Invasion Shame on the Night // NIO Invasion of TSE held Helgard and Cadomai

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

V i n d i c a t e _ A c t u a l

307th Stormtrooper Legion // Darth Sybila
Task //: Annihilate

A e r i a l

Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BR-212-'Jackal' ACR / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Light Saber (s) / Void Grenade

​

It was difficult to forget a stench like his, a tidal wave that was unmoved and ever looming over head; smothering. The abomination had never hid his true nature but she uncovered more in each passing. It scared her. Through the growing snow drift the red saber was her beacon. Lyra’s arm shook as their sabers crashed together in a symphony of crackling plasma, all her weight and armor hurdling her down into the unmoved Sith; her boots scraping the ice. She almost wished she could drive open his mind to understand where it all went wrong.

You became what you were, you weren't born it..if all the Sith dogma she had been subjected was to be believed. You seized it. It was the only way she could draw the line between it and her sanity.

He did not waver and each flourish was met with by an indomitable guard as they engaged in a relentless trade of blows. As she bared down and thrusted there was no freezing cold or thought, only the extension of her arm to the tip of her blade-each step improvised. Her hands ached from the desperate grip of each hilt, if she couldn’t endure..It did not matter, she would feint and adjusted with each traded blow for blow.

The grace of the weapon was lost on her, even after all this time-

"Don't you recognize your own strength..?" ​

Kascalion provided no true gap and each graze only tasted like ashes. She could not touch him and her teeth grinded, and it flared in her chest. There was no window and doubt trickled further into the recesses of her mind. Her breath came in short bursts as she wove across the ice circling him like a dog relentless; tracking his every move.

The HUD’s back light dimmed as she uttered near silent command, now only the hellish reds filled her vision as their sabers crossed again in a glancing blow. Kascalions blades swept aside and she had to follow less she fall then and there, the Force behind his blow sent her stumbling. The space between them dwindled and she turned the emerald blade in hand redirecting his next damning blow. The saber passed to close and she felt the sliver of heat across the tenebrae atop her shoulder. A warning echoed across the screen, the damage highlighted acros the whole of the bodysuit. She couldn't sustain this. Their blades locked again, the weight of his arm jarring and she dropped her weight low as her arm threatened to buckle; scrambling for purchase against the glacier.

Her heart rested in her throat, the shift was unseen but her eyes met the unnatural reflection. He had become another facet. She felt the creak in the joints of her servo as he withdrew, their sabers clashed again immediately by a heavy strike-the plasma erratic and hissing painfully as the three blades connected.

“A new life, defined by yourself not him-”​

Lyra thrusted her sabers up forcing the voice to flee from her own mind, blades crossed before her as his own saber loomed dangerously close to her own visor. His words felt distant, lost to the howl of the winds but she knew the temptation. There wasn’t a man left alive who had raised a gun to her that day on Bastion, even though wound still was there if she searched deep enough. Lyra sneered from behind the confines of the helmet, as if he knew the whole story.

“Oh? Who’s the queen now,” Nima flinched, and something stretched further between them distant. “Where else is there to go? There is no home waiting for me, my mom’s comfortable now, In theory life is..okay. Agrippas gone though and you’d still be here, waiting and watching everyone else’s back-getting shot up and you’d be alone because I know you. I’m not going to leave you to that. If anyone should have gotten out, it’s you Lyra.”

“Lyra you can not win this fight here alone..”​

<“I’ll give you that, you have the decency to offer me the galaxy but every inch of your vision is flawed,”> Lyra spat back at him, what point in it was there? How many times had systems faced subjection, she was disillusioned by war. When did it end? There was nothing he could offer but her disdain troubled her. It was simply wrong not the matter of the worth of the deal-What if she did let go? Her form quaked, the disgust, the rage that boiled in retaliation. Her boot slipped and her knee hit the ice first as he pressed.

“Let it go..”​

Revenge. Her eyes flicked across the darken screen-pooling her energy she uttered an override thinking fast. From the likes of her vambrace a spout of fire erupted and she tilted her arm further, letting the flames bathe them both like a forge. Every gap of her armor was signed by the heat as she tried to drive a wedge with every tool at her disposal. Why couldn’t he just lay down and die? Frustration intermingled with the distant thought of her boys-for them for them. Peace.

She could feel the crux in the flames, it flickered like a changeling and it encircled every inch of the frozen rock.

<<”Transmit emergency broadcast, code Snake-Genesis-Engima. Mayday..mayday...coordinate grid negative sixteen hundred, positive thirteen-fifty. Mayday, mayday!”>> her voice echoed from inside her helmet, repeating herself until the signal light flickered off again. Someone, maybe Djorn Bline or Nima Appw'rii would be able to pull back-redirect and coordinate..

It was surrender, her eyes stung, why could he just die-Lyra’s voice reverberated against the screen as she screeched again. She knew she was no better than a child crying out in defiance. The bout of light and heat was swept up by the winds, stealing the fires as the tundra proved the ruler of the terrain alone. The condensed flames died off her vambrace instantly. She would have to keep him occupied, so long as the signal reached reinforcement. Irveric Tavlar would come for her, he always did.

“There is no shame.”
​

The voice assured but she was unmoved by the notion, she had dug this hole and it was time she climbed out of it. Lyra was sick of it-her own mother... It was personal. The woman skirted away in a single jump, thrusters at the end of her boots propelling her, toe to ankle as she hunched low in a single bend; the hair on the back of her neck stood. Kascalion’s saber passed over her form, clipping her helm as her knees slid across the glacier. Sparks illuminated the dark and pain bloomed across her skull from the physical impact as she found herself tossed across the spance of ice-the piece of armor rendered useless as the power cell was cut. Fuck.

<”Did you learn anything from our last conversation Maledictus! If Avernus couldn’t succeed what makes you think you will!”> Lyra taunted as she dropped her chin, she rolled across the snow laden ice. The physical brutality of the assault could not be maintained. Her grip slackened on both sabers, trusting the simple instinct as all power died across her armor system. She was truly alone now. Her thumbs brushed across the switches as she killed both blades. In the storm she disappeared, engulfed by the blizzard. She discarded the bleeding saber first across the ice. It would have to be retrieved later. Lyra’s body snapped back as her servo scraped the ice, she dug her digits into the ice and drove her hand into the depths of the glacier. <”There is nothing in this galaxy worthwhile I assure you!”>

Her Master’s sole favor-even as it pained her so..the sonic vibration splintered the stretch of ice between her and the Sith, a sharp pain shot through the length of her limb and a strangled cry escaped her. The pain encompassed her and she barely saw through the end. The shock wave tore through the frozen waste, chunks of ice ripped and Lyra thrusted her hand out toward the dark figure focusing the shockwave generator toward him as shards of ice flew, drawing the line. A single deeper crack splintered the length of the ice between them to the very sea and the glacier dropped in one fell swoosh. Her boots slipped and she leaned back trying to maintain her stance but the center of gravity shifted with the broken mass. When she looked up from the wrath guided from her hand, her eyes widened as she looked upon the face of her Master. Avernus stood out in his raiment amidst the storm, no noise came from the likes of him; eyes watching her like a hawk. Speak of the devil and he may come..

<”Why!”> she seethed, screaming at the specter until her voice was hoarse-spit flying from her lips. Their battle was some sport to him. The dim outline of the glacier spun, like a fly flicked-she felt the weight of the Force rip her from the ground before she could rise-Kascalion’s own power entrapped her.

Bastard.

She hoped he was happy now, venom dripped from unspoken words and her shoulder hit the ice somewhere, she felt a painful snap against her back as the breath was knocked from her. The distance to the ledge of the glacier lost on her but the wind rushed around her and she knew she was falling. From behind her screen she could barely discern the ice from the sea, her vision swallowed up by the night. Lyra flourished the blade, a comforting green light illuminated the dark and she thrusted it out blindly into the rock and ice. Pain spiked from her shoulder as the joint threatened to wrench from the bone, her body hit the side as she caught herself on the face of the sinking fissure. Lyra clung to the hilt as she slowly slid down the glacier, hanging on by a thread.

Steam rose from the ugly line cut in the ice, her weight dragged her down further slowly but surely. Chunks of ice rained down from overhead and she thrusted one gauntlet up to shield herself, the debris deflected by an invisible barrier woven by her hand. The cold sea churned hundreds of feet below as the chunks of glacier were swallowed up in the violent tide. Lyra traded her grip, the stress upon the saber grew and she wondered if it would die on her now. Her breath clouded the helmet, heart racing. Hefting up her vambrace, she squeezed her gauntlet-a listless click betrayed her.

The woman was lucky her armor hadn’t gone into static lock, she had nothing now. The visor of her helmet hit the glacier side as she hung her head low. Her eyes fell shut as she steadied her breath, plucking the frayed edges of her patience as she dangled above the ocean. The glacier was shifting, teetering to remain upright. She had to ask herself, what would a Jedi do? A hint of mockery still followed the thought. They were the good guys right, where the fuck were they?

She should be on the vanguard not here. A bitter chuckle bubbled from her chest in the silence, she chuckled until her eyes watered and she then she was laughing-alone at the ends of the world, ends of the galaxy itself. He had made it personal, not until the last man was laid down to rest in peace alas. Lyra’s head lolled back as she stared up into the abyss of the night her voice dry until she could only cough. She slammed the heels of her boots into the glacier when all noise had died, her other arm reeled back as she dug the gauntlet into the ice for purchase.

She should have gotten out when she could have.

Anger swelled around her and Lyra envisioned above the heights, her mind cast up just over the ledge; searching. Kascalion was somewhere on the other side a black marr in the webs of the Force. Somewhere the echo of her own blade, molded to fit her palm and crying with the air of some revenant to haunt it. When she opened her eyes, she was faced with the spitting green saber and the wall of ice. She knew where the blade rested and she rocked down with a renewed vigor; propelling herself up the height at great speed-ripping the saber from the ice. Lyra soared through the dark, her body tilting as she appeared over the ledge weightless-beckoning her blade back to her hand. Her lip curled back as she sneered, boots hitting the remains of the Glacier, the flat spanse was sundered and sinking in upon itself. Through the snows the sleek cylinder sung past the specter. The fair faced lie still stood there, form illuminated even now in the snow storm. Well then, she’d put on a good show.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Sauofellslond
Objective: Defend the City / Reclaim the City
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Ragnar the Untested
Allies: TSE / CIS Forces
Enemies: NIO / Helgardi Populace
----------------------------------------------------

Of all the things that the Sith had expected to struggle through today, it wasn't a duel with an Imperial Force User. Fighting alongside Legionnaires, somehow surviving amidst savage warzones and battles with seemingly endless casualties, even the occasional duel with a particularly skilled enemy. He had prepared and gone through all of that.

Right now however, he was certainly caught off guard.

To say that he was frustrated by this point would be an understatement. No matter how he stepped back, so matter how quick or clever he tried to move, his opponent was always right there with him.

Whatever training regiment that the NIO put their Knights through was clearly paying off in his eyes.

He had expected some good resistance and skills out of the strange enemy by this point, but this was something else. Clever son of a- Yet again his attempt to get some breathing room and then go on the offensive quickly backfired. His thrust was deflected, the blade of his weapon sliding off harmlessly. Of course, that meant that his pounce left him very exposed now that his attack had been robbed of its intended effect.

The fact that a swift counter to his attack was about to hit him did little to improve the situation as well.

Of course, to avoid the counter from the Zabrak as well as try to get back on the offensive, Alisteri was forced to hit the ground next to his opponent and quickly roll away. The blade of his sabre flew through the air wildly the entire time, with him only regaining control as he finished his little rolling maneuver. The acolyte shifted to his knees, going for a slash at his enemy's legs as he sprung back up to his feet.

With any luck, he'd have a few seconds to catch his breath behind his enemy.

