Annihilation Shatterpoint | BotM Annihilation of GA Held Tython

[Mith'akis'ormo]

Objective: Defend the planet at all costs.
Location: Tython Orbit
Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Hersir Mk.I Military Attire
Ship: Angyali Nyugalom
Writing With: Defenders

The chorus of voices faded into the background as Admiral Mith'akis'ormo peered out of the reinforced glass windows. The large fleet was one of wonders, multiple factions banding together to fight a common enemy. This fight would be chaotic, but the defenders would be victorious, that much he knew. If I knew this was what I was going to come back to, I would've stayed on vacation.

He wasn't aboard his usual ship today, the ENS 'Greyhound', today was a special occasion. He had been granted command of one of the Eternal Empires Super Star Destroyers, the 'Angelic Calm,' or 'Angyali Nyugalom.' A behemoth of a ship, and the fact he had been granted command of it was a good sign. He wasn't familiar with the ship's crew though, something that could be vital in battle, if they didn't fully trust him, that is.

He turned his attention back to the screen in front of his seat, where he could see his escort forming up around the Angelic Calm. His battlegroup had yet to arrive, no doubt finishing repairs from their last incursion, but they would arrive soon enough. Meanwhile, he was busy doing pre-combat checks, he had to ensure they were in tip top shape when the enemy came. The defence consisted of multiple factions, most of which he wasn't too happy to be fighting alongside. He was here for his Empire though, and he couldn't argue with that.

"Admiral?" The voice of a young man came from behind him, an Ensign First Class, by the look of his insignia, a communications officer perhaps?

"What is it, Ensign?" He responded in a soft, but no less commanding voice.

"We have received word from the Battlegroup, they have been further delayed." At the sound of those words he frowned, waving his hand at the Ensign to depart, he sat down in his command chair. He sighed and looked up. They would have to make do without them. He once again peered at his command screen, satisfied with the results of the combat checks made by the Eternal Empire's MEIPOC AI, he once again stood up.

"MEIPOC, inform all squadrons to expand their patrol vectors to better assist our allies."

"Order confirmed." The robotic voice responded. Today they would fight the tyranny of the Maw, and they would defend the peaceful world below., no matter the cost.

"Admiral, we're picking up ships over the sensors." MEIPOC said through the command screen, catching Thakis off guard.

"Guess those are our guests, let's go ahead and introduce our selves. Battle stations!

 

[Darth Vinaze]

Location: Akar Kesh
Writing With: Khamul Kryze / Darth Solipsis / Anyone else on OBJ III / Eina L'lerim-Vandiir (Soon)

​

And finally came the day of reckoning. Every dark power in the galaxy worth their blackened blood descended on Tython like a hawk to its pray. The bones of many a world had already been picked clean by the vultures. This day would prove him right, truly and unequivocally after decades. Here, the birthplace of the Force, The Sith'ari would fulfill the prophecy.

Alongside the retinue of Darth Solipsis, Vinaze was but a mere warping feeling in the air. His presence in the Force utterly black, mixing with the darkening aura of the world, melding with it. He needed not to show himself to the other Sith Lords. There was no pomp and ceremony to be had today worthy of conjuring a mortal form. On this monumental day he was as one with the Force as he had ever been, ever allowed himself to be.

All of the dread lord's energies had to be directed toward Solipsis today, to ensure the ritual was a success. The Jedi had come close to thwarting them at Csilla, and Asog. Momentary setbacks, it seemed, for the Maw had reached Tython as easily as a blade reaches the heart of the inferior swordsman. The Sith were as united as ever, and the Jedi were apart, crumbling.

As the prodigal daughter attended her father, and the ritual began, an aquatic and murky eye popped through the threshold between worlds at the side of Mandalore the Unchained.

"This is the paradise of which I spoke, Khamul. Drink in its power. We are home."

The once blue skies darkened to sickly, writhing blackness, like the Bogan had consumed the heavens. Lightning of all colours erratically seizured from inked clouds striking the fertile valleys below them. Oh he had seen such beautiful storms before, but those had always been the product of men. This one rivalled them all, created by a god, created by the collective will of the Dark Side and its one true son.

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The First and the Light of Ashla
Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade; Living Saint of Ashla
Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and the Fjölkyngi Smiđr Guild​

Objective: To provide a battlefield wide Battle Meditation to her allies and the defenders.
Location: Surface, Tython
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Darth Vinaze || Geiseric | Khamul Kryze

[ Race to the Sea ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tl;dr

She speaking with Gei.

~ Sanctuary, Netherworld, not too much before the Maw's attack ~
["I'm not afraid, my beloved crusader! No one knows better than me that death is not the end, but only a new beginning. Beginning of a new life. Stars, planets, and lives have always been destroyed. In a natural way or by force. It’s all a natural part of life, even if it’s committed as horribly as the Maw."] her voice was reassuring and deeper than usual.

She really wasn't afraid, at least not of death. The Valkyrja wasn't worried about that. Eina was worried about things bigger than that. Not the deeds and acts of mortals, but the Avatars'.

["I just don’t know my own destiny, but it doesn’t bother me, even if it will be my final death. The only thing I’m worried about is... no, I’m not afraid, I’m just worried it is... I'm worrying for every soul, lest they not share in that fate like my father’s soul. I do not wish for a soul to be torn apart, never to find peace, but to be captured only in their own madness."] her voice was sad now, never telling of the fate of her father until now.

For a few more moments she enjoyed being able to cuddle and embrace the crusader.

["Many Valkyrja will be present on the planet for understandable reasons. However, I am sending out some teams to keep an eye on the Avatars as well, here in the Netherworld. I’m more worried about what’s going on here than in Realspace. There are many who fight there to protect the planet, but there are few creatures here that can defy creatures like War, Death, and Rebirth."] she explained to him, however she knows her husband knows this.

Now she let the man go so they could both finish armour dressing. Meanwhile, she telepathically told her people to go to guard the territory of the Avatars. If there is a problem there, do not intervene for now, just let her know.

["Regardless, promise me, to take care of yourself!"] she asked him in a soft voice with a warm smile.

She picked up the armour gloves as a last accessory, probably finishing it all at the same time as her husband. After that, she'll step to him, if Gei hasn't put on his helmet yet, she'll caress his cheek and kiss him softly.

["Let me know if we can leave."] she asked him, when the man is ready, she opens a rift for themselves that will get them to Tython if they go through it.

 

[Juno - 11/0571]

In Orbit of Tython

Awaiting the Seige

ANV Where Night is Blind


Brace Yourselves for Tags:

Aculia Voland , Albrecht F. Herlock , Aldo Garrick , Ari Naldax , Artemis Toth , Aximand Sicarus , Balt Vizsla , Caarlyle Rausgeber , Derix Tirall , Isla Draellix-Kobitana , Marlon Sularen , Mellifluous Magenta , Mith'akis'ormo , Mylo Thorne , Rex Valhoun , Romul Saxon , The Amalgam , Tren Chaar , Tu'teggacha , VADM Tarsa Doon , Vaux Gred , Vemric Keldra , Verin Oldo , Caoimhe Crannach

---

Handshake. Tactical systems are green. Helm. Comms. Avionics Packages report no flaws. Power Distribution Net- 99% Efficiency. Modifications required for subsections 35-C-6 through 35-C-10. Calibrating.

For every string of thought, a bolt of energy shot through the Night’s data cabling network as Juno reached across the cruiser, consulting the lesser droid brains, manipulating a junction’s processor here and there. The program watched the bridge, the engineering deck. They watched the gun decks and tracked the shapes of crewmen rushing from station to station.

A voice on the bridge called them to attention, and in seconds Juno manifested at the room’s center, a cluster of blue and white shaping itself into the form of a humanoid. The hologram wore a crisp, plain Alliance uniform, one far less decorated than any other in the bridge and lacking in any form of rank insignia. Juno’s arms crossed behind their back, then simulated eyes turned to lock with the captain’s.

“Any word from the scout fleets?” The Bothan’s ears seemed to perk up slightly with a sort of nervous curiosity. One of Juno’s organic-interaction subroutines was quick to place a sympathetic look on the hologram’s face.

A quick moment was spent processing a packet of incoming transmissions before the weak smile became a brighter one. “Not yet, sir. No signs of hostile activity, yet. I’ll consult with the other AIs, in case we missed something.” The smile fell again when Juno caught the unease in Captain Bwindehe’s eyes as he nodded in response.

The hologram flickered out of view after making a small nod back. The AI’s processors were granted a rare second of pure blankness, then Juno returned to work, designating a part of themself toward monitoring comms, and another to the positional data from the Night’s sensors.

Two frigates stood to port of the heavy cruiser, with a larger star defender one hundred meters to starboard– ANV Aria, Serenia, and Serendipity respectively. However, the pocket of ships made up a mere fraction of those gathered– vessels united from across the galaxy, comprising members of every faction named under the Tython Accords. Once close allies and hated enemies gathered together out of a duty to defend the galaxy from further Mawite advances– at least, this was the idea paraded so enthusiastically by the top brass. Several days of analyzing the Night’s crew, as they prepared for the Brotherhood’s promised invasion, had informed Juno otherwise. There was a level of concern among the officers, the enlisted crew, especially toward the New Imperial Order and the Eternal Empire. The former had begun to prove itself a thorn in the Alliance’s side, its silent acts of aggression culminating in the fierce fighting over Kuat. The latter… carried an older reputation, one defined by the origins of its name and continued in years of tense diplomatic deadlock; despite the Empire’s claims of betterment, mistrust was a hard thing to kill.

“Hostile contacts, Captain. Alliance ships confirming.” Juno appeared on the bridge once again, catching a few surprised looks from the greener members of the bridge staff– then a dark stare from Captain Bwindehe.

“Sir! The viewscreen!”

Half the bridge swiveled their chairs in that moment, watching the forward viewer with grim, fearful stares. The false gaze of Juno’s holographic eyes followed the others, all while the AI sent queries running down toward the Night’s other droid brains, magnifying the image on the display– the claw-like silhouette of a giant, casting a huge shadow across a sea of Mawite vessels. From the bridge’s cameras, Juno watched a young Chiss ensign quiver, averting his gaze, shaking as he buried his face in a console.

Inexplicably to the AI, Juno’s hologram muttered something…

Two syllables– a name that was carved into the memory of the galaxy long ago.

Mercy.

“-Alright, people. Battle stations! Get me locks on that- thing!– Mass drivers to focus on its superlaser! Fire as soon as we can get a clear shot! Missile locks on the surrounding vessels!” The Captain was quick to break Silence’s hold on the bridge, his voice a sword cutting over the heads of his crew. But despite the raw fury in his voice, Juno could pinpoint the signs of unsuredness and terror in his face as he spun to face the Night’s helmsman. “Vertical axis– 90 degrees to starboard. Spine 30.”

A bolt of electricity shot up from the direction of the ordnance decks, then another as the hatches of missile tubes collapsed and drew into the hull. One after another, their interiors lit with streams of sparks, and the warheads came jetting along their magnetic rails, escaping into the surrounding space and firing their thrusters.

For a brief moment, Juno’s “eyes” found the captain’s, glowing with what seemed like genuine sympathy, despite the uncaring algorithms lurking behind.

In the next moment, the hologram flickered out and died; Juno retreated into the cruiser’s systems, diverting a stream of power toward the defense grid as a wave of fire glanced across the shields.

 

[Isla Draellix-Kobitana]

Location: Naboo
Objective: Discuss the Tython Accord
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim Baron Reinhardt Ström Aerarii Tithe Balt Vizsla OPEN

Spoiler: Isla's Personal Gear

Admiral's Sabre
Ashlan Rosary
Personal guard of Ashlan Praetorian droids
Overseer Biochip OPBC-01a

Isla had arrived that morning on naboo in her Bucephalus and had actually managed to have a little look around before the summit. The planet was gorgeous, she had never been before but the sights were breathtaking, the people weren't her cup of tea, uncompromisingly elitist and human centric but she wasn't here to judge cultures, she was here to try and prevent the extinction of cultures by mawite forces. In attendance she knew most of the delegates, the Eternal Empress and the Baron had met either Isla several times before and Aerarii Tithe was well known to her. The only unknown was the Enclave representative, she had very little interaction with the Enclave and their war against the Eternal Empire, particualry their barbaric strike on Panatha had made opening diplomatic channels awkward to say the least. But they were a nation that thrived on violence and war, to have them at the table was better than the idea of facing them on the other side of the Battlefield. In that respect Isla viewed them a little like the New Imperials, she disliked their methods but would rather have them shooting at the Mawites than at her own forces.

