Rebellion Return to Stygian | GA Rebellion of TSE's Krayiss and Jelucan

[Aerarii Tithe]

SENATE COMMITTEE ROOM // CORUSCANT
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Attire

DARKCOM | Seto Du Couteau | Jak Ross | Julius Haskler
Pom Stych Tivé | Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf

Tithe listened as Preylith T'dishon, the Honourable Member for Azbrian, outlined what her planet could offer the greater Alliance by means of materiel support. As she spoke his eyes dipped to the datapad on the table before him. He didn’t remember anything about armour production or humanitarian food stock in the briefing material which had been prepared for him ahead of the meeting.

And yet… he believed her. Obviously, Azbrian would provide what she said it would. Why else would she have said it were it not the complete truth? He looked back up at the young Senator, not sensing a word of mistruth leaving her lips. While he didn’t have much of a background with her, for whatever reason his mind was convinced that she could be trusted. Clearly, his staff had been incorrect in their research, there was a first time for everything. He made a note to have whoever prepared the briefing gone by the end of the day.

“We humbly accept Azbrian’s most gracious offer,” he replied with a slight bow of his head in reverence. If only all his legislative colleagues could be as trustworthy as Preylith!

The Honourable Member for Epoch noted the heavy burden facing the committee. Few truer words had ever been uttered in this room - public support for the war with the Sith was at an all-time low. What had been promised by Tithe and Chancellor Chandra to be a swift and decisive campaign had dragged out into a series of devastating defeats. Even now, the Jedi and GADF were lightyears away, besieging a world too far removed from the Alliance’s borders for the citizenry to care. As far as they were concerned, Krayiss had sealed its fate through its continued support of the Sith. Why should billions of credits and millions of lives be spent fighting a war on the other side of the galaxy?

“A show of strength will go a long way to rebuilding the public’s faith,” Tithe mused in response to Fossk’s comment about the need for a show of strength. He desperately needed a win to get the public back on his side. How fortunate that his colleagues seemed to have all the right answers?

Certainly, there were others in the room who agreed with the war. Take Adrimos Fasoyor, the Honourable Member for Metellos, for example. An extreme hardliner, who did not let a day go past where he didn’t throw his support behind a measure to combat or harass the Alliance’s enemies. Tithe didn’t recall allowing Senators to bring their staff to the closed-door meetings, but for some reason, Fasoyor’s page seemed to blend into the room, as if he was meant to be there. He shouldn't worry, what harm could come of a single man?

The Honourable Member for Arkania also favoured taking a strong stance against the Sith, though countered with a suggestion to use a biological weapon. Indeed, a carefully targeting virus could have vastly fewer collateral deaths than destroying an entire world. As Elizie spoke Tithe couldn’t help feel a sense of familiarity with the young woman. He didn’t remember having served with her in any real capacity before the Select Committee had been called, so it presumably was all the media coverage of her recent kidnapping. But still…

The Vice Chancellor shook his head to clear it. There was no time for ideal pondering.

“Before we requisition such a weapon, surely we must pontifficate the, ah, ethics of such a move?” Prior to Csilla, no galactic government had deployed a weapon of such magnitude in recent memory. Was this truly the dawn of the age of superweapons?

“How can we fight a moral war against the Sith and the Brotherhood while secretly commissioning a weapon of such power, with the potential to end billions of lives in one fell stroke?” He was already facing a public relations nightmare with this bloody conflict, the last thing the administration needed was more controversy.

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

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

Location: Sith Library Temple
Objective I.: Trial of Spirit
Equipment: Mnami Mirsûra, The Crow Cane | Deck of the Pocket Sand | Estran Attire | G1 OmniLink || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Kirie

[ Fog after me ] ​

He had the books and datacrons, he managed to get them. He packed everything in a larger backpack and then picked up the backpack. He groaned due its weight. It was harder than he thought. Feth! The young boy grimaced, sometimes he had to make sacrifices for science. From above, he could already hear the explosions and the sounds of fighting. Why?! At least one such place could be left alone. But no…

He knew exactly knowledge is power, and NIO / GA / NJO wanted to destroy everything the Sith had created. He just didn’t understand why they didn’t understand they wouldn’t be spoiled by power if they read them. It was merely a matter of willpower. At Netherworld, everything was simpler. Sometimes he would have been glad if he was still in the Sanctuary, where there weren’t as many political games as here. He just wanted to stay out of these and focus on the sciences.

But he couldn't do it because of his origins. He hated being noble, though he had to realize that he also had his advantages. He grinned at the thought for a moment. The next explosion into reality dragged him back to reality. He had to get to the hangars or the ship he left outside to get out of here. Adrian may have been able to slip over to Netherworld, but the heavy backpack... he was sure he couldn't take it with him. So, unless you wanted to leave the knowledge here, another method was needed.

He managed to get to ground level, but it was much harder to move here because the fights were slowly reaching this area. He passed one of the walls just as he felt danger through the Force, so he jumped behind one of the statues. The next moment, the wall burst and a larger hole gaped in the temple wall. From outside, the hot desert air was felt. The escape may be resolved.

Adrian looked out from behind the statue and saw a woman out there behind stones or cover, Kirie . Feth… anything, just not a fight... again.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Objective: I rebel
Allies: TSE
Enemies: Open!



Well this was going pretty much exactly as expected. Caide had been assigned to one of the strike teams assigned on picking off the few remaining GA regulars remaining on Krayiss. The Idea was that without military leadership, rebels would be easier to suppress later. Not a bad plan. Right up until they hired mercenaries to lead the squads. In Caide’s own experience moonlighting as a mercenary, nothing was dumber than a leader with a cash incentive to over perform. Its why Caide always charged a fixed rate with no optional bonuses when he operated as Taim. Inviting trouble otherwise.

Needless to say, their eLiTe MeRcEnArY sQuAd LeAdEr charged them straight into a firefight without checking artillery patterns in the area. Within minutes, their position was bombarded, and they barely had time to get their bearings once the dust cleared before a bunch of pissed off yokels with second hand blasters led by a small contingent of GA regulars stormed their position. To his credit, the merc took quite a few down before he got his head near blown off by a rifle shot. Without leadership on their side, it was utter chaos. So Caide did what he did best and improvised. Thinking quickly, he advanced towards the dead mercenary’s body and gunned down any opposition he found.

Luckily, the GA regulars were staying near the back to command, so he didn’t exactly have stiff competition for the position. He yanked the comms device out of the merc’s helmet and spoke over Comms to command, ducking behind a piece of rubble to avoid a barrage of fire.

“This is Legionnaire Mazrim Caide, second fire squad Alpha Zeta Three. Our squad leader is down and we are under attack. Request immediate reinforcement and artillery support.”

The line fizzles with static for a moment before the reply comes through.

“Negative Legionnaire Caide. Resources are not there.”

“....Understood.”

Caide couldn’t say he was surprised, or even disappointed. In their position, from a logical standpoint, it made the most sense. Why dedicate already thin resources to evacuate a replaceable squad of line troopers? Still, it did annoy him. He supposed he was going to have to survive yet another suicide mission. He switches to his local Comms network.