"Discipline. Something the NIO runs away from eh?" Traitors tended to be running from something, but Alisteri had no context for why the NIO were the way that they were. He just wanted to get his opponent angry.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Post 3: Battle-Respect-Storm
Armor: X | Lightsaber: X
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Theme: X

​

"What power," Kascalion had whispered to himself as each clash of the blade marked another note in this symphony of the night. Truly, it was a remark he had to make to himself before his change. It was what sparked that change to begin with. Impeccable blade work, accompanied by raw acrobatics and dexterity and a ruthlessness - no, an obsession - to kill the man that stood before her. It was at such a level that he could hardly believe it even after he had entered that blade lock and spoke his venomous words into her ears. Even after he had awoken something inside himself to become better once again.

It was not refined, yet it pushed him to a limit he had only braced against with one other. It was an instinct within her, yet one that had been forged, not born. No, she had not been born with this, that much he could be certain of. Avernus had done something to her, something foul and horrid to bring out this monster. Perhaps it was fate, then, that the man before her now would suddenly look upon her with different eyes when he was bathed in the blackened light of her evil. Corrupt. Impure.

"I’ll give you that, you have the decency to offer me the galaxy but every inch of your vision is flawed," she had spat at him with a viscous loathing. He could only continue his previously erupted laughter as she knelt down from the pressure he had started to inflict in their blade lock.

Once his laughter subsided for a faded in seriousness, he was prepared to speak once more as he increased his pressure upon her. Perhaps he intended to impart some more words of dark wisdom and properly worded beckoning to his side of evil. Had he the chance, he was likely to say: "Your passion, your vengeance betrays your desire to remain free of your devils, Lyra Voi'kryt. You seek to escape all that I have done, all that your former Master has done. You will never escape it. You have no choice but to join me now. Join me, Lyra, and use your passion to rule the Galaxy alongside the Sith. Alongside me."

Whatever the case was, whatever it was that he intended, he had no choice to remain silent when he was suddenly blanketed in a fire that reminded him of his remnant home world. He was the first to break the blade lock and skidded backward with a push of the Force against the glacier, dooming shards of ice and puffs of snow to their doom into the fire. Yet, he felt no pain even as the flames singed and melted through the ceremonial portions of his armor, instead practically falling to his knees with unconstrained jubilation.

Then the Devil charged as Lyra sought to finalize her movement, striking down upon her with one swift downward swing towards her head, aimed to harm but not to kill. No...no...she was to be his now. He could feel her desires, sense them, see them. Her walls had been weakened enough for him to know what she awaited. Who she awaited. The Slayer. The Bringer of Death. Irveric Tavlar . A grim chuckled escaped his half-formed throat once more as he thought on this, watching the woman react to the strike against her dome, sent flying backward across the glacier. Perhaps he hit her a touch too hard.

"Did you learn anything from our last conversation Maledictus! If Avernus couldn’t succeed what makes you think you will!" she called out as she rolled to her feet from the strike. She had the conviction, but her emotions - that storm that enveloped her - spoke of a different tale. He saw it now. Loneliness. He was once again intending to respond to her, but she vanished, the storm of Helgard taking the storm of the Imperials. He smiled a skinless smile and disengaged his lightsaber, hooking it to his belt, and removed his helm - revealing his full skeletal visage to the world before him, his empty sockets bursting with such fiery light that they could have acted as beacons for oceanic voyages. "There is nothing in this galaxy worthwhile I assure you!"

"Oh, I assure you, Sweet Lyra!" he called back into the storm, his voice carrying across the sharp winds, still as accented and humanesque as it had been when he offered the first chance for her to join him. "I assure you that the Galaxy...has so much to offer. So much life to see! To exterminate! To enslave! Why do you fight for these ingrates? Have they ever truly loved you? Have you ever truly loved them? Have you ever truly loved...him?"

The ice suddenly screamed all around him and encroaching upon him came a split in the glacier, wide and deep. Once more, he reacted not with panic or fear, but with an impressed jolting: "HA!"

It was a great sight to see. Such destruction, such crude might just begging to be trained and honed. The seas in the split roared up as if the dread emperor himself of the ocean depths had been spurred from his eternal dark slumber, bursting to life with an ungodly wrath at those foolish mortals who dared awake him.

"HARK!" Kascalion bellowed at the sea king's storm as wave upon wave crashed and boiled against the crumbling glacier. Fear of the blasted depths of the ocean had vanished in his heart, in his mind, for he knew that he would be victorious. He was sure of it. How could a warrior-king like himself fail? And thus, the blasphemes against a thing missing in time began: "HARK, Swelhein of Helgard, Lost King of the Sea! Blessed be your momentous rise from the depths of the Force to break open the Northern Sea with your uncaged dudgeon. May you bear witness to me, a most humble servant of the Dark, as I claim the soul and mind of this heathenish queen who stirred you from your peace!"

With gleaming chortling scorch, the Devil watched as the sea splashed its icy murk upon the ice, immediately freezing under the storm. The storm of snow had become a whirlwind of cacophonous frost and rain, thunder strikes cracking as the pure untamed fury of Devil and Vindicate collided in their hubris and fear. Despite this new risk of falling, he dodged each new patch of slippery landscape with a practical giddy skip and hop and even a forward roll. He was a child almost, cackling with unrestrained joy at his newfound perfection. As luck would have it, coincidentally enough, the latter action had brought him to a place on the changing chunk of ice to where he could see his foe, drawn into her own fervor within the storm.

"Why!" she cried out, either at his survival or some specter Kascalion was too intoxicated to see. He could not be sure.

"Why?" he whispered to himself, his jubilation once more replaced with a steely glare, knowing that she would not hear him. "Because I...am a God, girl. I am a Warrior-King...I am Kavar of Credence. And you will learn your place."

With an outreach of the Force, he gripped her and pulled her closer towards him, directly over the gap that began to widen as the two halves drifted in the torrential maelstrom. And then, he pushed her down, knowing she would either catch herself or drown. As fate would have it, she would catch herself with her remaining saber, hanging alone in the sinking fissure. Kascalion sighed with a surprised relief and stood at the precipice, gazing down upon the woman's distant shape, barely visible against the dark waters and the blurriness of the blinding storm. She was gripping by a thread, barely avoiding the impact of the falling debris which crashed into the waters below or was crushed against the glacier halves.

He began to pace, feeling the beginnings of his own glacier's shifting weight against the raging sea. It would sink completely soon, weakened and imbalanced by whatever attack the woman had done to kill the man, or at least keep him away from her. Stopping directly above her, he extended his arms out to his sides and called down those few dozen feet, "Look at you now, Lyra...alone! Abandoned. You came here by yourself and no one has come to help you. Not your Imperials. Not your Legion. Not even the Slayer. The father of your children...he is not here. And he will not be here."

Another shift. Turning his head, he could see through the sea and snow that the waters began to touch more and more of the distant edge. It would not be long now. She had to come to his side or...he would kill her. Looking down once more, he nearly choked on non-existent spit when the woman's figure came flying from the void-like fissure, arcing beautifully over him and down onto the glacier.

Growling like a hound as the shock left his body, he reignited his blade and pointed it towards the woman who stood defiant still, "I am curious...do you think Irveric loves you, Lyra? Do you think he will care if I drown your body in this sea? Or if I part your head from your fucking neck? He ordered your death on Bastion...like he did for all of us Sith...all of us who have embraced the Dark Side. Do you know what love even is?"

He charged once more, swinging his crimson blade hard and wide as he stepped that last foot between him and her. She ducked under it with ease, slashing horizontally across his stomach with that bleeding green blade, cutting through his armor and slicing open his flesh. A minor wound, but a wound nonetheless. The first one of the entire battle beyond grazes. Steam exuded from his fleshless mouth like a volcano as he turned without hesitation and struck downward towards the woman with a straight vertical swing.

As he expected, she dodged masterfully with an almost show-offish twirl, her green blade screeching through the air in her own responsive attack aimed for his exposed side. Swinging his body with the motion of her blade, Kascalion barely dodged the strike while swinging his crimson blade upward, knocking Lyra's nearly out of her hands. Yet she responded still, the two re-engaging in their morbid dance, yet this version saw her land more and more full strikes on his body, the worst of which was a diagonal slash across his back that came dangerously close to slashing through his spine, which was only resisted due to the protections of his body.

His armor, however, had become all but useless, prompting him to force a break in the dance and rip off his chest plate, revealing the full extent of damage that the Vindicate had inflicted in that past five minutes of pure chaos. Electric-blue blood trickled down from the wounds and onto the increasingly slanted ice, traversing down towards the rising tides on the edge of the glacier. Yet, once again, he reacted not with anger, but with...an emotion the Vindicate would surely have difficulty understanding.

"You...enthrall me to new levels of loathing, Lyra Voi'kryt," the man hissed, the steam from his mouth practically silver in the black light of the storm. Perhaps as a show of unity - or more likely dominance of the situation - he tossed his lightsaber away and let it roll down the ice. "You were trained well by Irveric and your former Master. That much is clear. But you could be so much more. Imagine the damage you could have done to me if you were able to hone your abilities? I could be dead by now...slaughtered like the pig I am...but yet, a God I stand still. Join me, Lyra...join the Sith and learn the true depths of your power."

The Vindicate charged in her response, dead set on her goals of killing him and freeing herself of his infernal presence - or perhaps of dying herself. She would not reach far for the man, in her indignation at her actions, effortlessly dodged her fearsome strike - one that surely would have cleaved him in twain if he were a lesser man - and immediately responded by simply grabbing her neck with his right hand and lifting her into the air.

"You are acting quite the fool for a commander, Lyra Voi'Kryt," Kascalion cackled, his skeletal visage grinning and burning with hateful fire. "You infuriate me with your choices, yet this impresses me more and more. I dub thee Enigma, for that is what you are in life and always will be...tell me once more: do you still think he will come? Do you still think your dear Irveric will save you from me? I am sorry to inform you, but he will not. He does not love you. Your people do not love you. You do not love them. You are alone. You have always been alone. Or did the death of your dear mother not solidify that for you?"

 

[Jorus Fel]

G L A D I U S
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
BLIZZARD FORCE
NIO // ALIES // Irveric Tavlar | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Ravraa Vyshraal | Tulan Kor | Noel Strasza | Onansi of Thyrsus
TSE // ENEMIES // Joesph Leigh // UX-0626 // Mazrim Caide/Taim // WHO AT HJALLAHEIM YO
П О Л Ю Ш К О - П О Л Е

T H E _ R E T U R N _ O F _ G L A D I U S _ C O M P A N Y​

Fortress battlements,
Hjallaheim, Helgard

"Let's go Stormtrooper, we have a city to bury.

​

I looked baffled, at first, then surprised, and then a devilish grin formed on my face. That same stupid grin Espada so much hated or loved (you never know with her). Truly, the unorthodox methods the veteran, former Antarian Ranger, was renown for were not a myth. I had come face to face with a legend.

General Tal did not give it any second thoughts and quickly went to work. I had to give it to 'em Galidraanis - diligent and dangerous. They had brought tanks up these slopes through frost and mud with no hesitation. I wasn't sure how many others in the New Order could've pulled it off. Just a few, a handful of crazy bastards.

"General." I called out at the Galidraani man as he was about to leave. "Make sure your engineers' calculations are precise to point. I will send the signal to the rest of the 501st to pull out."

Tulan and I made our way out of the fortress soon thereafter and set up on a nearby house's roof overwatching the city below.

<"To all 501st callsigns, this is Gladius Actual--"> I stuttered, it will always feel unnatural to be the Gladius Actual. Belisarius and Agrippa - I could never match 'em. Not even in fifty lifetimes. These were Men among men.

We pulled a goddamn miracle here, though. Ain't too shabby...

Now to finish the job. The Sith must fall.

<"--begin an immediate retreat from the premises of the Fortress...">

<"...we're bringing it and the mountains down on the city.">

A thousand and one questions and remarks flooded my comms, mainly from my sergeants but I cut it off completely and leaned back.

I plucked the cigar Tulan had given me and thoughtfully observed it. A nasty smile. Fuck it, I deserve one. I unsealed the helmet and clipped it on my belt, the frigid airbrushed my hair - a welcome respite to the sweat, blood, and tears.

