wave of heat energy that seared and hungrily lorded over friend and foe alike. Enlil tightened his fist slightly, then brought it crashing down toward the skirmishing forces before him. "Burn away," he decreed, "and seek solace in the favor of whatever gods you keep."

The Inferno descended like a gavel.

Ripley Kühn | Lark
@Anyone who wants to notice a massive fireball swallowing lots of troops.​

 

[Runi Verin]

LOCATION: Ravelin, Bastion
OBJECTIVE: Repel invaders, escape the planet.
GEAR: Vornskr Mk8 Scattergun, Tal Oya’karir, Muun'bajir, Phrik Bracers, Terentatek Duster (Damaged), Asheran Armorweave, Taak’tabi, Nwûl, Tinfoil Hat
ALLIES: NIO (Tangibly)
ENEMIES: Ingrid L'lerim | TSE

The enhanced terentatek nature of coat once again saved her from being simply turned into a Kiffar kebab at the end of the redhead’s blades, although the early damage meant it couldn’t quite negate the pull entirely. Her boots scrabbed across the duracrete stones, black scuff marks streaking a path behind her as she slid inches at a time, inexorably slow towards the awaiting blades.

She managed to turn one of the blades aside completely with a flick of the curved knife, yet she couldn’t avoid the second as it sliced into her cybernetic arm at the biceps. The reinforced duraplast grinding out a stalwart defence where rybcoarse gave way. The arm lacked tactile feedback in that area, but Runi could tell from the sudden shift in weight that the capability of the arm was dropping with each passing second.

"I don’t need yours. My hands are stained, but not by his death.” She growled as she forced herself the last feet and into Ingrid’s guard, gritted teeth bared and defiant despite the pain the movement caused in her ribs. "He died clean. More than most can say.”

Not that she expected his widow to take her word for it.

Roles reversed, she doubted she would have cared either. There were simply times in this upside down galaxy when the only answer to spilt blood was more of the same. An unbreaking cycle that would no doubt continue to repeat even if she herself fell here today. It was as unavoidable as it was inescapable; a fact she had been forced to both accept and embrace as a child on the streets of Kol Atorn. Adrian was just another entry in the cycle she herself had perpetuated.

Or perhaps he was more than that.

While she had inherited the inclination from her father, Runi was by no means a mentalist. The very concept of messing with someone’s head was abhorrent to the few Warden of the Sky ideals she still clung to. It was simply a skillset she had never attempted to develop or utilise. Her one and only attempt to dabble resulting in an ill-timed force bond that she still felt the effects of. Hopefully she had a better time this round.

If her love of Adrian was that blindly strong, it would simply be a shame to waste it.

"Fierfek, you want to know so badly?” The Kiffar’s presence within the force widened and stretched, crossing the scant distance between the pair as she spoke, her mind reaching out in an attempt to forge a connection between Ingrid, herself and the alchemised memory repository that was the Nwûl. The memories cascading outwards in a weaponised deluge of fragments, perfectly preserved and immortalised, all designed to disorientate and disarm the woman before her. "Let…”

The world swam and bled away as the word fell from her mouth, the scene shifting towards a dusty, dank filled cavern someone on Dantooine. The memories falling from Runi’s perspective complete with physical, mental and sensory perceptions.

"You could probably take one of us out," which was an embarrassing statement of fact, especially when Runi knew who that would be in the current situation. Vandiir might have been more scientist than warrior, but his skills clearly weren't entirely academic. The spacer gestured to Amea, "But you know the other will finish the job, 'lek?"

She thumbed her scarred lip, regarding the ghostly apparitions for a split-second before shaking her head. "I don't know about you, but dyin' on Dnatooine ain't exactly an' endin' I'm set on embracin', tayli'bac?" She offered a lazy shrug, "But I also ain't lookin' to come away empty handed."

Not after that beat down.

