Dominion Seek and Destroy - NIO Dominion of Alashan

[Rach'ta]

Location: Subterranean City
Tags: Open

---

Rach'ta was not attached to any singular group, having made his way into the outskirts of the city by himself. The young Twi'lek felt no strong kinship to the New Imperial Order at the present. They offered him a chance to explore and understand the galaxy in a way that he would be hard pressed to do so on his own. Rach'ta was not arrogant enough to believe that he was using the NIO or that he did not owe them his allegiance so long as he tagged along on the periphery of their operations.

Lingering on the boundaries of several expeditions he could just barely see where the others were headed or those who were currently in the midst of planning though he supposed they were all after relics of the long since lost civilization for one reason or another. Rach'ta looked away from the groups and pushed further into the city at a slow pace with his arms slightly out turned at his sides. Green misty tendrils alight with an eerie glow made serpentine twists around the fingers of both hands.

The Force was active here, or at least it had been, with some great intensity. He was not yet experienced enough to weave a spell worth calling the attention of his allies. For now all he knew of was the general location of strong Force signatures - something no doubt the more experienced Imperial Knights would have no issue replicating in their own way. Tiny colorless flairs cropped up in the mind of the Twi'lek, blinking like a star, and agonizingly fleeting. He was too far from the subjects of his interest, and not attuned to the current location. For now this information was useless feedback.

 

[Mavia]

---

// OBJECTIVE // Operation Whiplash
// FOCUS // Rurik Fel | Jekadius Lawson | Lambert Vasari | Errant | Dorian Sicarrio | and Other Imperial Knights

---

Mavia titled her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, producing a genuinely confused glare.

“Of course I speak,” Mavia said, wondering what Knight Dorian was getting at.

She followed him has decided to take it upon himself to lead the expedition. She followed quietly, unsure by what navigational principle he was leading from. The Zeffo vault was a labyrinth once the initial antechamber was passed. She had studied their culture in the holo-libraries back at the Imperial Force Corps training centers. In fact she spent much of her time with holo-records. Other Knights barely saw her train but, many had seen her admiring holo-records and vids. Studying and meditating. The two most common sightings of Knight Mavia Anjuu Wymar.

Knight Dorian had asked her how long she had been with the Knights. She thought for a moment and as she prepared to answer, the Knight had run off to puncture a massive whole in a wall. Mavia froze and watched as rumbled collapsed about them with rays of sublime translucent impaled the dust cloud created. Mavia shook her head and softly approached Knight Dorian.

“It is unwise to desecrate such an archaeological site with your show of hubris,” Mavia said in her strangely subdued method of speaking.

“But, I guess it can’t be helped now.”

As she passed him, Dorian spoke of something across the way in the other room. Mavia punched out her fist and with the Force swollen in her knuckles, she executed a unique Force powered unarmed technique that combined Force Crush and Punch. This seemingly fragile and soft spoken Knight smashed the rest of the wall away with a single jab. Flinging debris in a shower of projectiles. Stepping onto the precipice, she looked down. The space bellow them was a massive chamber. A single elevated path led down to a door with a deep ravine that fell into nothing either side of it. Standing at the bottom directly below them was a series of Zeffo Tomb Guards. One of which immediately awoken by the Force signatures of the two Knights, light up its chest and blasted a beam of energy.

Mavia crouched into a battle stance flung out both her hands, using a Force Barrier to redirect the blast into the high ceiling of the chamber. She turned her head, still deflecting energy, and called to Dorian.

“What a curious discovery you have stumbled into, Knight Dorian,” said Mavia, her voice showing a disturbing serene calm under the pressure.

“Perhaps you may assist me in apprehending this curiosity?”

 

[Boram Predor]

// Moff Predor //
// Objective // 2 // Ensure Success and Efficiency //
// Focus // FN-999 //

---

---

It was pleasant as could be for Moff Predor, a command of troopers to do all the heavy lifting while he had his assistants flanking him. One to refill his cup when the tea in it was empty, and the other holding a parasol above his head to prevent any possibility of rain or acidity to come down upon him. News of a discovery so soon after the expedition started legitimately lightening the mood of Boram, as rare a happening as any.

"Hardly into our adventure at all and finding treasures already are we?" Even when the good Moff had a rare moment of levity his words sounded cruel. "Well then bring it here, trooper. Hopefully you aren't eradicated."

Casualties were never the most amazing thing to have on a report, but surely the researchers of the New Imperial Order would appreciate the knowledge that it could turn their men into goop with a simple touch.

Happened to the best troopers.

Hence why Boram isn't a trooper.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Undisclosed Location //:
//: Answering a Child’s call //: Errant

Eshan was no longer home, the memories that she had made on the planet were stripped by the new regime. There was a hope that the world was going to be in better hands, yet they continued to make the same mistakes she had made. A hand waved, and a datapad slammed into the side of the small rustic room, shattering into thousands of pieces. The sound of the woman's voice, the one who assumed she could change Eshan, echoed in the former Queen's mind. The world had changed, it had been devastated, rebuilt yet on the backs of thousands of Thyrsians. Her efforts to keep the state slave-free was futile, even her advisors had dabbled into the trade. The thought infuriated her; the room around felt the wrath of the scorned woman. ​

The robust sound of heels tapped as she paced in her room, thinking and wondering if her choices were the right ones for the world and the people she deeply loved. The woman had never asked for the people's responsibility, but she accepted it and did the best she could. Her hand opened summoning the Force to do her will, a comm device appeared in her hand as she remembered the contact information for Khonsu. ​

Before she could send the message to the radical leader, something pulled her attention. Only a few could connect to the woman mentally like this. The woman found a sense of calm as she listened to the sound of her child's voice. He created the eye of the wrathful woman's storm as he questioned her. Since he was a young child, his father had been his goal, and Spencer did her best to quell his desires to find his father. The man wasn't good for either of them, and Spencer did her best to walk the line of telling the boy that his father was a good man, but to never seek him out. ​