Espada probably wanted to rip me a new one open for cutting off my comms. Hell, Rebel was probably still screeching through them, thinking the louder he was the greater the chance I'd hear him.

Hell, I did. I've never met a louder man than Rebel.

But I was certain that when the Galidraanis started their show, even he would be speechless.

"From here to Dromuund Kaas, Captain Kor." I raised an imaginary toast at the famed warrior beside me.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'BLIZZARD'
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Melee | Grenades

NO QUARTER
​

Tempered rage. He'd seldom operated then as he did now. Even on the streets of Garang, clamoring to reclaim his vaunted homeworld, he'd kept his anger buried, even then. But he'd placed himself in isolation following that harrowing defeat, only to return to the battlefield which had seen a void of his presence at the second battle of Bastion. He'd eaten away at himself over the failure to capture a meaningless rock of hills and grain only to fail to be there at the time of his Empire's most dire need for the Imperator's guiding hand. Rurik did well enough to hold stalwart, that enigmatic man of iron had always done his task. To the letter, to the end. Unlike his superior.

If he was to return to Bastion now, it should only be led in chains on the way to be flogged in front of his people. For his failure to protect them, the only well and true responsibility he had as a leader of men, as the supreme commander of their armed forces. He failed them. He could only return with a pyre ablaze of Sith banners and a mountain of Sith corpses in his shadow.

Each inch of metal was conquered in the blood and firepower of the 501st. It was looking to his flanks, to see them, donning the very same pattern of armor he was, with the etchings of the fallen mirroring his own that he was brought his peace in the chaos. There was no sight and sounds more brutalist than this battle of primal wills tangling for supremacy. Awash in the blood, they continued forward up this Pyramid of stone and gold.

Each step made him doubt the prominence of the Helgardi he'd slain in the streets beneath. Surely there'd be more fanfare accompanying his arrival into battle. An illusion. One he'd conquer soon enough. Flanking his ascension was his Fist, his will made manifest in the 501st.

He continued the climb, the march of perserverence with rifle in hand.

And then his 'peace' was disturbed by the call from her. He'd not heard her voice in a long time. Too long.

<<”Transmit emergency broadcast, code Snake-Genesis-Engima. Mayday..mayday...coordinate grid negative sixteen hundred, positive thirteen-fifty. Mayday, mayday!”>>

He paused a moment, the hesitation allowing a Helgardi warrior to take advantage of the ceded ground, a blade cut his armored abdomen. He twisted in the direction of the attack's source, the buttstock of his rifle clashing against the warrior's face before a two round burst snuffed him away forever.

<<"Noted. Stay put.">> Was all he could muster in reply to her. He was far too deep in the belly of the beast now to turn tail and run. Not again, he thought. To do the same here that he did at Bastion, to be 'absent'. He would see that throne of blood himself.

<<"Bline. Take whatever you can muster to extract Vindicate-Actual coordinate grid negative sixteen hundred, positive thirteen-fifty. Double time it, bring her back alive or the Sith will be the last of your worries. That's an order. Move.">> He said, his voice bathed in bitter cruelty. Not unlike the Sith they both maligned would speak to them. He might apologize later, or maybe Djorn would gather enough context himself to realize why he packed so much urgency into his tone. Regardless, they were both abrasive men with a mutual respect for eachother and a mutual drive to do what need be done. He could only hope he bought his stock in the right place.

<"Forward. No other option."> He stated. The Iron Sun would rise above this fortress before the day was done. He'd make damn well sure of it.

By any means necessary.​

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Jorus Fel | Kosca Gaelt | Ravraa Vyshraal | Ragnar the Untested | Black Sgáire | Onansi of Thyrsus | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Joesph Leigh | UX-0626 | Syd Celsius | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT

​

 

[Kiff Brayde]

S T O R M B R E A K E R

Objective: Parlay
Allied Tag: Verin Oldo | Finn Roberts | Tristan Evore | Moff Drybis Lyken
Enemies Tag: Caarlyle Rausgeber | Enlil | Scourge Harz | Var Koon | Fiolette Fortan | Naier Rambeigh

Carrier and Atmospheric Superiority Lines | Helgard Atmosphere
​

Establishing relatively comfortable air superiority over Helgard was a surprisingly easy feat accomplished. Contrary to the intelligence they had been given, there were remaining Sith Forces in-atmosphere, and the New Imperial Order naval presence was. . . underwhelming, to say the least. But the old Sith fleet had been evenly matched with New Imperial forces -- that was, until the Confederates arrived.

The 572nd and 573rd Atmospheric Superiority Lines had descended from Helgard's low orbit in a halo ringed by fire. Swarms of droid starfighters had erupted from carriers, darkening the skies. The mission of the Confederates were clear: evacuate as many Helgardi citizens from the current areas of conflict as possible to be temporarily relocated. The priority of the Sith Empire may be the eradication of the New Imperial Order, but the Confederacy's prime purpose was the same reason that they'd allied with the Sith Empire against the Bryn'adul in the first place; the protecting of the Galaxy's innocents, those who usually fell to the backdrop in these large-scale conflicts.

Along those lines, the dropships and assault landers of the fleet had already been repurposed not to ferry soldiers into battle but to assist in the evacuation, filling their holds to capacity with citizens as droid forces established safe zones that citizens could evacuate from, doing their best to keep away from the main war-torn centers of engagement in order to maximize the safety of citizens embarking on the Confederate ships. What they were doing was working.

But they would still need more time.

The Storm King | Helgard Orbit
​

Kiff observed the metrics of the evacuation from the comfort of the Storm King's command bridge, watching as the evacuation was relayed in real-time through the main holotable that both showed a live feed of the evacuation, miniature holoprojection dropships rising from the ground to their respective capital ship, and charts that relayed all the information in numbers and graphs.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the metal rim of the holotable. The evacuation was running smoothly. But not nearly as fast as he'd hoped for. They simply didn't have enough landers to get all citizens out of the combat zone in one go, and the back-and-forth ferrying was taking a severe toll on the narrow window of time the Confederacy would have before the fighting grew out of control.

But suddenly his worries were compounded by a new threat: the New Imperial Order had brought reinforcements.

"High Marshal, New Imperial fleet reverting from hyperspace. We count multiple ships -- and the flag of the Grand Admiral Rausgeber, the Tregressar." One of the comm-techs called out from their station. Kiff turned his head first to the comm-tech, then swearing slightly under his breath turned back to the holotable as he switched the projection from the evacuation below to a feed of the previously lackluster engagement that was taking place in-orbit. Sure enough, the New Imperial fleet was there, the Tregressar pointed directly at the Storm King's rear.

"Full thruster burn, bring us around starboard first. Order all starboard emplacements to swivel and track for broadside-vector engagement, and transfer power to favor rear and starboard shields," Kiff ordered quickly, striding away from the holotable to the fore of the bridge. "Braga, get me a read on Verin's fleet. Tell them that their presence would be appreciated," his called over to his second-command, his voice dripping with ire.

Braga nodded, and not a moment later Verryck spoke up. "Incoming transmission, High Marshal. The Tregressar is hailing us."

Kiff pursed his lips. "Let it through. Let's see what our dear Imperial friend has to say."

Verryck nodded and entered several command inputs before the Grand Admiral's boisterous, theatrical voice began to play over the audio-amplification of the Storm King's bridge. “High Marshal Brayde.” The Admiral snarled. The visage projected on the holotable seemed to be. . . more youthful? Exuberant? Not quite the same man, at least, that he'd fought over Dantooine. The Admiral proceeded. “Last we met in battle you abused my honor and robbed me of dignity while flying the flag of truce. I trust you understand the gravity of your treachery.” Rausgeber added, “For I intend to provide a punishment equal to your cowardice. And your discretion will be what decides it. Should you acquiesce, your fleet can leave, barring you. And you will be tried in accordance to military norms." The Grand Admiral hautily claimed, "Decline my generous offer? I will make you watch as my men perform live autopsies and experiment on your subordinates. Let you watch as they writhe, being cut and cauterized by the blade. Find out how much pain one of your officers can take. How many organs they really need.” Carlyle smirked.

“Should you deny my offer, I do assure you, I will make their torment eternal," the Grand Admiral finished.

Verryck looked as if he was about to say something, but Kiff held up a hand, silencing him. "Patch me through," Kiff said instead, and a moment later he got a nod from Verryck indicating that his projection was now being relayed to the Tregressar.

"Grand Admiral Rausgeber, I thought I recognized your dulcet tones coming up over the astral plane," Kiff began. "Your offer is certainly tempting, although I'm afraid I'll have to decline. If I recall correctly, it was your forces who fired upon my fleet without warning, and right after I'd offered a truce. But hey, I'll digress -- I'm a pretty forgiving person," Kiff sardonically remarked. There was an air of characteristic defiance to contrast his pompous and theatrical foil.

"Let me offer you a counterplan. I give you ten seconds to get your pompous, no-good, Imperial arse out of this orbit and I'll pretend to forget I ever had to deal with you in the first place. If you choose to decline? I hope you find the prospect of spending the rest of eternity as minute particles floating through space appealing. I'll let you think it over," Kiff finished, closing the transmission.

Braga looked at him, surprised, a subtle undertone of worry conveyed through her voice. "What's your plan, Kiff?" She didn't use Kiff's rank, an indication that she really was worried.

Kiff looked at her, the defiant expression he'd assumed in the transmission gone, replaced by a face tightened with grim anticipation. "Stall."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Flagship

• x1 Storm King-class Star Dreadnought
  • CNS Storm King

534th Carrier Line

• x1 Lucrehulk III-class Supercarrier
  • CNS Rook’s Gambit
• x2 Bonteri-class Escort Carriers
  • CNS Diadem
  • CNS Warlock’s Storm
• x4 Murkhana-class Escort Frigates
  • CNS Devenine
  • CNS Seer
  • CNS Wrackholt
  • CNS Dunedain

572nd Atmospheric Superiority Line

• x1 Grievous-class Star Destroyer
  • CNS Sunbreaker
• x2 Bonteri-class Escort Carriers
  • CNS Warden's Path
  • CNS Salvation's Grip
• x4 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Crucible
  • CNS Devil's Ruin
  • CNS Tomorrow's Call
  • CNS Divine Calling
• x6 Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships
  • CNS Achen
  • CNS Lamia
  • CNS Encore
  • CNS Dissonance
  • CNS Lionheart
  • CNS Allegro

573rd Atmospheric Superiority Line

• x1 Grievous-class Star Destroyer
  • CNS Nightstalker
• x2 Bonteri-class Escort Carriers
  • CNS Iron Fist
  • CNS Saladin
• x4 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Algeron
  • CNS Bellicose
  • CNS Luminant
  • CNS Crimson Heart
• x6 Miraj-class Heavy Assault Dropships
  • CNS Madraguda
  • CNS Plemuso
  • CNS Agrona
  • CNS Refrain
  • CNS Protostar
  • CNS Sonata

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• The 572nd and 573rd Atmospheric Superiority Lines and the 534th carrier line are currently carrying out mass-scale evacuation of the Helgardi civilian population, and have established relatively comfortable air superiority in Helgard's atmosphere.
• The Storm King is pivoting on starboard to prepare for engagement with the Tregressar. Shields have been focused on both rear and starboard angles, and starboard weapon emplacements are rotating to prepare for engagement along broadside vectors.

​

​

​

​

​

 

[Willan Tal]

Brigadier General- Willan Tal
1st Galidraani volunteers armoured infantry brigade
1st Battalion of the Brigade' Fighting first.'
New Imperial Order
Location: Hjallaheim city
OBJ2
Ally tags: Vostok Grauv Zakaria Black Ragnar the Untested Djorn Bline Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Republic Engineering FN-999 Enedina Tal Kolson Vrask Tyrell Paxxus Ravraa Vyshraal Noel Strasza Creuat Uriel Tokarev Arminius Jorus Fel Careena Fett Ves Fett Rika Hiro Tulan Kor

Enemy Tags: TBA

​

​

<< "Tal to Brigade command, this is an urgent warning to all Galidraani forces present in and around the mountain to evac or shelter in their tanks, 2nd battalion and 1st battalion commence bombardment of the mountain in five minutes over.">>

Tal turned away from his comms, looking back up at the mountain with a look of awe and equal parts anxiety over what was to come. His men either moved to get inside the tanks for shelter or moved the tanks into firing positions either side of him. The distant sounds of fighting still raging around the column, either the sounds of Sith troopers encountering some Imperial forces or the sound of Helgardi holdouts dying out one by one. He didn't envy the Helgardi or Sith in the immediate vicinity of the mountain, though perhaps it was small mercy they had no idea what was about to happen.