“This is Legionnaire Mazrim Caide to all troops in squad AZ3. Commander Aldan is down. I am assuming command.” He doesn’t expect much of a response. They were all busy fighting for their lives. Caide quickly guns down 2 rebels that pass his position and rolls to new cover not a second too late as a grenade falls where he was standing.

He uses a destroyed piece of concrete pillar to shield himself from the blast and continues speaking as he reloads his carbine with another energy pack.

“All units retreat 30 meters back, regroup at the overturned hovercar in the street. Any remaining demolitions troops should expend all explosives to cover retreat and disperse enemy forces.”

He dodges a wild knife strike and breaks the rebel’s arm before slamming him face first into an exposed piece of rebar, ending him in one stroke. After a few moments he receives a chorus of panicked copies and sees a series of explosions, the squad’s remaining explosives going to work. Caide takes advantage of the momentary lapse in enemy fire to sprint back towards the regroup point. As he reaches the overturned car, he sees 7 or 8 line troopers, including one marksman and two demo specialists, with the two remaining heavy troopers laying cover fire down with their lmgs. Using the reprieve, Caide takes stock of their position.

They were now in the open street, and the enemy was advancing through the damaged building they had been caught in to get to them. Caide tilts his head. That was it. He turns to the demolitions experts.

“Can you bring that building down with what you have left?”

The soldiers peak over the car to check and then take stock of their supplies.

“It would be the last of our heavy thermal charges, but we could do it.”

“Do it.”

They nod unquestioningly and sprint to do their work, setting the charges at the supports for the entrance. Thank the force for the empires incessant drill requirements, they finish quickly and run back, simply nodding when Caide raises a brow at them. Caide gets on comms.

“Support gunners, fall back. We’re going to blow the building.”

That gets them moving. They make it to the overturned hover car just as the charges go off, blowing apart two of the integral supports and collapsing the building on the screaming rebels. When the dust settles, everything is eerily quiet for a moment before the remaining troops cheer. Caide allows it for a few minutes before shushing them.

“We’re not done. We still have a job to do, and we just used a LOT of our biggest advantages. If we’re going to survive this, we have to be smart.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks around at what he has left before coming to a decision.

“There was a squad deployed 20 clicks west of our current position. We’ll make our way to their last known location. If they’re still alive, we’ll join up with them, and take out any enemy troops we can along the way, but do not engage without my go ahead, is that understood?”

The troops nod, not questioning the man that just led them out of a death trap. Caide says the only thing he can in this situation. How he got thrust into this position, whether fate’s ironic sense of humor or just bad luck, who knew. But he was, for better or worse, in charge.

“Right. Move out.”

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Krayiss II's Orbit - Iblis-class Missile Frigate Epilogue - C.I.C]
[Engaging: N Nyxeris ]
​

The Epilogue shook, explosions now tearing across the missile cruiser's shields, while a squadron of Sith bombers and their escorts dove past disoriented interceptors. They broke off their attack, after a wave of proton torpedoes drained the Alliance vessel's shield integrity, and left her just bordering off of being helpless. Engines now lit up across the squadron of V-Wing interceptors, while they scrambled after the fleeing bombers, a smaller portion staying behind to augment the defenses of their wounded mothership.

​

"We have another incoming vessel, ma'am! Appears to be a meditation sphere, from what I can tell. Direct course with us."

"Direct...?" The commander began to shiver.

By now, the fleet had drastically rearranged itself, high-tonnage warships taking the front lines; leaving the support ships like the Epilogue with but a fraction of screening vessels to work with, even then, those were concentrated around the interdictors.

"Fire up the port-side laser cannons. Scramble our anti-warhead missiles and target that meditation sphere!" Teica's teeth came down on her lower lip, while the nimble vessel continued to close in, "Interceptors?!"

"Half of the squadron's tied up with approaching fighter swarms, ma'am. Recalling the rest for screening."

The meditation sphere dodged another stream of point defense cannon fire, while recently-damaged anti-missile octets struggled to maintain successful firing solutions. But the vessel showed no sign of stopping the charge, no sign of breaking off the attack. It would either hit the Epilogue, or it would make a boarding action. And, knowing the Sith...

"Lock down Main Engineering, and secure our missile bays. Marines to Reactor Control, Hanger Bay, And Secure the Corridors around! I want all crewmembers to prepare to be boarded," Teica came to a stand, and planted the cushioned end of her cane in the ground. It was never a good sign for the senior staff.

"Yes ma'am!"

Panic struck her expression. Terror engulfed her. Teica's hands now began to tremble, her head now shook ever so slightly. It had happened before, along the Namadii Corridor, aboard another Iblis-class, no doubt. The smell of smoke, of blood-stained metal, came back to her. And once again, she remembered the sights of charred flesh, of blaster bolts flying all around, and of the faint sight of a red blade behind a far-off smoke-filled corridor.

By now, the 6 available V-wings began to close in, cannons setting the space around the meditation sphere ablaze. But the fighter continued its journey, weaving through rapid screens of screening fire, until it was too late to stop it. The vessel was too close to be destroyed, at least, not without harming the Epilogue herself; while also too close for the Epilogue's ion weapons to properly target and disable; and as such, the interceptors were forced to break away from the attack run.

They now looked the commander's way, the bridge crew, that was. Nervous, anxious, terrified expressions now aimed away from their consoles as the officers awaited the next course of action.

"Maintain firing on the enemy fleet, keep us out of as much fire as possible. All available interceptors, form a perimeter around that meditation sphere, and..." Teica froze, and began to gasp for breath. It was too much, too-

"...and remember your duty," The cruiser's X.O spared her the trouble.

The crew now turned around, and returned to their various tasks. Near the end of the C.I.C, a fire team of marines took positions overlooking the entrance. Careful eyes continued to scan over the surfaces of consoles, while the rhythms of clicking began to slow. Now, the orders began to bark through the intercom systems, and individual communicators, security officers coordinating their various teams while the rest focused on verifying statuses with their respective departments.

Teica began to bite at her knuckles, now sitting back in her command chair. She began to shudder, eyes nervously, but intently focused on her own coordination screen. But the concentration would be short-lived, the dread now fully settling in. Not Again. Not Again. No, Not again. Not Again. Not Again, She began to repeat, while the world blurred around her, and long-lost memories began to overtake her surroundings.

Never Again.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Auteme Ishida Ashina
​

Once more into the fray.

Again and again, he was drawn into conflict. All of his own volition of course. He would not be here otherwise. He made the choice to stand his ground, he made the choice to stand by his beliefs. He made the choice to strike once more at the heart of the Sith Empire. Every blow they made weakened it. Every successful attack took away more and more territory from the previously expansive power.

For so long the Empire reigned as a shadow over the minds of those who would live freely. Only in recent years have people finally been given the chance to see it for what it truly was. Nothing more than a domineering bully. Unable to stand up to those who refused to back down and simply allow it to continue. For all their talk of strength, they were full of contradiction and cowardice. For all their talk of being paragons of freedom, they dominated and enslaved others, all while becoming subjects to their own impulses and whims.