She walked in to the conference centre. She had arranged to meet the other Aslan delegates in the Atrium, but they had been in contact with each other most of the morning to ensure they had a united front as always. "OK, are we ready for this, remember, this is the sort of event that historians record and people talk about well into the future, let's make sure the Ashlans are well remembered" The Prime Minister said with pride to the gathered politicians including the foreign minister and her chosen representative from the Ministry of Defence. It was not entirely a snub to the official Defence Minister, it was more about making sure things with the Eternal Empire remained smooth.

As she led the party in she first greeted the contingent from the Eternal Empire, she gave warm greetings to the Empress who had very recently visited the Ashlan Capital for a ball. Then moved on to greeting the Alliance Chancellor and Finally the Representative from the Enclave and then another minor Empire from the galactic south, she had very little knowledge at all about the Elysium Empire but a willing combatant was a willing combatant and she wouldn't turn them away.

Location: Tython system, anchored around moon of Ashla
Objective: Send the Mawites back to the rock they crawled put from under
Tags:
Aculia Voland Albrecht F. Herlock Aldo Garrick Ari Naldax Artemis Toth Aximand Sicarus Balt Vizsla Caarlyle Rausgeber Derix Tirall Marlon Sularen Mellifluous Magenta Mith'akis'ormo Mylo Thorne Rex Valhoun Romul Saxon Tren Chaar The Amalgam Tu'teggacha Vaux Gred Vemric Keldra

Spoiler: Fleet Assets

Noble Crusader Battlecruiser - 9.5km
Lord Hoth
Bane of Darkness
3 x Dragoon Class Battle Carrier 10.6km
Fist of Demici
Geiseric's Blade
Lurrite Countess
3 x Bastion Planetary Invasion Ship 6km
Harbinger of Light
Bogans Demise
Temple of Peace
6 x Templar Class Star Destroyer 11.1km
Wisdom of Tython
Reprisal
Spirit of Bosph
Champion
Liberator
Bogan's Nemesis
14 x Dominion Class Escort Frigate 4.73km
8 x Principality Class corvette 1.28km
8 x Warden Class anti-starfighter frigate 2km

Even split complements of
Pegasus Interceptor Starfighters
Phoenix Multirole Starfighter

Numerous
Ashla's Mercy orbital insertion shield generators

Infantry available
Ashlan Marines
Sisters of Ashla

Spoiler: Isla's Personal Gear

Admiral's Sabre
Ashlan Rosary
Personal guard of Ashlan Praetorian droids
Overseer Biochip OPBC-01a

The ashlan fleet was enormous, the entire fleet that had been engaged at Odessen for the wargames, along with a pair of additional ships had the week prior rushed the Tython at news of the impending attack. The Mawites were back and there was rumours that the vast super weapon that had destroyed the Pillar of Retribution was also approaching, was this end game for their push to the core? With the gathered fleet's, one side or the other was likely to receive a crippling blow at the coming battle.

Isla's flagship was stationed over the moon of Ashla herself and the Sister's aboard had been praying almost continuously for the safety of the namesake moon. The rest of the fleet was strung out in roving patrols around the system with the bulk of her forces in orbit around Tython. Every planet in the system had Ashlan warships protecting it, when the mawites came, there would be nowhere in the system that would be save from their rapacious war machine so the Ashlans intended to make them fight for every opportunity they might then they have to cause destruction.

There were hundreds of ships of all different nations, from Eternal Empire, the New Imperials, the Galactic Alliance, Silver Jedi and the Enclave. This system was going to be the site of an epoch defining battle.

She looked at the name plate of her vast super star destroyer.

The Ashla's Might

Laid down in the year 6…

…BBT

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

H E A D - O F - T H E - S N A K E
O B J E C T I V E - T H R E E

Primary Objective: End the Maw.
Secondary Objective: Protect Sensei while ending the Maw.
Location: Flesh Raider Grounds.
Equipment: In biography.
Friendlies: New Imperial Order, everything else except GA and Maw.
Enemies: GA and Maw.
Tags: Jan Beroya Nyaeli

Battle awaited.

In a silent room aboard a New Imperial Order vessel, a young woman sat in a meditative posture on the floor. On the floor before her, two lightsaber hilts laid beside each other. A katana, sheathed in bamboo, laid at the other side, across from the lightsabers. An energy bow was also laid before her, in a respectable, traditional manner. Her weapons before her, and a stand of armor behind her, the girl closed her eyes.

The half Atrisian, half Miralian women could feel the energy of Tython from here, the battle calling her. She had only joined the New Imperial Order recently, and she found herself asking so frequently...

How could we let the Brotherhood of the Maw get this far?

The vile and depraved Maw was launching a massive invasion upon Tython, and upon the ill suited Galactic Alliance. Her father had always told her that the Jedi were weak, but this? This was insanity...

It had to end today.

Regardless of previous failures, Aoki Mira opened her brown eyes, We shall succeed in stopping this madness today.

She looked at the door of the room, standing up. Her Atrisian robes flowed neatly as she arose then turned around. Opposite of the doorway, at the other side of the room, her armor was neatly and professionally on its stand, awaiting use. Today was the day it would be bloodied and dirtied in battle.

She walked over to the armor. It was time.

Battle had joined.

Dust was in the air like morning mist as the Imperial Squire shot another Mawite with a beam from her energy bow, Hātoshīkā. She was behind her mentor in this place; atop a boulder and struggling to aim as noise shrieked around her. She was quite thankful that her helmet made it easier to see in this mess of an arid valley. She pulled back her bow, aimed again, and fired. Another soldier of the Maw fell.

I still do not understand. How could anyone be okay with this?

She once again aimed and fired, before she sensed a stream of blaster bolts coming her way. She leapt off the boulder, which cracked from the blaster fire behind her. She slung Hātoshīkā over her back as she approached the ground.

Can I even call them people?

She landed on the ground and looked up. Three Mawites approached, aiming at her. She reached and placed her hands on one of her lightsabers.

They made their choice. They feel no remorse for their actions, I will feel none for mine.

She darted forth, activating her father's lightsaber, Kyūseishu. The blue katana blade made quick work of the soldiers, cutting them down. With perfect movement, she deactivated the lightsaber and turned to the remaining fight. As usual, her sensei was brilliant in battle. Yet, from behind her one severely injured soldier was raising his blaster. Mira would not allow it. She bolted forward with poise and precision, activating Kyūseishu with perfect timing and finishing him. When she looked up, her sensei had finished the final ones off.

Aoki Mira was immediately at her mentor's side, Kyūseishu deactivated again. "Sensei?"

She was about to inquire on their next course of action, then a chill crept over her. She sensed something. Deeper in the valley, something atrocious as the Maw itself. She lifted her hand and pointed her finger at an incline downhill, "From the east."

They spawned forth. Filthy Flesh Raiders, what this place was named for. They were enraged and maddened as they clamored towards them. It reminded Mira of the Atrisian Wraiths of Ishiyakushi. She put Kyūseishu away and plucked Hātoshīkā out again. She pulled the string back and started rapid firing at the hoarde.

The Maw's wrath was of no end. Could they make it?

 

[Geiseric]

​

Location: The Sanctuary, Netherworld (Current), Akar Kesh (Soon)
Equipment: In Sig
Writing With: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir / Khamul Kryze (Soon)

Death was not the end for a Jedi, but merely a new beginning in the Force. His lover's words did reassure him not to worry, and he tried to take them to heart. A lot of people would die in the coming battle, both those sensitive to the Force and those not. There was nothing either of them could do about it.

By now he was certain the Sith had engaged the Jedi. That much he could feel, echoing out from the heart of Ashla across space and time. When he closed his eyes, he only caught faint glimpses of what was to come, or perhaps they were visions of what had passed. They did not make sense to him. He would have to see the state of Tython in person. The moments until he did were counting down, hanging tensely in the air. He knew he could not stay here in Eina's embrace forever.

"I will take care of myself, and as many souls as I can save with every Sith I cut down. That much I can promise you, my dear. Even those wayward souls your Valkryja cannot catch shall be returned to the Force."

The pair tenderly enjoyed a final kiss before their time was up. Eina conjured the portal that would lead them to the field of battle. It swirled black and blue with tiny stars like a night sky, beckoning them inwards towards the fate of the Jedi...

 

[Ronar]

Objective: Destroy Tython, prove himself in battle
Location: Tython, Journey's End
Allies: BOTM, Keilara Kala'myr
Enemies: GA
Equipment: Bloodreaver (vibroaxe), bone armor, Glie-44 blaster pistol, cortosis sword

~A Long Time Ago~

"Are you ready, my son?" his father said. With wide eyes and a racing heart, Ronar reached for the offered weapon. It was nothing special, a simple two-handed vibroaxe, one of dozens carried by the warriors of the tribe. To the young warrior, however, it was an object of reverence. Never before this day had he ever held a real weapon, only sticks weighted for training. The weight was slightly different, lighter and more balanced, but still familiar.

"This is your first raid," his father continued, "As one of my scions, there is no room for failure, or even for hesitation." A heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

"From this day forward, there will be no protection, no assistance," the words were stern, leaving nothing to interpretation, "You are not my heir, and I owe you nothing. Prove yourself, or die." Then the hand was gone, and Ronar was alone. He was a boy no longer. He gripped the vibroaxe tightly, a smile crossing his face. Oh, how he had longed for this. Finally, a chance to show what he was made of. A chance to drown the world in blood.

First, though, there was the matter of a name for his new weapon. It couldn't strike fear without a name, after all...

~Before the Battle~

Like a man on a mission, the warrior called Ronar stomped through the war camp of the Maw. His heavy vibroaxe, Bloodreaver, slammed against his back with every step, a reassuring tempo that urged him onwards, towards inevitable battle. The preparations had begun, the camp was breaking down, and Ronar was running out of time. He had hoped to have an opportunity to gain some position and status before the horde departed for the planet called Tython, but as of yet his attempts had proved fruitless. The leaders of this horde were too occupied, to enamored with their own personal goals, to notice what they saw as a single cog in a galaxy-spanning wheel.

The only place he'd had some success was in the duelling pits. Many of these warriors were subpar, meant as meatshields and cannon fodder and little else. They fell easily to his fist and blade, and once he had proved his strength, he had managed to convince a few to follow him. But, he was still small fry, even amongst the rabble. That needed to change. Those he had recruited, four or five in all, shadowed him as he strode determinedly through the camp, towards one of the more decorative tents. There stood another, a captain of the Maw, with his own retinue.

Rule number three, my son, rang the voice of his father in his head, If you wish to rise, you must do so decisively. Leave no question that you deserve your place.

"You!" he yelled at the captain, his inferior companions fanning out behind him, "I mean to lead this rabble in the coming battle. Serve me, or die!" It was quite the ridiculous statement, and was intended to be. But, it had the desired effect. The captain turned towards him, and as he sucked in a breath, most likely to laugh his ridiculous head off, Ronar struck. With a bone armored left fist he punched the man in the gut, sending the wind whooshing from his lungs. Another strike, with his cybernetic right arm, smashed into the captain's jaw, shattering his helmet's cheek protector. The man stumbled, and as he did, Ronar drew Bloodreaver and with a single clean slice removed the armored head from its shoulders.

Then, he turned to the stunned onlookers. Covered in blood, with a smile on his face, he spoke.

"Do not make me repeat myself."

~Day of the Battle~

Ronar stood beside the door of the transport, checking each man as he boarded. He was satisfied with his recruitment. As it turned out, news of his savage usurping of the captain had spread, and quite a few low-lives had crowded to his banner like wolves to their alpha, seeking, like all should, to serve the strongest warrior. In total, he had gathered roughly thirty warriors, all loyal to him; beneath the great banner of the Maw, of course. It was far from the great horde his father had led, but it was still a decent-sized warband, and he would put them to good use.

As the last man boarded, Ronar again tested the weight of the cortosis sword he had taken from the captain as a rightful trophy. One of his men had told him that it was the only thing that could block the laser swords of the "Jedi", and he was taking no chances. Bloodreaver was still on his back, but he would not draw it today. At least, not until he was sure that he could drown it without interruptions.

With a final smile, Ronar climbed aboard, and ordered the pilot to take him to Journey's End.

 

[The Mongrel]

Cycle of Hatred: Journey's End​

Location: Tython, Flooded Plain
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Warposting Open

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel speaks with Mercy before the battle
• The Scar Hounds deploy, moving south from the Crucifix II
  • They are headed for the Jedi Temple ruins
• The Mongrel follows destiny's call to the East

Before
​

She lay beside him, the only one who touched him tenderly.

