Dominion Snail Smashers - BotM Dominion of Crakull

[Mikhail Grayson]

It happened so fast.

Within moments of exiting hyperspace they were thrown into the midst of a battle of survival between the Croke and the merciless Brotherhood of the Maw. The fleet arrayed against the Croke was vast, Mikhail had never seen a force so great. Their numbers pulled together from cobbled warships of Imperial and Mon Calamari design, then the strange destroyers that rained fire on the planet below among the retrofit warships.

Crakull was a planet he'd never heard of, deep in the Unknown Regions where he never imagined he'd trek so far. Their mission was to rescue captive Jedi, and not just any captive Jedi. Romi Jade , the famous Jedi Master, and Aaran Tafo , the Warden of Peace among the New Jedi Order. Apparently they had been missing since an excursion on Jakku, the pings difficult to track from the strange technology utilized by the Brotherhood for lightspeed travel. His uncle had picked up some kind of tip, and followed it on a hunch.

He said it was a 'feeling he had, Mikhail could understand the feeling. He'd been explained before that such phenomenon was of the Force, and he made a promise to trust in it to his uncle. By the Ashla, he hoped they'd make it.

Should of knocked on wood..

"Nevue!"

Mikhail sprang into action, readying the escape pod as the ship began to tear apart in their sudden descent toward the planet below. The damage done was tremendous, they were lucky the ship had not exploded. Only through the sheer force of will from his uncle held the ship together now, slowing it's descent enough for them to break for the surface in the pod.

"Ready!"

He readied himself in the escape pod and awaited his uncle, his eyes catching a glimpse of a massive object anchored over the world and surrounded by the bulk of Brotherhood vessels.

"There."


Cedric Grayson

 

[Darth Solipsis]

Objective 3: Break the Jedi, Oversee the Invasion
Location: Orbit of Crakull, Holy City of Gehinnom
Tags: Romi Jade | Aaran Tafo | Rebirth | Cedric Grayson


There was a sickness here, a miasma of hate filled poison that corrupted everything it touched. It was of the Dark Side of the Force, lingering in every corner of the chamber with it's energies saturating the very stone and structural metal. Each of the Heathen Priests were akin to shadows in the Force, black silhouettes of negative emotion dotting the room. The Voice of the Maw, their 'Dark Prophet', was different.

The hands of the prophet clamped down, gripping tightly on the armrests of the throne. Pressing down, the Voice of the Maw leaned forward to look upon the assembled Jedi prisoners. His fiery gaze washed over them, daggers piercing into souls of those who'd defy the Brotherhood. His presence was a conduit of dark energy, a hollow beckon that swallowed up everything it could and left only darkness in it's wake. There was a certain pressure that weighed down when looking upon him, it was clear all was not as it seemed with him.

A thunderous laugh broke the silence left after Aaran Tafo 's remarks. The Heathen Priests were unimpressed and full of discontent with the Jedi's lack of fear. The Dark Voice on the otherhand was highly amused, his voice thundered through the chamber.

The dark clergy moved their gazes to the Voice, his snickering drawing their attention followed by whispers of their own.

The room fell silent once more and a whisper echoed near the Jedi. The Voice began a little game of his own.

"I need only one of you, but you must choose which among you will die."

​

 

[Gren Blidh]

Objective 1
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Post: 2
​

The thrum of turbolaser fire could be heard in the distance, rumbling the ground as it thundered. Gren hadn't remembered turbolasers when he landed in the city. Strange - more Croke magic. But which was the figment of his imagination?

Perhaps the Croke wanted him to come. They beckoned him forward into solitary darkness. Gren answered the call, as of now apart from his newfound brothers. Maybe they knew his mind was receptive to the dark energy that festered at the heart of their sorcery. They thought they could take his curiosity and bend it to their will. Gren would show them they were wrong.

At last the shadow revealed itself. From behind one of the sand towers strode a tall, imposing figure, trenchcoat billowing, shadows and long hair obscuring his sharp, craggy face. It was -- Gren.