He never really could find himself hating the Sith. Pity was the more appropriate emotion these days. So many people sent to fight for their dark overlords. Never given a choice in the matter. At least with the New Imperial Order there was some level of civic pride. Some level of understanding of the struggles of their own men. There were some benefits to their leader having been part of the Sith military as a mortal man after all. A profound empathy with those who had suffered under the hands of delusional sorcerous overlords.

As he stepped with Auteme and Ishida into the courtyard. His own eyeless gaze was drawn towards the approaching spectres. The whispering on the edges of his senses cluing him in to more sinister things waiting in the wings. Ready and waiting to strike down the interlopers for daring to step onto this sacred space.

"You know why we are here." His tone was quiet, but firm. An unshakable conviction underlying his voice.

"Your once proud Empire has fallen to weakness and decay in the present day." His gaze swept across the Sorcerers.

"Allow us to pass. Let your living descendants stop us if they can." His tone still carried that soft, polite, yet unshakable conviction. Daring the Sorcerers to uphold their own beliefs that the Sith grew stronger with each generation. Daring them to simply allow the Jedi to pass them by so the current generation of Sith would have the chance to stop them.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Aerarii Tithe | DARKCOM | Seto Du Couteau | Jak Ross | Julius Haskler | Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf
​

L I E S​

Would they eat themselves starting with their insides first?



The Jedi spoke soon after the Nightsister. The infiltrator quickly glanced over his profile information on her datapad. Pom Stych Tivé had heard such political propaganda before as spewed from the mouths of the likes such as these Rebels. Yet herein lies the misunderstanding: while the Sith do stir chaos occasionally, every other Faction ALWAYS chooses to initiate invasion of the Sith.

ALWAYS. 'They will not just let us live inside our own corner of the galaxy,' is the way this Nightsister sees it, whether correct, or jaded as proposed through her rose colored glasses, her deepest addiction that of her lover, the god of the Kainate.

What the GA presents to the masses as a Rebellion is really an Invasion. Citizens who could be pulled into service, are often slain in massive numbers. How is the culling of useful citizens okay with their logic? She pondered a fleeting thought.

'No; the Galactic Alliance never did inhabit every planetary system known to the entire Galaxy. Not even close. The Force Nexus in the farthest reaches alone should be enough to keep them at bay, but they still come to take what is not even to their liking!'

Always during her youth, before she became culturally learned, the Nightsister understood the differences between the Light and the Dark to be no more than one's essence being accustomed to one of two different existing currents of energy, each present at opposing sides of the Galaxy. One cannot replace nor overtake the other. One cannot intentionally attempt to alter this Fate of their inherent alignment.

Today, the Light stands not just for a certain state of the energy present, energy that burns her flesh, but the Light stands for a hypocrisy that stems deep into mankind's attempt to understand it. 'The Force having a Will! The insanity! Should the Force desire then to destroy itself?' The Jedi spewing his dogma is exactly as she expected in every encounter, filled with hatred and personal motive to destroy what they cannot covet; the Jedi speaking for such a thing as what he calls the Will of the Force of all things! At one time the Nightsister might have been open to understanding the beliefs of the Core worlds, but what she sees repeatedly, being invaded by everyone all the time, it requires alot of control to sit here and tolerate the bull crap disguised as intellectual conversation. The Jedi do not even follow the dogma which they claim to be Holy.

BUT…here the Vice Chancellor himself, has voiced his displeasure with the extremist spewings of this Jedi. That he stuck to his convictions instead of simply acknowledged the hatred of the Jedi and gave him what he asked for, actually surprises her. She wondered to what extent the Vice Chancellor actually adheres to his own moral compass. How rational is he? Could she dare attempt to control him with pheromones, or perhaps…?

'Dare I?'

"Patience, Priestess. Move slowly. There is no rush," assured the Wanica through whispers within her mind.

'Or even better, could there actually be a dialog someday?'

Thirteen Nightsister Priestesses of a single lineage, peered out from within, through a single pair of onyx colored eyes, their gaze holding curiosity over the possible inherent beliefs of this Vice Chancellor.
​

 

[Sion Dallo]

SON OF KRAYISS
STRIKE TEAM REX | MILITIA
00:29:58
7/8 BARADIUM CHARGES | 1/1 CLASS A-DETONATORS
I'M DETONATOR

​

I’ve been looking forward to today. Planting the first charge against the wall of the structure I'd passed by so many times, and felt nothing but rage, I started to feel a swell of pride. The baradium that was now ticking against the building was the first act of insurgency today. The first tangible mark I was leaving behind in my wake of destruction. A little souvenir or the intense, fervent purpose I felt. That...and memory. We had to keep out of site, slinking around like this planet didn't belong to us. Like it wasn't our home. Our dirt.

Sadly, the same can’t be said if you’re caught out in the open. Their scanners will see you, and you’ll be dead faster than you can tuck-tail and run. So, don’t get caught out in the open. Always move from one piece of cover to the next. Even if you are spotted, for whatever reason, you’ll have the advantage of whatever terrain you managed to duck behind - if engaged.

Every single exercise The Alliance put us through, I’ve memorized. Reaction times, targets, when to toss underhand, when to hurl overhand, sensitivities about the sith... how to exploit some of their weaknesses, how to go up against their forces.

Despite it being night, I was warm. The thrill of anticipation heat me up

Next to me was my sister-in-law. Or...whatever she was now that she was basically a widow. I hadn’t really thought of referring to her as anything else. To me, she was still his wife. And if I didn’t give her any other role, title or descriptor, then things felt somewhat as permanent as they’d supposed to have been. I hadn’t even updated her details in my datapad.

Looking at her now, full of hurt and hardness, she was a far cry from the beautiful bride my brother had been so enamoured with. For a moment, a mirage of herself in that white dress on their wedding day faded over her, and over that tired, focused grimace, a smile that had been bright, white and happy.

I hadn’t seen that smile since she’d dragged me from the rubble. She’d only been a silhouette at the time, and I’d been fading in and out of consciousness. All I’d felt was pain.

All I feel now is pain. Pain and hate.

And for the first time, something foreign. It’s knotted up in my gut, and hardened in a rhythmic pulse behind my ribs. I can feel it, conflicting with the thundering beat of my heart. I don’t know what it is. Anxiety, for sure, and hope. Probably hope. I don’t know, I don’t really care.

I just want to get going.

My chrono was wired to match the countdown, and I did my best to retrace the plan in my head. Excitement was making the details of everything outside my scope foggy. The Alliance had promised reinforcements, but we were part of the uprising that would go pretty well undetected until we made ourselves unignorable.

“You ready?”