His wife. His trusted ally. His victim.

There was little that the two men within him, locked inside a dying brain encased in a metal shell, could agree on... but they could agree that The Mongrel did not deserve Mercy. He was responsible for what she had become, for all the suffering she had endured and all the suffering she had caused to the galaxy at his order. He listened as she recounted their first meeting, that clash in the snowy streets of Carlac's capital, and he wondered: how much pain could have been avoided for them both if she'd succeeded at ending him?

But that was not why she was telling the story.

She never blamed him, even when she should.

~ I am proud of you, ~ he told her, meeting her gaze and offering a gentle smile. And it was true. He was proud of what she had survived, all the trials she had overcome. There were few warlords who had endured among the ranks of the Maw since Carlac, let alone frontline soldiers or high-risk infiltrators; so many of the Brotherhood's very founders were gone now, and yet here they were, the two of them, the twisted weapons the Taskmaster had made. ~ I am proud of your strength, and your skill, and your loyalty. ~

~ You have always been my most trusted agent. ~

Yes, he was proud of her accomplishments. From a military perspective, capturing her alive had been the best decision he could have ever made. Without her the Scar Hounds would have been annihilated to the last man on Odessen. Without her he would never have recognized the truth about Thomas Barran, who would rise to lead the tribe one day. Without her he would never have recovered his will to live, and The Mongrel's glorious flame would have guttered out to nothing long ago. ~ Without you, I would have nothing. ~

Yes, he was proud of her, and of her many accomplishments.

The shame he felt was only for himself.

It was Kallan's doing, or so he chose to believe. The echo of the man he had been before the Maw, this second personality that still lurked beneath the surface of his mind, was compassionate and empathetic and weak. He dragged The Mongrel down with his guilt, distracting him from the Brotherhood's holy purpose. He could not see what the warlord could see, what the Heathen Priests had opened his eyes to: that the galaxy was too broken to save, and that killing it was a kindness, for only then could something new and better grow.

Mercy had been working hard to find a way to remove this weakness lurking inside him, to separate Kallan from Mongrel, a fate that both personalities were desperate to achieve... but it might be too late now. Dreams had haunted the warlord for months, dreams of a kind he had experienced only once before: when he had been guided to Durace and discovered Thomas Barran, his chosen successor. The Mongrel could not touch the Force, so he knew that these nightmares were sent by the Three Avatars, premonitions of his destiny.

In his dreams, The Mongrel did not leave Tython alive.

His martyrdom was coming. Paradise beckoned.

He did not tell Mercy of this. Soon she would be free of him, and that would be better for her, a release from the torment he had caused her... but she would not see it that way. She would grieve for him, though The Mongrel - plunderer of planets, general of genocides, agent of apocalypse - deserved no mourners. He could only hope that she would heal, or - failing that - pass soon into paradise beside him. Their twisted love could not endure in this galaxy, but if they were reborn by the grace of the gods in the Galaxy To Come...

.... perhaps then they could begin again, freed of sin.

How are you today, Lord Kala'myr? she asked him. She called him by the title she had earned now, for they were joined. ~ I am always well when I am with you, ~ The Mongrel replied, reaching out to gently touch her face. But then she asked him a question, one that sent his mind reeling. She had asked him for a new name once before, and he had given her an old one: Kallan, his self before the Maw. But Kallan had become his own person, recovering his strength, and now The Mongrel was just The Mongrel once more, a Mawite creature.

He had no other name to give her, no name that was his own.

But he did not wish to ever disappoint her.

~ Kallan has returned to who he was, ~ he replied. ~ I cannot. I am what the Brotherhood made me, and Mongrel is the only name I was ever given. It was a term of derision in the beginning, a name they spat at me when I was a lowly slave-soldier, but it came to mean something more. ~ The warlord sighed, closing his eyes. ~ But you have known me in a way they cannot. You are the keeper of all my secrets, and the only one I can love. If you ask me, I will give you another name, one I choose for myself. ~

~ Call me Asher. ~ Among his people, it meant Blessed.

And it fit. She was a blessing to him.

He needed one last blessing.

Deep inside his mind, locked away from Asher's awareness, Kallan watched Keilara rise. He liked to see her in his shirt, to know that she wanted him close to her always. The morning sun played over her skin as it streamed through the window, and he dreamed of a time when they might feel the warmth of the real sun, and not just the illusion they had built from their memories. Mercy was close, Keilara told him, close to finding a way to separate him from the thing that the Maw had placed in control of his tortured body.

He was desperate for that release.

~ I hope so, ~ he told his wife.

He wanted to leave war behind.

---------------------------------------------

Now
​

Tython. A beautiful blue-green jewel in the void.

The Mongrel remembered looking at it, fixing its pristine surface in his mind. When the Brotherhood was finished here, it would be only a memory. The Dark Voice was making this planet, the birthplace of the hated Jedi who had kept the galaxy in stasis for thirty thousand years, the nexus of his final ritual. When his work was complete, when he called the Avatars and opened the way to the Galaxy To Come, all of reality would be rewritten. All kings would fall, all suffering would end, and the cycle would be restored as it was meant to be.

Everyone would have a fresh start. No gods, no masters.

But would he live to see it? The warlord knew that his dreams spoke true, that his end was coming... but he knew not what form it would take. He was no gifted telepath, not like Mercy. Perhaps he would fall in battle here, martyred at last, praying with his final thoughts that he would prove worthy of the impending paradise. Or perhaps the Maw would sweep the field and the Dark Voice would achieve total victory, and his end would come when everything was erased, this corrupted cycle ending so that another could begin. He could not know.

He could only find out.

Mercy approached, and he acknowledged her salute with a nod. In public she was his subordinate, not his equal, and he must show her no deference. "At last we strike at the heart of the Jedi tradition," he replied, letting his booming mechanical voice wash over the row upon row of Scar Hound warriors that packed the hangar bay. "Today we erase the history they desperately cling to. Today we take away their beginning, and become their end!" A thunderous roar of approval echoed up from all around him, chanting his name.

MONGREL! MONGREL! MONGREL!

But he hardly heard them. Inside, Mercy was speaking. She longed to return to the comfort of the house they shared in their minds, to finish the holomovie they'd begun on the long voyage into the Deep Core. In his figurative heart - his real one had long since been removed - The Mongrel knew they would never have the chance. He would not be returning to the Mawite warfleet, one way or another. But he did not want to make her worry, to put her in danger through fearing for him. ~ I can't wait to see how it ends, ~ he told her.

But he didn't really mean the movie.

---------------------------------------------

The Battlefield
​

In the sky, the moon itself shuddered.

Beneath that grim omen, the apocalypse descending upon Tython's once-serene surface, the Brotherhood marched to war. As their brothers the Bloodsworn took up their positions around the Dark Voice's chosen ritual site, prepared to fight to the last in their quest to ensure this reality's end, the Scar Hounds boiled out in a different direction. Theirs was a more traditional objective. The mighty Alliance vessel Prosperity hung over the ruins of ancient Kaleth, the old and the new joined in preserving galactic stasis. That was the target.

Seize the ship. Kill the past.

Though they had been badly depleted by the battles of Nirauan and Odessen, the Scar Hounds had been granted time to recover. The forges of Mar'Zambul, fueled by the melted-down durasteel of a dozen conquered worlds and a thousand stripped battlefields, had been kept hot day and night for a year. Out of them had poured War Skiffs and Raider Walkers and LuchsHai technicals, plus a million brutal weapons of war to arm the fierce tribesmen who would march upon the fields of Tython. Together they would fight and die in glory.

For most of them would die; The Mongrel had no doubt of that. They were in the very heart of Alliance territory, and the entire galaxy was arrayed against them, an even greater force than the Brotherhood had faced at Csilla. There was no escape from this place, not with the endless fleets and armies pouring down from the sky to confront the Avatars' chosen. There was only victory or death, and even victory would only come in death for the vast majority of the warriors who fought here. But they knew no fear. Paradise was waiting.

"March south!" The Mongrel commanded, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates as it echoed across the field. "Seize the ruins of the Jedi Temple, for it is from there that we will launch our assault on their crumbling city! Die well, my warriors. This is our greatest test, and the Avatars are watching. A million saints shall be raised to glory in the wake of this battle!" For a moment, utter stillness greeted his words, the warriors all around him hanging on every syllable. Then, slowly, a great thump. Then another. Thump.

The noise crescendoed, a gradual rise, as more and more Scar Hounds beat their weapons against their armored chests. In the space of thirty seconds it grew from a whisper to deafening thunder, the salute of men and women unafraid to seek a worthy death. This was the greatest battle the galaxy had seen in centuries, one lone army of the faithful against every last one of the Great Powers, and all of them were eager to meet whatever fate the gods had chosen for them here. The traditional cry soon rang out above even the pounding:

"WAR! DEATH! REBIRTH!"

In a great wave, the warriors of the Scar Hounds tribe rolled southward, War Skiffs leading the charge while walkers, speeders, bikes, and hordes of warriors filled the space between and behind them. The wet mud and tender reeds of the flooded plains squelched beneath their trampling feet as they advanced, making their way toward higher ground - and the ancient Jedi Temple that lay there, a relic of their foes. Beyond it lay Kaleth, the Prosperity, and the key to their ultimate destiny. One step at a time, they would find glory.

But The Mongrel? He did not join them.

The warlord felt a tug within his metal frame, a mental call that he recognized as the voice of destiny. There will be another place for you, it whispered. A final clash, the end of your cycle. ~ I must go, Mercy, ~ Asher told her. ~ I feel... I feel a call. The gods are beckoning to me, and I must follow. What I do here will shape the course of this battle. ~ He turned and mounted his speeder bike, feeling the hum of the engine vibrating up through his chassis. One last ride. He wished he could feel the wind on his face as he went.

Perhaps in the next world he would.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Master’s Retreat
Enemies: Jedi, Valery Noble Kahlil Noble
Allies: BOTM
Objective: 1

Finally at last… The armies of the Maw had reached the sacred Jedi homeworld, and with it the culmination of decades of war and planning. Kyrel was one eager to spill the blood of his enemies. The Wrath arrived to see what the defense, would be, to watch as Solipsis’s plan comes together. To what end that plan held he didn’t know. If anything he would see the planet wiped from r distance, to show the Jedi that they would be no match for the religious fanatics of the Maw.

A brutal sight was beheld at Master’s rest. There the opening was strewn with both blood and bodies of Jedi who tried to defend against the Barbarian horde. Once inside Kyrel had his hands wrapped around a Padawan. He spoke savoring the fear of the boy, rhetorical questions came from the dead man’s lips. “Tell me where is your Ashla now??? Where is your pathetic order come to save you?” He spoke as if disappointed, as if the Master of Ren had expected more. All the while his Crimson Hands had started to ransack the place. Eagerly destroying thousands of years of history without a thought or a care.

More screams let out, as some of the men started to fight over limbs. “Oi give me an arm…. Give me a leg.” Kyrel could hear his troops arguing, as if they were in a slaughter house determined to pick the best meat. The arguing was followed by pleas, then turned to screams as the same two men started to rip limbs from sockets. What followed after was the unsettling chewing and gnawing of raw flesh.

Kyrel’s hands squeezed on the boys face. “Tell me where is the Ashla… Is it with me or my men? Wrong, only Maw is here…” He said, the boy’s face was frightened and yet couldn’t respond to the hulking brute. As if he was completely petrified altogether. What followed next was Kyrel’s piercing gaze staring straight through the boy. His hands started to move until the boy’s face was facing his back, the beautiful snap sound echoed through the cannibalistic frenzy. With just a little strength Kyrel pulled the head off from its body, his men cheered violently as they continued to loot, break, and feast. Kyrel tossing the Padawan’s head into the horde, while some took what remains of the body. His signature branching out only to let his enemies know he was here, and waiting for any surprise to come out.

 

[Asanté Tsilor]

1ST POST

ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON
Objective 2 • Shatterpoint

313th Stormtrooper Legion • 'SABRETOOTH LEGION'
4th Infantry Battalion (2,000/2,000)
Task Force • 'SIKA' DWA' (40/40)

Allies: NIO • DECEASED Erskine Barran Hall Mannarra
Enemies: BOTM

TSILOR'S LOADOUT
• UNIVERSAL COMBAT PLATFORM 'STORM' MK. V
• SRK-65 PARTICLE-BEAM RIFLE
• AP-25i 'SIMP' PARTICLE-BEAM BLASTER
• VIBRO-KNIFE

POOR, LONESOME STORMY: SOMETHING PERSONAL -- PROLOGUE​

THE BUSTED BLASTER, VEN KARYA SPACEPORT, EDGE OF THE TROSTLOS WASTE, KIFFEX, ANNOUNCEMENT OF IMPAF's GRADUATION, 862
Tsilor could remember this day of year ‘62 as if it was yesterday. He had waited in the spaceport for a couple of hours when the first news about the graduations came. Asanté knew that the news would come in this week, but he didn’t know which day of it. Apparently, this expected day had come -- for the best and for the worst. Tsilor was not stressed, nor relaxed -- he was between those two states-of-mind, not being able to put a word on this feeling. Coming back to his homeworld was a stressful but uplifting event for the Kiffar.