"So way I figure it, we should be takin' both. The ship an' the money." The latter wouldn't salve her wounded pride, but it would sooth some of the financial issues she'd been experiencing since KDY had been stolen out from under her. A fair chunk of Stellarwind's smuggling revenue along with it. Bigger picture, as much as she wanted it to be otherwise, Vandiir was clearly worth more alive than dead. "In exchange, you walk, on my word. We'll even tell you the route we took comin' in. Should be a clear shot out if you act quickly. Otherwise... We make a song of it, I guess."

"...Me…”

Clicking his tongue at her demands, his voice was... almost amused. "You drive a hard bargain, Mandalorian."

Arms spreading outwards in a gesture of appeasement that suddenly shifted into something else, his power erupted in the form black-as-night miasma pouring outwards in a thunderous wave, drowning out the few sources of light in the cavern and bringing with it an almost palpable sense of confusion and despair. Strangely echoey as it pushed through the ambience, Adrian's voice was tinged with annoyance. "Too hard."

"...Show…”

The scene shifted towards the end of the encounter. A wave of agony surging along the tenuous connection. Pain, hatred, fear. The weight of the trauma Adrian had placed upon her pouring out like a thick miasmic soup.

The already fragmented ground shattered further as she planted her foot and turned, summoning all the anger, pain and resentment that Vandiir had forced her to relive back from the confines of the Nwûl in one dramatic burst that threatened to burn out her sense of self in a dark supernova of emotional backlash. Her vision darkened, fuzzing and fading on the peripheral. Her body screamed in protest. Fire filling her veins, her breath searing her lungs, her bones like molten lead.

There was only one release...

The knife lashed out once more, a wave of dark energy chasing the length of the blade as she put everything she had into what hopefully would be enough to end the fight one way or another.

"...you."

With the sound of slick finality, the blade embedded itself in his chest, the energy it channelled rippling outwards.

"Nononono, this isn't how it's-" Human mask falling to pieces and being replaced with greyish thing that was decidedly unnatural in origins, the entirely too human panic in his eyes was a sharp contrast to his usual smug superiority. "Not me, never me... I don't want to..."

Unfinished sentence trailing off, he simply toppled - and across the world a thousand and one Sithspawn suddenly froze, orderly ranks collapsing.

She forced the last scene to reply on an endless loop. The feel of the blade in her hand sliding between Adrian’s ribs and his shocked face rewinding and repeating over and over again, the feeling of satisfaction at felling a worthy opponent mingling with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion in every sense of the word.

With her opponent hopefully distracted by the feeling of first hand killing her husband, the Kiffar rocked her head backwards and brought it forward with all her might. Aiming the mother of all bone-breaking headbutts at the bridge of the redhead’s nose. It wasn’t elegant, it certainly wasn’t sophisticated, but nothing about this encounter seemed to be playing out that way, so why should she pretend otherwise? It wasn't a knockout blow, but would hopefully keep her opponent reeling in addition to the mental download.

If nothing else, it would be a satisfyingly good old taste of Mandalorian shock combat.

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
OBJECTIVE I: FORTRESS IMPERATOR
T H E _ P O T

​

He couldn't help but stare at the hollow eyes of the man once known as Tyrell Paxxus. Punch after punch landed on the Grand Vizier, each more desperate than the other; as if he could break through a shell and pull out the man that once was.

Alas.

The Vizier's cybernetic arm surged into his chest and its artificial strength launched the commissioner away. Something cracked in his lungs but Jaeger, like a ravenous beast, rolled, sprung back on his feet and charged once more at Paxxus. Foolish hope stopped him from reaching for his gun; even he bore the weakness of a human.

"Who the fuck are you?!" he spat out. "Huh?!"

Everything else around him had disappeared.

It was just him treading on the edges of fate as the fiery vista of Ravelin behind Tyrell revealed the end of days.