The stories she told him seemed to only have the opposite effect. She was quiet, not wanting to answer his reach, knowing that the answer she gave him would only upset him. He couldn't be in the field, letting his emotions run rampant because once again, she denied him what he wanted. Errant wasn't a spoiled child, but there was so much she protected him from. Why was he so obsessed with Vaulkhar? Was he indeed his father's son? Spencer wanted to stop the vicious cycle that had taken the man from their son, but here the same boy was making his father's mistake. ​

His voice echoed again in her mind, the Mother could sense the underlying frustration in his tone. Deciding to give him an answer, she focused on trying to feel for his location. I'm always listening, Errant. Zeffo? Remember to be wary of the Tomb Guardians. Of course, she would provide him some guidance, hoping to avoid the question he had posed. Continuing her pacing, she chewed on the tip of her thumb. Both Father and Son were driven and couldn't let something drop. She knew Vaulkhar would find out about Errant finding his way into the NIO when he found out she knew he would be searching her out. Wandering to her sidebar in the next room, the Echani woman pulled the bobby pin that held her hair tightly back. A mix of almost white golden hair cascaded down her back as she leaned over and grabbed a bottle of port, and poured herself a glass. ​

If I know your father, he will find out before you can find him. Stay away from him, Errant. It's better that you do. Spencer put the cork back into the port and held the glass; she knew no matter what she said, Errant would do what he wanted - he always did. The red liquid sloshed against the crystal glass as she groaned, knowing that Errant was destined to develop the desire to wander. She had done it, and she knew Vaulkhar had as well. Stay away from him, Errant, its safer this way - better. Trust me. ​

Spencer took a long sip of the port, letting the liquid warm her core as she wondered if all these things happening at once was because of some of the crap she had gotten herself into when she was younger. Placing the now empty red stained glass on the sidebar top, she groaned. Running her hand through her lengthy hair, she fought back the urge to scream. "This is why I married a god, damn woman. Men are ridiculous."​

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Tag: Mavia | Rurik Fel Lambert Vasari Errant Jekadius Lawson​

---

Dorian raised his hands, as if to surrender. "Sorry missy. You've just got a quiet vibe, thought for a sec that you were a mute," he explained. Was it that far-fetched? Dorian just didn't quite have the same duty-bound ideals as some of the other knights. Silence was a sign of professionalism, in a job that didn't need much talking. Everybody else was pretty quiet in his books. He missed the trash talking that took place before a match.

See? This woman couldn't even focus on a conversation. Didn't even answer his question. Pretty rude. Instead Mavia decided to tell him about his hubris for 'desecrating' this place. "What, you forgetting why we're here? We're gonna rescue those other teams and kill some droids. Or double check that the teams are dead, then kill the droids." Stuff that was old and dead was that way for a reason. Hubris didn't have anything to do with it... well, it had a lot to do with Dorian, but that wasn't the point, was it? Wait, no, he was always the point.

Kind of hypocritical for her to just break through the wall after berating him for it. Dorian had already prepared a few other snarky comments, but he held off for now as he pointed down at the Zeffo Tomb Guardians down at the bottom. One of them powered up -- maybe the others were deactivated. It'd make things easier. Not that he was worried about a few old droids. The way the thing was moving made it seem like an old man. Now, Dorian would never beat up an old man (that was a lie, he'd done it multiple times before) but droids were easy.

"Apprehend? No way." He watched for a few moments as the chest-laser blast fizzled out against the barrier of the Mirialan. "Just watch and learn, green queen." Her calm demeanor didn't even cross his mind -- this little droid was barely a threat. He was sure he could take it down without breaking a sweat, and he'd prove it. Lazily the knight leaned into the hole they'd created, simply falling out and down towards the droid. He grinned up to his companion. As usual, it was filled with hubris and pride.

He landed as he'd fallen -- with style. Dorian hit the ground, pausing for a moment to allow his cape to float down and touch the ground as well. The Tomb Guardian turned to him, the core spinning and charging another blue blast. Dorian became a blur, shooting forward with his usual unnatural speed and landing a half-dozen strikes in a blink of an eye. They barely scratched the automaton's armor; his lance was no lightsaber, it simply didn't have the cutting power to break straight through. He hated these kinds of opponents. "Tough guy, aren't you?" He knew the droid wouldn't respond, he was mostly commenting out of habit.

Even with his full Force speed, unencumbered by a non-organic opponent, it wasn't likely that he could just chop this one in half. His eyes narrowed at the core as it charged up. Just before it fired, Dorian threw his spear at its center. His weapon pierced the core and the droid was forced to stagger. The knight capitalized and charged, taking hold of his weapon and forcing it further, pushing the core out of the droid. It crumpled, what false life it had flagging from its metal body.

"See? Easy!" Dorian looked up at Mavia and grinned. 'Assist in apprehending'. He sure showed her. Dorian wasn't some third-rate space wizard, he was surely the best warrior the Force Corps had ever seen...

All around him, the other Tomb Guards began to awaken. In the little pit he'd fallen into, they surrounded him. "Ah... crap." Dorian pulled his spear from the one he'd defeated, raising it in preparation for the next wave. He'd never admit it, but he might need a bit of help...

The droids charged their weapons, before their attacks shot towards Dorian.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

Objective I :
Focus : Lucina Centaris VK-118 VK-462 Hans Vitel

---

---

Their drop ship screeched through the air and the Commander watched as it disappeared over the tops of the canyon, a faint explosion marking its end. Planting a knee in the dirt, Lyra butted shoulder to shoulder with the troopers as a series of pot shots hailed down on them. Dust and small chunks of the canyon wall blanketing them. Trailing down the canyon, her eyes followed the line of sentry posts and fortified towers, minding the communications as the units relayed. They had landed north of the fallen ship, going by VK-462 relay and there was a steady line of fire that separated them.