‘Erf, all this dichotomy in my heart…’ the cadet whispered.

‘Did ya call me, sir?’ the bartender asked while turning around to face the becoming Stormtrooper. Tsilor shook his head as he was casting his eyes into his glass, stirring it so the ice cubes could cool the beverage down. Four years of intensive training were at stake right now. Tsilor had no more power in his hands -- all this power belonged to his training officer. When the Kiffar Class, which was named after the species of its students, had returned on this planet for a well deserved military leave, their instructors greeted the cadets with a smile, ensuring the future bucketheads that everything was going well. They were sure that Asanté and his fellows would be allowed to incorporate the StormCorps. The Kiffar was all but sure of that -- especially after what had happened during the last exam.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. His owner was Pethros Tsilor, one of his numerous cousins -- and one of the few who joined the IMPAF academies with him. Asanté looked up to face him. ‘A’right Asanté: we received the results! ‘Have been lookin’ around fo’ ya fo’ ten minutes! C’mon, b-...’ The Kiffar suddenly stopped him as he understood what Asanté had in his glass. ‘Hey… Is that a Tevraki whiskey?!’ he asked, sure that what he had seen was wrong.

‘Well,’ Asanté declared in a shrug, ‘yes… I mean… maybe. But nothin’ t’care about’

Pethros pouted cautiously: ‘Please finish it. We’ve got the result, boy, that’s not a simple day in our life, y’know?’

‘I know.’

POOR, LONESOME STORMY: SOMETHING PERSONAL -- PART. I​

LZ-1, RUINS OF THE JEDI TEMPLE, TYTHON, H-HOUR OF OPERATION 'SHATTERPOINT', 876
Do not imagine that war cares about you.

That was the first lesson Tsilor learned on a battlefield. During the ten years he spent in travelling from one end to the other of the Galaxy alongside his fellows, the 1st-Leftenant learned that real war had no matter with what it could be read in the books. War doesn’t care about you. You don’t matter to War. War and you are in two different planes of existence. Sometimes, those planes intersect themselves in a line, and people die or continue to live because of war. But most of the time, war doesn’t care about you -- so you don’t have to care about war. Most of the time you’re brought into war by means that you can’t control. Being a soldier is to deal with that, to adapt yourself to the situation, and not the opposite. Knowing this is fundamental. But understanding it can take several years.

This was the feeling 1st-Leftenant Asanté Tsilor had at this very moment, as the RAGDx gunships under his command were coming closer and closer to the ground, bringing men of the 4th Battalion on the surface of Tython. After a short brief given by their superior, Tsilor and McAlastair, his second-in-command, managed to prepare the landing.

<’Tsilor to McAlastair: how is this goin’ up there?’> the Kiffar asked the 2nd-Leftenant.

The two officers of the 4th Battalion decided to split up their unit: 1st, 2nd and 4th Companies would come first, under Tsilor’s command and would establish an outpost near the ruins of the Jedi temple; then McAlastair and the 3rd Company would reach the newly called rendezvous point as the war would start to rage upon Tython. It was very important to let the Brotherhood think that there were only ground infantry in this part of the battle zone so they would be taken aback by the sudden arrival of the New Imperial paratroopers.

<’Everythin’ is fine, 1st-Leftenant. The boys are ready t’come whenever you’ll call ‘em,’> McAlastair declared. <’Any news from Lord-General Barran?’>

Tsilor and McAlastair had to operate separately from the commander of their legion for this operation, but this didn’t prevent them to call him only to know how it was going for the rest of the commandery clique. Without the help from Erskine Barran, the project of a paratroopers company in the 313th couldn’t have been honestly feasible for the two leftenants. But for now, they had to work on their side.

<’Nope. ‘Will tell ya when we’ll have new information about his sit-... Damnit!’> Tsilor exclaimed, <’I almost forgot that…!’>

<’What’s wrong, sir?’> McAlastair asked, <’Is that this important t’know how the Lord-General is feelin’?’>

<’No, no, no… Nothin’ t’deal with that…! I’ve got t’call Horne!’> McAlastair seemed to shrug behind his comlink as Tsilor was exclaiming on the Battalion link. <’Damn Bastion, how could I have forgotten t’do this? Then… Out.’>

<’Go on,’> the 2nd-Leftenant ended.

Tsilor couldn’t believe it. It was not like him to forget this special type of order. Quickly as possible, he opened a comlink with the commander of Hall Mannarra ’s tank: <’Tsilor to Horne, can ya hear me? I repeat: Tsilor to Horne, can ya hear me? Over!’>

<’Sir! We’re comin’ near the ground! Prepare for landin’!’> the gunship’s pilot declared throughout the comlink.

<’Copy that pilot.’>

 

[Zark San Tekka]

FORWARD COMMAND CENTER
JEDI TEMPLE RUINS
TYTHON

NJO Council (hololink): Valery Noble Bernard of Arca Dagon Kaze Inosuke Ashina Asmundr Varobalder
Area of Operations: The Mongrel Asanté Tsilor ​

Master San Tekka stood on crumbling battlements. Fossk's broadcast had given them some warning, time to deploy marines and rally enough pilgrims into a militia. Their colony already burned but hopefully those too weak to fight would be safe hiding offworld or in caves until the fighting was done. Zark also saw Crusade zealots, mandalorian reclaimers and even Zakuul Knights helping to set up repeater platforms or camouflage murder holes.

This valley was a vital chokepoint. From here they would shoot down any troop ships en route to Prosperity from the Maw crash site. Even if some slipped past, a staging point like the ruins could send out raiding parties to flank their advance. He felt dark energies swirling elsewhere but trusted his fellow Jedi to stand against it. Although retired from command, no one better understood Defense Force tactics.

"Councilor?"

He finished his inspection and descended into a fortified bunker excavated beneath the shattered temple dome.

"Pathfinders have sighted Maw war camps in the northern plains," the Jedi Master began his report to the Council via hololink, "Scattered reports of scout troopers to our northwest. Raiders are swarming south. We'll hold the temple for as long as we can then pull back to Prosperity. May the Force be with you."

Zark could hear blaster fire, much closer than the distant thundering of bombardments. An entire marine corps was spread out along the temple's northern perimeter. Accord soldiers deployed among them. Together they formed a coalition of defenders ready to break the Maw advance before it truly began.

Spoiler: Summary

• Master San Tekka and Strike Team Windu deploys along with a corps of GADF marines, Tython Accord allies and pilgrim militias to the Jedi Temple Ruins

 

[Valery Noble]

Location: Tython | Enroute to Master's Retreat
Appearance: Link
Outfit: Factory Link
Weapon: Double-Bladed Lightsaber
Tag: Kahlil Noble Kyrel Ren
Post: #1
Objective: Secure the Master's Retreat

The day had come.

Fleets from all Galactic superpowers were engaged in one of the largest space battles of recent history above the ancient homeworld of the Jedi. On the surface below, armies were on the move and battling for crucial territory; Jedi and Sith were being deployed en masse, and key military insertions were launched to weaken the opposing sides. At this scale, war was pure chaos and only those with a calm state of mind would find their path through the darkness to complete their objectives.

Valery and Kahlil Noble were two Jedi more than capable of doing that, and together they were leading the charge against the Master's Retreat in an attempt to secure it. Of all battlegrounds Valery could have chosen, her decision had been to stay with her husband and fight together to take down the Maw's Wrath. She knew Kyrel Ren was out there, and that he wanted nothing more than finally get his revenge against her.

This was a fight she couldn't leave to someone else, and it was together with Kahlil that she was at her strongest. After losing their home on Empress Teta, losing parts of themselves, and fighting hard to balance their duties with parenthood, they had finally risen above all challenges and come out on top. Today, they were going to use their individual and combined strength to make a difference.

...

"Don't think I've seen you in armor before,"

Valery stepped into the cargo room of the shuttle and watched Kahlil finish armoring up. They were going to be landing on one of the two Landing Pads the Master's Retreat had soon, while a shuttle with GA soldiers was going to attack the other. The joint strike force was tasked to defeat Kyrel and his followers, and she was determined to make that happen.

Moving up behind him, she got close and checked his armor to make sure it was secured. In reality, she wasn't worried about his armor at all; she just needed this moment right before the battle with him.

"Armor looks good," Valery said before she stepped in front of him, and reached for his hands while she looked up into his eyes. Her lips were curled into a faint smile, and her eyes showed the usual intensity she had before a battle. Yet, there was something softer to them now that she stood alone with him.

"Let's secure this place and make it back home to Vera, hm?"

 

[Lena Dracov]

Objective: Sisterly Brawl
Location: Tython, Jedi Ruins Outskirts
Equipment: EU-10a Advanced Tactical Pistol | Overseer-pattern HPI Biochip | Ichor MK. 1 Assassin Armour | Twilight Blade (concealed)
Writing With: Ami Dracov

Lena approached the outskirts fo the ruins, hesitation in every step, memories filling her head as she approached the point which the force was darkest. She was here. The one she had been trying to avoid, but she couldn't dodge her past any longer. She had to face it, no matter the consequences.

Her hands glowed with the magic Ichor of the Night sisters, her determination outweighed the fear of what she would find. When she finally built up the courage to shout her sisters name, green mist surrounded her.

"AMI! Show yourself!" Her voice spread out over the plains and ruins of Tython, but she knew Ami was watching. Then suddenly, out of the mist came a small women, though just as intimidating as her older sister.

"So you've finally come to play?" Ami said with a menacing smile on her face.

 

[Project Uriel]

Accessing Uriel Unit Command Matrix:
Location: Heading toward the Jedi Temple Ruins
Allies: The Maw, New Sith Order
Direct Enemy: Alessandra Io

Primary Mission: Exterminatus of the Planetary body Tython.
Secondary Mission(s): Analysis of combat performance of Upgraded Force Users.
Tertiary Mission: Error. Classified. Identify Possible Site for Directive 19.
Primary Directives | Operational Directives: Deploy overwhelming force to facilitate the death of force users.

Archangel Deployment. Single Drones.
Standby… Stand by…
Error Tertiary Mission Classified, Redirect Sub Routine from Memory

Amongst the rising tides of war, there was a sonic crack. A shooting sound, followed by a small drop pod crashing to the earth. Heavy, like its occupant, it made an impact in a small crater. The sound was repeated across the potential battlefield, as a dozen HRD ARD-X-1's from the age of steel were enacted.

Emerging from the drop pods were exceptionally well-armed combat units, relentless and difficult to finally terminate. Project Uriel was no different. Different vision spectrums were adjusted inside the HUD to find the most appropriate for the time of day, terrain, and analysis of enemy combatants or their kill zones.

Systems were checked, and updates were displayed as weapons were readied. Uriel's heavy bolter was secured in place, braced at the hip. One among many weapons on her person. Energy shield generator on, ionization buffers clean, slug thrower shotgun, two jack knives, a belt full of grenades, a palm stunner, and a trio of melee weapons she'd found effective against force users. The secondary weapons were light but she wasn't, and nor was her armor or that massive great bolter! A devastating updated part of history, if a slow-moving one.

Rising out of the impact crater, came a thud each time her feet connected with the floor, crunching stone and creaking metal beneath her. You could hear her coming. More so when she spotted her first targets, because those bolter shots were known to be loud, each the size of a small grenade. It wasn't a fast approach but it was a terrifying one. The HRD's began their exterminatus routines on the defenders to pave the way for the troops behind them.

Checking battlefield conditions, analyzing optimal route, interlinking with holonet records. Location data updated. Proceeding to target.