"We need to get these people on tanks as fast as we can and then get the hell out of here!" cried a junior officer who was stood ferrying brigade troops to the nearest tank frantically in anticipation of the avalanche, his eyes crazed with fear as he looked up Tal perched on his tank. His partner who bore the second lieutenant's rank stood observing the burning horizon, blaster pistol in hand and binoculars in the other.

General Tal appeared unbothered, but he let the pair speak their troubles.

"We should press on while we still have the advantage," the red-haired, Second Lieutenant suggested. "We can take th –"

"We don't know how long it'll be before we receive reinforcements!" another officer broke in. He was only a holographic image on Tals hologram device, but Tal still humoured his opinion. "The Helgardi could cut us off anytime, and then we'd be forced to fight to the death or leave the bulk of 2nd and 3rd battalion behind. We should pull out now. We've already saved as many as we could."

"Gentlemen, when that mountain blows its top, there won't be no Helgardi to surround us, and I know our tanks are well built and sturdy, better to wait it out in the protection of our armour than run like craven cowards and be cut down," Tal replied matter of factly, seemingly unphased by the idea of a near gargantuan avalanche falling on the city.

"Fire on the mountain, and get in that blasted tank before i have you shot."

<<"Tal to all units, take imminent cover or seek an exit from the mountain, we are firing over.">>

Tal climbed into his hatch, anticipating the apocalyptic scenery to follow, hand on his commlink as he looked ahead waiting for the moment. He wiped the sweat from his brow and brought up the commlink to his mouth and proclaimed.

<<"Fire.">>
[centre]​

​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Lord-Major Erskine Barran
1st Galidraani-Volunteers Armoured-Infantry Brigade,"Tal's Devils"
2nd Battalion,"Blue-Hearts"
New Imperial Order

LOCATION: Sauafellslond, inner-city

OBJECTIVE 2: Siege of Hjallaheim/Sauafellslond

ALLIES: Willan Tal Black Sgáire Ragnar the Untested Kosca Gaelt Savoh Muska Dorian Sicarrio Jorus Fel Noel Strasza Rika Hiro

Having sat and discussed whiskey and the Brigadier-General's next move, the Lord-Major and Black Sgáire would drink together as Erskine's tanks enacted a forward push on the final Helgardi remnants in Sauafellslond. Sitting with them was young Marne, accepting whatever flask or bottle was passed his way and passing back with polite thanks each time; Sgáire, once he'd seen who'd brought Barran from the eastern turret-nest, would tell of the lad's already-earned merit and the potential he yet retained for later on in his service with the Carrack Rangers engineer-company. Eventually getting around to more pressing matters, (after moving on, and segueing on from lengthy talk of the Blue-Hearts' achievements as a battalion) the talk of whiskey and Tal's next move would calm the mirth enough to hear the recognisable voice of Tiberius over the local-comms, issuing orders from within the mountaintop fortress.

<"To all 501st callsigns, this is Gladius Actual-">
Hold on a minute....

'Sgáirra, get over here and listen to this.'

<"Begin an immediate retreat from the premises of the Fortress... We're bringing it and the mountains down on the city.">

'Sgáirra, take your equipment and leave anything you can't carry at speed. Hop on mah tanks if yees have ti, just clear the mountain and move as fast as ye can.'

Bursting out of the captain's dugout, the Lord-Major ran eastward to the turret-nest he first entered through, ordered the engineers there to clear the area, then led the way by jumping out into the snowy madness below. With his new acquaintances in hot pursuit, Barran would sprint as fast as he could towards the distant Cataphracts, hoping the walkers were smart enough to move at their fastest in the aggressive, pre-emptive push northwards. No explosion as yet, but the rapidly-descending soldiers were safely assuming it wouldn't be long before the charge was detonated, so all the Carrack Rangers and all the riflemen desperately followed the Lord-Major in his downhill sprint to safety.

'KEEP MOVING!!! YOU LAZY BUGGERS SHOULD BE OVERTAKING ME BY NOW!!!!', the Major roared as he lowered his posture to ramp up his sprinting speed to an even-greater extent, tilting his head down with arms swinging almost as frenetically as the strides of his legs. Every sinew was burning with exertion, but the old Major cared not, as Erskine had been missing that sensation for some time, and wished to return to physical-training soon as the desire to do so momentarily distracted him from the mayhem of Helgard. Coming back around to the blizzards and the sounds of warfare on all sides, Erskine locked eyes on the back of Myles' tank, (already down to the snowy flat valley by the time the incline began to lessen under his feet) giving the Lord-Major enough motivation to clench his jaw and make one last dash to the safety of the city's outer districts.

<"Tal to Brigade command, this is an urgent warning to all Galidraani forces present in and around the mountain to evac or shelter in their tanks, 2nd battalion and 1st battalion commence bombardment of the mountain in five minutes over.">

'Gies yer hand, ya short-legged dumplin'! Yer no jumpin' oan wi baby-strides like that! GIES IT!!!'

After pulling Black Sgáire up to the engine-cover of Myles' tank, Lord Erskine had also managed to pull most of the engineers from the plateau's eastern turret-nest, with Sapper Marne being the last to attempt climbing onto the Cataphract, though the lad would be the one who struggled his hardest to achieve it. Grabbing the lad's arm by the material of his jacket, Erskine yanked with all his power to pull young Marne atop the Cataphract, then banged on the hatch-door to signal his order for Myles' crew to increase the tank's speed to it's utmost. Then, as all the passengers on top of the tank took their opportunity to relaxed their lungs, they turned back to gaze on the doomed mountain they had only just taken a while before; awaiting the explosion, awaiting the cataclysmic avalanche that was expected to follow right after.

'Time t'sit back an' enjoy the show, lads. We're almost clear, an' so are the others.'

When the Lord-Major had linked up with his ACV-crew, the Carrack Rangers' commander and his wunderkind were invited aboard to warm up and enjoy the avalanche from the comfort of the seats by the rear window-slat, but the engineers had kindly refused the offer for the sake of a better view. Guessing they were all exhausted on Myles' tank, Barran graciously left the engineers to it, re-entering to raised eyebrows from everyone working within; even Shugg was wondering why Erskine bothered with his risky little adventure, but kept his mouth shut knowing this was becoming the new normal for his Lord-Major, just like the others. Sniggering at the comfy little bears in their roving hibernation-cave, the Lord-Major just jumped back out again and joined his new acquaintances atop Myles' tank once more, choosing to enjoy the,"Fireworks" with a better view after all.

<"Tal to all units, take imminent cover or seek an exit from the mountain, we are firing over.">

As Myles' tank rolled towards Lord Erskine, they stopped to allow the Major up top to sit with the engineers, roaring into movement as soon as Erskine banged on the hatch-door for the second-and-final time. The blizzard would continue to inundate the men he was sitting with, but Barran cared little-and-less about it, for the Carrack Rangers onboard had managed to save a bottle of Chara-820 from their home planet of Galidraan 4; bringing out his hipflask to contribute, the Lord-Major's personal stock of Cladhan-814 was met with mild fanfare and endearing slaps to his shoulders. If anyone within sight or earshot had caught such calmness, in the face of a potential avalanche of cataclysmic magnitude, one would think Black Sgáire's engineers were preparing for celebrations with fireworks; and not a worry could be seen on Barran's face either, pointing pretend gun-fingers at the fortress in anticipation of Tal's objective-completing command.

<"Fire.">
​

​

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Tags: Rika Hiro
Gear: Alpine armor/In signature
Mild gore warning, second to last paragraph.​

Synthetic lungs wrenched the most from every breath as pounding footfalls carried her through the Helgardi streets. War-dirtied snow bled into slush from the traffic of troopers and vehicles, the grit of foreign worlds having created an ugly paste on the city's face. But the snow's tainted hue slowly faded as a crimson trail led Cara down lesser trod paths, leading to an area of the city where fresh snow had fallen again. It would have felt like a refuge if not for the jarring quiet. Every exhale, every step, gave her the same anxiety as a bomb's faceless countdown. She had no advantage here, and she even doubted the prospect of equal footing.

The voice rang louder than any strafing run.

Cara whirled about, moving her arm's rifle from point to point. The window?

The corner?

The alley? The doorway?

The ridge of the roof? The other roof?

Nothing.

Her lips turned into a sneer more hateful than the last. It was toying with her, but what could she do? If she ran away it would have followed, surely. Or perhaps... perhaps it would have left. She could have escaped. But no this thing was intelligent, it could blend in and track her. Cara would have been leading it right back to--

"Shut up!" It was a shout to her own thoughts as much as it was to the machine. "They couldn't have programmed you with a better script?" Cara moved forward again. "The Dark Lord and Empress? I don't care what they could ever think," with the lie her eyes scanned left then right, above then behind, then down to the trail again, "I'm quite selfish, really. I do what they need and they give me what I want. Quite a symbiotic relationship..." not as much of a lie. As her gaze moved upward she saw a color that drew fear. It was the same shade as the jacket the android had worn, partially covered in snow. Another trick, perhaps. The machine was lying in wait and throwing its voice, awaiting for her to come closer.

Wasn't it?

With teeth clenched she had hazard another step but averted her eyes, acting as if to not notice the body. She then gave a laugh both fake and lofty, trying to buy enough time to pull a few more slow, cautious paces. She couldn't miss this time. "Crippled? Curious slip from something at the mercy of its strings. Which humans put those on you?"

Close enough. The whir was sharp as her arm spun around to unleash three thundering explosions on the prone form. Six shells tore through both body and ground leaving little to survive their devastation. But instead of smoldering metal and synth-skin there fell a layer of red mist. Pink and red bulged from shorn stumps, white splinters punctured through bruised skin, and the head--at first face down and obscured--now showed half of what remained of a Helgardi maw.

Cara stumbled toward the remains, unbelieving, searching. Her free hand twisted away the tattered remains of the android's jacket, its new color running down her forearm.

". . ."

Cara, you idiot.

​

 

[Enlil]

Allies: NIO | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Kestus Bralor
Enemies: TSE | CIS | EE | Tristan Evore | Moff Drybis Lyken | Kiff Brayde | Seela Leini | Alamara Tesco​

"Cede command proper to the Grand Admiral," the King commanded to the midshipman as his eyes darted toward the updated holoprojection. "While it has been interesting to watch this farce unfold, the time for playing cat and mouse with the Sith Imperials is past. We will break their formation and assert our dominance over the system. Rausgeber is proven in this task, and it is my policy to allow those with wisdom to guide my hand."

There was a noteworthy pause on the deck at the order. The crew looked between themselves and then back to the King. "With respect, my lord, you are our direct commander, and we prefer to take our orders from you." The others echoed the sentiment with ayes, and Enlil sneered.

"This is the order I have given," he reiterated. "We are of the same allegiance. Regardless of your feelings toward Rausgeber, he is the appointed commander of the fleets. I will not abide the thought of disrespecting the position he has earned at the behest of Irveric Tavlar."

"But sir," came the protest. "We served at Prefsbelt IV. We saw-"

"This is not the time to make complaints, Ensign," he snarled, making the demotion clear for everyone to hear. "We are in the heat of battle, your slowness to respond has cost us precious time that could be used against the Sith. Defy me again at your peril."

There was an inferno in his eyes as Enlil turned his gaze on the others. "Do not waste my time. Hail the NIV Tressegar immediately."