<</ Hellhound Actual, Negative. Drop zone is hot. Provide Cover fire to the surrounding buildings to relieve pressure. />>

<<"Copy that Nova.">>

<”Who are the Nova what ma’am?”>

Lyra waved her hand to silence the soldier, hand flying to the comms as another relay passed.

<< Hellhound Actual, Nova Two this is Swatter 4-3 callsign Dookie, I’m 5 clicks away from that position. We’ll rendezvous and provide CAS hold tight. >>

<”Just a bunch of thugs, Cinn. Evil Eyes! Focus fire on those towers. We’ve got their attention, time to keep it,”> Lyra ordered, whistling to herself a bolt lit her screen up red passing to close for comfort. Waving her hand lazily, she threw it south, <"Cinn take some boys and let’s spread out.”>

Blastplate and armor creaked as the troopers split, filing down the edge of the canyon taking cover where they could find stray boulders and rocks. From their little lonely corner in the canyon rifles blazed, the handful of marksmen looking for a chance killing shot but the lot of them were kicking up noise to buy the Nova men some time. Scraping along the boulder, Lyra trained the rifle on the adjacent towers. The HUD’s sights clipped and zooming in on the outcrops, tracing their fire back to the source. The recoil washed over and she fired in bursts, unflinching as another shot singed past her shoulder.

 

[FN-999]

CALLSIGN: NINES
OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE ANCIENT ARTIFACT
IN VICINITY: Boram Predor (CO) | OPEN TO OTHERS
EQUIPMENT: IN SIGNATURE & SFP-60x blaster pistol

The Moff's mocking tone set FN-999 on edge, but he decided to reach down for the orb anyways.
​

As he reached for the bronze outer ring, he noticed that it seemed to be levitating around the inner shell. Though the ring hovered barely a centimeter away from the shell, it seemed to be capable of maintaining the exact same distance indefinitely. FN-999 carefully touched the bronze-colored outer ring of the case for the unknown orb. It had a texture and hardness similar to that of steel, yet it was about as light as plastic. When FN-999 lifted the ring up, the orb shell followed it at the exact same speed, maintaining its position inside the ring. The same occured when FN-999 lightly shook the object to the left and right. Yet throughout all the shaking, the blue orb within continued to glow brightly and without interruption.

Something about the blue orb within the inner shell suddenly caught FN-999's eye. It seemed to be releasing some sort of... energy. It was difficult to describe, but the air around the orb and its case felt as if it was charged with some degree of invisible power. AS FN-999 continued to stare at the orb as he approached the main group, it suddenly pulsed.

A strong burst of light for about half a second, followed by a return to its previous brightness. The cycle continued for nearly five seconds before FN-999 realized that he, and the rest of the troopers, had all stopped to stare. When the orb stopped pulsing seconds later, FN-999 finally remembered his objective.

"Sir, I've retrived the orb." stated FN-999 to his superior. "The case is light and seems harmless to touch, but something about the blue orb feels supernatural. Be careful with this one."

 

[Arken Lussk]

| L U S S K |
| Objective: | 2 - Find dem artifacts.
| Tag: | Ursula Vizla

"Oh no."

"Query: What seems to be the problem, master?"

Arken could do little more than point towards the ruins. Where a lone woman stood, her lips moving frantically despite being completely, wholly alone. He couldn't make them out just yet, her voice masked by the din of the city. Rogue droids and other horror awaited them yet the young man figured his newest companion would trump all of them easily.

He almost shivered. Almost.

"Please, uh," he whispered, "Please watch my back."

Victor remained unfazed. His orange photoreceptor offered very little wisdom as it focused on the woman. "Affirmation: I will remain vigilant."

"Thank you. Let's go."

Arken tugged the jacket tighter to his frame as he strode across the dusty ground. A lost city, an ancient race, and an army of rampant droids and other mechanical creations. It was just begging for Victor and Arken to peruse through it all - snooping and pocketing whatever seemed valuable. Yet their contracting agency had recommended taking another partner. Not that he really had a choice in who they picked for him.

The pair caught up to the woman just in time. He cleared his throat as nonchalantly as he possibly could: "Heeeey. How are you?"

 

[Lunafreya Solidor]

// GROUND AND POUND //
// AT THE RAVAGERS GATEHOUSE //
// SONG OF FEATHERS, AUKSIFAS, GLOVES //
// 40 D-13 ATHENA, 10 LK War-X //
// All by myself, but I have room for one more. //​

The wind against her hair was something that she welcomed as a old friend. All around her, ships were being exploded, soldiers were being gunned down, some begged for their lives and others for help, their screams were like a annoying song playing over and over on her ears, enough to make someone go mad but Lunafreya actually loved that. The sound of screams and pain made her feel alive, filled her heart with delight and the will to bend every single living thing to her design, because ever since she was but a small thing running through the woods hunting animals and carving knives using their bones, Lunafreya dreamed about the glory that she one day would achieve in battle.

She adorned her head with her songsteel helmet, letting her curvilinear body be adorned by it, allowing a wave of electricity greater than that gained by sniffing spice take hold of her. The runes of that armor shone under the metal and its effects took over the elzeri, they made her ancestral art run through her body like adrenaline, she even could feel her hand as it trembled like she were swallowing pure electricity.
"I never grow weary of this.", Her lips murmured, her left corner making a curve to make a half smile on her face adorned by that hideous metallic figure. In Kaikielius, they called her the Vulture Princess for the design that the metal formed, and perhaps that was her father's intention when he ordered them to shape it, she had other creatures in mind when she saw herself.