​

ALLIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Captain Raith | Suri Vullen | Zark San Tekka | Mara Harik [WE R FAMILY]
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
TASK UNIT ALPHA | VANDAL SQUAD
FIRESTARTER
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Storm Recon UCP | SRK-65 Service Rifle | DSP-61x Hybrid Pistol | Cradle | Grenades x

OCCULT
KRAYISS '65

OPERATION PERSEUS
​

Boarding action. High value target. Active combat zone. These were the sorts of jobs the Storm Commandos cut their check from. So much of their meticulous training pipeline incorporated mechanics and situations made to hone their skills for this very moment. Their mission, board and take command of the Sith Battlecruiser designated 'Yun'o-tu Tchilat' or as its known in basic, 'Will of the Gods'.

None of the intelligence reports gathered by the Imperial Force Corps were anything other than foreboding. Something dark was brewing aboard and while the Imperial Knights might have been the most likely and fitting pick for the assignment, a prouder voice stepped in. Djorn Bline - he didn't trust the force users not to let themselves feed right into the hands of the Sith and thus, tapped Task Unit Alpha and the COMPFORCE unit 'Ghost Vipers' to board the overtake the ship.

Wouldn't be easy...that's why they were doing it. Grunge's operational history as Task Unit Commander was...mixed, but overall, he was deemed continuously effective and lethal. As a storm commando, there was little else he needed to be.

<"Not much longer now."> They were in the electric blue star stream of hyper space now, preemptively cramped into their boarding pods within the launch bays of the Legate-class New Imperial Star Destroyer 'NIV Executive Outcome', the mobile headquarters to the 1st Special Forces Group, jointly commanded by the New Imperial Army and COMPFORCE.

Djorn was in command here, the maverick of the Empire himself. He wasn't fully confident in his judgement, but all in all, that didn't matter.

Regardless, as Task Unit Commander, it was his job to get his operatives up to speed and make the brief. Before his assembled operators, he began to speak.

<"Our job is plain and simple - the Sith vessel known as 'Will of the Gods' is rumored to be the command vessel of Melia Siari - any of you old heads from the Braxant Run might remember her name, she's a vile queen, sunk a lot of our boys. We're gonna get her. Along with her, we have good intel that the Sith are using this vessel to conduct a dark ritual...and Imperial Special Operations Command has one policy on how we deal with that. Purge. We're moving aboard to take control of the ship and secure any high value targets aboard. Capture is preferable, kill is acceptable. Regardless- we aren't getting off that vessel until our work is done. Alliance are operating in this area so be wary but regardless of any interference, our mission will have violent execution or none of us are coming back home. Who dares wins, let's get some scalps."> Grunge says to his operators and soon enough they were ready to go.

Grunge and Djorn were aboard the same boarding vessel and when the Executive Outcome abruptly emerged from hyperspace in starboard broadside of the vessel, they disembarked with violence and speed, a squadron of rapid deployment gunships on escort by TIE/INx Interceptors served to be the boarding contingent.

With the ship's alien and esoteric Yuuzhon Vong design, discerning where the best venue of entry was a difficult task. Unlike other vessels of its magnitude, its hangars were not fit to accommodate for several squadrons or multiple wings of starfighters. They were small, compact, maybe even only fit for command shuttles.

But there wasn't much of a better option.

TIE/HF Slashers were launched in tow, to try their hands at conducting a Novaflare elsewhere from the Storm Commandos' approach vector, vent some heat off their approach. But in typical Sith fashion, Grunge himself bet on the classic Sith pattern of behavior. In short - he assumed they wanted it.

They typically chomped at the bit for this sort of encounter, to have invaders burst into their space, only to strike them down in view of the whites of their eyes.

Were it so easy.

Grunge and Snake's gunship burst into the hangar bay soon enough, with their troop bay doors pulling open with a depressurized hiss. Each of the Commandos were kitted out to spec for what was traditionally classified as 'Jedi Hunting' ops, even if Sith were far and away the most common foe on top of rebreathers attached to their helmets, unsure if the Vong engineered biosphere would be favorable to humanoid organics.

With a section left to cover Grunge and Snake's movement into the ship, posted in the hangar bay they were soon in a corridor enroute toward the command bridge.

Grunge's vision was filled with the sensory envelopment wrought by the heads up display of his recon helmet and the information uplinked to it from his rifle with a node planted on the location of the command bridge or at the very least, what was ISB's best guess at the command bridge. From there, they'd find their mark or attempt to seize control.

Regardless, Perseus was aboard to sever the head from the beast.

WHO DARES WINS
Djorn Bline

MEDUSA
Darth Mori ​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Honorable Vice-Chancellor," arose a voice, "What use will our morality be when the sword of the Sith plunges into the galaxy's heart?" It was Senator Fasoyor, the middle-aged politician now standing from his seat to make his proclamation with his trusted page at his side. "Years ago, my family bore witness to the Sith's invasion and occupation of the Core Worlds. My father acquiesced to their rule, allowing that Empire to plant its roots across Metellos in exchange for my family's safety and that of the Metelloan people."​

​

Those who were familiar with the Senator knew that he was loathed to speak of those days, for he bore the scars of his shame on his back where the slave-whip of the Sith cruelly split his flesh. "It is something that shames me deeply, that my father surrendered his dignity to kowtow to creatures that would never, could never, reciprocate. He played by the rules of chivalry and honor, the rules that many of my colleagues and the knights of the Jedi Order still play by today."​

​

He took a moment to pause, his eyes scanning the faces of the assembled before turning to look at his page. His page only nodded slightly, a gesture of support from one who had also suffered. Turning to look back at the Vice-Chancellor he continued, "And do you know how the Sith repaid my father? They butchered him, tore apart my family, and reduced us to slaves; cogs in their war machine as they oppressed and displaced entire civilizations. I still bear those scars. If we continue to play by these rules that we hold ourselves to, if we allow ourselves restraint when dealing with an enemy this vicious and cruel, then we are only ensuring that future generations will be born and die in chains."​

​

"The time for diplomacy and negotiation as passed, Honorable Vice-Chancellor. The time for action, true action, is now. We must place everything within our power at the disposal of our armies, we must not simply occupy worlds held by the Sith; we must burn away their influence from the galaxy. How many times have we sent the Sith scattering throughout history, patting ourselves on the back and congratulating ourselves for a job well done, only for the Sith to rise again and plunge the galaxy into another dark age? The Sith are not men, they are beasts."​

​

Senator Fasoyor slowly lowered himself back into his seat, the passion that had fueled his words had taken a visible toll as sweat beaded down his face. His page produced a small cloth and dabbed the sweat away before returning it to where it came. "We cannot make the same mistakes as those who came before. If we must bear the burden of sin so that our children can live in a galaxy free from the tyranny of fear, then I will gladly shoulder my share."​

​

Aerarii Tithe | DARKCOM | Seto Du Couteau | Jak Ross
Julius Haskler | Pom Stych Tivé | Taeli Raaf ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Allies: N/A
Enemies: TSE | GA | Yula Perl | Dagon Kaze
Why won't you let me in?