After a brief static, the holodisplay flickered to life. Enlil began to speak. "Grand Admiral Rausgeber, I have given the order to cede command of the Resplendence and its constituent fighters to you." As he spoke, the comm flashed, and the image of Kestus Bralor appeared. Enlil had initially followed the order given by Tavlar to cede to Bralor, but due to the preeminent nature of Carlyle Rausgeber's position, the man took supreme authority in all things Naval. "I do apologize, Bralor," he said, "it seems that in these matters we have both been outranked. Regardless, let the Sovereign Imperator's will be made manifest; and I do look forward to seeing both of you gentlemen under more favorable circumstances."

He swiped a hand to cut all extraneous communications beyond the direct orders from Rausgeber's command from the Resplendence's feed.

"What is the status of the derelict ships?" he asked.

"All but a single Derriphan class were torn apart by the Turbolasers, sir," a woman responded. "The Sith Imperials got one through, but we were able to whittle it down to negligible with the point defense lasers prior to its collision with the shields."

"Ideal," he responded. "But that was hardly the bulk of his forces. What is the status of our shielding?"

"Minor damage, but some was sustained in the impact."

"Excellent. Recall the TIEs, see to it that they appeal for their new orders from the Tressegar."

"Very good, sir," she gave a stiff salute.

"Ensign, prime the megamasers," Enlil ordered. "Continue to pressure the defense fleet while the Grand Admiral gets into position to engage with the enemy. We came here to play distraction, and we will not fail in that duty."

"Ready for your orders," the man stated.

"Inform the Grand Admiral that we have the Megamasers online and for him to prioritize targets." Enlil glanced at the projection again and blinked. The Sith Imperial commander had moved to engage the Gra'tua Cuun and subsequently broken away from the Resplendence. "It would appear our bid to divert their attention has paid with interest," the King spoke, unsmiling. "Utilize the opportunity to fire turbolasers into the ships that seek to pass us by and engage with Bralor. They may make it past, but they will not do so unscathed."

If this enemy commander sought to ignore them, then they would be made to pay a blood tax.

"Belay that order to the TIEs," he barked suddenly. "Have them sortie with the squadrons that the Sith Imperial fleet have scrambled. Ensure they are well entertained while the New Imperial assets tighten their grip on Helgardian airspace."

Interceptors and Fighters screamed past to engage with Dancer and Breaker, in an effort to strangle the Moff's effort to establish superiority in the region. "Make of yourselves the greatest inconvenience you can," he commanded his men. "We are a single ship, but to the Sith, we are a wall that they will not breach."

Spoiler: Commands

1: Enlil cedes overall command to Carlyle.
2. Resplendence takes negligible damage to shields from a single, largely dilapidated ship.
3. The Resplendence opens fire on enemy ships seeking to bypass him en route to the Gra'tua Cuun.
4. Megamasers are primed to attack targets at Carlyle's behest.
5. Enlil orders his TIEs to sortie with Dancer and Breaker squadrons.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
SONS OF MANDALORE
OPERATION IRON WILL
THE OATHSWORN 6/6
BASILISK WAR DROID
Beskar'gam | Main Weapon | Side-Arm | Melee | Grenades | Cradle

YOU'RE DYING TODAY

​

<"Just up ahead!"> One of the supercommandos piped up, firing a three round burst of his maser into the chest of the trooper, he was dead before he the ground. Another corridor and another were much of the same, the Mandalorians moving with urgency through these killing halls. It only took three of them to clear the path, to rid each and every pass in this underbelly of the Sith filth. To murder them like the sick animals they say the Mandalorians as. A sick but poetic justice with each pull of the trigger, each swipe of the blade. Reckoning.

The power generator was soon upon them, the reactor thrumming with a fluorescent glow.

<"Set the charges."> Trajan commanded, tossing the pack of charges to one of the Oathsworn who it into his arms, unfurling the satchel before he began to magnetically attach them to the power core, six in total.

But the Sith were quick on their tail soon enough, several sections rushing down in their trail to envelop and over take the Mandalorians as they set the tower to blow.

<"Volker! Watch the side facing north, set rail charges in the choke point. I'll take the south entrance. We need to clear a path out for once the charges are armed and we're ready to fire."> Trajan says, posting up by a metal barrier he peers down the sight of his disruptor, firing a two round burst into the first Sith trooper in the advance...and then the next and another. Six or so abruptly filled the hall once more before he fired a wrist rocket in their direction.

<"Fett. Our charges are primed and ready, we'll be out of here in ninety seconds. What's the situation with our intel?"> He, fully maintaining his composure even as the urgency of the encounter began to mount. Regardless, when they needed to leave, they'd be out.

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Careena Fett | Ves Fett | Droz Munin | Djorn Bline | Vyca Durren
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
HEIOABOER, HELGARD
TASK FORCE 'DAGGER'
ARMORWEAVE

Fire and destruction was all that laid behind his every step, every crunch he stepped on the snow meant something was going to burn. He was true to his promises despite the deceitful snake he was. Burn this planet to a crisp with all the Sith as a testament to his vengeance - their vengeance. Let the Sith suffer as they have.

The armory was ransacked and left to debris with everything in it as Djorn and his agents acquired what they needed. A huge explosion was let out from all the munitions and explosives that was inside. Everything that they needed to leave a desolated city behind them and topple down the laboratory of the spire that looked above all in Heioaboer.

But that would have to wait.

<<”Transmit emergency broadcast, code Snake-Genesis-Engima. Mayday..mayday...coordinate grid negative sixteen hundred, positive thirteen-fifty. Mayday, mayday!”>>

Lyra.

He wasn’t exactly on good terms with the general as the two soldiers had a disagreement and a clash of ethics on Bastion. A comrade in need, but his mission was more important than that.

<“She can handle herself, I’ve got a city to-“>

<<"Bline. Take whatever you can muster to extract Vindicate-Actual coordinate grid negative sixteen hundred, positive thirteen-fifty. Double time it, bring her back alive or the Sith will be the last of your worries. That's an order. Move.">>

<“-burn, shit.”>

That was an order from central command, the top of the brass. Someone Djorn could confide in and rush alongside in battle without question.

<“On it, Boss.”>

A detour from his mission here. He was the main head of this assignment, but he was sure that his subordinates would carry out his will to the last letter. All command would reside in each cell of operatives as this was a mission with little control and orders. All they had to do was burn Heioaboer in whatever fashion they want.

For now? Reaching Lyra and getting her out of whatever situation she was in was his objective. Following coordinates and getting there as fast as possible.

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Careena Fett | Ves Fett | Trajan Fett | Vyca Durren
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Darth Tigran

 

[Tulan Kor]

Allies: New Imperial Order l Gladius Company l Jorus Fel l Onansi of Thyrsus l Willan Tal l DECEASED Erskine Barran l Ravraa Vyshraal l Noel Strasza l Irveric Tavlar l THE ENTIRE NEW IMPERIAL ORDER


Enemies: TSE l CIS l Joesph Leigh l UX-0626


Location: Hjallaheim, Helgard - The Fortress

I SEE NO GODS HERE
​

Rage.

It was what fueled Tulan.

The Jedi believed in blinded you, made you stupid. Tulan's rage was focused, hardening him and amplifying his decision making. The charges were set above the base of the fortress, above the support structures on the slope of the mountain. Taking out the actual support structures would've been a futile effort, requiring too many explosives and too much time.

The idea was to bring the mountain down with the fortress- and that was easier than removing steel. Man was easy to remove nature, but removing man required more effort than Tulan could afford to spend. Demon Company lead the Sappers into position, piling explosives in such a manner that would guarantee an avalanche- essentially you had to be cautious, a mass of explosives at the top of the area you wanted to avalanche, and then smaller explosives dug into the snow to guarantee the "stream" of snow and rock would carry down the mountain.

The tanks firing at the peak began the process, a beautiful symphony of horror and destruction.

Tulan threw his hands up, signaling the sappers to do their dirty deeds done cheap. He thought of pressing the detonator himself for timing, but he wanted to give the sapper's experience and more importantly, a war story. True to form, confident their position was safe, the sapper did just that.

The distance they were at levied the explosions as pop-like sounds, but up close, it threw snow and rock several hundred feet- while the shockwave was what Tulan wanted. The shaped charges spread the shockwave under the sheet of snow and ice, and loosened the rock underneath.

The avalanche began.

Open comm channel. Anyone who was listening- Imperial or not, would get his message. A local Stormtrooper comms guy boosted his radio from his pack.

"Avalanche, avalanche, avalanche! We're burying the Capital!"

He cut off the communication, watching the cascade of white descend to the fortress, and breaking the beams and supports that held it to the mountain. To the Capital below-

, the sky darkened as the falling snow began to waiver over the city. The mountain, and most of the fortress- was coming down onto the Capital.
Tulan watched as the oblivion and hell came from the mountain onto the Capital.

He radioed the Imperator himself.

"Thy will be done."

A cheap grin formed over Tulan's face as he turned to face Gladius Actual, raising both of his eyebrows.

"How's that for a headline?"

He reached over and grabbed the kid by the shoulder, sighing in content as he watched the Capital City being rushed to it's early demise.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Location: Surface, Helgard
Objective: Save research data and artefacts; and try to take out them from the planet.
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: N/A

[ The Attack of the Dead Men ] ​

For now, the situation was still unchanged, and she didn't seem to be able to really control such a body. However, she did not want to continue to stand here and defend herself. Previously summoned undead killed NIO soldiers and those who would kill TSE men in abundance. The new dead will then stand up and continue the fight, only now on the side where Ingrid also stood. The more people the enemy kills, or the more people die in them, the more undead soldiers will be.

Meanwhile, her men told the woman on a communication channel that every find, sample, and thing on the previous list that they wanted to take out of the planet was put together. So, if Lady Vandiir wants to join them, then now is the time to do so. Tried to throw her opponent away with telekinetics, at least enough to keep them further apart. If that wasn’t feasible, she simply teleported away. One way or another, but got further away from the other woman.

They had to win here today, so now was not the time to fight a one-man fight with someone. As soon as she got rid of the other, moved on to where she could be safer. Telepathically send a message to the Tower Vandiir employees that they didn’t have to wait for her to get out of here while they had a chance. After all, most of them were civilians; they shouldn’t have been here originally either. Using telekinetics, jumped up to a higher balcony from which she could see the surroundings.

It was time to send more undead after the NIO soldiers. Made hand gestures and uttered more Sith words, after which more dead soldiers rose from the ground and went into battle.


OOC: Sorry to write again, I waited for my partner for more than a week and the invasion is over tomorrow. I want to close the story and not quit and leave the thread without closing.

 

[Rika Hiro]

L A D Y S I L E N C E
C O M P N O R
H E L G A R D
Tag list: Noel Strasza Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran Black Sgáire @Ragnar @Vostok Jorus Fel Dorian Sicarrio Ingrid L'lerim Enlil Djorn Bline Trajan Fett
Opponent: Cara Dorniarn
Hits called with permission as always

​

And in that moment of surprise, the droid made her move. Moving on the Bakuran like a harbinger of death from out of the snowy oblivion that was Hjallheim. With all the grace and cold calculatedness of a Predator swooping in on her prey, and in that moment they stood face-to-face with barely an inch to spare between them. An evil look of sheer alien hatred on the HRDs face, blood leaking out of the corners of her mouth as she stared intensely into Caras's eyes. A wide bloodied smile formed on her previously blank face, looking away from the Bakuran, and down at the knife, she gripped tightly and then back up at her again.

"If only you came to realise."

Her knife sank deep in the Bakurans stomach; she twisted deeply and stabbed again. Seeing the woman buckle under her strength fueled her, and she brought down her blade again and again with increasing brutality.

"The flesh is weak."

The HRDs grin disappeared, replaced with a look of contempt for the bloodied cyborg under her knife, she let go of the woman who fell to her knees weakly and circled her slowly with bloodied knife in hand. Almost treating it like a game if it wasn't for the harsh reality that she would soon take the filths life and remove the cybernetic fused abomination from existence. She spoke up again, her tone a low sing-song voice as she knelt to get on eye level with the wounded Bakuran once more.