NIO | ALLIES | Elicia Hejaran
TSE | ENEMIES
ENEMY: Tyrell Paxxus

 

[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: Ravelin, Bastion
Objective: To find everything that was once Adrian’s property and rescue them if they still exist. Avenge AMCO !
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: Runi Verin

[ Broken Heart and Soul ] ​

Runi may not have been a master of mental things; For Ingrid, only that existed before the dormant Force Sensitivity awoke in her, thanks to Tacitus about ten years ago. She was an intelligence agent, received very strong mental training to be able to shake these kinds of attacks and to be able to resist torture, mind reading. She had been trained with torture and poison since she was a child. Even at the beginning of their relationship, the red-haired woman was able to surprise Adrian by shaking off the Sith Lord’s “attack” on the PL. Adrian just wanted to give good memories to the stubborn woman, but they were the most painful.

She escaped being let Ingrid impale her, but still hurt one of her hands, though only her mechanical arm was damaged, but at least she was injured and would not be able to use it. At least the Empress hoped this. That was a big advantage already.

"If you just had killed him, I wouldn’t have cared, I wouldn’t have cared about the bounty list either, I would have let you run, and he would have been back to life a long time ago! But you not only did kill him, you destroyed him, you tore his soul to many thousands of pieces, making it almost impossible for me to ever bring him back! You also almost completely take away the chance from him to he ever live again!"

Said a much colder voice than the coldest night in Kalidan. Saw what had happened, what Adrian did it was so him. It was so him, hse already felt what her husband and others felt, he was injured. And Adrian is also paranoid, and for him, the finds, relics, artefacts and objects meant more than anything, they were the most important just like his sithspawns. She knew him well, and she loves him, still loves him, and she will forever. Fortunately, was able to perceive the outside world and the vision at the same time. Because of the helmet, couldn't see the tears streaming down her face. Didn’t feel any extra pain, just what she had before. Swallowed the scream, but when Runi forced her to see it again, Ingrid shook off the vision from herself.

Ingrid communicated well with emotions, she might have suppressed distractions like anger, hatred, and things like that, but she was able to reflect or absorb them well. She always sends emotions to Adrian as well when they communicate telepathically. When Runi tried to behead her, she let go of one of the blades and then tried to stop the woman's head with much greater physical strength than the human.

"Let's see how you do with what you caused!"

Ever since she became Shadow-born, Ingrid has been a telepath, not through the Force, but really, and partly empathetic. Pounded memories and feelings to Runi, her own and Adrian’s feelings, what she remembered, what she had experienced from the Sith Lord, as she could tune in very easily and feel everything about him. As the memories and feelings reached the Kiffar, she could feel as if Ingrid’s emotions were her own. She could feel the woman’s feelings the way she loved Adrian, with an overwhelming passionate love despite the cold, insensitive appearance. If Runi had heard of the woman, these images were the complete opposite of what they say about her.

Pictures as she is with Adrian, love looks, great conversations, common hobbies. It was Adrian who was less able to express his feelings, in reality they were exactly the opposite of what the tabloids showed about them. There Ingrid was the measured, distant, Adrian the direct, in the relationship just the opposite. They formed a perfectly harmonious pair, complementing each other perfectly. Runi could feel the feelings Ingrid felt about Adrian, who for a long time didn’t even realize that what he felt could be love for Ingrid.

Feelings when Ingrid asked for Adrian's hand at the peace treaty, the Sith Lord said yes, the memory of the nights conceived together, that when Ingrid became what it is now - it was not clear what she was, it was not important, just the change - Adrian found her even more attractive and beautiful than before. As they teach each other, they practice, they are together. Their wedding, everything, the worry… when they were worried about each other, love; how many plans they had together. Then the last minutes, when Ingrid felt Adria's feelings, suffered his injuries. She could feel Adrian's fear, now Runi could feel it. Then nothing.