"I know you aren't real," Gren said to his ghostly copy.

"And we know you," The apparition replied. "Better than you know yourself."

Gren unfurled his blaster and leveled it at his hip towards the illusion.

"What if I killed you right now?"

"But you won't," Twin Gren smirked. "You desire power. Knowledge. Life unending. But have you considered where this will lead you?"

The apparition began circling Gren casually, keeping its smirk as Blidh pivoted like a turret with his blaster pointed at his body double.

"Yes. The life you live now, you will have to live it innumerable times more, and there will be nothing new in it; every pain and joy and every thought and sigh and everything innumerably small and great in your life will return to you. All in the same succession and sequence, even the words we speak to each other now as battle reigns between us like thunderclaps. The great hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!"

Gren gripped his blaster tighter, a grimace forming along the edges of his cheeks. Finally, he relented on his grip, letting the blaster fall to the sand.

"Then I can give up right now," He said softly, before narrowing his eyes at the dark presence. "Or... how well disposed would I have to become to myself and to life to crave nothing more eagerly than this eternal seal?"

With his other hand, he reached out to grab the apparition by the neck.

​

 

[Eldervine]

"Good. Leave, bring your masters to me, so I might speak to them." The humanoid form dissolved before Alars Keto , replaced once more by the serpent of vine, leaf, and bark as the Eldervine turned it's attention away from the poisoned meat. There were more to consume. To grow. And more importantly, seeds to sow in the blood of the fallen. These.. Brothers of the Maw would provide a good avenue back to the galaxy.

And for the nutrients needed.

The animal would quickly be alone as the Eldervine went back to the tunnels, seeking out the Crokes so it might continue to grow.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: 1
Tags: Rebirth | The Mongrel | Gren Blidh | Alars Keto | Eldervine | TK-818 | Maestus | Koleric

The marauders charged forth, screaming their praises to the Avatars of their Warlords. It seemed they were unstoppable, until the canons opened fire. They began to drop, dying to unseen weapons and blaster bolts. It was unclear to Zachariel, as there were far too many marauders to keep track of any, and at first he assumed he had missed the shots. Until he saw more were dropping, shot clean through, or riddled with holes. He snarled then, even as several shots came crashing into him. It halted his advance, but only made him angrier.

Eyes searching the city, it took Zachariel a moment to spot the turrets firing. With an order, many marauders around him opened fire on them. Only, nothing happened. The shots simply passed through the turrets, making it clear they were merely apparitions. It seems the Croke were hiding their true weapons from sight. Snarling at that, Zachariel changed his helmets optics to look for energy and metals. There. Focusing on them, Zachariel ignored the fire pattering against his armor. Raising his slug pistol up, he opened fire on one of the turrets.

Thanks to explosive munitions, the turret soon exploded, but he couldn't capitalize on this. They lowered their shields around the city, preparing for a siege. Gazing about, Zachariel growled once more as more marauders died. Some charged forward futilely, others hid behind rocks and trees, hoping to find some opening. But too many would die in an assault, and he reached the same conclusion as the Mongrel not soon after he did. He knew they needed to elimate the turrets, but the thought of the generator only came to mind after the Mongrel spoke it into being.

"Marauders of the Maw, take cover!"
At that command, the few who had tried to continue their advance took cover the same as the rest. Many died in the attempt, but many more would still survive to assault this city. Zachariel himself advanced forward, soon coming to the rock where the Mongrel was. There he took cover by the same large rock, barely being able to cover his large bulk, but enough. His armor could take a beating, but simply standing there taking the punishment would be useless. Snarling with annoyance, Zachariel gazed behind him at the corpse littered road. These Croke would all die, or be tortured to death, for this.

"You! Find those generators with your scanner, we're taking them down." Turning to his Chosen, Zachariel divided them in half. Those that would go with him and the rest who would remain here to ensure the attack would commence when the shield and generators were down. Turning back to the Mongrel and nearest Marauders, Zachariel noticed they didn't have jetpacks. Zachariel spoke again then, voice filled with annoyance.
"Grab some maruaders, they're coming with us. You're coming with me, and we're going to destroy those generators."