Analysing Uriel Unit:
Personal Energy Shield: 100%
A1-Ionsider Armor Condition: Nominal
Armor Ionization Buffers Condition: Empty 0%
Damage to Combat Chassis Endoskeleton: 0%
Primary Systems Damage: None
Estimated Combat Capability 250% | Shield, Armor, Systems and Ionization Buffers

Full Loadout and Background NPCs

Spoiler

Armor: A1-Ionsider including Wristblades and Hud | MK5-Heavy Bolter (Hip Braced) | Grenades: 2x Frag (Belt) | 2x Cryoban (Belt) | 2x FEX-M3 Nerve Gas Grenade (Belt) | 1x Energy Shield (Stomach) | Model 31 Palm Stunner (Right Palm)| | 2 x MK2 Jack Knife (Hip) | Full Songsteel Quarterstaff (Back) | Barrata-SSG (Back) | Vibro Knife (Belt)

NPCs
A dozen Independent ARD-X-1's armed similarly only with standard durasteel armor.
Lurking in Reserve: 2 x BAD-BRD's in case they spot Braith.

 

[Maple Harte]

Laertia's Equipment:
Morpheus Chitin
Vorpal Saber
SynthBreaker
Psychic Katana
Z-6 Rotary Blaster

Maple's Equipment:
Shroud of Madness
Battle Scout Rifle (armor piercing, explosive, radiological)
Shadow Proclamation
Energy Bow Pistol
Survivors Staff

Amalgam's Equipment
Mage Epidermis
Dragon Blades (Lava Crystal Lightsabers)

Arianna's Equipment:
The United's Epidermis
Subverter's Blade (Double Bladed Purple Split-Saber)

SPACE OPS.

Spoiler

Prototype (Commanding Leviathan of Danuta)
The Assembly (Battalion Spawn, Commanding Leviathan of Sev Tok)

AVATAR ASSAULT TEAM:

Darth Xiphos
The Amalgam (Darth Phyre)
Maple Harte
Black Knights of Io (4)
Model 1 (30)
Equipment

• Assault Radiation Blaster (10)
• Assault Concussion Rifle (10)
• Plasma Grenades
• Adhesive Grenades

Model 2 (35)
Equipment
Lightning Repeater
Proton Grenade


Model 3 (70)
Equipment:
Laser Cannon Model 1
Class A Thermal Detonators (3 each)
Poison Grenades (3 Each)

Fixer Nuetralizer Model 1 (1)
Equipment
Varco-56
Laser Knives
Droid Commando Energy Shield

Advanced Model 1 (3)
Equipment:
Automatic Civil Defense Laser Disruptor

Medical Nuetralizer Model 1 (2)
Equipment
Civil Defense Laser Disruptor
Energy Bow Pistol

Chaplain Nuetralizer Model 1 (30)
Equipment
Dauntless Blade
Hazmat suit
AVATAR ASSAULT TEAM SPECIAL EQUIPMENT:
Nuclear Bomb (2, Ten Ton Yield, equivalent in power and blast Radius to Real Life MOAB, which is listed as 150 meters)
Alpha Red Delivery System


BATTLE GROUP A

Spoiler

Leviathan of Danuta (Commanding Battle Group A)
Rhand Class Battle Cruiser (4, Battle Group A)
Battle Group A Cruiser Starfighter Compliment:
B-Wing E Variant
House Io Star Destroyer (7, Battle Group A)
Star Destroyer Starfighter Compliment:
ALL Nuetralizer TIE's
Sarka Class Frigate (10, Battle Group A)
Frigate Starfighter Compliment:
Blast Boats
Grievous-class Star Destroyer (4, Battle Group A)
Star Fighter Compliment: all that are listed in Grievous Class Sub

BATTLE GROUP B

Spoiler

Leviathan of Sev Tok (Commanding Battle Group B)
Rhand Class Battle Cruiser (5, Battle Group B)
Battle Cruiser Starfighter Compliment:
RZ-2 A Wing
House Io Star Destroyer (7)
Star Destroyer Star Fighter Compliment:
ALL Nuetralizer TIE's
Assassin Corvette (13)
Ramship (Hammerhead Disguise) (15)
Star fighter Escort
Vulture Droids: 12 Squadrons

GROUND OPS

Ground Assault Team (Unit Tenloss)

Spoiler

Unit Tenloss Citizen Soldiers Equipment:
Environmental Bastion Armor (35)
House Io Stealth Suit (2) ( Veterans, Led by Ted)
Automatic Civil Defense Laser Disruptor
Battle Scout Rifle (Sword Herald 7.62 millimeter Armor Piercing, Explosive Ammo)
Sonic Grenades
Singularity Mines
Unit Tenloss Specialists
Model 1 (20)
Equipment:
Assault Radiation Blaster (10)
Assault Radiation Blaster Radiation Grenade Rounds (6 for each Blaster)

• Assault Concussion Rifle (10)
• Plasma Grenades

Advanced Model 1 (1)
Equipment:

None (Procurement on Sight)

Cult of The Brain Demon:
The Conjoined (Double Bladed Lightsaber)
The Collage (Battalion Spawn)

UNIT TENLOSS SPECIAL EQUIPMENT:
Nuclear Bomb (Ten Ton Yield, equivalent in power and blast Radius to Real Life MOAB, which is listed as 150 meters)

TYTHON INVASION FORCE:

Spoiler

Entire Invasion Force of 1 Rhand Class Battle Cruiser led by Countess Arianna Belasko
Unit Blastech:
Arianna Spawn:
Darth Ryluss
Darth Moroz
Siren Corps
Black Knights of Io (2)
Citizen Soldiers (140)
Equipment:
Environmental Bastion Armor(140)
Battle Scout Rifle (140)
Automatic Civil Defense Laser Disruptor (140)
Singularity Mines
Smoke Grenades
Cortosis Pikes

24 hours earlier...


Aboard the Leviathan of Danuta...

"So they're finally doing it?" Maple Harte asked.

"Looks like it."

Darth Xiphos stared at the reports in the Conference room. The Amalgam , The Battalion , Darth Themis and Countess Arianna Belasko were all present, staring at the holoprojection readouts.

All the single most powerful members of the House, present at this meeting. Maple exercised her authority far less, but her lethality in spite of her insanity had made her form the basis of the House's Marksmanship Training. Every House Io Citizen must be a rifleman if possible.

"Our spies indicate the Avatar of War will be present to try and destroy Tython." Arianna announced crisply, clad in an all white gown, her pale complexion reserved, calculating the costs of this operation.

Maple, imagining herself and everyone else as squirrels, feverishly wanting acorns, none the less paid attention to the display. It was Csilla all over again. But where were the Super Insects?

The Amalgam smiled staring at the projected amount of forces expected to be present. Not so much for the schemes she had hatched, but for the slaughter and death that would surely occur, that she would feed off of.

Xiphos, leaned back in her seat at the projected display of the Avatar. At Korriban, her Star Fighters had gone out of their way to get good views of it, each individual databank reviewed.

More than familiar with Vong Technology by this point, Xiphos knew a Vong Built Construction when she saw it. She had ordered TANKS of Alpha Red produced at Khemost. And she had acquired something quite terrible in addition.

An Atomic Compression Bomb. House Io now had nuclear weapons.

The three they had acquired were not that strong. Ten ton TNT yield. About the blast radius of a MOAB as well as in terms of explosive potency.

Two were being brought aboard The Avatar, one on a dangerous route to its power core, the other to its Path Engine. If poisoning the damned thing didn't work, they'd nuke it. Even if the blast still didn't kill it, then the Radiation might do some damage.

And if that still didn't work...then her best warships, and the best warships of the rest of the Galaxy would be firing on it.

Themis, clad in her purple catsuit which concealed her features, had her eyes closed. Trying to see into the future, only to be forced back from the sheer strain of trying to view such a Galactic Focal Point from which Quadrillions of futures could come about. It was too much even for her. In some the Avatar was completely destroyed and it brought about the end of The Maw once and for all. In some it totally destroyed Tython and slaughtered the armies of the Tython Accords and House Io.

In some, The Maw pulled the same bullchit they had at Csilla, and rammed the dying Station into Tython. At the very least, no more Avatar.

But there were so many others. Xiphos going mad. All of them going mad.

Some futures for Laertia were so horrible Themis couldn't even stare for more than a few seconds...

Themis kept silent as a result. Everyone knew why.

The Siren Corps would be there in swarms. Chaplain Nuetralizers. Crisis Nuetralizers. Model 1's 2's, 3's, House Io Organic Citizens. Merc Droids. All deployed carefully. VERY carefully.

So much was riding on this. If the Maw won it would be a military disaster for the Accords, and terrible blow to Galactic Morale. The Maw might find it easier and easier to destroy Planets going forward.

They COULD NOT be allowed to triumph, not matter what it took, The Avatar must be destroyed.

If there was anything, anything that called for a tactical nuke being detonated from within along with every Class A Thermal Detonator, Thermobaric Weapon, Det Charge, and poison they could locate, it was the Avatar of War.

The Amalgam, being the Team Troll, clapped her hands in glee and squeed.

"Aiiiiieeee!!!! I love Family Days!" The Amalgam proclaimed.

Everyone rolled their eyes.

"We have no idea how the Maw will react on the Ground." Maple pointed out, temporarily believing she was a Brain Demon Cultist.

"They'll be wherever Darth Solipsis is, and whatever Darth Solipsis wants to do, he won't be able to hide it. My bet is they'll be swarming wherever he'll be at." Xiphos asserted.

"What makes you so certain he'll be there at all?" The Countess wondered.

"It's the single biggest physical symbol of his own personal might. He has to be there, which means he'll have an escape route." The Amalgam answered matter of factly. "You think if 'I' owned a great big superweapon like that I wouldn't tout it like some vanity handbag from an overpriced retailer? Hell, I'd be dancing naked in the control tower as I fired at a planet."

"I would be covered in ketchup. We should all be covered in ketchup." Maple said with seeming lucidity.

Arianna blinked. "Could it be spicy ketchup?" she asked.

"The spiciest." Maple answered.

Arianna gave a beaming smile. "I'm in!"

Xiphos pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

"Can we please stay on target?" she asked.

Now The Amalgam pinched the bridge of her own nose.

"Way to start us off, Julia, using a line from Episode Four..." she muttered in irritation. "Especially since it's from the Guy that got shot down after he missed the exhaust vent."

Xiphos didn't respond, no where near fully unstable enough to get what The Amalgam's insane ramblings were all the time.

"We have to shoot them in the head so they can't rise from the grave!" Maple yelled out, lost in a zombie apocalypse delusion.

Xiphos shrugged at this. "We're going to shoot a lot of these people in the head anyway. So that's a good attitude.

"When in doubt, Kill." Maple replied.

"Most of our Battle Cruisers and Star Destroyers every waking moment must be devoted to shooting at that thing." Xiphos said. "Even if we are aboard it..."

"The Adrenaline is going to be insane." The Amalgam gushed.

One hour later...

Maple wandered the halls of the Leviathan, muttering to herself.

Xiphos had so much more now than what she had at Csilla. And she had played a direct hand in the Mercy's Destruction.

Now she had a professional army and Navy, all armed to the teeth with the most advanced Weaponry she could possibly field at the moment.

Csilla cried for vengeance. The Maw had fethed so many over. But maybe, just maybe, they might redeem themselves here, if only a little.

Xiphos hid it well but Maple saw it: the weight of what she had done at Rhand was slowly bearing down on her.

The failure at Csilla still haunted Xiphos. It haunted her as well. On some strange level, Maple suspected it even bothered The Amalgam, or Darth Phyre or whatever or whoever the feth she was.

Speak of the Devil...

"Oh, such a dour little sniper..." cooed a familiar, feral, yet seductive voice as she entered her small quarters aboard the Leviathan. Xiphos had offered her bigger but she had declined.

Maple felt a chill at the rotting aura behind her and turned, facing Darth Phyre, currently in control of the Amalgam's body, sitting in a corner of Maple's sparse, utilitarian room. The red headed Atrisian Force Spawn, slinked over to her in an enchanted grey catsuit.

"What brought you outta the basement?" Maple growled.

"Why so hostile? It may seem hard to believe, but I'm actually rather fond of you. I guess being fused with Amy has allowed you to grow on me."

"Leave me alone and let me go crazy in peace." Maple snorted, turning to walk.

"I can stop your madness..."

Maple halted, trying not to hyperventilate.

"A simple matter..." Phyre said, slinking back up to her. "I've been watching you, Uri. Was even in communion with the Unholy Spirit over it."

"Lemme guess..." Maple glowered, a dry expression on her features. "I'm about to hear the pitch."

Darth Phyre smiled.

"Really, I think Amy's biggest problem with you is she doesn't know how to tempt you properly. She keeps thinking the madness will do the work and break you."

"You have nothing to tempt me with. Not even the end of my madness."