"Shame, you were such a good spor-"

ATTN HRD 234#. . . .
Return to nearest supervisor. . . .
Retrieve priority one sample. . . .
Target expendable. . . .
Seek agency depot soon. . . .

Asa fell to one knee, twitching erratically as the signals filled her cortex processor again, she tried shaking her head to gain her bearings but spewed more synthetic blood onto the floor. If she stayed out in the field any longer without coming for what the agency desired, Asa would be promptly terminated and face product retirement. That was if she didn't seek repairs soon too. Realising her predicament, she rigidly stood to and removed a needle and vial from her combat belt and moved over to the wounded Bakuran. Sticking the needle in her arm while she was incapacitated before putting the blood-filled vial back in her belt pouch.


Asa moved to leave hastily, but the Bakuran stirred again, clearly still breathing and determined not to die. Asa rolled her eyes at the Bakurans determination to seemingly carry on; knife brandished as she moved in front of Cara again. The HRD lifted the girl's chin with two fingers and forced her acquaintance to meet her cold dead gaze.


"Loyal, perfect sweet cripple, how well you served the Sith, now bear witness to your world fall around you."

And in one quick movement, she painted the nearby snow a bright shade of red.

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

Objective: PURGE DARKNESS
Location: Helgard Orbit//NIV Tregessar
Task Force RECKONING
Allies: Kestus Bralor | Enlil Jivim Vaak
Enemies: Kiff Brayde | Moff Drybis Lyken | Tristan Evore | Seela Leini | Alamara Tesco
L U L L A B Y

"Have Command Porel move his force to the Interceptor." Carlyle commanded watching the battle take place. He could spy them from the display, fighter bombers grouping from Moff Lyken's formation. "I have feeling the Sith will try to engage it, disable it and try to leave us." The Grand Admiral felt a smile tighten on his features. This was arguably the best part of being 'alive'. Joy. And of course liquor. But that was hardly appropriate now. "I would hate for them to be such... Rude guests of Helgards new landlords." The Grand Admiral chortled at his joke. Crude as it may have been. Beeping from the comms table informed him of a reply. He waited to hear his order enacted, seeing four escolta-class frigates pressing themselves up to . "Put it on."

Kiff Brayde's form then flourished into form. His blue hue dominating the table while Carlyle watched. Eyebrow quirked in wry curiosity. He had not anticipated the High Marshal would actually respond. And yet that made this moment all the sweeter. Brayde hadn't responded to Carlyle's rank at their previous engagement. But now Rausgeber sat in command. "Grand Admiral Rausgeber, I thought I recognized your dulcet tones coming up over the astral plane," Brayde began. Carlyle rolled his eyes. Flattery would get the whelp nowhere. "Your offer is certainly tempting, although I'm afraid I'll have to decline. If I recall correctly, it was your forces who fired upon my fleet without warning, and right after I'd offered a truce. But hey, I'll digress -- I'm a pretty forgiving person," Carlyle's amusement faded as the conman tried to rewrite his own history. Grimace and then bile began to bubble within him as the narcissist prattled on.

"Let me offer you a counterplan. I give you ten seconds to get your pompous, no-good, Imperial arse out of this orbit and I'll pretend to forget I ever had to deal with you in the first place." A counter demand of his own. Now that was something. Rausgeber gave nothing away with his cold expressing, inquisitively starring into Brayde. "If you choose to decline? I hope you find the prospect of spending the rest of eternity as minute particles floating through space appealing. I'll let you think it over." The Grand Admiral's smile turned to that of a grin. Oh yes. Now this was exciting.

"Prepare me for broadcast," The Grand Admiral barked to the comms team, "And I want it synced," He added, "You will jam all of their transmissions past this point, once I hang up." He glared at the junior officers who seemed to contemplate the order before providing their affirmation with clicking heels and salutes. Good. Very good. "Activate the KreigsGeist! We will crush them!"

The Dosuunian officer would appear on Brayde's holographic table again. This time with a shiteating grin. "High Marshal Brayde I must say your crude attempt to write your war criminality from history is quite something. Tickles me right here." He placed a hand over his heart, "However, I doubt you are seriously in a position as to manifest your threat from empty to words to feasible action." He paused, "As such, I am dismissing your ultimatum as nothing more than the bluff of a hollow man with no character. Terrified of an existence now hinging on my mercy." The Grand Admiral sneered, contempt and venom dripping from his voice. And that grin somehow grew larger, "Conversely however, I am glad you have chosen to end your career here High Marshal. As I am certain, I shall relish having you watch as I pluck the eyes from your wonderful command staff. Good day." With that, all communications from Sith and Confederacy were silenced by the Tregessar's gargantuan array of communications jammers.

"Grand Admiral," Commodore Gowe approached, "Firstly impressive work sir." The holographic display now flickered back to the battle at hand, "You were always a wordsmith." Gowe mused. Carlyle brashly scoffed and chuckled, "However sir, I have a report. High King Enlil sir. His fleet has taken a vicious beating, and now he requests firing solutions." Carlyle's brow furrowed as he moved to the display table, triangulating where Enlil's command vessel sat. She was right. It was in a rather precarious position. Enlil had made great sacrifices. Evidently. But this also carried something of a boon for the Grand Admiral. A potential new ally. He now needed to curry his favour, and of course, have him survive.

"Have his majesty fire defensively. But also to assist the Mandalorian contingent as much as possible." The Grand Admiral commanded, "He has done well but we now carry a force strong enough to relieve him." The Grand Admiral paused, and looked at his available command power, "Have the Brutality, Absolutist and Inquisitor move to engage vessels along with the Chasseur and Gurkha packs." Carlyle paused as he analysed the firepower he had available "Add the Dragoons in there. With fighter compliments, and have them run defensive formations. Ready to provide evacuation as neccessary." . And it was also dawning on him that the gargantuan Storm King was also pressing itself to broadside him. He could read that with how the shields and the vessel pivoted. "We will for now hold our position here." The Grand Admiral mused quizzically. The Storm King was already in range of the four largest vessels Rausgeber had dispatched.

The Tregessar, Malice, Gorgon and Prefsbelt were all raining kyber enhanced blows upon the vessel, with additional missile support. "Move up the Deaths Head, Terror, Crusade and Prefsbelt Glory to full range Along with the Charger and Cavalier. All guns are to be able to fire and smack Brayde around. Commodore Levin of the Tirallieur group is to engage the Storm King at longer range with his hypervelocity guns. Primary targets for him will be to engage his engines." Carlyle added, "For all other commands backing me, batteries are to all fire at will. Aim to disable the shields, then larger weapons systems. Then engines. We will strip his shield. Knock out his teeth. Break his legs." He sadistically growled. That was how they were to do it. Crush the enemy.

"If I may sir," Gowe paused, "We have a large compliment of petard bombers waiting at station sir. Loaded as per your order with the concussion missile cores." Carlyle remembered that. It had entirely slipped his mind, "But that is, not all sir. The petards are waiting in conjunction with other bombers." Gowe paused, "What is your instruction, sir?" Carlyle looked back to the map. He was certain he had most of the angles covered. But of course, one could not be sure.

"We will divide the petards in half." Carlyle explained, "Half will engage with the Rook's Gambit." Rausgeber drawled, "Targeting will naturally be the primary reactor. I want it detonated." He then paused, "How many petard squadrons have we got deployed?"

"Eighteen sir." Gowe reported. Carlyle was a bit taken back by this. Eighteen? Really? Still. It was enough for him. They would do their jobs wonderfully. He was certain of it.

"Well that is perfect for what I have planned." Rausgeber grinned, licking his lips like a predator. "Eleven squadrons will engage the Rooks Gambit. Targeting the reactor. The other seven will be finding themselves...." He paused and looked over the map until he found a vessel he liked. The HIMS Wrath. Clearly a vessel of some strategic importance, but also a memory of the past. A figment of his time in the First Order. "The Wrath." Carlyle drawled, "Fighter escort is to be provided, and once we have made impact, bombers are to be sent, along with interceptors to engage. Bombers are to move to hit..." He paused, "Are to move to hit the Star Destroyers Brayde is trying to get to low orbit." Carlyle smirked, "Cripple their low orbit supremacy. But only have them make their attack run once the petards hit. I'm certain they will provide an enviable distraction. Be sure to send some to engage the Wrath's fellow travellers. Particularly the King Staff and Dark Devil. Draw their fire toward me." He then paused, "And then also, the Rakghoul. Crush him and enable the Mandalorians to press an attack. Finish Brayde's fleet and end this conflict."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

NIV Tregessar
Prefsbelt-Class Super Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Prefsbelt
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Malice
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Gorgon
Reprisal-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Avenger
Harrower-Class Dreadnought (x)

NIV Interceptor
Tartarus-Class Interdictor (X)

NIV Crusade
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer (x)


NIV Brutus
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer


NIV Terror
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Absolutist
Pellaeon-Class Star Destroyer

NIV Mygeeto Pride
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer (x)

NIV Deaths Head
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Prefsbelt Glory
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Absolutist
New Imperial-I Class Star Destroyer

NIV Cavalier
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser (x)

NIV Charger
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Brutality
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

NIV Inquisitor
Cuirassier-Class Cruiser

3x Stalwalt-Class Carriers (x)

NIV Bombardier
Tirallieur-Class Frigate (x)

NIV Rainmaker
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Blitz
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Cassius
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

NIV Ad Victorium
Tirallieur-Class Frigate

3x Dragoon-Class Frigates (x)

7x Escolta-Class Frigates (x)

15x Gurkha-Class Frigates (x)

9x Cacadore-Class Corvettes (x)

Spoiler: Fighter Compliment and Actions

10x Petard Class Bombers are now launching toward the Rooks Gambit, concussion missile core loaded.
9x TIE/OT Outlander Squadrons are escorting this group

8x Petard-Class Bombers are moving to engage the HIMS Wrath, concussion missile core loaded.
5x TIE/HF Slasher fighters are escorting.

12x TIE/HB Bruiser Bombers have moved to engage the CINS Sunbreaker
8x TIE/OT Squadrons are escorting this group.

11x TIE/HB Bruiser Bombers are moving to engage the HIMS King Staff.
7x TIE/INx Interceptors are escorting this group

11x TIE/HB Bruiser Bombers are moving to engage the HIMS Dark Devil.
7x TIE/INx Interceptors are escorting this group.

11x TIE/HB Bruiser Squadrons are moving to engage the HIMS Rakghoul
7x TIE/HF Slasher fighters are escorting.

23x TIE/OT Outlander Squadrons remain in reserve, defending Taskforce Recokoning
9x TIE/INx Interceptors remain in reserve, defending Taskforce Reckoning
6x TIE/HB Bruiser Bombers remain in reserve, defending Taskforce Reckoning
6x TIE/HF Slasher Fighters remain in reserve, defending Taskforce Reckoning.

 

[Ragnar the Blooded]

HELGARD
SAUOAFELLSLOND
257TH LEGION
Allies: The New Imperial Order
Engaging: Darth Strosius

The Sith went rolling past him.

Naturally, his head twisted, following the move as he pivoted around. A short and effective maneuver to come around and face his enemy, the Sith's saber was in a direct course for his leg. On account of his twisting, the crimson beam came across his shin, of which the Zabrak didn't even bother to move to defend. The orange glow of his eyes brightened, amused.

Ragnar barely registered the beam crashing into his shin, for as soon as it did it vanished, shunting off back into its own hilt. The make of the armour, cortosis-weave spun through it made it highly resistant to energy based weapons. On account of the large amount of ore used in its construction, as expected, the saber would shut off.

Shifting to a one legged stance, a leg flew up in an attempt to kick the Sith right in the ribs, simultaneously with his sabers disappearance.

The following words of the Sith however raised his brows questioningly.

"Discipline. Something the NIO runs away from eh?"

That doesn't even make sense, Ragnar thought.