After a cavalcade of the former emotion, Runi could feel what Ingrid felt when Adrian died as the Force-bond was broken, the endless emptiness, the coldness that Ingrid had survived only because of her own strong willpower. It is such a strong and cold emptiness that to this day she did not know how and why she was able to stay alive. Runi could see and relive the woman's death as Elpsis stabbed her on the Byss, stabbed her with the lightsaber; Ingrid wanted to die then.

In the Netherworld, the way she felt every single piece of Adrian’s soul, all the shards, the way she found the biggest one. When the two souls met, they “said goodbye,” Ingrid tore her soul apart and her soulshard remained there in Netherworld to take care of Adrian, melted into the man’s soul, and a piece of the Sith Lord’s soul chunk stayed there with Ingrid. When the two souls touched each other, a piece was torn out of them. Like a love pledge even beyond the grave. Then Ingrid came back to life, but her whole soul wanted to stay there with Adrian.

That at this moment she wanted to scream from the pain that grinds her, it doesn't go away for a moment, even though her other husband, whom Ingrid loves equally with Adrian, was there, there was already little Adrian, their little boy, and her other son, Tubrok was his father… but nothing relieved the pain and emptiness. She was essentially dead, keeping only her sense of duty to the Empire and her family alive and the hope that she could one day reverse what Runi and Amea had caused. That anyone else would probably have died in this pain a long time ago.

She, too, was alive only because of her stubbornness and the hope of one day being able to reunite with AMCO . What might have been very striking in the catharsis, that she felt no hatred for either Runi or Amea, was that it was logical and obligatory to kill the two women for their actions. She wanted to feel hatred and anger, but she was unable to do so, instead it was there for what Runi had said before she was right. Ingrid felt guilt because she was unable to protect her husband; blaming herself.

Broke off the connection, probably after that for a while there will be the emotions swirling in Runi, or the lack of them, the endless emptiness and pain. Tried to push the woman away from heer and let the swords fall to the ground as well. Now took off her helmet, her red hair collapsed on her shoulders and back, her blue eyes were red from crying, as was her face. Now she didn't care if she looked weak.

"No, his death was not clear, he wanted to live. It may have been clean for you, but you took everything from me. You killed two people that day, only I am too stubborn to die properly!" said without emotion as more tears streamed down her face, the amulet reacted, she felt again as if Adrian was hugging her and at this moment, due to her own strong pain, the soulshard's reaction was so strong, temporarily Adrian's aura could be felt from the soulshard despite to the taozin protection. Of course, the Sith Lord was not there; and the crystal was not sentient, only reacting to very strong reactions in this way.

She was only a broken heart and soul…

She didn’t want this war…

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Gear: Elpsis' Armour, Inferno, Uproar Blaster, Hold-out Bolter, Shotgun, Wrist Ion Paddle Beamer, Revolver, Grenades.
Marrow

The collision of the two waves had created a sound akin to a thunderclap. The tunnel was shaken by terrible tremors and was torn asunder, collapsing upon the two combatants. Realising what was happening, Elpsis wrapped herself in a protective cocoon of the Force. It was enough to keep her from being squished by an avalanche of flaming debris. But not enough to keep her from being buried beneath it. As a thick cloud of smoke billowed into the air. For a moment there was silence. Elpsis had vanished beneath debris, just as she had done when the Grand Inquisitor of the Dominion of Light dropped a ceiling on her when she managed to break free from his brainwashng. But she had managed to cast this tyrant down into the fiery pit he deserved.

Her momentarily delirious mind was pulled back to something Siobhan had told her a long time ago. "I don't care whether you feel affection for me or not, Elpsis. I didn't adopt you for the mushy feelings. I adopted you because I saw potential. I am harsh with you for a reason. Before long I'll be dead. And it'll be all on you. You'll protect the family. You don't care about Firemane's profits, but you care about the people it shields. Every bruise, every broken bone you suffer till then is preparation. You are a Phoenix. As long as your heart beats inside your chest, you'll fight. Now get up."