Grabbing the Mongrel with one hand, Zachariel turned towards the shield, even as his Chosen readied themselves and grabbed several marauders. They'd be excellent meat shields, and extra firepower. With a roar, they all shot into the sky as one. Immediately blaster bolts filled the sky, both real and fake. But they were too slow, and only a pair of Chosen fell. A few shots did strike Zachariel, but the Mongrel was for the most part safe where he was being held. Not that any concern was truly given for any of their safety, only that they arrive, and they kill. And then, they were past the best firing arcs for the turrets, and they were relatively safe.

Crashing down within the shield and near the position of one of the turrets, the Chosen spread out, already opening fire on the Croke. Zachariel himself simply dropped the Mongrel to the ground, uncaring as more enemies rushed to face them.
"Take control of the nearest turret, turn it against the others, or destroy it and we move on."

Motioning to the Chosen, half began rushing towards the nearest tower. The maruaders who had been with them followed, roaring their bloodlust, and eager to prove their worth. They would secure the turret, and hopefully use it against the Croke. The other half of the Chosen and marauders prepared themselves, taking cover and returning fire to the Croke attacking. Zachariel himself simply opened fire on the advancing Croke, standing fully in the open, watching and waiting for any larger threat to present itself. Whatever would come, Zachariel would ensure it died. Everything that stood against him, would die.

 

[Romi Jade]

"Ain' she pretty." -- obnoxious

She didn't need to be tapped into a metaphysical feed to feel him slinking around her frame, she inhaled when she felt his breath brush the barrier her hair formed between them; it made her sick to her stomach. If her hands hadn't be boun-- He shoved her into the durasteel slab. She groaned out with an animal noise that was more anger than pain. She slid down for a moment as she tried to get up.

"Don't touch me!" She roared out, before another gripped her face and threw her negligently.

She'd learned to deaden her body to pain when she was a Shadow Hand, and she'd been through torture and far more stuff before. It was safe to say she'd tank through it for now, and as battered as she was she still carried that ferocity she had. Her sacrifice wasn't going to be in vain.

She was gonna give them hell all the way through.

It's who she was.

She lashed back out and was slapped, the weight of her body pulled her back into the wall and she slid down into a crouch -- good.

With only just a few seconds to spare, she deftly crept in her boot before being dragged back into the air and pushed down the corridor. When the door up ahead sensed their presence it opened, and she was launched forward. As her escort sought humor in karking with her, one stuck a foot out and she stumbled forward into the chamber.

Her hair flailed about before latching on to her face in the most wild way.

Aaran Tafo was here too.

She was mostly quiet. Then, there came the voice.

"Choose yourself..." she retorted. "I'm not doing you anymore favors."

----

Cedric Grayson
Darth Solipsis
Mikhail Grayson
Rebirth

 

[Inferious]

Twirling a blade in hand Inferious watched the holovid with TK-818 their master would bring the beasts underfoot for them to use as tools.

The ship rocked as it was pierced by turbolasers, his blade dropping and skidding across the dura-alloy flooring, the pilot yelled out to them as they readied their selves for battle.

Crashing between the rubble of buildings Sinh was the first out scanning the battlefield, next was Inferious he was not a man of battle tactics but when it came down to a fight he knew where it hurt. Waiting for Sinh to take lead Inferious readied his blade to crush the Croke and their tech.​

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He blinked once at Romi's declaration. It was a rather uncharacteristic demand from a Jedi for someone else to sacrifice themselves in their stead. Typically, they were the first to offer themselves on the chopping block. Hearing the older Master demand that he be the one to sacrifice himself. Well, it seemed a bit out of sorts. The Knight taking a step back, brow furrowing in confusion as his brain finally caught up with what she just said.

"Romi...." His tone was quiet, shocked as he took at step back from the other Master. Clearly not expecting a response with such vitriol in his voice. His gaze flicking from her to the Voice of the Maw. Then back to the Jedi Master.