---

---

​

Echoes of Vjun still ached in Zaavik's skull. Bones, joints, and muscles weren't being spared either. The only rest he'd achieved since the crash were bouts of involuntary sleep. Each conscious flatline was brought on by days of persistent, sleepless toil. The once-proud Jedi Knight reduced to a rabid dog tunnel-visioned on a single purpose.

He certainly smelled like a mutt as well. Self-care had taken the sideline. Hygiene and sustenance were all less than secondary focuses. Were it not for the saber hilt locked in the grip of an unyielding fist, one could mistake him for an aimless vagrant. Disheveled, dirty, in an exhausted haze, he appeared before the obelisk days prior to the Alliance's arrival. Another dogged contender before the council of spirits.

The apparitions laughed, berated him as a 'Jedi', and taunted him with sinister glares and laughter. When Zaavik remained persistent, argued for hours upon hours, bemused mockery became an odd beguilement with the young Zeltron. They praised his persistence, his pain, his anger, yet tempered their praise with sharp criticism. He was not permitted to enter.

For days, he remained before the obelisk. Pleading, arguing, demanding, insulting, and even threatening the incorporeal guardians. They laughed and mocked evermore and refused to budge. So he faced the shades in combat as his last effort and failed spectacularly. The specters could not kill him, nor could he overcome them. Injured, he escaped beyond the egress of their influence.

"Get bent you wraith bastards!" Zaavik shouted from the distance. Along with it came countless other variations of the same sentiment at least one thousand-fold spread over the following days.

He'd find another way in. Experience told him there was always another way in. There had to be, right? His efforts continued as the Alliance arrived in an attempt to liberate the world. That arrival had slipped beyond the peripherals of his focus. Even had it not, it wouldn't have stopped him.

Days.

​

Nights. ​

​

No sleep. ​

Hungry. ​

​

Tired.​

Head hurts.​

​

Gotta be another way inside.​

​

​

Can't feel my face.

Everything hurts.​

Angry.​

I can take them this time.​

Why can't I find a way in?​

​

Where the hell is it?​

I need it.​

Not enough.​

It's the only way. ​

​

Eyes are heavy. ​

There isn't another way, is there?

They won't let me in. ​

​

Frustrated. ​

Alone. ​

I blew it.

An inarticulate wail burst out of his lungs. A cry that was distinctly his own for any who heard it. Echoing upon itself as an expulsion of dark side energy. It had an inhuman quality to it, exasperation and vexation incarnate. The sound carried and bounced across the mountainsides and wastes like an omen on the wind.

 

[Faith Organa]

Dalton Crowder | Maestus | @anyone else
​

Faith rose up taking the outreached hand she recognized the Senator from Hosnian Prime. "Senator Crowder pleasure good idea about the node, I had not thought of that." She had always wondered about the hanging gardens on Hosnian Prime, she made a mental note to ask and to arrange a visit to see them.

She wanted to hear everything that was going on the war, the invasion and how it progressed. She would need to make sure that there were plenty of medical supplies, and medical personnel dedicated to serving the injured. That was Becca's other purpose get her the statistics now, and this would fit into Marina DeVoe other job of saving the injured. But Marina as far as she knew was safe and secure on Alderaan currently...but that could change at any moment.

Her mind finally settling down from the myriad of details that floated through her mind she looked about the empty room then back to the Senator, "Do you know if anyone else is joining us?"

That was the one thing about some of these committees no one knew who was participating until they walked through the door. Especially the first meeting and this was a first.

 

[Kahne Porte]

Objective: BYOO, negotiations about the Bryn’adûl.
Location: VIP room, Cantina, Krayiss
Equipment: Suit / Lightsaber
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim

Kahne chuckled and shook his head dismissively. "Of course not, Lady Ingrid. Your opinion is your own and I completely respect that." Kahne followed with a small smile and slight incline of head head. "Just don't expect me to agree." Attempting to be amusing no doubt, however he was being serious. Everyone had their opinions, as long as those were respected. There wasn't any reason why things should even begin to turn. Kahne listened attentively as Ingrid spoke clearly taking in every word as his grasp on this political field and view was still new.

When she mentioned the Sith Empire and that they saved her, it took him back several years ago when the Knight Campaign happened. Lothal, it was a dreaded massacre and devastation of the Alliance forces. He survived he was one of the few that did. They retreated to Confederacy space where it was those of Sith lines that helped them. Confederacy was a unique group and because of the hospitability, the Jedi had several friends among them.

"You are still doing what you believe in, and if what you believe is right and just in your eyes. No one can fault you for continuing your crusade. It is indeed an admirable thing."

The Jedi raised his hand to his chin as he was deep in though for a few moments. He wondered if Chandra and Talvar were so blind in their conviction to not even hear her out. Ingrid offered to show him what was said and what came about it. He knew the Civil War and the war with the Bryn had cost much to all those involved.

"And what happens when one planet turns to two and so on. There is great risk, care must be taken. If what you are about to show me is as one sided as it seems. I wonder if there are some that have completely lost themselves in this war." Kahne's hand returned back to the armrest as he looked towards Ingrid.

"Proceed....."

 

[Ishida Ashina]

IN ORBIT | ABOVE KRAYISS TWO
-01:00 HOUR TO DEPLOYMENT
Bernard of Arca

It was hard to keep the prideful edge out of her tone, her movements. Master Varobalder had been very clear in his directive for the teams, and her purpose. She was the searing light that would burn through the darkness and access the library full of horrible, ancient dark secrets and destroy it. Perhaps Master Tafo would try to salvage some of the knowledge, but she would see whatever was inside eradicated. There would be no preservation. No mercy.

“Kind of ironic you’re not the one destroying another Sith place of learning.” Ishida teased, and finished her ritualistic wrapping of the long handled saber.

Bernard sat cross-legged with closed eyes, failing to enter deeper meditation. Since his loss of easy access to the energy field that bound all luminous matter it had become a difficult feat. Still, he tried. He appeared as a rock might, unmoving and firm, save for an expression of mirth that began to split the facade of neutrality he projected by a fraction. The slightest smile cracking his icy facade.

“Do you believe I’d want to do it again?” He asked, keeping his metaphorical cards close to his chest by at least maintaining neutrality in his tone.

“Maybe. You were quick to think of explosives for Muunilist.” The Padawan reminded him, and snapped her weapon back to the loose sling around her hips. “Look,” she patted the other side of her belt, where there were an assortment of pouches stitched like a utility belt. A bit of an upgrade from her usual aesthetic. Slipping her hand into one of them, she wiggled and produced a smooth sphere –– a detonator –– and perched it in her fingertips, holding it out for him to see: “You inspired me for this round.”

A few moments of consideration passed before Bernard gave any reaction. The calming practice of the Jedi simply didn’t have the same effects it once had. On Nar Kreena it had slipped his mind all-together, so preoccupied was he with the prospect of his first engagement, against super-human creatures right out of Corellia’s seven hells at that, since his loss of the Force. Now, on their way to Krayiss Two, he’d recalled the pre-combat ritual and had tried to step back into it, only to find the metaphorical shoe’s fit too loose. He clapped the palms of his hands on his knees, gently, and obliged to indulge the Padawan.