Siobhan had been many things. Such as a self-important despot and a piss-poor mother, but she had been a good trainer. It bloody hurt to move, but Elpsis doggedly dug her way out of her tomb of stone. A gauntlet-covered, bruised hand pushed its way to freedom. When she finally managed to get to her feet, her gait was unsteady - and pain surged through her chest. There was bruising there, and she had cracked ribs.

When she breathed in, it hurt, and she walked with a limp. That old leg wound from Tephrike had reared its head again. Her Jedi fundamentalist captors had denied her medical care for the heavy slug round inside her leg, and so she had been forced to use the Force to pull it out, and then cauterise the wound with her own fire.

But she stood, albeit unsteadily. Inferno was not in her grasp anymore, but she could still feel her lightsabre through the bond. That meant it was close, lying somewhere nearby in the rubble. Through the Force, she could perceive the Sith - and the opening the cave-in had created. He seemed to have lost his alchemised sword, though she could still sense its dark presence somewhere amidst the rubble. As quickly as she could she grabbed a hold of her Uproar Blaster - a hard-sound gun. Holding it with two bruised hands, she fired - once, twice.

 

[Romi Jade]

Location: Ravelin
Allies: NIO
Enemies: TSE and Allies
Engaging: Other Space Kaiden

She stood her ground standing there, neither blinking. Watching, the black silhouette that was his form grew in size as he approached. "If you got means to kill me...I say get on with it." habitually tilting her head in challenge. His howl beckoned a jolt of her body, and then her face turn pink and orange from sudden spew of fire.

Wha-hehh

She danced back and to one side, and negligently threw out her hands -- a first response. Romi had just enough time to push out with the Force and create a small bubble of protection before she was engulfed in flame. Her lightsaber went blank and gravity tugged it to the ground before rolling a foot or so away. Jade breathed shallowly through the heat.The Force bubble overhead lost precious millimeters with each roar of flame that snaked over the top.

She could feel the dark energy intensifying, infusing itself into everything around her.

There were times where she held back...

She shut her eyes - envisioning the outcome she wanted and wiping her slate clean of any presuppositions. Darksiders drew power from raw emotions and feelings such as anger, hatred, greed, jealousy, fear, aggression, megalomania, and unrestrained passion.

The emptiness mode— She started to feel her body as nothing more than walls of skin. There is nothing inside. There is no one inside. Emptiness was openess; she was conduit. An alabaster luminesce began to radiate off the surface of her skin.

She wove her arms, warping her bubble before her in a mixed display of lightside energy and hyper focused power. The alabaster wave sprawled from her figure like glowing fire, and turned a pinkish shade before clashing with his volley of flames.

A feral look in her eyes.

She infringed her presence and will on him and the surrounding area - using her abilities simultaneously to weaken and demoralize his grip on the perverted nature of the dark side that allowed him to cast fire. She dispersed the flames and the fog into nothing. She would've needed more time to weaken or sever someone from the force altogether, but she staved off his attacks for now. If he could call forth flame like then...he'd likely be able to do it again.

She went on the offensive.

Opening herself completely to the Force, using her resolve to draw it in, Romi through out her left hand. A smokey luminescent ball of energy popped in her palm -- a Force burst; it was missile on him. Expecting a caster of his size to find a way around it, she called her hilt back to her hand with the right.

She could already see Jend-Ro Quill 's facial expression when she returns with her hair nearly crisp.

 

[Anden Fancelo]

Bastion
Allies: NIO | GA | Willan Tal | Zakaria Black | Djorn Bline | Noel Strasza | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Tyrell Paxxus | Kolson Vrask | DECEASED Erskine Barran | FN-999 | Meko Sorrin | Vostok Grauv
Enemies: TSE | CIS | Lirka Ka

[THEME]
​

SECTOR 7 - Edge of the Fortress

It didn't take long to realize the fates of Avala 1-1, the screams and the flying bright projectiles were evidence of such an end. The victor was clear: whatever it was down in that alley. Some members of Besh already adjusting accordingly to get a good sightline in that area. A pair of soldiers were already on the far side of the roof, aiming their 58's at the alley and glancing into the scope.