"....That's not in the script." He finally said, shock turning to confusion as he seemed to keep up the charade of refusing to give the assembled priesthood any form of satisfaction from his current predicament. No fear at potentially being ritually sacrificed, no pain or feelings of betrayal. Just a wall of conjured annoyance. Ultimately, deep down he did not personally care much for Romi Jade. He did not know her personally; she was simply another Jedi. So, there were no feelings of attachment to exploit in her insisting that he dies first.

Letting out a sigh, he turned back towards the Voice of the Maw. "Yeah, I don’t think she got the script." He said, shaking his head. "We're both supposed to argue and insist that we be sacrificed and the other live. All while you cackle evilly and monologue about your plan." Clicking his tongue, his chained hands came up to his chin, tapping at it absently as he considered the next step.

"No, its fine. We can work with this." He said, pointing at the Dark Prophet. "Just.... rant at how she's an awful Jedi for sacrificing me instead of herself." He offered, giving the slightest of nods as he seemed to find the idea appealing to this current imaginary narrative he was running in his head. "While that is going on, you let a few things slip about your greater plan. And I pull off something very daring, stupid and poorly thought out that gets Master Jade and I free."

"Sound good to everyone?"

Rebirth
Romi Jade
Cedric Grayson
Darth Solipsis

 

[Ssloak-Goa]

Knowledge and Escargot
​

"Seek.." Ssloak-Goa would hiss, his vacant eyes shooting desperately around the rocky mountainside of some unnamed mound of rock jutting from the surface of Crakull. "Seek!" He would hiss more intently, grappling with a larger bolder as he tries to shift it and send it tumbling down the hill, his weak arms not strong enough. Gor watching for a second curiously before crawling over and proceeding to throw the bolder a dozen feet and watch curiously as Ssloak-Goa would desperately claw at the black sand beneath it, hissing and spitting when he doesn't find what he searches for. "I sense you.. smell you..-" His tongue would poke out from his lips before sliding across half of his face, his eye sinking into his skull to permit it passage, saliva mixing with slime as he continues "-I can.. taste you.."

Whipping around a green blast of green fire would blast from the palm of his hand as he throws it to the side in frustration, hissing and screeching as the black sand slowly cools into a fine glass. "Your world.. Ours. Your kin, crushed, beneath our boot. And you deny victory to me. Your knowledge, thousands of years, mine! Your shell, a glass to drink. Your flesh, privileged to be the first Croke-flesh tasted by I." Ssloak-Goa would lift another rock, opening his jaws as his tongue would hover over the sand trying to find any hint as to the location of his prey before he would slam the rock back down. "From orbit! From orbit I sensed you!" He would growl under his breath "Prey so precious.. so succulent.. the force lead me to you like a whipped hunting hound! I will find you! Even if I search until my flesh is dust and my bones scattered and scavenged. My spirit will hunt you!"

He would pause, before his two independent eyes would center and stare directly ahead at the cloaked humanoid standing on the rocky mountainside. The gray cloak fluttering in the strong wind as the black void where a face should be stared back at the green beast. "An.. illusion." Ssloak-Goa would hiss accusingly "Hiding from me still, but to mock me."

"Hiding from those who wish to kill me. Some would say that's clever." The illusion would speak, a strange echoey voice seemingly coming from the wind itself as it blows past Ssloak-Goa's ears. "Hiding from the one who will kill you.." he would correct the apparition "If you were not so small.. this would be easy." turning from the apparition he would continue his scowering, checking inside a gnarled hole of an ancient dead tree. "I am not the decider of my species' size" the illusion would mock him, watching idly as Ssloak-Goa would continue his searching.

"I will find you.." he would hiss under his breath, turning to more rocks to continue his search.