RIght at her side, the vehicle exploded in a flashy moment, so close that she could smell the taut flesh of those who ran that war piece. Fortune favors the bold, they used to say to her and now she was going to prove how bold she was.
“With me.”, Her lips said to the droids, those machines were fast but not as fast as her. Lunafreya jumped off the vehicle the exact moment it crossed those open wall gates, as she started to run, fast as a bullet towards the enemy troops.

While wearing the Song of Feathers, no one matched her speed. Using her feet to take a swyft brake on the dirty floor, like a high-speed speeder that activates her brake at the right time, using both hands she swung the handle of the huge golden scythe strapped on her back, letting the steel sing as it ripped three soldiers apart. through at once. His blood gushed like a red fountain in the air as Auksifas drank from his fangs and Lunafreya leapt with a single foot to the side, swinging the scythe again and letting its steel cut through the mercenaries' flesh like butter. A clean hit was made, a simple vertical cut that made blood and body parts go on flying around the field, her scythe rose again, clean and shining, while her hands swirled the weapon once again against its rivals, letting the blade rip further soldiers behind her.

Lunafreya stopped, surrounded by the dead, immaculate and beautiful, with her violet eyes burning behind the helmet. At her feet, a nikto was crawling on the battlefield, from the waist down his body he had been ripped in half, he was crawling with his hands, dragging himself in a bloody trail, perhaps away from there, perhaps just out of survival instinct. She didn't even look at him, she just rolled the scythe over her shoulders and stuck its pointed curved blade base around his neck, putting him out of his misery. Her eyes darted forward, looking at the face of twenty or more mercenaries looking at her as if she were a goddess, perfect and terrible, she raised her voice loudly and roared like a dragon.
“I am Lunafreya Solidor, is there no one strong enough to challenge me?”

The soldiers exchanged a look between them and immediately gave her their answers. Raising the rifles high in the air, letting blaster fire answer for them, not once, but she counted twenty, thirty and fifty times. Making the steel of her armor ring every time he was hit, shining where it hit and absorbing the shots, using her runes and turning them into power. Perhaps an excellent sniper would be able to hit the vulnerable area of her armor, but she doubted they would have time to think about it. Smiling ominously behind the helmet, she bent her body forward as if to move, standing there for a moment, and when she lifted her foot off the ground, Lunafreya stormed like lightning, brandishing the scythe again in a stroke from left to right, tearing flesh and armor like nothing as she cursed like a drunken mandalorian.
"Nothing but maggots! Dirt on my shoes! Pests that are as good as dead!"

From there she dug her right foot into the floor and rolled her body, letting her left knee hit the head of a mercenary on the floor in one go, stretching her leg and stepping with hard metal shoes against her chest, using it as support to brand Auksifas once again. To the other side, she repeated the circular movement, tearing two more soldiers and cutting the blaster in half, she didn't have time and just raised her weapon and struck in the face against those in front of her, sticking the sickle blade in the torso of her. a soldier, as if impaling him. Striking the sharp end of its handle with the sole of its foot, giving impulse for the weapon to be pulled from the body of the dead and thus attacking again, going further and further and allowing itself to be surrounded.

This reminded her of a old song of her people, that told the tale of a great hero with a sword of magic steel. She wasn’t that hero, she was the one that would kill the hero, she was
the thunder and the lightning. Swinging a golden scythe without stopping, taken by thrill of the carnage, allowing the blade to drink gallons of red blood as it took lives with each deadly blow, she did that again, and again, and again, and again, and again. Until her lips started to go on by themselves and sang out loud in a sweet tone of rusty voice.

“Gloria, gloria perpetua!”, and behind her, she noticed that her droids started to move and go on by themselves attacking the soldiers all around her.

 

[Paz Koon]

/ Alashan, Underground City /
/ Artificial Sun Projection /

​

"There's little typical about exploring Zeffo ruins," Lambert responded with a soft smile across his lips. Admittedly it was a rather nice break from all the war and drills. An odd sentiment coming from Lambert, considering he was usually self-obsessive with the drills and exercises. This was still technically an 'exercise' but it felt more like a reprieve by comparison. "I've always found the galactic civilizations of aeons past very fascinating. Before I was recruited by the Jedi, and long before I took up the Imperial Codex, I always wanted to be a Xenoarchaeologist," Lambert ran his hand across the closest wall of the avenue they travelled down. The repressed fascination growing even stronger with each little bump and crevice it ran across.

His hand dropped back down to his side, face turning to look head. "All of these ancient and powerful civilizations used the force to their benefit, and it made them very successful. The Rakatan Infinite Empire, The Zeffo, and others among the more obscure," Lambert's eyes wandered around, observing the many buildings and metalscapes. "Yet they all fall to the dark side. Perhaps power being a core tenant of the dark means that even the most powerful and benevolent rulers cannot be incorruptible," Lambert shook his head and waved his hand apologetically.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for this to turn into a lecture. I'm sure none of this is news to you, my thoughts just have a habit of running astray sometimes," he chuckled, the original soft smile returning to his milk-white face.

Errant Mavia Rurik Fel Jekadius Lawson Dorian Sicarrio​

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL // Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE // Operation Whiplash
// FOCUS //
Mavia | Jekadius Lawson | Lambert Vasari | Errant | Dorian Sicarrio | Imperial Knights
Rach'ta

With his knights indisposed, Rurik was cordoned into a solitary objective. Ideal enough, there were few trials he might face here that would've offered him any real challenge. Though that was no slight on the brilliant machinations of the ancient Zeffo and more an appraisal of Rurik's own skill as a master of the force and as a soldier. He'd overcome greater foes than even the lumbering Zeffo guardians. What was perhaps more peculiar was the esoteric mechanisms by which these ancient super structures operated.