The detonator glinted in the light, the familiar sphere somehow looking out of place in the Ashina’s hand. His brows furrowed by the slightest margin.

“Explosives are an incredibly destructive force on the battlefield -- but also the best shot us mortals have of making our voice heard on it, when compared with yours. Talk about taking our only advantage away, now how am I going to compete?” He replied, allowing some spirit into his voice.

“Oh." For a moment, she sounded apologetic. "It was never a competition, Bernard.” With a smirk, the cocky Ashina heir re-pocketed the device, with no intention to use it for purposes other than taunting exchanges. It was an inelegant solution. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.

Or The Force will, for you.”

OBSCURING GLARE
// STRIKE TEAM SKYWALKER \\
KRAYISS TWO | LIBRARY TEMPLE | OUTSIDE COURTYARD
THERE ARE TWO KINDS OF LIGHT;
THE GLOW THAT ILLUMINES
AND THE GLARE THAT OBSCURES
SHE IS MURDER
​

---

An omnipresent chill crept through her body, tightening and soaking through her skin and adding density to the bones within. It was evil here. Truly, undeniably evil. It was untameable, saturated into the levels of cosmic mud and squishing around their soles. Grabbing at them with the suction of sodden ground.

That ground started quivering when the booming welcome echoed through the courtyard, and the Ashina heir tightened in response.

"The Court is called,"

At first, she didn’t move. Ever-wary, she sought to observe first.

"Your once proud Empire has fallen to weakness and decay in the present day."
"Allow us to pass. Let your living descendants stop us if they can."

Grey gaze flickered to the designated leader of their strike team, and she tightened in agitation at his approach. It was too calm. Too polite. Though there was a truth to his words

Talking as wasted time –– people spent too much time thinking about what they said, how they said it, that they didn’t look at the reactions of physical language around them. As alert as she usually was, the Atrisian seemed to be in a daze. Not acknowledging the conversation around her, nor the leering Sith spirits that came to pass judgement.

It wasn’t a lax approach because she was so confident in Strike Team Skywalker’s abilities –– while she believed that irrefutable, and that Ashla would only see honour and victory this day –– it was the pulling sense of victory that whispered at the peripherals of her psyche.

Then suddenly, amidst the apparent negotiations, Ishida trembled as if a painful vision had appeared before her. She felt it milliseconds before she saw it, a yearning ache that pulled at her core and she looked to the warning light that was in the courtyard with them.

Not speaking, the youth reached out to the other white-haired Jedi at her sight and made a point to the moaning apparition. If she cared to speak, she would have mouthed out a confounded question, interrogating her sanity and the reality of another being existing within the darkness of this place.

But they seemed to whisper beyond simply existing, they whispered something like victory. Success. And as a guide, they’d aid them.

Cautiously, she glanced in Aaran and Auteme’s direction -– the four of them were promised access to The Library. But..what if they’d overthought it?

In the Padawan’s pause, she unconsciously activated her white blade, letting it hum non-threateningly at her side while Okkeus confirmed the apparition next to her too. As if he’d help make the choice to move forward.

If he took too long, like Aaran and Auteme, she’d leave them all behind in pursuit of conquest. Be it with the generosity of this Jedi Spirit, or on her own accord.



ALLIES | GA | NJO | Auteme | Aaran Tafo | Okkeus Dainlei
ENEMIES | TSE | SITH SPIRITS | Arctus Silmar

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Objective: BYOO, negotiations about the Bryn’adûl.
Location: VIP room, Cantina, Krayiss
Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing With: Kahne Porte

[ See me Fight ] ​

"I don't expect you to agree with me, Mr. Porte. Everyone has the right to form an opinion, and I respect and accept this." she offered.

Although she fully agreed with the ideas of the Wardens of the Shroud, this acceptance came from Spear; where the Sith, the Jedi, and neutral followers could learn in one place. Because their basic principle was to accept each other, because only the Force mattered to them. Ironically, they knew about the Wardens' plan and yet chose to help and hide them. If this is the will of the Force, it will happen.

The woman also had Jedi allies who helped her on the battlefield or just against Bryn’adûl. Those who were more open, who didn’t look at things in the small, but in the big, who were able to see, sometimes needed to take steps they wouldn’t otherwise do. And most importantly, it will not make them bad, but stay true to their own ideals. This was also true of the representatives of the Dark Side. If it succeeds, there might be hope for the Galaxy.

"In a non-existent, perfect world, it probably would, Mr. Porte. But I'm glad you think so. But in this world, NIO and GA both consider us Sith because we help the Sith and they don’t care about the reasons. And nor is it that I am just trying to protect civilians…"

She nodded at the following; yes she knew it was dangerous and the risk could be great. But the consequences could be even more severe. Sometimes it was not possible to win without risk, even though the woman would have been reluctant to risk the lives of the civilian population. But already too many died at the hands of an enemy with whom it was impossible to negotiate or talk.

"I know there are a lot of questions and a lot of dangerous opportunities, but I think if we sit idly by and just argue, only Bryn’adû wins. Please give me your hand, with physical contact the process is easier."

She asked the man, if he had given his hand to the woman, then, she using the Force and the Force-independent telepathy, she showed the trial that took place between Tavlar, Chandra, Auteme and her. The exact events, every word spoken. The red-haired woman didn't change anything, the man could see, he could hear it in his mind, as if watching a holofilm. When it was over, Ingrid withdrew her hand and spoke again.

"That’s what happened when I tried to talk them…"

 

[Maestus]

TECHNOLOGICAL TERROR

She took a breath and wrapped the Force around herself. Effectively hiding her Force signature, she opened the door to the conference room. Her eyes swept the area, seeing who all was in attendance. She placed a charismatic smile on her lips and ventured within.

Apologies for my tardiness. A previous engagement took longer than expected. Via K'mai, Junior Representative and senior aid to Senator DARKCOM of Epoch.

She strode to an empty seat and slid into it. Her mind, ever calculating and devious, began to formulate a plan for how to best utilize this meeting. She studied the others, curious as to their agendas and angles. Who had what to lose. What had what to gain. And who was lying through their teeth. Maestus had no belief that everyone was who they claimed. After all, she was masquerading as well. Why wouldn't others be?

Flashing that winning smile once more, she looked to Faith Organa and Dalton Crowder with a gaze which was eager to get to work.

What have I missed thus far? Given the threat the Brotherhood of the Maw poses to the galaxy at large, I feel we should be aggressive in whatever plans are formulated to combat them and drive them out.