The New Imperial Order, the state that had seized the Braxant Run from the Sith Empire. The New Order that had wrenched Bastion, the Sith Empire's capital from them -- ran from... Discipline. Nonsensical, but Ragnar didn't give it anymore thought than that. To strike so deep into the heart of the Empire, to be on the literal doorstep of the Sith's new capital after losing it to the very same invaders, was proof enough that the Imperial nation didn't run from much, if anything.

From above, the bottom end of the saberstaff plunged forth in a bid to spear through the meaty part of the Sith's thigh. Meanwhile, in the same repetitive tone that he droned on with, his raspy voice continued speaking the virtues of the Imperial Knight's Codex.

"Will."

For it was the Will of the Imperial that had brought the revenge seeking forces of the New Order so deep. It was all or nothing. Against the galactic titan that was the Sith Empire, the New Imperials persisted. Without the proof of their Will shown across so many battles, the Discipline and concise Order in which they executed and followed commands, they would not have made it this far.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

V i n d i c a t e _ A c t u a l

307th Stormtrooper Legion // Darth Sybila
Task //: Annihilate

T h e _ F i r s t _ H u n t e r

Tenebrae Armor / Hand Of God / BR-212-'Jackal' ACR / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / Light Saber (s) / Void Grenade

“A Sith deals in half truths and fallacies, will you allow yourself to see through this lens of hate or seek absolution. You are alone but not in this struggle, not in the end, trust that-if you give in to your anger, if you cut him down as you did your Master. You will not walk away unscathed.” ​

A warning hung silently over her head. Alone, it would not buy her any advantage. Lyra’s teeth grinded together as her body shook from the assault of freezing temperature, her foot slid back as she braced herself. Her sevo enclosed around her blade tightly-reunited with spite. The incline of the glacier lay before her and she tucked her crimson blade close; waiting-spying.

She would not give up the advantage.

The blizzard came with nature's full wrath, that primal force that would conquer all until the likes of dawn. From the edges of the iceberg the winds ripped bringing a heavy drift of snow from the ocean and sped at her back assaulting her with salt and sleet. Images of her fleeing passed her memory fleeting as they were, as if she had forgotten it. The time to flee had passed and whatever path was driven before her was cemented.

So she was meant to fight the good fight kindly? Yes that was what a Jedi would do. Darth Maledictus own taunts had gone unanswered as she had plied herself to the battle, oh how they liked to talk and run their mouth. She felt the presence of the sentient that had attached itself to the saber, the emerald blade’s hilt hummed and pulsated in her gauntlet before it withdrew-leaving her with the lingering impression of a hand upon her shoulder. It knew exactly what she thought of baseless hope.

The Sith Pureblood, in his changing form was gone from her sights-maybe even lost to the storm but something far more wicked came her way. The sleet pelted her and it collected and froze atop the burnt gaps of her armor and drops slid down her screen. She reached up and dragged a metal digit across the screen to clear her sights. A single red beam cut through the white-out and Kascalion Giedfield emerged. The storm reached a new crescendo as thunder clapped overhead.

"I am curious...do you think Irveric loves you, Lyra? Do you think he will care if I drown your body in this sea? Or if I part your head from your fucking neck? He ordered your death on Bastion...like he did for all of us Sith...all of us who have embraced the Dark Side. Do you know what love even is?"

<“If you want to help me, if you serve the greater good then-”> she murmured, somewhere the words bordered a threat encroaching ultimatum to the disembodied specter. She raised her weapon in a single turn of her hand, lips pressed into a thin frown. Avernus had tried to no avail to cohere her but it was the better part noise now. The green blade cut her visage in half through the storm as she raised the saber vertically; an echo of her Master’s discipline and form. No answer came from the heavens or on the winds, the silence once again invited something far worse to come- <”Why am I not surprised.. Keep your silence Jedi. Through power I gain victory and my chains will be broken.”>

She parroted the words once introduced to her by the Sith Pureblood, but she clung to them now for some semblance of warmth to drive her through the night. She could feel the stirring weight of Kriegan resting his head against her chest, the unspoken trust of the babes she had swaddle at her chest. Shame threatened her mindspace. Her eyes burned, aching to hold her sons one last time. She knew of love. She knew who was waiting for her but it offered no solution she could grasp.

Any reinforcement, by land or aerial would be faced by the hellish storm, delayed. How many hold outs had she fought through, it was the most tormenting of tasks for a soldier. Her breath slowed for a moment as the Sith dashed toward her. She inhaled deeply to steady her erratic heart. She needed more time.

The woman hit the iceberg harder in an instant, a crack following her spine as Maledictus’ blade passed atop her again. Letting the world's weight wash over her and drive her body-unyielding as her joints screamed as her breath ran ragged. Lyra was letting go, the distant call begging her not to drown the abyss of her mind, trying to claw its way back up the incline to no avail. How many times had the Soldier been thrown into the dirt, tasted the blanken cement and their own blood?

Too many times-and all she saw was red.

When she lashed out with the blade, she seized the window of opportunity across his armor. The blade sliced in his mid and Lyra’s attention honed in, somewhere stuck in disbelief but it was the only invitation she needed to fight. She committed to each cut, throwing her weight behind the blade. Cold grey metal limb punched the ice as she pushed herself back as he cleaved his blade down, a smoking fissure left in her place by Maledictus’ blade in a single cut.

When his guard revealed, she lurched up preying upon him. The gap closed again between them as her blow glanced and he descended on her flank. They were two beasts gnashing and circling one another, nipping at each other's heels. As he swept his blade up catching her saber oddly she let it drag her aside. It drove her, feet trailing behind as she stumbled and her arms pulled back in tight as she swept low evading. The lull followed by herself crashing back in to the fight, throwing all resistance to the wall of his guard. They traded each cut and thrust, a blaken wound digging into her hip as they locked blades

She was limping before too long.

Lyra counted each cut and knick as she pressed him, refusing to still. Her severo still guarded her saber closely, distracting him with the humming green blade-following through with false strike to misdirect and string him along. Her own body begged and the radiating pain minted itself to the bone until she forgot how to breath. A snarl escaped her both limbs following through as she ravaged, the single pivot and turn dragged the blade across his back far too painfully fast.

There remained some semblance of the tactinoner, she could not revel now in pain or victory even if the favor was turning-but she couldn’t help but laugh. The woman pushed herself and plied it like a balm to the fatigue behind each stroke of the saber as they clashed again for the upper hand. The dark shadow that descended upon her peripheral betrayed her, too slow and she brought low. A crack drowned out the winds as Kascalion’s fist caught the crown of her helmet in an instant somewhere amidst fight, the physical impact jarred all senses..

Lyra had forgotten to fight dirty and she chastised herself. Tinnitus drowned her hearing. The glacier was gone, and she felt the pull and final snap of the blade in hand as he tested her, had she let it go or had she been disarmed? Her servo had remained locked, unmoving and she felt the weight of other saber still in hand. Lyra’s vision flickered black and her body collapsed beneath her.

The woman remembered standing-from behind the thin barrier of her helmet she pried back open her eyes. Her body sprawled out across the glacier, blood dripping from her temple pooling inside the armor as she came back around. A split arc’d across the screen, and she blinked rapidly to sharpen her gaze. There were shards digging in the flesh of her face, a fresh wave of pain burned and her servo clawed at the damage. The sub zero temperature seeped readily through the gaps-it was so cold and her lungs were hailed by a thousand needles. She coughed, short bursts of steam escaping her helmet.

Lyra dragged one hand beneath her and pushed herself to her feet, breaking the seal of the helmet. As he discarded his own armor she followed in suit, skirting around him warily, pulling back the rend helmet. The weight of it was foreign now and she hefted it aside with little remorse, still searching for her blade. The dark mass of metal rolled down the slope of the glacier into the gully of ice. The gale engulfed bare face through the snow, her sights trailed across the bloodied body of the Sith. Something sharper in her gaze, what he could sense manifested in the infernal stain in her eyes.

It betrayed how farther she had fallen since their clash over Bescane. Lyra beat her fist across her plate and chest, each breath she dragged in came with claws that dug into her throat and lung. It wouldn’t be long now, whatever was coming. Her hand shielded her sight as she gouged upon her handy work.The unnatural mess he was fully revealed before her.

He had been masquerading and her stomach lurched at the lengths he had gone to maintain his deformed and mutilated body. She could only make out the shadow of a man left, was this what awaited her at the end of this journey? Her vision unfocused, anger tapering as her body grew sluggish and she staggered to a halt; the gale threatening to send her toppling over. Lyra weakly called through the Force searching for the gifted blade, veiled panic-she couldn’t lose it.

"You...enthrall me to new levels of loathing, Lyra Voi'kryt," the man hissed, the steam from his mouth practically silver in the black light of the storm. Perhaps as a show of unity - or more likely dominance of the situation - he tossed his lightsaber away and let it roll down the ice. "You were trained well by Irveric and your former Master. That much is clear. But you could be so much more. Imagine the damage you could have done to me if you were able to hone your abilities? I could be dead by now...slaughtered like the pig I am...but yet, a God I stand still. Join me, Lyra...join the Sith and learn the true depths of your power."

She strained to hear his words over the snowstorm, eyes flickering as the crimson blade died and darkness consumed the stretch of the glacier. A terrible feeling consumed her, it was no longer a battle of martial prowess. Lyra narrowed her eyes tracking the dark outline of the inhuman-the snow blinding her. She staggered forward her hands outstretched to steady herself. Her digit rested on the switch of the crimson blade, begging to ignite it.

“It won’t matter how you put it Maledictus, I really am not moved. If there was ever a teacher out there, I have cut him down! I don't need you!” Lyra shouted in the haze, ridiculing him as steam trailed from her lips. “We-I have the groundwork-you needs us.”

The woman's expression paled as she stumbled through the words-she didn’t need anyone but it wasn’t what she had meant. What Sybila had revealed. The hot trail of blood pooled down into her sight and she dragged her hands over her eyes desperately, the smell of copper twinged by the oceanside. A section of the glacier gave out beyond them and her heart leaped as the swell of ocean took over the side of the glacier. The roar of the waters drowned her senses, gravity began to pull the ice into the depths as it began to capsize. She had minutes-less even.

Ocean water washed over them and she braced herself as the wave engulfed them, the salt burned every open wound as she was trapped in the hurricane; dark hair plastered across her face. She had never been so cold. As the waters swept back to the depths she hacked for breath her steel gauntlet cast out, channeling the Force before her as her feet began to slide with the growing incline.

She wasn’t going home, that was her vision had entailed. From the reflection of the behemoth encountered in the streets of Munnlinist. Her chest heaved and the woman finally understood-her death would not be quick. Had Avernus seen his own end coming in a flicker of images just the same? Lyra’s lip curled back as she screeched her last defiance. He would not have her, this she swore vehemently. If she had shed tears they were lost to the living hell and tundra now. She would take him with her and the Galaxy would be better off in a single stroke, she was okay with that. If this was it, she was okay with that. Kriegan nor Corvallis would be hunted down by this monster.

She wouldn’t have to live with the shame, Irveric Tavlar would though.

..“You know what I did, and now I am being deployed..it’ll be a hotzone. I know-,” she uttered, raising her hands to grasp at the air before her. Trying to form reason into something tangible, as if to show them it mattered-it wasn’t a mistake defecting. “I am scared.”..​

The woman tensed and hurled herself back at the Sith in a final effort blindly, the glacier falling apart behind her.

..“I said fuck everything for him and he’s not a good person..-”..​

There was only the blackened form of a man, his presence in the Force to hunt through the storm as she preyed upon him. Her own momentum crashed into the likes of the Sith’s grip alas as he seized the upperhand. The woman’s body cracked against the iron grip as his hand closed around her neck, wringing her-depriving her. Confusion mingled with the likes of pain and her mind was murky and she fought his hold. She had been a servant to panic when she faced adversity, and her hand landed atop his-tearing and clawing. Self preservation drove her to fight but-

"You are acting quite the fool for a commander, Lyra Voi'Kryt," Kascalion cackled, his skeletal visage grinning and burning with hateful fire. "You infuriate me with your choices, yet this impresses me more and more. I dub thee Enigma, for that is what you are in life and always will be...tell me once more: do you still think he will come? Do you still think your dear Irveric will save you from me? I am sorry to inform you, but he will not. He does not love you. Your people do not love you. You do not love them. You are alone. You have always been alone. Or did the death of your dear mother not solidify that for you?"