"Oh gods..." A soldier gasped. His magnified gaze led him to the smoke-filled alley that Avala 1-1 was in. But the fog of war was not forgiving to the soldier's eye. As the smoke was clearing and he witnessed the mutilated bodies of his comrades, scattered about like the victims of a bad explosive device going off.

But there was no device of such caliber. The visage was clear enough for the lone soldier to witness the producer of such a massacre. A spiked being with none other than just a sword. The panicked soldier burst out his words, taking aim. "Contact at that alley! Karking sith wiped out the squads!" The soldier's assumption was deafened by the suppressive fire applied to the Sephi. Some members of Besh team scramble over to add onto the relentless torrent of red bolts.

Bolts that were meaningless due to the opposition's armor. Fancelo was quick to gather a solution given his experience with force sensitives. He went ahead to grip the Sergeant's collar and barked at his helmet in the midst of the deafening exchange of projectiles.

"Sergeant! We gotta get a rocket from Aurek STAT before we're all sliced into pieces now!" Terror was in the air, but the former Gravewalker was not having it. Not today.

The Sergeant that was infected by such terror, jolted in reaction to this. He understood the nature of such a call like that. He recognized why Fancelo was held in such high esteem, and he called over on comms.

"Aurek! Send one of your AT up here now!"

All that was needed was time for the proper response to get up here and be applied to the butcher that is yet to come.

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

Location: Ravelin, Bastion
Equipment: Saberstaff, Imperial Knight Armour
Proximity: Dimitri Voltura, Noel Strasza , Kolson Vrask , UX-0626
Engaging: Alina Tremiru

As soon as he had spun around, the saberstaff was bursting back to life in its silver colouring. Simultaneously pressed close to him, never giving him that moment to breathe, never letting his advantage grow too much before she brought him back into her realm of advantage.

But all she did was prove that his departure, betrayal, whatever it was to be called, from the Sith was well founded.

Anger, barely bridled propelling her. Were he to let himself fall to the same temptation of immediate power, of strength, he'd find himself rehabilitated, or executed. Neither results were particularly appealing. Imperial re-education? Slim chance that it'd be pleasant. But who was there to observe them? Other Imperial Knights? No. From when he had closed in on this area, he recalled there weren't other similarly aligned Force users.

It meant that he could, indulge.

Backpedaling as she jabbed recklessly with her fist in a flurry of punches, he'd abruptly drop, his backwards momentum coming to a stop as he ensured to time the crouch in the same instant her limb would be extended over his head. Thrusting forwards and upwards into the centre of her mass. His play? To let her own forward momentum carry her into the blade. On account of her own approach drawing her closer, the thrusting of his saber cut down drastically on the precious milliseconds she needed to not have her insides spilled.

But indulge he didn't.

For in his lessons in the New Order, he had learned patience. Discipline, the Will to execute. The Will of Defiance.

And he denied that temptation to fall, to return to what he once was.

I'm better.

 

[Halketh]

A S A B O V E S O B E L O W
THE LORD OF CARNAGE

DOOM_DIVISION : // DEPLOYED
THE_CARLACI_CORPS : // DEPLOYED
ENGAGEMENT : // Dimitri Voltura
NIO_ALLIES_CLOSEBY :// @IAMTHEWARMACHINE Tyrell Paxxus DECEASED Erskine Barran Djorn Bline
Jaeger Harrsk Asa Yubari Enedina Tal Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Willan Tal

_

Reap what you sow.
​

As soon as Dimitri went down, suffering under the influence of his Sith magic, The Vulture had set to work dealing with the remaining voxyn that surged in his direction, leaping to aid their master. He knew he didn't stand an even chance killing so many by himself without heavy firepower, but at the very least, he could slow them down.