 

[Vexander Graves]

Objective 3: Break the Jedi
Rebirth | Cedric Grayson | Romi Jade | Darth Solipsis | Aaran Tafo
Equipment: Jedi Shadow Robes | The Cyan Blade | The White Dragon |

​

Some days passed by without contact with Romi... and over the past couple of weeks, that was quite odd since they had constant talks related to how things were progressing with Jedi training and other Enclave matters.

By reaching out to the NJO database and over GA channels, he managed to come up with disturbing news on their whereabouts and it caused the man to gather whatever forces he could... despite the fact that the NJO and the GA were quite thin. Unfortunately, he didn't have influence... position, or seniority within the GA to get assistance or attention from anyone despite being a Jedi Master... he did left a message though.

Dressed in his Jedi Shadow Robes, with his mask on and completely hooded, Vexander stood close to one of the landing zones for troops near Alkonost. Using his Force Concealment techniques to the fullest to prevent his detection... The corellian Jedi landed his old XA-5 far from this position and he knew that they would part ways in this place after many many years together... but it was required if he wanted to infiltrate the Gehinnom succesfully to attempt something.

What he was doing was extremely risky... but he wouldn't take on the planet size mobile station or deal with the whole Brotherhood of the Maw... his mission was just to find out where the capture Jedi where, attempt a rescue and avoid getting killed. Easier said than done... but the first step was to remain undetected during the invasion and take advantage of the invasion. No one would notice him.

Using the Force with the best of his abilities, he just walked steadily... towards one of the ships delivering the troops and that would most likely go back up to restock and carry more troops down. Waiting and hoping that he wouldn't get caught, he just waited when everyone disembarked and then he just carried on to the inside where he remained hidden, concealed... just a shadow in this endless stream of beings and darksiders battling one another.

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective: 1 (Smash Their Illusions)
Location: Crakull, approaching Alkonost
Tags: Gren Blidh , Zachariel Steelblood , Maestus , Darth Solipsis , Zachariel Steelblood

Crouched behind his makeshift cover, The Mongrel spread his warning as far and wide as he could. It was vital to their success. At Black Spire Outpost they had prevailed despite the formidable defenses... but they had been defenses the marauders could see, enemies they could fight directly. Here on this planet of illusions, where their enemies could utterly warp their perceptions, the odds were stacked against them. For once, the overwhelming numbers - and equally overwhelming savagery - of the Brotherhood might not be enough.

Then, all at once, his perspective changed. The Mongrel found himself in the presence of Zachariel Steelblood , perhaps the most terrifying and powerful of all the Brotherhood's warlords. He was a giant of a man, clad in dark armor adorned with terrible trophies; the heads he had taken, impaled on his shoulder spikes, still somehow screamed in agony, sustained in eternal torment by his vile magics. The Mongrel could barely stand in his presence; he had seen Steelblood at a distance before, watched him fight, but this was different.

This was being up close with a demigod of darkness.

And then Steelblood's gauntleted hand, seemingly as big as The Mongrel's shoulders were broad, wrapped around him, and the marauder was lifted into the sky. It took everything in him not to scream in terror as the surface of Crakull flew by beneath him. Instead, he forced himself to focus on a different feeling: honor. He was been blessed to have been chosen by this mighty warlord, another blessing on top of what the Dark Voice itself had granted him among the ashes of his homeworld. He swore he would once again prove worthy.

Incoming fire streaked past him, blaster bolts pinging harmlessly off of Zachariel's invulnerable armor, and then his feet hit the ground again. The Mongrel rolled as he touched down, going over his shoulder and coming up in a forward sprint. He dashed to the turret that the warlord had indicated... and came face to face with a rancor. The creature towered over him, four and a half meters tall, its claws as long as his arm and its fetid breath hot on his face. It was the ultimate predator, easily capable of rending him apart or swallowing him whole.

But The Mongrel would not fall for such an obvious deception.

Sneering, the marauder struck out with his foot, grinding it across the rocky ground... until it met something small and squishy. The Croke's shell broke beneath his heel in seconds, and then only an oily smear of jelly was left where the 'rancor' had once stood. Dashing past it, The Mongrel commandeered the turret that Steelblood had indicated, then raised his scanner, tracing the lines of power that wormed their way through the Croke defenses. Then, with a snarl of triumph, he opened fire on the walls sheltering the generators.