 

[Vesta]

IT'S ALL SO INCREDIBLY LOUD​

Location: Yun'o-tu Tchilat - Knotte Al'Yun-Ne'Shel | Outer Krayiss II Orbit
Objective: Feed The Flames | Resurrect Hailyn
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order & Galactic Alliance | Kolson Vrask , Djorn Bline
Equipment: Lightsaber, Amphistaff

She stood there, overlooking the formation of the circle - the circle that would bring back the mother she never got to know. To her left stood the Zeltron that had been with her since her departure from Maena and for quite some time before her confinement there, a confidant and an excellent strategist. The Empire had been less intimidating without her helming its naval engagements for quite some time, though their ranks had been filled in her absence regardless - someone had needed to occupy the vacuum that Varanin had left and the self-serving admiral had been quick to try to fill it, though not to as much success as she might've liked. "You seem tense." Melia said with pursed lips, narrowing her eyes as she knit her brow. "Very." The Shi'ido answered, her knuckles white with her grip along the coral railing that overlooked the assortment of shapers and sith sorcerers preparing the construction and resurrection that was to come.

"The rest of the legion and ships under my command should be en route once the interdiction field is down, you won't have to be too concerned over the enemy for much longer." She said, her gaze shifting with the change in expression towards apathy as she set her eyes on the circle of mystics below. "I've never met her." Vesta said after a moment's pause, her tone uncertain, stressed. "And?" The Zeltron asked, keeping her eyes ahead without much consideration for the Sith - she wasn't quite understanding the problem. Vesta's posture changed, leaning more towards one side than the other, and she sighed. It was hard to remember how others viewed her when she was thinking about her parents - the exact reason why the two weren't working out.

"Nothing." She said. Vesta had returned torn and Melia, seeing the opportunity for improving her chances at increasing her own influence and interested in the power dynamic they'd have, jumped on the chance to be the thread that tied her together again with little regard for the person underneath the Sith or her problems. All she wanted was for Vesta to maintain her position and keep up appearances, she didn't want to know her beyond the Sith lord that had been directing her for the last year. "Who would you have preferred to serve under, me or my mother?" The Shi'ido asked, turning her head to watch for a reaction. The Zeltron, for her part, remained silent and seemed entirely unconcerned with the question, only the slight tensing of her shoulders giving a sign that she even heard her ask in the first place.

"Your mother died." She answered bluntly.

It was no secret that Braith, or Darth Alekto as she had been called during the final year of her life, had worked closely with the Zeltron during her campaign along the Braxant Run, which was partially why Vesta had continued to do so when she'd started working on preparing for the future. It was, however, a rather well-guarded secret that the reason her mother had died started with the fact that Melia had fired her father's ship's superlaser on the destroyer her mother had been boarding to crash it down into the surface of Borosk - a secret Vesta had been careful to make sure none knew that she, herself, was aware of. Turning her attention, her focus, away from more personal matters, and turning things towards business as usual for the two, she steered the conversation towards the future of the Sith that Vesta had been working tirelessly as Darth Mori to prepare for. "I do appreciate the work you've done, despite your lack of a gift with the force, to help me get where I have reached today with the Sith, you've been loyal as long as you've been with the Sith." She said to the Zeltron, turning her gaze back to the ritual circle below, an empty sphere floating at its center where her mother's body would soon rest with the dagger she'd stored the remainder of her soul in.

The only problem was there had been no body to procure.

"Loyalty deserves reward." She continued, as the soldiers led in by Kolson Vrask landed in the ship's hangar. Taking a step back, putting herself out of Melia's line of sight, she retrieved the knife containing her mother's soul from her side. "Achievements were made under your mother, I suspect the same will happen with you and I together." Melia said, taking a step forwards to lean against the railing. The Shi'ido frowned - this sham of a relationship, as short-lived as it was, only served to remind her of the one she'd actually wanted but couldn't have. A vacuum she'd be filling with a family no longer broken. It irked her, too, that the Zeltron acted like she had been acting in her mother's vested interest by accelerating her race towards expiration when she'd double-crossed her.

"Yes." She said, stepping towards the Zeltron with the knife raised.

She thrust its tip into the base of her skull, eliciting a shrill scream of panic that was quickly garbled by the blood that filled her throat and mouth as Melia struggled for the brief few moments she was still living. "You will certainly have helped me achieve much when I use your flesh to return the woman you helped kill." Vesta said with a frigid smile, her words as cold as the chill of space. The force held the Zeltron in the air, Vesta maneuvering her towards the center of the circle to lay her over the altar floating at its center, blood running down and filling the many grooves and cracks in its surface. Retrieving her lightsaber from her side, and the Amphistaff that had curled around her waist sliding up her other arm, Darth Mori turned and stepped down the coral stairwell to the bridge below - she had guests fast approaching and time to stall.

"Bring her back." She ordered, her voice almost a snarl, as she began channeling the rage ever-present in her heart.

"I'll deal with the interlopers."

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Krayiss II's Orbit - Iblis-class Missile Frigate Epilogue - Internalized C.I.C]
[Being Boarded by N Nyxeris ]
[Special Note: This is fine..]​

"Security reports one boarder...Sith. Deck Three...Approaching C.I.C, ma'am," The communications officer began to shudder, "Thirty five meters away...Talven's squad has intercepted."

It took everything she had not to scream. To scream at a wall, a crewmember, anybody or anything.

Half of the interceptor squadron had been disabled; the other would be forced to limp back to the Epilogue. The rest of the fleet would be handling the wall of Sith starships before them, while the missile cruiser would be left just bordering off of defenseless-- Helpless, and slowly being torn apart from the inside.

"Reactor Room...All personnel accounted for, and initiating repelling procedures."

The commander nodded, and set her eyes on the current floor projection of Deck 3, a mixture of red and green dots scattered over an otherwise muffled blue background. It blurred once again, and once again, she winced alongside. Once again, Teica smelled smoke, blood, all of it. Once again, she heard screaming, blaster bolts leaping from all sides, and the faint vroom of a saber cutting through air and flesh alike.

"Deck 3 missile bays...locked down, safety activated, all deckhands evacuated.."

Another nod.

"Commander, Sergeant Talven is engaging."

"Tell him to fall back into another corridor, dispatch Kella and Erei'ey's units to surround that Sith."

"Roger that, ma'am," The security officer paused to relay the orders.

Thirty-two meters away, now. The red circle grew closer; and for every meter travelled, it seemed like a green dot flickered out of view. But that had to be her imagination. It had to be. It couldn't possibly be otherwise...

It wasn't her imagination, she knew that.

A stream of air rushed through Teica's nose, and her teeth clamped down on her lip. So many dead. And for what? It was at that moment when she began to question the Alliance's return, the continuation of the war with the Sith. She questioned her own involvement in the Stygian Campaign, her own motivations, all of it; Never to gain a satisfactory answer as to why she allowed herself to be pulled into a meaningless quest for revenge, much less to have pulled her crew in along with her.

Twenty Five meters.

"We've lost contact with Talven and Kella."

The commander's fists clenched, and her eyes closed, "When will we be able to shut blast doors?"

"Five more meters."

So many lost under her command. Too many good people with their names plastered on a growing casualty list. Too many had been lost under her direct orders. Too many-

Twenty two meters, now.

"Have remaining marines make a full retreat, and shut blast doors E3-7 through E3-10. Once we have it confirmed, cut life support within the trapped area, and raise the temperature to as high as we can manage."