Among the ruins he continued alone. Leaving his knights to roam out of sight, even if he keep a constant note of them on his scanners and sensors he was far more fixated on the single other organic life signal he spotted within this corner of the ruins. Eventually he happened upon the Twi'lek. Seemingly, alone and seemingly baring little by means of arms. No blaster or saber at least, could be seen from the vantage Rurik spotted him. Even when he bared witness to the alien working its force imbued magicks, the Knight Commander felt a sting reverberate through his cognition.

Darkness. Witchery. A malfeasance. Even so he would be acting out of line to snuff out the life of the witch merely for utilizing the esoteric art. He was not operating on his own doctrine but that of the New Imperial Order, an organized government which had postured itself apathetic to the force in its grand scheme. Few others were fortunate enough to operate on such set of rules. When one was gifted with sensitivity to the force, they'd often trekked their path and drew lines in the sand of what they saw as proper and improper usage of it. Though in the end, Rurik knew its merit as a tool more than anything else and so he was content to trail, to follow.

 

[Rach'ta]

Location: Subterranean City
Tags: Rurik Fel

---

Rach'ta did not know he was being watched or followed by Rurik Fel . The tendrils of mist continued to slip between, over, and through the fingers of the Twi'lek as the spell was sustained. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Rach'ta began to move into the city at a brisk pace. The absolutely incredible architecture of the ancient Zeffo city was not lost on him. The towers stood defiant of the millennia that had passed since their creation and the roads remained mostly intact.

Then, when all was seemingly mundane, after many minutes of walking down the forlorn streets of the metropolis the young witch's head jerked to his right and all movement from him stopped. Seconds later after the unnatural scene, Rach'ta, continued forward down to a large street to the right of the one he had been following. Soon Rach'ta, and Rurik should he still be following, came across a grand plaza. Even under centuries of grit and grime from the cavern ceiling there could be seen the luxurious golden accented monuments and walk ways of the masterful Zeffo artisans.

Numerous full scale statues to bygone leaders of the Zeffo civilization stood erect in various astute poses. Some memorialized sages welcomed in the visitor while others turned away from the onlooker to peer above into the rock covered heavens invoking emotions of transcendent thought and purpose. A particularly central pedestal wrought of a strange mirror like alloy stood an imposing figure. Clad in ornate robes, crest adorned with festive chain, and hands hidden from view. The eyes of the sage did not look towards something or someone greater or lesser. Instead they were piercing and expectant. Relative to the other statues it seemed of a more modern design, if that could be said about any of the timeworn monuments as all easily dwarfed the current major galactic players in age by many centuries.

To Rach'ta this was not only a plaza dedicated to the Sages and their story but a place of a great Force concentration. The spell he had been using to help locate this place dissipated and the witch took several strides past the commemorative memorials towards the great figure that stood waiting. Rach'ta began to move his arms in a wide, slowly swirling. fashion as the signature green mist was summoned from thin air. A swift rasping could be heard from the Twi'lek as he muttered an incantation.

Leisurely the mist fell off his skin like the fog of a warming lake, coiling throughout the plaza and forming into shapes reminiscent of the Zeffo who had walked here. Their forms constantly shifting between loose mist and smoke like impostors. Some shapes moved and collided into others without care or information. Though some joined into a cacophony of quiet whispers. Fragments of information. Not all revelations were pertinent though as some contained views on a legendary sage by the name of Eilram's teachings while others spoke of dreams and fears. The sages who had gathered here had clearly left an indelible mark as they had spent days discussing the Life-Wind, and the purpose of their existence.

 

[Mavia]

---

// OBJECTIVE // Operation Whiplash
// FOCUS // Rurik Fel | Jekadius Lawson | Lambert Vasari | Errant | Dorian Sicarrio | and Other Imperial Knights

---

Using Force Levitation, Mavia floated down to the suspended central walkway. Landing softly she strode forward in a brisk walk. Then a light jog. Then began to run. The Force consumed her legs and she snapped into a supernaturally empowered sprint. Dashing past Knight Dorian and leaping down upon the closest Tomb Guard that was charging to blast her comrade. She drew in a deep breath and the concentrated air defuse the Force from her feet to her fists. In a style of Force Punch and Crush, developed from the arts original Master, the ancient Sage Mace Windu, Mavia unleashed a open palmed thrust. With it the Force exploded from her skin out in a telekinetic eruption. The energy crushed a deep dent in the head plate of the Tomb Guard.

As it stumbled to recoil from the hit, Mavia landed on her fit and summoned the Force again to unleashed a rapid fire series of Force Punches augmented by enhanced speed. Her fists blurred into smears of action, delivered with such speed only the results of the punches gave any inclination of contact. Dozens of crushing dents began to peppered the bronzium steel plating of the Tomb Guard, until it ceased to function, battered into gnarled scrap. It toppled over and Mavia drew back her fists, still crouched in a fighting stance. She whipped her head back and her cybernetic red eye, glowing in the darkness of the ancient ruin, adjusted its lens at Knight Dorian.

“It seems we have a difficult confrontation ahead of us,” Mavia said.

“I will cover your flanks,” Mavia continued before smiling, “You shall be our spearhead."

"Show me what that lance can do, Knight."