Soon the enemy's defenses would fall, and they would be truly doomed.

 

[Koleric]

Like The Mongrel Zachariel Steelblood was fast to analyze thier situation and take action, ordering his Chosen to pick up whatever marauder was near they had jet packed up ahead of battle to bring down the defenses.

By chance one of them had taken him up either to advance the raid or as a meat shield. He had been able to sense the battle and structure of the defenses through the tremors in the earth, he knew where the generator would be and how to open up the defenses.

Seeing the mongrel take up the turret firing upon the defenses Koleric knew what he had to do telling the Chosen to go up further and deeper he broke from his grip dropping to the earth, he had readied his body building up energies from the Force into his body readied to be released into the ground.

Upon impact Koleric was like a droplet into water the earth began to ripple becoming like a wave before splitting, the very earth itself became their enemy as it swallowed whatever came near it's gapping maw.​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

Objective 3: Break the Jedi, Oversee the Invasion
Location: Orbit of Crakull, Holy City of Gehinnom
Tags: Romi Jade | Aaran Tafo | Rebirth | Cedric Grayson

The Dark Voice watched their acts of defiance with humor and contempt shot at the assembled darksiders like arrows meant to dig under the skin. The Heathen Priests whispered amongst each other, debating and demanding how they would pay for their insolence. The Voice of the Maw rose his hand with a chuckle under his breath, the whispers halted and the prophet spoke as he fell back into the throne.

His dominant hand rose from the comfort of the armrest and gestured in a beckoning motion.

A wicked scowl slowly spread across his face as his lip curled. His back rose from the throne as he stood up to his feet and glared down on the prisoners.

The Dark Voice stretched out his open hand, reaching out into the Force to touch their minds and attack Romi Jade and Aaran Tafo with a powerful psychic assault. The Heathen Priests followed suit, stretching out with their hands and minds in unison to tear at their wills.

The pressure kept building upon itself, the sheer strain an enormous burden upon any psyche. Such power united was enough to rip apart the mind itself, let along buckle for the strong willed. Yet, these were no ordinary Jedi. They were hardened and trained to fight the machinations of the Dark Side, but the Heathen Priests were no mere Sith. The real question was if they could resist and how long they would last against the mental onslaught of the assembled clergy led by their Dark Voice.

 

[TK-818]

The Knights of Ren pressed forward, they would smash away the delusions of grandeur painted by the feeble Croke. Such crafts of the mind and power over the Dark Side was frail in comparison to the power commanded by the Ren. Even as their illusions projected fearsome numbers and distracted the bulk of the Brotherhood away from their true defenses, the Knights would not give them such courtesy.

​

Sinh rushed in alongside his companions, weaving through blaster fire and black smoke. Inferious at his back, the Knight of Ren cut down the few scattered mollusks he found as he dove between cover in advance. Debris and scattered earth rained down on his onyx armor and pitched Atrisian cap.

In the distance the Knight could see Zachariel Steelblood and The Mongrel take off in a brilliant display of light. Soaring through the air the two pressed forward, Sinh scowled under his mask. He would not allow a warlord and marauder to steal all the glory. He barked back at the Knights to make haste, they would press on. They were so close to the generator now, he could not wait to wrap his hands around one of the shell conjurers and show them the error of their ways.

 

[Alars Keto]

"Of course. I shall see you again soon."

Kryll stared in utter disbelief as the humanoid form of the Eldervine dissolved before his own eyes. The mass spared him and slithered away with the good faith he would bring his masters before them. Oh how the Heathen Priests would be pleased, he contemplated how such a creature would impact the war. As it slithered away he could only question where they could get more of them and the practicality of their use.

He gazed upward at the light and thunderous clouds filled with violent heat rain from the battle on the ground level. Such ferocity, and he was missing it all. Kryll looked around for anything that resembled a way out from the collapsed sublimely back to the fight above. Carefully navigating the substructure until he found an old flight of stairs broken and beaten into submission that led upward.