Phyre smiled sadistically. "Don't kid yourself, Maple. How long can you keep this up? You're not getting any younger. You don't even have implants to keep you going. It doesn't matter how good a sniper you are if your hand starts to tremble. How long you think it will be before you simply have too many injuries? Before you're relegated to a role as a mere instructor? You see, unlike so many others, I know why you actually joined forces with Julia."

Phyre leaned forward. Maple's stance remained rigid.

"You knew you were going nowhere, fast, as a bounty hunter. And however much you try to hide it, the thought of dying alone, forgotten and crazy, is something that deeply frightens you. That's why, in spite of all the madness, and bloodshed you see this House engage in on a daily basis, you stick with us. Because it's the only way you matter beyond being Amy's favorite apprentice."

"You wouldn't know it, the way she fawns over Laertia."

"That's because Laertia's finally making waves, Silly." Phyre scoffed, circling Maple again. "Amy still is crazy for you. Besides... what's waiting for you if you leave us?"

"That's my bridge to cross when I reach it."

Phyre leaned a little closer, rotten yellow gaze almost caressing Maple's figure. Maple took a step back in disgust and fear. Unlike Amy, she had less experience with the evil version of the woman who had taught Starlin Rand .

"Such potential... hidden in the body of a mortal..." Phyre remarked pleasantly. "Tell Maple, what is it about the Dark Side that frightens you so? Has the Force given you anything except madness? Isolation? Do you think if you suddenly started following it's will it would shower you with graces. Even when everyone follows it's stupid little rules, it still chits on them. All I and my fellow witches do is dare to recognize that fact and do what we must so that everyone knows the freedom we taste."

"You kill innocent people."

"Guilt and Innocence is simply a matter of timing...(I NEVER BROKE THE LAW! I AM THE LAW!!!: 1000 XP)" Phyre dismissed, rolling her eyes. "What, you think you got clean hands because you don't actively do it? By not trying to kill me and every other Witch of The Brain Demon, you're actively condoning it, Uri. You know why you really don't try and stop it? Because it's much easier to act appalled at me doing the work and other things you and Julia currently lack any stomach for than it is to actively try and stop us. You live voyeuristically through our antics. You both do. We're what you both really want to be deep down but you can't bring yourself to admit it. Face it Udinia..." Phyre whispered, running slender, catsuit covered hands under Maple's chin.

"You haven't been a hero in a long, long time. And the rest of the Galaxy isn't about to start letting you after throwing in with us. There is no redemption coming for you. Your true nature is as a killer. It's a gift. You should be proud of it. Revel in it."

Maple said nothing. She was struggling to hide how deeply disquieted she was by the accusation. With the disquiet came the sickening horror at the idea that Phyre might have a point.

Phyre clasped Maple's chin.

"And so beautiful too..." Phyre purred. "Ever hold your hand over an open flame, to see how much you could take?"

"I've stooped pretty low in the past, I will admit. I stoop pretty low now. But if I ever found myself thinking of you in that manner, even if you weren't just some flame enhanced parasite living in my ex-Master's body, I'd blow my brains out." Maple growled.

Phyre sniffed her.

"At least you'd be blowing something..." The Sith whispered.

"Go to Hell, Darth Phyre."

"Y'know, I did do just that, once..." Phyre shot back before getting close and whispering right against her ear.

"It's pretty good. If you're the right sort who enjoys what it offers."

"I'll take a Rain Check." Maple replied coldly.

"With my help, you almost saved a planet...I had a say in Amy's decision too, to help you at Csilla." Phyre hissed, clutching Maple's chin slightly tighter. "Remember that. I could have always refused you.

"Feth you, you sick, cosplaying, freak." Maple snapped, mismatched wet green eye and its Sulphur Counterpart staring daggers into Phyre's exotic features. "You just don't see the point in wasting a good crop of victims. And because you're so thirsty it could be in the tropical region of some jungle planet and it might as well be a desert for you if there's no Laertia."

Phyre smirked, amused. "You really believe it, don't you? That you're better than me. That's adorable. If you're game, we can put it to the test."

"How about we put you to the test?" Maple countered, feeling Phyre release her chin.

"If this planet actually survives by what we do here, do you realize that it will likely be the first, truly noble act of your entire existence?" Maple questioned.

"If it is...if I do end up helping to save Tython...it will only be because of the Dark Side. Meaning my success, my act of 'nobility', if it helps save the Galaxy, will have been possible only by The Dark Side."

To this, Maple realized she had no counter argument.

Phyre smiled again. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Get out of my room, Phyre."

Darth Phyre sighed.

"Tell you what...how about a free sample? On the house. Since we're family and all..." Phyre offered.

"Last I looked, you weren't an ice cream parlor."

"Well, not the ice part certainly..." Phyre replied, hands casually going to her hips. "But we are going into a very lethal situation. I'd hate for us to fail because you started imagining me as something out of your psychotic little brain and and accidentally shooting at me instead of the enemy."

"Delusion or not, what makes you think me shooting you would be an accident?" Maple wondered.

"Well if you're gonna try you can at least be lucid." Phyre replied smoothly. "Here's my offer, Dear Uri...I remove your madness completely for the next 24 hours. Completely sane. In a way you haven't been in years."

"My spine is pregnant..." Maple hissed, as though it was some sort of rejoinder. (It wasn't.)

Phyre blinked, as even her evil brain had momentarily shut down for repairs upon hearing that.

"Y-your...your motherfething spine?" Phyre blurted. "Who was it with, a chiropractor?"

Maple whipped out a sonic disruptor.

"YOU ARE MADE OF SQUIRREL! I DO NOT TRUST THAT WHICH IS MADE OF SQUIRREL!" Maple shouted.

Phyre rolled her eyes.

"This is exactly what I am talking about. Oh well..."

Phyre faced a wall (Mind you, while a deeply unstable Maple still had the Disruptor pointed at her) and opened her mouth, stretching it to unnatural, sickening degrees as a wisp of red flames escaped her throat, tracing strange runes into the wall.

"Maple, this is a spell from The Kolda-Bratha Calculus. It affects time."

"I know what the Calculus is. Met someone who used it for a fething face lift once. But then Darth Vader had to ruin everything by barging in and summoning actor Ryan Reynolds like he was a Pokemon." Maple replied "And this was after getting my ass kicked by Scott Adkins."

(Cutaway of Maranon sitting in an elegant chair by a fireplace.)

(Maranon: Pretty sure that's not how it happened)

(Commissioner James Gordon: This is how it happened. This is how--)

(Narrator cuts James Gordon off.)

(Narrator: We will be having precisely none of that meme, Thank You.)

Phyre tapped her foot. "This spell can temporarily render you sane. But it's a one time use. Think. If you could shut your degenerative insanity off with a flick of a switch, wouldn't you?"

Maple, her madness granting OOC Knowledge, couldn't help but respond with a Marvel quote.

"Not if it was your switch." Maple replied in a moment of lucidity. "Go. Now."

Phyre only winked at her...then left...

Maple slowly, stiffly walked to her bed, sat down, and tried not to have a panic attack...eyes darting to the spell on the wall on occasion...

Meanwhile...

Ted Forrest, a House Io Citizen--Soldier sat at the edge of his sparse, Utilitarian section of his quarters, bunked with other Citizen Soldiers, looking at old photos.

He had been an ordinary man once. But that was before Nar Kreeta. Before Laertia rescued him from the Bryn'adul as the SJC fled from the planet. The rest of his family had not been so fortunate. He was the only survivor, his wife, their unborn Daughter, and son having been ripped open by their Drone Soldiers. He had managed to kill one but had been in a bad spot when Laertia found him, hands locked in a useless death grip around a Drone's neck, both choking the other, before she had broken the stalemate.

This was the only photo he had left of them. The only evidence that they existed, depicting them all, smiling together.

He hadn't stared at it in years. It was too painful. But he was staring at it now.

It was faded. Frayed at the edges. The boiling rage over their fate had never left him. Not since that day. It only worsened, having to look at that photo again.

Ted put it back in his wallet. They were gone. There was only the House. The House gave purpose. The House protects it's own. Feth everything and everyone outside of it.

A special occasion today. The House would again engage it's enemies. He had been training for an assignment on Tythons surface, an especially dangerous high risk mission involving a Nuke. On the Surface of Tython.

Ten ton yield. Not world ending. But enough to make a massive boom.

Ted wanted to make a big boom.

"Attention, Selected Citizens, please report to relevant Area from a special address from The Matriarch."

Ted had been told which Hangar to meet in private. They all had. Without a word, he and the other Soldiers filed out in perfect lockstep, heading to Hangar 007, passing by the usual craziness that came with being a member of this faction. He passed by quarters that had a jagged black moon symbol on the archway. Those were inhabited by Cult members so everyone knew to stay the hell away from them, there were some that were open. He saw citizens willingly kneeling before the Catsuit clad Witches, getting baptized with their white blood being smeared across their foreheads, surrounded by the severed heads of NIO Military and Civilians. Civilians like his own family.

Ted didn't go near Cultists if he didn't have to. As he passed by another, he saw one Cultist kneeling in a pentagram of white blood in the middle of their room, reciting unholy things under their breath. Passing by an open passage showed a small recreational area where the Model 1's, for reasons that made sense only to Model 1's, doing nothing but Han Solo paintings, in both Oil and Water Color. But then again Model 1's were attached to their memes and non-sequiter humor. He saw a lone Advanced Model 1 demonstrating proper chainsaw use in melee combat to a class of soldiers. For some reason, there were Model 2's trying on bowler hats in one section with the help of a few sirens.

They soon reached Hangar 007, everyone dressed sharply in their dark blue uniforms. Ted stared at the Podium as Xiphos took to the stage with Countess Belasko. Along with two of her Black Knights, perched behind her. Everybody was coming.

"The coming battle may well decide the fate of The Entire Galaxy..." Xiphos stated. "It is, I feel, a fight this House cannot afford to sit out. Like at Csilla, an entire planet is at risk. It is one thing to kill hundreds, maybe thousands of people at a time in war...we do it all the time, especially in our family."

Xiphos's mismatched gaze swept the masses gathered in the hangar, her voice being transmitted throughout the massive Warship.

"The Maw will use this weapon to destroy any and every planet that resists them. Hell, they'll likely do it to any that doesn't. The Maw is a scourge. As bad, or worse, than the Bryn'adul. They must not be allowed to own it. To keep it. They are maniacs. Even if we were not their sworn enemies, we could not let them keep it. We have a moral obligation to prevent Tython's Destruction if at all possible. This might sound funny, coming from the woman responsible for the destruction of Rhand's surface...but the Maw instigated at Rhand also..." Xiphos went on. "If one planet ends up dying, or suffering, to prevent the destruction of hundreds of other worlds...that is what we must live with to achieve our goals here. It is good if we save Tython...it's a beautiful world. But we must be prepared to sacrifice it in an instant to make sure the Maw doesn't keep The Avatar. But we as a House must do our best to make sure it doesn't come to that. Show no mercy. If they use hostages as shields, no matter how young, shoot through them. If you must resort to bio weapons, resort to them. If our allies must be sacrificed then sacrifice them. If we must ram their ships we shall ram them. But the Avatar must be totally, utterly annihilated. THE HOUSE SHALL REVEAL ITS KNIVES! AND SLASH AND STAB AND STAB!" Xiphos proclaimed fiercely. "WE SHALL BE AS A WAVE OF DEATH, CRUSHING ALL THAT STANDS AGAINST US! THIS FIGHT IS OUR FIGHT AND WE *WILL MAKE THESE ANIMALS SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING THEY HAVE DONE TO THE GALAXY, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!"

The summoned masses cheered at this. Ted felt his thirst for violence build to a crescendo.

"Prepare yourselves, for in mere hours you shall be in one of the greatest battles of your entire life! We land on the surface! On the Avatar! And we shall strike with a fury these Maw animals have never witnessed!" (Last Stand: 7 XP) Xiphos thundered. "Let us strike with the fury of all the Maw's victims! All the Bryn'adul's! Their way of thinking is a dead end! AS DEAD AS THEY SHALL SOON BE!"

The Hangar erupted in cheers, fierce and loud.

"Prepare for your assignments, and keep one thing in mind above all others: DRIVING YOUR DAGGER INTO THE HEARTS OF MAW SCUM!" Xiphos shouted.

The whole ship seemed to let out a cheer that reverberated throughout the Leviathan of Danuta.

Two hours later...

After the Matriarch had given her speech, Ted had steeled himself and headed off to retrieve two of his team mates from an outpost of Brain Demon Cultists aboard the vessel that had converted a minor storage bay into one of their twisted churches. Everyone on the ship never went near it unless they had no choice...or were curious...

Ted was never curious.