---

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Gunship "Aurelianum"
Task: Objective One - Operation Ground and Pound
Tags: Lucina Centaris VK-118 Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Vaulkhar Hans Vitel
---

Ravraa held the blaster pistol in his hand, looking it over in his grip. It was simple, crafted by a Courscanti blastersmith before being tossed over to the factory line to be churned out in the thousands of thousands. It was small, compact, enough that he was certain one could nearly slip the pistol up their sleeve and none would be the wiser. It was a step off from a holdout to the Togruta. There was a large circular knob at the read end of the slide, or what would be the slide if it was a slugthrower, something that the Togruta was unsure of it's purpose. He thumbed over it, letting it press into the rubber like material of his underglove, the ridges tapping away before his nail tapped against the durasteel. He turned it, ever so slightly, to look at it's oppositie mirrored side. He turned it back. A snub nosed design, he wasn't sure how accurate the tiny thing would be in a firefight proper. He was cautious to test it out, though this was a simply bandit raid, there should be nothing more to the fight than rushing in, popping a few of the big bastards, and watching the smaller one's lay down their arms and surrender. At least, that's how it worked in the holo-films, and one would assume Ravraa had seen enough of real war to understand it was far from a holo-film. Ornate and lofty objects such as the Feverwasp he held in his hand got good men killed simply by the ideas that they represented, as much as those holo-films would kill many an excitable young recruit with a heart big enough to serve his country. What did this lowly blaster pistol represent then? It represented his new accord, his new rank that he would call home, the new skin that he would crawl into every morning and try his best to live through. It represented the death of Private Ravraa Vyshraal and the birth of Sergeant Brambles. It represented Runa, Joskyre, Presban, Sergeant Blavus, and every last soul that had been lost in service to the New Imperial Order. The blaster may as well be spray-painted bloodred, it was all the Togruta could see when he looked at it. It was the letter he had broken himself over in his bunk once he had been discharged from the medbay. It was Halemil Bellshre, who would never see her sweetheart return from the battlefront on that damnable Muun planet. It was the dying man that had begged him to find it. It was the dozens he had personally killed afterwords. It was the near last-breaths of Lyra. It was too much, too much bad, not enough good. He was expected to fill the boots of someone he had never built a fellowship with, he was expected to be their new command. Their new lead, they would follow him into the breach, into the end, into the nightmare of reality. He flicked the safety, single shot, burst, full auto, and back to safe. He let the Sergeant's weapon settle back to his hip, allowing the Private to return for a moment.

Across from him, holding onto the railing atop the roof of the gunship, least he fall to the ground, was Jeresan, the scout trooper and chief sniper of the unit. He had been a part time flirt of Ravraa's, along with the only true friend he could say that he had formed during his initial time at the service. They had gotten to know one another during basic training, enough to develop a good back and forth, enough to get a chuckle our of one another every now and again. Standing next to him, was Dormyle, the demo-weapon's expert of the unit. He was meticulously looking over his Doombringer, a traditional shotgun, that he slammed grenades into and claimed made it good enough to serve as our main explosive response to enemy numbers. Regardless, if things turned south, snapped it into it's normal firing mode was quick and efficient. Enough for his tasks at least. In the far back of the carrier, was Thavimar. The new E-Web Rifle that he was issued, after taking a dozen or so courses in supportive fire tasks and the proper amount of bolts it took to suppress the enemy, was daunting to the trooper. It was a cut down version of the emplaced weapon, but it still burned through powerpacks like Hell and needed a bipod setup to be properly used. Two troopers existed nearly in their entirely to act as support for Thavimar, along with helping Ravraa get Jeresan into proper positions, and that would be the twinned Mellfols and Haupont, a pair of human females that clicked nearly in every single respect. One wondered if it was the familial relations, or simply service together that hammered out the relationship. As much as Ravraa trusted all of them, he was glad he still had his carbine to back himself up.

"Achuta, emperiola! We are approaching the Ravagers base. Cheespa bo coopa, the Lord Executor, Nova Squad, and the Evil Eyes have already engaged the Werma! They've plenty of pankpa-pankpa. Five minutes until drop." Squeaked the voice of the ship's pilot, booming through speakers into the trooper transport. G'hecran was a Bith born in Huttese speaking space, and he was certain to remind his compatriots of that every chance he would get.

<"Bargon u noa-a-uyat, pateessa. Alright, you all heard the boy, load up. Looks like it's going to be danger close."> Ravraa paused after saying the word, dead certain it was far from the right use of the phrase. <"G'hencran, how close can you get us to their position?">

"How close do you want us, Lorda?"

<"Not looking to make a habit of jogging, bring us in as close as this hunk of junk can get us!">

As the gunship began to cut through the atmosphere, descending hard into the approach to the active combat zone, the familiar cry of missiles, crack of artillery, and lucky small arms fire began to sound around the vessel. Now, the RDAGx was essentially a hover-van with a couple guns and a trailer hitched up to it in practicality, but even with the unmentionable lug that it was to attempt to fly this vessel, G'hecran made it look akin to an art. Blaster rounds came through the air, cutting through and parting their paths with a predestined point, and the Bith danced the oversized vessel back and forth, right and left, giving shouts to the men in the back of the ship to adjust their stance or to hold onto the railing. Missiles came screaming devious songs, the same exact tones that previously rended the last Dorn-2 vessel into a fiery mess and sent it tumbling to the ground, but now in the masterful hands of a former swoop racer, the gunship parried and played with their attacks. Luck would have it that many of these were simple point-and-aim, not proper heat seeking. Republic traitors or no, the variance in payload and delivery system was stunning, and luckily, it seemed as if their proper anti-air rounds were used with the first advance of NIO vessels. At some point, a blur of rounds spat from the chin of the gunship, nearly sawing one of the projectiles in half localized in a cluster, sending the entire display into a fireworks show for the pilot.

<"This is Hellhound Actual, who's nearby?">

The voice came crackling through the comms at the distance the gunship was running, despite that, it still brought a chuckle from the Togruta. At least she still was putting up the good fight, even after the incident.

Broadcasting on all local Allied Comms, Ravraa would speak.