He climbed and climbed, with a surge of strength he pressed his foot against the door at the summit with all his might. The door rushed open with a force and his eyes beheld a scene of beautiful chaos. Bolts piercing flesh, metal grinding against metal, flames and the banner of the Hidden Maw plastered on the faces of zealous warriors ready to kill or be killed.

Kryll smiled with a sadistic grin, the beauty was unreal. "Oy! Get me a lift to the front!"

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Objective 3: Save them Jedders
Location: Some hill near the outskirts of the main invasion force
Romi Jade , Aaran Tafo , Rebirth , Darth Solipsis , Mikhail Grayson , Vexander Graves

(Sorry for taking a bit to reply. Long weekend.)

The exile found himself wishing for some kind of natural piloting talent as the ship careened rapidly toward the ground below. It was difficult to stand, let alone walk as he struggled on over toward the escape pod. He'd kept the ship aloft for as long as he could possibly manage; the Force was near limitless, but his ability to call upon it certainly was not. The moment his he stepped into the escape pod, his grip on the vessel was relinquished, and it would likely be seconds before it hit the ground.

Muttering a curse under his breath, the exile slammed his fist into the disembarkation switch and the pod subsequently exploded out from the falling ship. It hovered on sheer momentum for a moment, giving the duo a decent view of their ship smashing into treeline below, and the massive fleet that seemed to be growing larger by the minute.

They had nowhere near what was required to deal with something like this. Cedric resigned himself to simply saving what he could as the escape pod's arc reached its apex. The hunk of steel began to fall just as the ship had, though its emergency thrusters turned what would have been a death spiral into a relatively calm descent in strong conrast to the chaos outside.

"Consider this your first mission Mikhail," Cedric offered his nephew a thin smile. "I suppose this is the Hidden Maw," he muttered, gesturing out toward the mass of ships and the warbands that flitted about of their own accord down below. "And I'd wager what we're looking for is on that thing," he pointed toward the world ship that hovered over the planet as if it were a sword of Damocles. He didn't wholly understand its purpose, but he had a strong hunch.

"We'd need an army to deal with all this, but..." his eyes narrowed as a transport streaked by. It settled in a forest clearing just below the pod, and the exile wasted little time in adjusting the course of the pod's fall toward the clearing. "Think that might be our ticket up there. Let me get their attention, and you take shots from behind."

There was a hollow thump as the pod lodged itself into the side of a small hill. The pod doors opened instantly, and the sound of guttural voices speaking basic and a language Cedric could not quite understand greeted them. The savages would be upon them soon.

Bogan's Lament howled to life as Cedric stepped clear of the pod, and allowed himself to take a proper measure of the crowd of six marauders. "Hello there."

 

[Mikhail Grayson]

"First mission.. we dropped into a warzone."

Mikhail spoke to his uncle as he adjusted himself in his seat, strapped in for the rough landing he expected.

"The Hidden.. what?"

Mikhail nodded as his uncle pointed to the worldcraft in orbit, it's red hue a like a sinister omen for what was to come. "I feel so cold when I look at that thing. It just doesn't feel right." His gaze shifted following his uncle's, "Ah their ships."

He understood what his uncle planned, it was smart and dangerous all the same. There would not be much room for error, there was an army down there laying waste to the defenses of the Crakull and there was only two of them. With a solid plan they might have a chance however.

"Got it. I'll provide covering fire."

Bracing himself, he felt the force as the pod lodged itself into the side of the hill and gripped his head from the sudden halt. He felt nauseous and dizzy, he looked to check on his uncle. Gone. Already Cedric had sprung into action as the doors opened to the outside. Mikhail shook his head and pulled the straps off him, grabbing the blaster rifle stored inside he took off to help.

Mikhail leaned on the edge of the entryway and took aim, "Eat this warboy!"