He felt cold as he got closer to the unholy church aboard the ship. He didn't relax even after spotting one of the Cultists he was bringing along on his mission. One he had worked with in the past, a witch in the guise of a pure blood Sith Woman with slicked back dark hair known as The Conjoined, leaning against the side of the entrance with her arms folded.

The muscular witch, covered like all her foul kind in a white, skintight Catsuit, grinned as she spotted him.

"Teddy, old boy! How long has it been?!" The Conjoined asked.

"Wasn't keeping a count..." Ted answered stoically.

"Well, 'I' have, and allow me to assure you, it was far too long..." The Conjoined replied. "It's good to see you!"

"Likewise..." Ted responded to be polite.

"Y'know, Ted, a guy like you, with so much violence in your heart, I think you could really benefit from coming to sermons..." The Conjoined trailed as she led Ted into the inner sanctum. Ted, conditioned to horror at this point much like Laertia Io had been during her time growing up, didn't blink as he saw the Cultists busy with horrid tasks, torturing prisoners from enemy factions, skinning women alive for their horrid rituals, knitting with the tendons of slain Final Dawn Sith, and lollygagging, a crime more foul than most of what went on here. He reacted to none of it, not even when bits of blood from a screaming Jedi as his skin was forcibly torn off with magic got on his uniform. He had seen so much of this and worse at Nar Kreeta.

It was dark, candle lit for pathways to other sections. Ted didn't react as some of the Cultists waved cheerfully at him even as they engaged in the most grisly, inhumane activities as though they were mowing a lawn. Which, to be fair, was totally the equivalent of what they were doing in their own warped, evil skulls.

"I'm not the praying sort..." Ted replied to her not so subtle offer.

"No one is, at first." The Conjoined countered as she led him through the dark, unholy sanctum. "But the will to persevere does not exist in a vacuum. All will need to place their faith in something, to give the violence meaning and purpose."

"And you think cutting up people achieves apotheosis, or something?"

"It did it for the Bryn'adul...no offense Ted, but every move they made was because of their unwavering faith in their own intractable superiority, however fictional it actually was for it did not have the might of the Dark Side backing it. The Maw's faith is as unwavering, for destruction is the goal...and then rebirth. But they don't have the Dark Side's support any more than the Bryn'adul did..." The Conjoined asserted.

"And why is that?" Ted asked.

"Because the Dark Side is a part of this universe. And this Galaxy alone has too much opportunity left to just selfishly toss aside and whine and scream for a new one. The Dark Side may function in their Sith, but it will never allow them to truly succeed in remaking the universe. Nothing that powerful, that all encompassing, could tolerate a mere mortal, especially a self styled Sith'ari such as Darth Solipsis , raising itself to the level of an equal." The Conjoined answered with a chuckle. "It even smacked down Sidious for trying, and Sidious was probably The Dark Side's most favorite instrument ever. And Solipsis has way less to work with. Plus, a bunch of other fodder will be there practically throwing themselves at him as a nice distraction."

They finally reached an altar set deep into the floor, circular and covered in white marble , a pentagram of white blood slowly burning into it.

With a mild bit of surprise, Ted realized it was The Battalion at the center of the altar, in a meditative position, the flesh on her face shuddering and bubbling horrifically.

Ted had seen a lot of chit since joining the House. Too much chit, some would argue. Loads and loads of it. But even he (despite hiding it very well) was taken aback by the site of the Battalion's face detaching from her skull, exposing white blood and yellow muscle stretched over a skull. The muscle tissue beneath writhed just like the detached, shuddering face of the Battalion did.

Ted's eyebrows raised verrrrry slightly as the shuddering face became a swollen, pulsating globule of flesh that split in two, one half growing darker in color, though both grew at the same rate, becoming humanoid in shape.

One took the form of a curvy, muscular, dark skinned woman, whose flesh shuddered and pulsated every few seconds, small arcs of purple lightning erupting from it's surface. The other grew into an older, pale skinned, but stockier woman who's flesh bubbled unpleasantly as the Dark Side was metabolized by its flesh.

The face of the Battalion grew back and she smiled pleasantly at Ted.

"Why, Citizen Forrest. A pleasure..." The Battalion said, rising from the Altar. "Xiphos told me a great deal about you. I can hardly think of anyone better suited to the task that awaits you."

"Consort..." he said respectfully, hiding his terror at what the Cult was capable of.

"Ted, this Witch here is known as The Collage. Spawned from my flesh. She acts with my authority..." The Battalion gestured to the stocky witch whose flesh finally stabilized, opening rotting yellow eyes. "She will accompany you to the surface of Tython with The Conjoined. You will follow her instructions as if they were my own."

The Collage took a step towards Ted while still naked, smiling as her flesh bubbled unnaturally on one side of her face.

"A pleasure to meet you!" The Collage said, holding out her hand. "You don't have anything against me killing Jedi younglings, do you? Y'know, while we're on assignment? It's more of a casual thing, really. Incidental."

"I don't give a flying feth about the Jedi. Any Jedi."

The Collage smiled with seeming sincerity.

"An excellent answer, Mister Forrest."

The Collage then departed, taking an offered Catsuit by a nearby Cultist. Within a minute or so she was dressed and ready, a silvery, single bladed Lightsaber dangling from a belt.

Ted gestured to the Dark Skinned Witch. "Will she be joining us also, Consort?"

"No. The Assembly is to Command The Leviathan of Sev Tok..." The Battalion answered. "What we have is a special arrangement in mind..."

Ted blinked. "If it's as impressive as what you just pulled off I'm sure the Maw is in for a nasty surprise."

"Most impressive, Ted, of that I can assure you..." The Battalion confirmed. "May the Force serve you."

"Thank you, Consort." Ted replied, wanting to get the absolute mother feth out of there as soon as he could.

The Battalion nodded. "You are dismissed, Citizen Forrest."

Meanwhile...

Vivian had summoned the strength to overwhelm the personality of Countess Belasko for a short while, but she knew the Countess would be back eventually. It was inevitable. Especially with the stakes as insanely high as they were right now.

It was getting harder and harder for the elderly, red headed Force Spawn to break character. Arianna had such a strong personality that Vivian had to really work to come up for air. It was the consequence of doing her damndest to blunt, soften, and water down such a homicidal personality--eventually, as it began to self moderate on its own, there was less of a need for a moderator. Vivian had felt herself starting to blend at the seams with Arianna and didn't like it.

But for Laertia... Vivian would risk her very soul to aid her daughter.

Xiphos's head rested against Vivian's lap in the privacy of Arianna's luxurious quarters aboard the Leviathan of Danuta. They had discussed the plan seemingly endlessly in the days ahead.

"So Julia...if we lose here, what do we do?" Vivian asked. "Defeat is a very real possibility. No plan survives an enemy."

"We regroup. Catch our breath, and start expanding our defenses. We lay low until a more practical solution is found..."

"What if you're dead? What if I'm dead? What if everybody in the upper echelon dies?"

"That's why my prototype daughters are not present..."

"You really think they could hold the House together?" Vivian asked.

"I don't know. But I have to have faith in their character." Xiphos answered. "Mother, I...I'm scared."

Vivian raised an eyebrow. It was rare for her daughter to admit to any sort of fear.

"That's perfectly normal." Vivian assured softly.

"But what if what's awaiting me is just another disaster, like Csilla...like...like Rhand..."

Vivian's fingers caressed the black locks of Xiphos's hair.

"You can't think like that. Or the Maw will have no need to defeat you. You will do it for them."

"I know I can never wash the blood I spilled at Rhand off my hands. I know that. But...if I can help prevent the death of Tython...won't that make up for Rhand just a little?" Xiphos asked.

"It's not a matter of atonement. War demands terrible sacrifice from even the best intentioned people. Did you truly believe you would be any different? If you did, then I am sorry, Daughter, but that was Vanity, whispering into your ear..." Vivian replied with brutal honesty.

Xiphos was silent a moment at Vivian's words.

"I guess I just hoped I could be smart enough to avoid the mistakes others made."

"You did...in some cases...but you made new ones all your own..."

"Is this a commentary on my continued Alliance with Amy?"

"It could be...I know you love her Julia. In spite of everything she is. In spite of everything she has put you through. But sometimes, you and the one you love simply aren't meant to be together. The trick is to know when that is. When it's time to fight, and when it's time to part ways. How you deal with the bad part of Love is what determines your character, what determines the Dark Side's hold over you. (Jolee Bindo reference #3549!: 7000 XP)" Vivian answered. "That is your single greatest weakness, Julia: You deal very poorly with the bad part of Love. You and Maple. Not nearly as poorly as Amy herself or the rest of The Brain Demon Cultists do, but you're both up there. And until you conquer that flaw you will never be a true Master. The Master commands both themselves and others. They are not to be commanded by. Even The Light Sith cannot help but acknowledge this irrefutable fact. Even the Jedi practice it, even if they find it unfashionable to preach it in the open."

"You don't think my plan with her will work." Xiphos replied, eyes closed.

"Dear...for now...just focus on surviving. Things will play out for better or worse. It's time, by the way."

Xiphos opened her mismatched eyes.

"So be it. Thank you for your honesty, Mother."

Vivian smiled. "Always a pleasure."

(Cutaway of Jules cutting the head off Aquaman's Daddy).

Xiphos rose from the Sofa, clad in a black armorweave body glove. Nearby lay a bulky silver armor. One she had maintained and tested as it was her second most powerful armor system.

It's stylized aesthetic belied it's technological advancement. Like something from a more primitive era given refinement.

The Plan called for massive doses of Alpha red to be applied to the inside as well as targeted nuclear assault. The Armor stood on a circle of runes applied to the floor. The spell was Force teleport magic...

Xiphos opened it with her mind, stepped in, and sealed it around her. She was ready.

"I'll be waiting in Hangar twelve..." Xiphos said, exiting the room.

Vivian sighed, rose and went to her own white armor, one of the few remaining fragments of the beast she had stolen it from.

But the threat was so severe that today, she had no choice but to channel that beast...

Vivian slipped the scaly silvery catsuit on and the effect was like a rush of alcohol hitting the brain. Vivian struggled but committed, channeling deeper into the imprint of the armor, giving it form and thought like she did with Arianna.

Vivian's flesh everywhere on her body bubbled and warped hidiously into a woman who resembled an aged version of Arianna, piercing blue eyes made soulless by an utter lack of anything save a desire to inflict pain and suffering.

The United was barely controllable, and Vivian fought madly to keep the personality under restraint and loyal to the cause.

The United sniffed the air, feeling the life forces of every pathetic insect aboard (though her sensibility dare not allow her to actually express this sentiment to underlings) and dear Julia, who was the only living thing The United, for some reason, could call friend.

The flesh on her face shuddered as she exited Arianna's quarters, feeling intense magical power surging through her flesh...

Present.

The two Battle Fleets exited out of hyperspace.

One was led by the now infamous Leviathan of Sev Tok, which had slew the World Ship over Rhand. The other was led by a behemoth monster packed with lethal, exotic weapons and state of the art technology. The two Battle Groups, leading a motor crew of high tech star Destroyers, Frigates and Corvettes entered a seen of already fast spreading carnage.

But the two Battle Cruisers led the charge right into the thick of it, seeking the death of the Maw's monster...

One of the Rhand Class Cruisers, Unsettlingly Squid Like in their design, broke off and headed for the planet, escorted by 3 Ramships under it's direct control. A massive Invasion Force headed directly for the surface, led by the Countess.

Meanwhile, in the darkness of space, the House Io fleet at last spotted the focused of it's boiling hatred, and on every ship, the weight of destiny was slowly bearing down. But they needed to get much, much closer.

The guns, all the guns of course, began to target the Avatar of War, all guns aimed right at that superlaser...

The Leviathan of Danuta, under the Command of Hadrian, Xiphos's Droid Son and the General of all Nuetralizers viewed the terrible superweapon, the skull like face of the golden prototype unreadable, like all mechanical Nuetralizers. It was guarded by plenty of ships that would fight to the death to defend this insanity. To hate the status quo so much you'd use a super laser in a desperate attempt at wiping the slate clean.

Hadrian had fought aboard the first Super Weapon at Csilla, defending his Mother and The Amalgam from all comers. The Maw had nearly destroyed him, though he had slain dozens before he was too damaged to continue fighting.

He still hadn't been able to save Csilla. As much as any failure could weigh in the murderous Soldier Droid's digital mind, that did, his second greatest failure having been not pulling Mother off duty before Rhand.

"General, the Ship will soon be in the firing range of the enemy..." said the organic citizen at the helm.

Red Photo-receptors fixed on him.