The doors now rapidly slid into place, the sounds of air being compressed and released coming out amidst the louder sounds of metal crashing into metal. Ventilation grills slammed into a quick close. And with all confirmed, Teica let her relief escape from her mouth, let the panic subside, and let her regret fade from concern. But the break was short lived.

The blast doors were built to keep out vacuum and moderate explosions, not to keep out a boarding party-- with a force user at that. The vents were built the same way. The . . . vents. The temperature wouldn't raise fast enough, at least, not without damaging important subsystems. With that, the panic returned to plague her, the regret laughing at her alongside. Her relief collapsed and died, and the new wave of emotion taunted her even more than before.

"Place a marine next to any vent in range, and keep our remaining marine squads just outside the closed blast doors."

Outside was an entirely different scenario. The rest of the Epilogue's interceptor squadron began to engage, while the mess of their boarder's handiwork floated nearby. A dance commenced, explosive rounds, missiles, and cannon bolts alike crossing over each other's trajectories, and filling the space around with danger. Shrapnel began to be expelled, for every perforated interceptor, and every shattered missile. The missile cruiser herself turned her weakened portside away from the display, and began a shelling of point defense cannons-- in limited numbers as to not jeopardize the interceptors' safety.

None of it would be enough.

The intruder wouldn't give up so easily. The meditation sphere outside would continue to tear the Epilogue's interceptors to shreds. And blood would continue to be spilt.

And it would be on Teica's hands.

 

[Yula Perl]

Allies | [GA] Dagon Kaze - Bernard of Arca - Viers Connory

Enemies | [TSE] Zaavik Perl [Engaging] - Laertia Io - Cameron Crownwraithe [Nearby]

​

Yula’s grin stretched a little more genuinely when Viers reciprocated her thumbs up. She’d been a little concerned when the woman sneezed—even a cold could dull the senses. But she seemed capable. If the sadness she felt emanated to Yula, it would have been chalked up to battle nerves that could have fesibly come from any one of them.

“I’m Viers; I’m going to move up ahead - I can get there without anyone seeing.”

“Good luck, Viers. Be careful.”

Just when Yula wondered if the hooded sentinel really did linger on Dagon, she disappeared into thin air. The Rogue blinked, taken aback for a moment at the clean departure. The gravity of their task pulled her back to Krayiss, and she refocused on how they’d manage to enter a sacred Sith space. She…didn’t really have much experience with libraries or dark side rituals.

“How do we—”

A scream tore through the air, like a serrated knife to her eardrums. With it rode a pulse of darkness, enough to cause Yula to stagger back a few paces before righting herself. “Wha-!” She’d didn’t remember igniting her saber, but the orange blade crackled at her side and her stance widened on instinct.

She couldn’t place the feeling, but a flicker of familiarity softened the sharp outline of her eyes as Yula quickly tried to identify the source of the amplified shout. Motioning her free hand to the side to keep Dagon and Bernard back, she carefully stepped around the width of the Obelisk, leaving the widest margins that she could.

The figure in the distance caused her gut to twist, startled. A few steps closer, and her stomach roiled for a different reason. A wash of pink skin and a shock of violet hair came into view. Longer than she remembered, and unkempt. Dogged, exhausted, almost manic. The only thing that registered to Yula was the recognition of her cousin, Zaavik Perl. The spark of familiarity had turned into a flame of enthusiasm, and that was all that she felt. Not all of the dots had connected yet.

She hadn’t heard about what had happened after he’d disappeared.

“Zaavik!” She cried out in relief. Yula took off in a light jog towards him after flashing Dagon and Bernard a brief smile. They’d found more than just an ally—her cousin who’d disappeared, who she’d been trying to squash her growing worry over, was alive.

And he’d come to help them.

 

[Sol Stazi]

PATHFINDER ESCORT
KRAYISS OBELISK
STYGIAN CALDERA
Coren Starchaser Kirie

“Something is on its way.”

"You're a terrible mystic!" Major Stazi shouted after Coren, "Of course something is on the way. Its the entire damned Sith Legion!"

Starchaser was outlined in profile by the library portal's strange unlight. Already he'd grown focused on Jedi visions or something. Sol scowled at the Jedi Master's back, face shrouded in twilight's shadow save for the glowing embers of a cigarra stub. He didn't trust hokey religions or ancient weapons. Yet the duros was a crusader in his own right. He might lack faith in the Force, but Stazi would gladly die a thousand deaths for the starbird patch on his fatigues.

"Just a little rough weather, master Jedi. Nothing my boys can't handle!"

He stood over Kirie despite the intermittent blaster fire whizzing past their defensive position. Already the Sith legionnaires confined within the library sanctum were launching counter-attacks, flanking the Alliance strike teams and seeking to cut off their only route of escape. Soon enough additional legionnaires would be landing from orbit or nearby Templestone, whoever could spare enough souls. Ten meters away a proximity grenade erupted the firmament, sending rocky debris raining down. Sol didn't react to the explosion and barely seemed to notice getting pelted with dirt and stone.

"I love the smell of thermite in the evening," Sol grinned and dropped a legionnaire charging through the smoke with his SSK-7 heavy blaster.

Absentmindedly Major Stazi tossed his cigarra over one shoulder where it landed below the looming obelisk behimd them. Just enough pressure rolled over the sand pit his Jedi allies had all studiously avoided to trigger a vibration. Barely noticeable to a humanoid, but more than enough to summon that which lies below. Tremors repeatedly shook the sand pit and this time Sol did react. He turned around in time to see the Sith obelisk begin to glow in strange foreboding ways. Crimson eyes narrowed. Vile sorcery.

"Starchaser, if you say I told you so I swear I'll shoot you myself."

A massive black tendril burst from the sand trap and violently launched one of Stazi's troopers into the night. Dozens more quickly followed. Blaster fire erupted everywhere lighting up the Alliance position and giving it all a spooky stop motion quality.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Ziost //:
//: Voyana //:

​

Allyson moved quietly through the shadows; her mission was simple. Retrieve some lost information left in some of the wreckage nearby and ensure that no secrets were leaked to anyone untrustworthy. A simple task, one that she felt she was above. This was definitely and most probably a punishment from the woman in charge.

No complaints though, Allyson preferred to return to Ziost, not on the front lines. So slowly, the Corellian crept along the abandoned structures until she found the wreckage on her HUD. The cybernetic eye quickly scanned, searching for any sabotage that the Sith had decided to strap into it or, worse, scalpers.

The scan came up clean for threats; all that was ruining the Corellian's day was something crouched ripping through the cockpit's internal systems. Allyson waited to see if any other figures popped up, and nothing. Seems this one worked alone. Pulling her blaster, she snuck up, still hidden with Force Cloak until she stood behind the woman. Shimmering into view, the tip of the blaster pressed against the back of Voyana's head.

"Well then, looks like you made my job a whole lot easier. Who do you work for? You're too careless to be a Sith - but maybe I'm just giving them a bit more credit than I should." Her tone sharp and to the point, hoping to intimidate the girl into giving up. It would make the exchange a whole lot easier.​