'Kezec... your people... your true people-'

He offered her no response, nothing, merely, he funneled his fury into the strength he exerted then. Clawed hands raised into the air, pitching off to the high left of his shoulder and head. He didn't look where it was he was focusing, but rather kept his head forward, aimed at Dimitri and his bloodied pack of slaughterhounds. Guilded fingers hooked towards his palms and dark veins bubbled to the surface beneath his armor, drawn to his scarred, mangled skin by the mere taxation of what he sought to do. He bared his teeth beneath his helmet, suddenly animating once more, raking his curled, quivering hands down diagonally through the air, following through to his right hip.

The scattered debris of the decimated buildings encircling the square Halketh stood upon the threshold of quivered for only a second before screaming to life, flying towards the pack of voxyn. Durasteel and duracrete alike were flung with the intent to bury or immobilize any number of the creatures without much consideration given to the motion prior. It was reckless, but perhaps it would pay off.

He recovered from this, resuming his position of steepled fingers and casual poise when his foe righted once more. It was enough to make The Vulture tilt his head in curiosity. "You draw power from another, don't you?" It was a genuine question offered between two strange individuals without a drop of malice or mockery present across his tongue, "You must, to overcome your hauntings."

And that's about the time the mind shear raked through his consciousness, staggering him backward. His mental fortitude was usually of exceptional power, however, those events unraveling that led him back to the defense of his planet and the combined weight of his governing responsibilities, The Vulture's mind was exposed on one front, and one alone. That haunting ghost had pried the proverbial beskar casing off one side of his brain, and repeatedly, she stabbed at it. He resisted the pain inflicted on him across the other fronts well enough, barely reacting, but where Dimitri struck him, was right where he was the most vulnerable.

It was enough to rattle the shards still left in his framed sanity loose and shatter them against the ground. Blood trickled from his nose, splattering to his lip as the voices of the damned around him surged to an almost overwhelming volume. His clawed gauntlets snapped up to his helmet digging into the sides of it as if he could muffle out the wails of torment threatening to sweep him away. His remaining forces sensed his shift and lunged forward, throwing themselves at Dimitri and his voxyn in some attempt to protect Halketh as he suffered. A razor split through his thoughts, slicing open his nerves and bleeding him for everything he was worth. It was a devastating blow, indeed.

But madness never accepted being outdone.

He'd come too far.

Two planets of people counted on him in this decisive battle. If the NIO lost, if he lost, his worlds would likely be next.

He couldn't afford to lose another world; not again.

The Dark Side surged from him defensively, spilling out from beneath his coat as he hunched over there, still clenching his head. The energy hissed, crackling and lashing at the air with a rising charge that was rapidly building upon itself in a self-perpetuating feedback loop. He barely had to think to conjure it, to enact his fury. His clawed fingers tore his scrambled helmet to the ground by his feet, exposing the sweat-damp strands of messy black stuck to his forehead, and the crimson bandana wound over his sealed eye sockets. The same hue flowed from both of his nostrils, soaking into his mustache and over his lips as he slowly straightened himself up, angling his hips back in the Dragon's direction.

“Lord Halketh,” Came Gatlin’s voice, then another, another, pounding into one another. The overlapping tones and demands of the dark past, names and words that were uttered at the first, and would be demanded at the last. “The Vulture.” Waves of the ages, crashing over the rocks. “Stood there at the end, the omega. The Empire bled us dry, the New Imperials tanned the corpse.” One after another rolled the voices. Each new, each demanding the others stand down for their turn. “Child of Abron, still fighting the war your people /lost/. Your ancestors rage through you, your embodiment of the Force, death. Wasted. As the Reaper you hold none of their fear.” Came the call of one who defied.