"Maintain present course and speed. Launch first wave of fighters and two of those Ramships we just bought as a probing assault against our foes." he ordered the ship A.I.

A wave of Nuetralizer TIE units flooded out of one of the House Io Star Destroyers, and the Two Ramships slowly pulled slightly ahead of the main fleets...

Meanwhile...

The Rhand Class Battle Cruiser Blood of Lao-Mon sent to the surface had only one, single objective in mind:

Opposing the strongest concentration of Maw possible.

To that end, as it descended into the atmosphere, already being fired upon, it dismissed it's Ramship escort and began to slow down, the terrible, squid like vessel wreathed in atmospheric flames and cannon fire like some eldritch God from the void, casting a menacing shadow over the entire battlefield the Maw and everyone else was fighting.

The invasion Force headed up by The Mongrel was the main target, so it landed opposite of the Crucifix two, horrifying many soldiers on the ground at the sight of it. No ship should tower the way it did. It was a totally alien design, like hardly anything else seen on the Battlefield.

It wasn't going to fire it's main Weapons and blanket the ruins in fire as the Behemoth had done at Ziost. No. It's cannons would be used to seat away artillery and airstrikes. Or any unit foolish enough to directly attack it. Besides, it'd be killing it's own if it fired.

Some even mistook it for The Leviathan of Sev Tok. It wasn't. But it was based off it.

It's Seismic Tanks were out first, followed by waves upon waves of Juggernaut War Droids, and waves of transports containing both Model 2's and 3's, though hundreds of Model 3 units took to the sky in generic jet packs as the exited the massive vessel. The storms were already getting bad.

The transports had attached speakers, blaring the opening war chant of The Nuetralizers, something dissonant to what they were doing.

The Nuetralizers being a bunch of sick, trolling bastards while in the battlefield (and often, if we are honest, while off it) had chosen the most dissonant chant they could think of to play against the slaughter as they moved on both air and ground to fight the Mongrel:

"I-WAS-WALK-ING A-LONG, MIND-ING-MY-BUSINESS, WHEN OUT OF THAT OR-ANGE-COLORED-SKYYYYYYYYYYY..."

The tanks and airborne Droids sped towards them for first contact, rockets and bombs aimed in their direction as the forces of House Io sought to spread like a cancer through the field of combat.

"FLASH! BAM! ALA-KA-ZAM! WONDER-FUL YOU-CAME-BYYYYYYYYY..."

On the ground, The Model 3's were splitting up into teams, trying to already occupy defensible positions and setting up artillery, their tanks positioning their guns to try and hit projected enemy forces in the highest cluster possible. They were not directly on top of the Mongrels forces...they hadn't been able to land that close...but they would soon be making the very beginning of contact with his forces.

"I WAS HUMMING-A-TUNE, DRINK-ING-IN-SUN-SHINE, WHEN OUT-OF-THAT-ORANGE-COLORED VIEWWWWWW..."

Rockets and mortar shells began getting launched at his forces, from both above and on high, the Model 2's marched in walls of 25 in Centurion fashion, soaking blasters and slug fire with their heavy armor.

"FLASH! BAM! ALA-KA-ZAM! IIIIII GOT-A-LOOK-AT-YOOOOUUUUUUU..."

In the midst of this chaos, The United surveyed the battle, smiled at the chaos, and snapped her fingers as she watched the chaos unfold from a transport she was on.

Arrows of water, sharp and as piercing as actual metal conjured from moisture in the air around her and with a wave of her hand she sent hundreds of them ahead of her, sailing into the enemy. Sure, it might not do much damage...but man would it look awesome, and be awesome, if they actually did no scope somebody...

Ingrid L'lerim

Isla Draellix-Kobitana

Juno - 11/0571

Kyrel Ren

Ronar

Marlon Sularen


Summary:

Arrived at battle, beginning combined air and ground assault on Maw Forces

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Allies: Cotan Sar'andor Caltin Vanagor Zark San Tekka Celeste Rigel Other Jedi and team Light Side (patent pending)
Enemies: Darth Libertas Darth Carnifex The Once and Future Foe, team Dark Side (patent getting denied)
Location: Landing near Kaleth, heading to Ruined Temple

Tython. The ancestral home of his Order.

He had heard the call from Auteme and had repeated it, calling in the cards he still had out. Jedi from various Orders of the past and present, and Jedi from no Orders, the other Wayseekers. He knew that others were to come, and was just hoping it was going to be enough. Since the fall of the Sith Empire and the One Sith, the Sentinel of Sullust had been able to relax, to change his focus. He was focusing on unlocking the secrets of the Force, of the Light, and training the next generation.

His goals were a bit different than what they had one been, but when a threat came for the Jedi? He was going to answer the call.

Without much of an armada any longer, he was able to bring a few cruisers from the Silver Concord, but despite being a masterful pilot, Coren knew where his true skills lie, and that was on the ground, as a Jedi, with the Force. Taking a few Jedi along for the ride, he piloted the landers down to the planet's surface, knowing the Force would guide him and his team.

"We're here to offer support. NJO has the sword, but we can back them up as well as anyone." He grinned, knowing he was just as much a sword hand as the NJO's more fierce, and so were many of the Wayseekers and other Jedi. "Stick to your strengths, spread out, help people, protect the temple, take the fight to the dark side." He spoke plainly, calmly, an order all the same.

The ship they were landing was a Kattadan-registered Silver Jedi Shyyyo-class transport. As the repulsors came on and the ship touched down, Coren activated the transponder, broadcasting out to NJO and SJC forces. The bombardment was occurring, and the Maw were here, the arrival of one more ship wasn't a secret, but if they could get people distracted for him being here?

That could be good.

As he stepped towards the boarding ramp, the fighting less where they had landed, he looked to Celeste Rigel . "You sure you're up for this? If things go south, we need to get as many people aboard the ship." He'd already pre-programmed an evacuation flight path to get away. Two jumps then back to Commenor.

As they approached the ramp, being defended by two knights, Coren reached out into the Force. He had friends here, and he was going to link to them. Then he was going to the Temple. Dark siders always tried to make that their playground.

He was lightly armored, Jedi robes over imbued leathers, phrik bracers enchanted to provide extra protection, and a pendant to help him focus the Force. He did not opt to use one of his own cloaks, knowing he would burn to brightly in the Force to hide. His lightsaber, a weapon he had not been using lately felt both strange, but oddly like a part of him in his hand, the crystal burning inside would push back the darkness. "Lets go. I feel we may to be able to follow our initial plan."

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Lady Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
The First and the Light of Ashla
Heiress and Princess of the Eternal Empire and Terraris; Angelic Mascot and Representative of the Ashlan Crusade; Living Saint of Ashla
Eternal Empire's Ambassador to the Ashlan Crusade; Matriarch of the Valkyrja; Leader of Sanctuary and the Fjölkyngi Smiđr Guild​

Objective: To provide a battlefield wide Battle Meditation to her allies and the defenders.
Location: Akar Kesh, Tython
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (swords) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || Current appearance
Writing With: Darth Vinaze || Geiseric | Khamul Kryze

[ Race to the Sea ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tl;dr

• Eina and Gei arrive at Tython.
• Eina feels Vinaze and Khamul's presence.

["Thank you!"] she breathed.

She could still feel the joy and laughter of the Avatars. For the last time, she looked that direction from where she felt it through the Force. However, the Avatars have not acted yet. Eina did not want to provoke them by being attacked now. It was better to keep an eye on the area for now. However, after the kiss, they had to leave. The rift opened and she followed Gei back to Realspace.

She had never been to Tython before, but Eina immediately felt and saw the past and the significance of the place. The Valkyrja saw the past lives, the significance of the place, the countless events that took place here. That time, when the Je'daii order, they were fighting the Infinite Empire, the Rakatas. The all-decisive struggle of that time, war. She saw the echoes of Xesh and Shea Koda in the Force just like countless other heroes' who lived at the time. This place was stunning.

["This place… I wish you could see it the way I do, Gei! Living history!"] she told him.

For her, the world was very different, to be seen in the Force and in reality at the same time; to see souls, echoes, everything. It was much deeper than for anyone else. Many times, she wished her beloved crusader could see the world the way she did. However, after the overwhelming feelings of the past, Eina had already seen and felt the horrors of the present. And she sensed something else too.

Something, someone, that it had at least as little place here as she had.

["My Valkyrjas and I are not the only ones here from the Netherworld. I'm not talking about demons or summoned creatures. I felt this… this power on Malachor V when we were there, an eldritch creature. And I feel him too. Khamul Kryze. From that direction. They’re both there, with a lot of other people."] she pointed her hand towards the Akar Kesh temple.

Eina had a feeling that both Mandalore and the Eldritch creature already knew they had arrived. During the Force Storm and in this place with the Dyad, they glowed very brightly in the darkness...

 

[Justice Lesan]

Wearing: xxx​

Gear: arm, saber​

Allies: Defenders​

Engaging: N/A, Open​

​

There was always something to discover, and always something to learn. Justice simply had very poor timing. Oh he knew the Maw were coming, which was exactly why he found himself in the ruins of the old Jedi temple. He had always wanted to see it, poke around in places he hoped no foot had stood in millennia. Sure by now he was convinced that was a pipe dream, but at least he could discover something about Tython for himself. It was one thing to read about a place, and another to visit it, see it in person.​

​

His curiosity was going to get the better of him. It was the one part of that was most definitely Lesan. Sometimes he did not feel as though he fit with his family. All of them were warriors of some kind, and while Justice was a skilled duelist, at least after the arm incident, he was more a bookworm than a fighter. The Jedi needed that too though, at least he was convincing himself of that while the impending attack was happening around him.​

​

“You really are an idiot, Just…”​

​

He muttered the chastisement to himself under his breath.​

​

“Of all the times you could show up to Tython, you picked the exact moment the Maw start their attack.”​

​

Just shrugged it off. There was something for him to find, and he would. The temple drew him in deeper as he climbed over the jagged cliff ruins of what seemed to be an old landing pad. A smile pulled at his face when his boots hit the stone floor.​

​

“Good old hook and rope…”​

​

Justice looked down at how far he climbed.​

​

“Yup, no way I could have jumped that. Uncle Judah maybe, but not me.”​

​

What used to be a point of insecurity, the slower mastery of basic force skills, Just had embraced as his journey. Losing his arm had brought a lot of things into perspective. First he was still alive thanks to Briana Sal-Soren and Valery Noble . Their quick actions ensured he did not lose too much blood or suffer any catastrophic injury, aside from the arm obviously. There had been a focus and determination since he got out of the infirmary, one that helped him catch up to where other padawans of his tenure should have been.​

​

“Right no baddies here… yet…”​

​

Just let a sigh of relief escape his lips. While the Maw sought to destroy history, Justice was there to preserve it, to rescue what he could.​

Spoiler: reason for edit

swapped out my saber image link

 

[Romund Sro]

Allies: BoTM
Enemies: Not Maw (Basically the rest of the galaxy at this point)
Location: Crucifix Destroyer Crash Site -> Flooded Plains

​

BANG BANG BANG!

Heavy knocking came from a lonesome part of the crashed Crucifix star destroyer. As inside the wreckage Romund was stuck. Using hsi might he was denting the ship’s hull from the inside. He needed to get out from the claustrophobic confines of the vessel. Eventually he punctured through the hull with his large fist. From inside the noise of wailing and jiggering battlecries followed with his fist. Frantic and trapped moon children that were with Romund didn't help with the tight space inside. With the screeching of what sounded like a thousand caulk boards he managed to tear the metal and shove his way through. Making Sure he didn’t gouge himself on the sharp and jagged durasteel frame.

Still recuperating from Noris, his clone soldiers were not present. The few who had accompanied him on the Crucifix destroyer had perished. Instead spilling out of the hole he created was a hoard of fanatic moon children. Mere cannon fodder he believed. Nothing compared to his capable clone regiment. Knowing that just about the whole of the galaxy is against them in this fateful battle did not necessarily fill Romund with confidence. But it also meant he had more targets to test this new monstrous body on.

They’d found themselves inside something of a wetland. No good. This would be difficult to cross, meaning it would take some time for himself and this new army of raving heretics he found himself in possession of might be a bit late. Groaning under his mask, Romund looked to the lost “soldiers” that surrounded him, some of them already wanting to leave the scene in random directions. He towered above them at over 7 feet tall. “Children of the Moon!” Romund’s guttural voice boomed over the hoard. Even now he telepathically asserted himself over them so they knew he was in charge. “Rally to me and you shall have a battle! Follow now!” He explained simply to them as he led this ragtag force into the flooded plains.