<"Salutations, this is Sergeant Brambles of Dorn-2. We're a piece from the combat zone, comin' in. We'll settle where we're needed most. Boots on the ground seemin' held down by towers and a whole mess of fortified buildings. Unless y'all have a better setup for us, that's our current lane. Ready to kick some ass.">

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL // Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE // Operation Whiplash
// FOCUS //
Mavia | Jekadius Lawson | Lambert Vasari | Errant | Dorian Sicarrio | Imperial Knights
Rach'ta

And so the Knight Commander was on the trail. The Twi'lek seemed both innocuous and merely enamored by his surroundings. Rurik couldn't claim a different outlook. When he was Jedi among the Grayson Imperium and the Ashlan Order, there was a natural infatuation with the ancient Zeffo. Their sages of the Life Wind had left behind a ruined civilization. Enigmatic but potent in the echos of the force. It demanded the attention of any who sought to study its mysteries.

Even if Rurik was not one of those, he was not a sorcerer or sage. He wasn't obsessed with the unseen corners of force knowledge, he was not infatuated with what he knew and what he didn't. The force, while fascinating was at the end of it all... a tool. A tool to clear obstacles and enemies. The Sith were delusional in thinking it would break their chains and the Jedi were delusional all the same to living in its servitude.

Wordlessly, Rurik came into the sight of the Twi'lek, seemingly assumed that the witch's intent was not malicious. Merely...exploratory. He could only assume the potential of hidden relics within these depths had captured his imagination. Understandably enough. Until an esoteric incantation willed the green mists of force echos into fruition, depicting the walking figures of long gone Zeffo who'd once lived within these depths. Still, he seemed content merely to follow, trusting the Witch's scent on the trail far better than he did.

"I mean no harm." He iterates.

"What is it you're looking for? Here?" Rurik inquires out of pure curiousity.

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Tag: Mavia | Rurik Fel Lambert Vasari Errant​

---

Dorian might've taken the time to admire the speed of his partner, but it was not meant to be. The beams of blue energy reached him first.

The knight's danger sense kicked into overdrive to compensate for the dozen attackers. He activated his Force speed to get out of the way of the initial burst, but the droids continued to target him. The web of lasers and projectiles followed where he went. Dorian didn't have time to wind up for a throw or the space to prepare to jump out of the pit. There was only the intricate dance that kept him alive amidst the awfully angry tomb guardians.

Dorian ducked under one beam, glancing at one of the droids that was charging up another attack. There was a split second where the beam began to emerge. He feinted going left to throw off the droid's beam before heading back, but instead of the beam he expected a glob of energy shot towards him. A look of surprise crossed the warrior's face before twisting into anger and pain as the attack struck him in the chest. It was nowhere near as deadly as it looked; the shot blackened his white breastplate and sent him flying back. The hurt of taking a blow from one of these tin cans was more a mental blow. Maybe he wasn't as fast as he thought...

It seemed that all of the droids got the same idea, following up their beam attacks with a volley of plasma bursts. He managed to recover from the first hit and dance out of the way. Mavia arrived in the pit, knocking down one of the bots. Dorian couldn't waste the time to look at her, he only had a moment to catch his breath. "Alright, just do it." He glanced around at the circle of tomb guardians. "You just took twelve. I'm hitting six, ten, two, seven, eleven, three, eight, one, four, nine, then five. Go."

He hadn't had to deal with it on Muunilist because they'd split up almost as soon as the dueling started, but now Dorian was actually putting his trust in someone to watch his back. If this didn't work out... well, he could say he tried the whole 'teamwork' thing and it didn't work out.

The Imperial Knight raised his spear. The first beams began to arc towards him, and as it all began to slow he couldn't help but smile. Habit, he supposed. He'd put on a show for a cheering crowd. Today his audience was another Knight, and he promised that she'd get her money's worth. Immersed once more in the Force he shot towards six, intent on shattering the droid in a single strike.

 

[Ursula Vizla]

// OBJECTIVE: FIND DEM ARTIFACTS. //
// Arken Lussk // ​

The rock fell from the bridge into the pitch-black abyss beneath her after she kicked it, walking with her head down and slowly raising it again. She grabbed her gun with both arms, stretching her arms out and keeping her straight as she started down on her knees, starting to squat there on the bridge to the strange city, she counted fifteen squats until she got tired and dropped the gun to the left side of your body while your fingers held it.

“I’m so bored. haar'chak!”, she cursed in a loud tone of voice. Sighting not so long after that, her head remained low as she started to feel worse. Ursula was not meant to be trap in a single place for too long, and that meant more than three seconds.

“Oh snap out of it, mistress.”, her AI spoke inside her helmet, noticing how sad she was. “Is like they say… Ishgasjir-dobari-dangu-haya-zo.”, Ursula allowed that long moment of silence to fall upon them like a recently dug grave before tossing both her arms high in the sky almost screaming with the machine.

“WHAT THE SHEBS ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”, on her ears the AI sighted and she began how lucky that load of circuits was, no other machine would dare doing that.
“Cry me a river, build a bridge, name it after yourself, and get over it!!”, he gave a moment of silence to her a her arms came down. “Its nagaian.”

“Do I look like I know nagaian? Shabuir!”, and all of the sudden she heard a noise behind her, almost like a bantha growling at her.

“Heeeey. How are you?"

“Hey, I speak mando’a.”, the AI said to add to their conversation, while Ursula rose her gun with both hands in the air, aiming straight at the kid in front of her.

“Ok, weird’o, hand over your wallet!”, and after a long moment in which her index finger actually touched the trigger slowly, she started to laugh from beneath the helmet. “All right. Let’s do this.”, her foot started to move towards the city still holding her gun tightly. “So, where are you from?”

 

[Rach'ta]

Location: Subterranean City
Tags: Rurik Fel

---

The Twi'lek was deep into his concentration whenever Rurik Fel spoke to him. Rach'ta jumped a little from being startled and looked over his shoulder as the figures made of mist began to fall silent, and freeze in place "I trust that you do not." he agreed "I am looking for knowledge and relics." then Rach'ta began to move his arms around through the thickening green fog "The spell must be maintained or we will lose progress. The shades speak of a relic. Venerated by the locals. Though it was not made here. It is ancient. Not a weapon." that was all Rach'ta knew thus far. Rach'ta continued the wide motions through the mist and began to recite the incantation, withdrawing into a more focused state once again.