Distant, faint words from what seemed like eons ago poised in the broken glass of his forethought. Yet, beyond the trails of crimson oozing from his nose, he seemed eerily calm. No subtle shifts in his expression betrayed his internal turmoil the instant he had removed his helmet, though his overall posture suggested he was suffering. The Black Paladin had been right, all that time ago, he held none of his people's fear. No, he was not the subject of tragedy or toil, he never had been able to settle for such things, far more than that, The Vulture had become the Reaper. He prospered as others suffered. As tragedy befell every planet in his warpath, he merely sat back, reaping the fruits of the efforts.

Slowly, Halketh's face angled back in the Dragon's direction, pure energy spiraling around him in cloaking, churning rhythm. His coat and hair whipped around his form, as unsettled as the dust and debris collecting in the miraluka's space.

His bloody lips parted then, and both gauntlets raised, weakly shoving at the air in an intentionally underwhelming display.

The Force unraveled itself from his control in that instant, crashing forward as a crushing tsunami to utterly annihilate anything in its way with raw, untamed power. The buildings rattled. The earth heaved. The manifested pain of a dying world, the same Halketh had born some time ago struck out against his foes now- an insight to his past; countless lives snuffed out in an instant.

He offered Dimitri no answer to his question, not this time.

Thus spoke Nihilus. ​

 

[Vostok Grauv]

Phase -01- Alpha Class Dark Trooper


Vostok Grauv


New Imperial Order


Location: Fort Imperator

Allies Tags: Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Jaeger Harrsk | Tyrell Paxxus | Enedina Tal | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Creuat | Kolson Vrask | Meko Sorrin | FN-999 | Halketh | Noel Strasza | Zakaria Black

Post #5

< //USER DEATH IMMINENT! PRESERVATION PROTOCOL ENABLED// >
​

Exhaustion set in, rendering Vostok ineffective in a combat situation; something he would consider equal to failure, were he lucid. It did not matter how hard of a fight he pressed, the number of jaws crushed, or delusions flayed and massacred from the minds of the sick. If his mission did not meet its completion, then his purpose remained unfulfilled - valor undeserved. He was a man of vision, a soulless shell ready to sell his body to the battlefield without question - without hesitation.

Unfamiliar with the life of a citizen, lost to the bitter stinging wind of aftershock and shrapnel. In place of a mistress there was his rage, and as for family, there was none to speak of. A lonesome existence loomed forevermore over Vostok's head, not that it bothered him. A keen sense of self-awareness was a universally applicable tool, so long that he kept true to his vision - his desired future, nothing would hinder him. People were immaterial, fickle creatures too afraid to pull the trigger at those responsible; Sith and Jedi have waged countless operations and atrocities, and the voices of the common man and comrade alike were growing louder with each passing hour. They grew tired of the lies - the lackadaisical efforts. Answers were needed, debts owed.

The sound of muffled, distorted voices tugged at Vostok's consciousness, his armored body shifting along with every bump the APC encountered. "He's stable for now, not too much longer until we arrive." A stray voice plainly stated, devoid of fear and instead reinforced with a rationale most wouldn't possess in such trying times; true bravery in the face of harsh adversity, a hero proper, unlike Vostok himself.

Good men sacrificing themselves for homes and loved ones, for brother and faith. He marched for blood, for murder, for selfishness guised as moral conviction. He was living a lie among the selfless.

Slowly coming to, Vostok adjusted his eyes to the light inside the APC; optics glitching briefly as the software recalibrated itself, his HUD fully operational once more. Raising his gauntlet over his eyes, letting the light dance between his fingers, Vostok's singular thought process was one of genuine wonder and slight arrogance, his ego stroked as he had now survived on two occasions against the Sith-Imperials; however, it wasn't over yet. His eyes stared at the vehicle's roof, his mind trained on the sentiment of slaughter.

Hero or not, there was an undeniable - widespread thirst for Sith blood.

Music
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