..“Get your hands off of her-” a scream caught in her throat, interrupted as her mother’s name was shouted. A desperate cry from her father raised, begging for him to stop. In one fell swoop, Lyra took three lumbering steps, she wasn’t close enough. Close the gap. Her hands digging across her belt-if he wanted to play these games...​

Lyra’s eyes wrenched open, her armored body swayed like a limp doll, a strangled sound escaped her, a single choking sputtering noise. The memories were perused and stained at every corner by him.

..“If these are the last words I get to say to you, I love you so much.”..​

Lyra swung in his grip, her legs rising as she trapped the length of the Sith’s arm. Her armor creaked as she grappled the colossal. Her ankles locked atop his shoulders and she squeezed mercilessly to break bone, a crack resounding from the decaying limb in her hold. The grip broke and she wretched and inhaled, choking on spit and the sleet. The wind changed and her heart fled to her throat- the last hold out of the glacier tilted back taking them with it. Lyra looked into the depths of the ocean rapidly approaching, bearing her bloody teeth. The void awaited just beyond the Sith’s ghastly visage.

The pair fell toward the depths, hundreds of feet disappearing battering them on the winds. Her fingers pried hopelessly at her neck, and her servo reared back. Every fiber of being shook and the Force sparked just out of reach of hands, a violet crack of energy tantalizing. The living power was as erratic as the churning sea as she bent it in hand. Lyra triggered the switch of the lightsaber in hand as the energy pooled, the crimson blade igniting.

“You know last I checked, gods do not bleed!” Lyra spat viously, the proof lay between them.

Something sickenly satisfying settled her heart as she thrusted the saber through the empty sock of the Sith’s eye; driving it deeply through his skull. An ungodly screech rose from the inhuman, reverberating off the ice and water deafening her- the cursed sound rivaling the ocean squall. The woman cast all her weight down and gave a final push with the Force to rocket them into the surf. The frigid waters greeted her again, water flooded her nose and lungs as the blackness encompassed her vision. Her grip slackened on the blade and she closed her fists around his arm, bracing-channeling all she had left into a tempest of her own. Violet branches of lightning arched all around the woman illuminating the murky depths of the water, electrocuting them in a final plea of hatred as they were swallowed up by the tide.

​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE 'BLIZZARD'
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Melee | Grenades

INVINCIBLE
​

The climb. It was the ever present struggle to endure. To snatch that victory of mortality from the jaws of death. The 501st continued up each golden step with a pool of blood soaking their drive in a crimson ichor infused death march. It was hardly their lifeblood baking the stone, so too were the Helgardi crownsguard met at the blade and blaster. A primal war, harkening back to when man first emerged with fire and sword in hand. Once more, it was ever the blissful escape. Divorced from the iron rain and melting flesh of war as it was. Merely one tribe's will to conquer the other.

The hammer fell and Helgard wept its frigid fall, the avalanche pulling down over the great city of this world.

Just as Tulan Kor had patched through to Irveric directly. A rare communique from the way of Demon Company to the very field command of the Imperator, but one rightfully invoked for this moment.

Thy will be done.

Enveloping calamity acted as the second wind, the burning fuel to invigorate the Imperator's own up the final steps to the peak of Helgard's palace, its golden pyramid. A feint, an illusion reaped the blood of Irveric and his unit in the now snow packed streets below minutes prior. No Cardinal Prime roamed there. He waited. He'd placed the stock in his people to endure the onslaught or make full realization of what Irveric knew.

Helgard was not merely conquered the way of the Imperial. The overwhelming firepower, the sunken start drenched in iron and the argent visage of death bleeding into the minds of the enemy.

It was conquered the way of man. The will of the strongest in one tribe prevailing over the strongest in the other. The Imperials might not accept the result of this clash as Irveric marched before the vaunted throne of Helgard, the towering warrior awaiting him. But the Helgardi would.

He entered not as the Galaxy knew him, the Imperator, the Breaker of Bastion. They had a special name for him. One sequestered purely for the

The Slayer.

Tales from the sentiment of Kascalion Giedfield were well known in the Helgardi warrior creed and snatching his head was far more highly prized than any other. He was the existential threat.

He stood before the Cardinal Prime, the warrior in crimson who slowly stood himself from the throne, approaching Irveric with a slow and foreboding pace, each lumbering step echoing through the halls.

The man from Dantooine stood, his halberd grasped in his hands once more to await the battle ahead. His armor was bathed in the lifeblood of the fallen, the enemy...himself. He could not embody the epithet any better. His helmet, his steel visage marked halfway with the skull mirroring the marred and broken features beneath. The man made punished. Punished for the crimes he wrought on Kintan at the will of Darth Bellum , punished for his inability to act as the man he should. His failure to protect Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt or all the others that had their second names etched into his armor.

Irveric the bloody faced down the Helgardi and for once, he heard it speak the Basic tongue.

<"The Slayer. I am not impressed, your Imperials are far too cowardly to meet my hosts on the field...so you bury our great city. Shameful, despicable. You will just as easy."> The alien spoke up, willing his own spear to his grip before lunging toward Irveric in a loud growl of defiance toward the human.

The Imperator held the halberd across his chest, thrusting the lateral shaft of the polearm up to deflect the blow before swinging the axehead up in the direction of the Helgard's abdomen. The point of the spear met his chest, fixing itself into the composite armor before retracting and another jolt sent the spear into his chest again, a twist deepening the void in the plating until the jagged tip met the flesh beneath.

The pain was calcified immediately yet Irveric did not yield the guttural cry that followed as he carried through with thrust of the halberd, hoping to pay equal tribute in kind to Cardinal Prime. It missed and a gargantuan hand came to strike his helmeted head, jolting him from his concentration.

A kick landed against his chest and he was on the ground, the halberd still held by the vice grip of his still organic hand before the plant of a boot on his wrist forced his palm open and the weapon was kicked away, disregarded as scrap. Cardinal Prime belted out a harsh scream before he planted the spear into Irveric's abdomen once more, forcing the wind from his lungs in a frantic hacking of his lungs. Whatever of his retinue surrounded him were overthrown to the chaos of the surrounding battle. There was no quarter paid his way.

<"Pathetic! How swiftly the will of defiance is snuffed out!"> The Helgardi warrior shouted out in raw vitriol.

The spear was wrenched from the flesh before it beared down into him again.

<"Weak!">

And again.

<"You!">​

His vision began to hone in on the center of his focus, blackness corroded the rest as the bacta and stimulant injectors met empty.

And again.

<"And those worthless whelps you've brought!">

And again.
​

Each number etched into the armor. Each lost soul of which he immortalized in the steel. Each callsign in his heads up display. He watched them begin to flat line, one after the other gone into the sacred silence. The First battled on as they ever had, they'd seen men and women of their own flock die in the field before. Such was the nature of this vaunted profession. To force the final moments in those who struck in hatred...and to endure the final moments of those they'd bleed for time and time again.

What forced his resurgence. Vindicate-Actual. Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

[ SIGNAL LOST ]​

Flatlined. Dead. So helplessly so far away from her...and her light was snuffed out. By his hand. The hand of the Devil, Kascalion Giedfield . Scion of the dark creed, the Sith. Those who had threatened to take everything from him.

"Its people like that Sith that need to die, good general. Not your people, not your men, not you."​

That crumbling will to let it all fade into the peaceful hereafter faded at the coming of the adrenaline. The ever present compulsion within the mortal being to survive. To prevail. To endure. The horrid sound of the metal sinking into his flesh again burned his senses.

His cybernetic hand snapped up to grasp the shaft of the spear as it pulled in a blood and gored wrench of the weapon from his flesh again. His metal grip fixed itself into the weapon until the heavy metal was willed to his grip and slowly he began to hand, holding the bloody spear before him.

As soon as Cardinal Prime lurched back to try and pry it from his hold, he set his other hand on the spear, leaning into it and twisting his body to the side to force the Helgardi from his stance as he pulled.

He heard the cry of defiance and the weapon was his. A draw of blade hissed into open air from the warrior before the base of the spear met his jaw with a violent swipe of the weapon toward the head of the Helgardi. He thrust it once more, abandoning the grip of the spear before he charged him down, tackling him to the ground.

If he was going to end him rightly, it would be with his own hands, his own eyes staring into the burning, defiant soul of the enemy and watching as those last moments faded.

The jagged dagger fixed into Irveric's collar bone, twisting to marr the flesh as he let the primal, guttural note of pain leave his gritted teeth, he grasped ahold of that wrist in his cybernetic hand, willing the bone into a horrible distortion, twisting it to his will before the bloodied weapon trembled to the marble floor in a loud clatter, his life blood shadowing its path.

He put himself within the warrior's guard, down and low. Then he began what was called the Keldabe Kiss, his helmet slamming down into the temple of the Alien warrior. Once.

And again.

And again.

And again.​

He could see the frightful daze in that once horrifying gaze. Then he drew a dagger all his own, fixed it into the neck of the Helgardi, twisted to grasp the last pull of defiance from him before he sawed at the neck, feeling the heaving grasps at his form as the warrior clung to life. And then, in a moment, it slipped.

Picking up the head, he stared into those empty eyes for a brief moment before he tossed it aside. Refuse.

He slowly began to stand himself up, the blood was getting darker, thicker. His feet heavier, his head lighter.

The air sealed hiss of the helmet was a void, broken in the scrap as he slowly pulled it from his gaze, a trickle of blood following its wake, bathing his face in the crimson ichor. He needed his sights liberated from the sensory envelopment of the battle. Around him, the 501st prevailed. Endured.

His mere pulls and grasps to this mortal shell inebriated any attempt to take greater command of the battle as the snow fell down.

Thy will be done.​

ALLIES | NIO | SOM | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Jorus Fel | Kosca Gaelt | Ravraa Vyshraal | Ragnar the Untested | Black Sgáire | Onansi of Thyrsus | Djorn Bline | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | Joesph Leigh | UX-0626 | Syd Celsius | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT

​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

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

Location: Surface, Helgard
Objective: Save research data and artefacts; and try to take out them from the planet.
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Tag: N/A

[ The never-ending pain… ] ​

More undead, then more and more. At times, Ingrid also summoned a demon to protect herself or to help others escape. Saw the ship with which she arrived leave the hangar and reach the top of the atmosphere. Before they entered hyperspace to return to Dromund Kaas, the woman had received a message from them. The main task is done; with which she remained faithful to Adrian's memory.

A war what never ends…

Helped with the defence, as she was able to do so because of the contract. Protecting civilians and buildings from the enemy fit well into what was written in the treaty. Doing everything just by magic was much more exhausting than even the actual fight that lasted for hours. Only this was not physically tiring, but mentally. But the Empress didn’t complain, even when she was overworked or on the verge of her tolerance.

They were told many times that she was overworked, taking on too much. And the commanders of her bodyguard will even scold her when she gets home. That Ingrid was left alone, again, without protection and guards. Not that she cared. Although, if she’s lucky, the two commanders-in-chief will bite each other’s throats if they’re in the same room and won’t have time to deal with the woman. They both knew her, trained Ingrid in their corps. They knew what she could do and also that she didn’t need a bodyguard.

The never-ending pain…

Every move and word spoken was damn painful because of the memory. Learned these from him and she lost him because of the cursed war of the New Imperials. The fact that she killed one of Adrian's killers did not bring reassurance. Didn’t really expect it to be that way; she should definitely talk to Tavlar soon. No matter right now; has to pay attention to the war and defence. Defend another world because now is really the time to stop this invasion and war.

Because of this…

The red-haired woman had no intention of leaving this planet until all the NIO and Alliance soldiers had been expelled from here and this frosty planet had been liberated. Or if the enemy decides to destroy the city, because then she leaves for the Netherworld, but in the meantime, persists until the last minute.


Last post.