As he did so the shades of mist reformed and began to become active once more. For nearly a minute the shades milled about and spoke about mostly irrelevant philosophies. Whispering their ponderous thoughts into Rurik's ear as they passed by him. Though the scene was interrupted by a spontaneous gust of wind that shattered the surface of the mist. The shades began to glide through the smoke towards Rach'ta swiftly. In a panic Rach'ta raised his arms and lashed out at the figures until he was engulfed in the mist as they pounced upon him "Awa-" the Twi'lek was cut off, his voice becoming distant.

Completely hidden from view due to the density of the magical fog Rurik could hear "Beneath and above." spoken in Rach'ta's voice. From the depths of the sea of mist the witch rose a few inches into the air. As the Twi'leks mouth moved out slipped wisps of the mist to fall across his chin then to the floor below "Beneath and above." the witch spoke again. "Seeking it permeates." the plaza's fog condensed and drew towards the duo at a brisk pace, throwing much of the surroundings into pitch blackness once again, the visages of the statues becoming obscured "What makes one lost?" the possessed asked expectantly "Denial or ignorance? Seeking it permeates. Beneath and above we are the roil."

"We are the roil." it echoed cryptically as smoke poured from the Twi'lek's open mouth, floating towards the cavernous ceiling many hundreds of feet above them into nothingness. Rach'ta was seemingly thrown, not dropped, violently discarded by whatever had possessed him. Impacting the ground with a low thud. Where the shades and shadow magic mist had been, were corpses of a dozen humans dressed in NIO uniforms. They showed no signs of life or movement. In fact they appeared to have been here for a considerable amount of time.

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL // Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE // Operation Whiplash
// FOCUS //
Mavia | Jekadius Lawson | Lambert Vasari | Errant | Dorian Sicarrio | Imperial Knights
Rach'ta

"I trust that you do not."

"I am looking for knowledge and relics."

"The spell must be maintained or we will lose progress. The shades speak of a relic. Venerated by the locals. Though it was not made here. It is ancient. Not a weapon."

"I see..." Rurik said in reply to the Twi'lek. The Knight Commander uttered, posturing only still that he no intent to assail the Witch. At least...not now, but by the gauge of the Witch's intent, he was doubtful he'd have to as much as his snap reactionary instinct might've been to strike down an entity potential tangling with the darkness, it also a restraint he had to calcify and compound upon if he was to have any long term success with the New Imperial Order.

Even if the Twi'lek spoke of a spell, a ritual, an incantation that needed to continue its channel, Wymar in spite of a 'mastery of the force' had no grounded knowledge of how to reach out in assistance, not with this, not here. Witchcraft was an art far too obscure, esoteric and verboten for him to tangle with either as a Jedi or among the Order. Even so, he'd observe it, curiously until it was snuffed out in favor of a peculiar turn of events.

Rarely shaken, Rurik's eyes widened for a moment when the Witch's voice took a distorted, otherworldly turn addressing him, nearly willing the silver blade from his pale armor, relenting his hand for a moment as he heard the voice of otherworldly inflection speak through the Witch.

"Beneath and above."

"Beneath and above."

"Seeking it permeates."

"What makes one lost?"

"Denial or ignorance? Seeking it permeates. Beneath and above we are the roil."

"We are the roil."

It was then that the sentiment had ran its course and the illusion broke to make way for the fields of the fallen. Comrades, each in New Imperial colors that Rurik draw his blade, igniting the lightsaber with its characteristic crack of superheated light and energy against open air before the shimmering silver broke through the darkness, his honed gaze scanning his surroundings.

Beneath and above.

 

[Nima Appw'rii]

Objective I = Ground & Pound
Focus = Ravraa Vyshraal @All nearby troopers

---

"Did they really crash again?" Appw'rii broke the silence of the cockpit, leaning forward eyeing the dog fighting on the horizon. Plenty of ships had taken the hit but there was hush that followed watching Evil Eye's go down. Dropping a heavy hand on the pilots shoulder, offering the fly boy an encouraging pat- musing out loud, "let's try not to do that. Circle around and we'll drop in on the towers above Hellhound."

The communication's were spitting off contact and the woman groaned. Tapping the panel on her wrist she ducked out. They had to have a certain lack of utter luck to be flying back in to a shavit storm like this. The transport rumbling under foot as, and the woman tossed a hand up hailing the fire team's. Troopers rising up and adding the final touches to their weapons, loading up for the violence to come. They didn't have the luxury of vetting some of the finer boys and Appw'rii grabbed ahold of the Sergeant of the rowdier demolitions team.

"Put the Zabrak on the chain gun for me, he's a brick wall," she muttered before letting the trooper go.

Un-holstering the pistols off her hips, the Captain hit the ramp button. Sending off the the light show inside the ship's hull. Red lights flashing as the wind poured in over the audio receptors. Rangers falling in line before her and the woman gave them a final appraising look as the ship banked down. The air was streaked with red plasma and the shields rippled as shots poured in on them. Staring down the thick of it, the sentry tower's fire power was sporadic and she waved in the heavy repeater. The heavy blaster tearing into it as their boots hit the ground, the ranger team fanning out over the bleak ground of the canyon top. The woman scattered for cover like the rest as the Trio team pulled out. The transport's laying down a suppressing fire on the tower guns, earth quaking from the assault. They might be considered late to the fight but exclusively timed is what she preferred to say.

<<"Is that Hellhound's knight in shining armor I hear? Brambles you talk to much, just hit the towers!">>

Ravraa Vyshraal