Cedric Grayson

 

[Maestus]

As she made her way closer and closer into Alkonost, Maestus stuck to trees, rock piles. Anything to maintain cover.

As she moved, she thought back to the meager warnings the Maw was given about the Croke. That they could appear as anyone or anything. She did not believe she had anymore unresolved emotions about her past, so she felt confident that she was in no danger or "loved ones" or "friends" appearing. She had none of either.

She went to one knee to survey the city before her. She made mental note of where the defenses were. She took careful sight of where the Chosen were marching and the forces they encountered. Nodding to herself once, she thought,

Turn about is fair play.

She called on the Dark Side of the Force. Summoning it, demanding it to submit to her will. She pulled the force around her, in 2 ways. First, she cloaked her force signature. The beings on this planet were very Force sensitive, which led her to her 2nd usage of the Dark Side. She made herself vanish from sight.

To test her camouflage, she stalked very softly and carefully to the city's edge. She waited, her eyes scanning her surroundings for any sign that she was compromised in anyway. Today, she was not interested in death and destruction. not yet at least. No, today, she was highly interested in pillaging the greatest minds the Croke has. Especially in the realm of genetic testing. She had much need for such information.

Finding her defenses working, she moved into the city proper. Whenever something or someone even hinted at her direction, she would duck down out of sight. Or flatten herself against a small wall. Then she would begin again, heading towards the most industrial and business looking section of Alkonost.

Finding the area she targeted was was neither hard, nor time consuming. She moved towards one building, it seemed a more business associated structure than outright industrial, so she decided that was as good a starting point as any.

She entered, and made her way through a maze of hallways. Naturally, she got lost twice. Forcing her to backtrack and try again. Wasting precious time. She could not be certain there would be no orbital bombardment of Alkonost. She could only hope she wouldn't be incinerated.

Finally, she found a lab. A stroke of luck, it was empty due to the attack on the planet. All hands on deck to defend their home world. Maestus took advantage of the emptiness, and moved around to the various computer terminals. At the first few, she didn't find the research she was looking for.

On the 5th computer terminal, bingo. She found the genetic modification information she was looking for. She connected her datapad and downloaded everything she could. Or really, what she had time for. She knew an orbital attack could happen at anytime. And she very much liked living. So she worked fast and deftly. A few excrutiatingly long minutes later, and she unplugged. She was satisfied, but still wanted more data. She wanted to live even more.

Pulling the Dark Side around herself to conceal her signature and presence once more, she beat a hasty exit. Back out the way she came. As she stepped outside, her concentration on concealment faltered as blaster fire erupted her way. About 10 meters away, down an alley, Maestus could see what appeared to be 2 of her Chosen.

Maestus exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. She beckoned her 2 Chosen nearer to her, and they strode immediately over. They knelt before her and rose. Maestus paid no attention to the blasters they carried, so focused was she on getting her data back to the shuttle then to the ship world up above. There, she could begin to unravel and learn.

Wordlessly, she turned and started to snake her way through buildings and alleys. Strangely, though she didn't think of it at the moment, there was no further blaster fire coming her way. In fact, she saw no other Croke. She paid it no mind, chalking it up to her Chosen destroyed them all.

A mistake that would cost her later.

Maestus and her Chosen arrived at the shuttle, and she quickly made it up the ramp. Over the comlink, she ordered her Chosen to withdraw with the slaves they had taken and return to the shuttle. The shuttle was deserted, all save for the pilot and an astromech. They had been instructed to stay with the ship.

Not unusual, 1 of the Chosen made her way to the cockpit. A few moments later, she reappeared in the hold area. She exchanged a glance with the other Chosen. As if on cue, they both dropped their pikes and ran towards Maestus.

Maestus, sensing danger, had only a second to spin to one side. But she wasn't fast enough. She avoided two pikes through the body, but the each managed to cut her sides open. One side was a nick, a graze. The other side cut the skin down to her ribs. She could not help but bellow in immense pain.

An instinctive reaction she couldn't hold back, she let loose on her 2 Chosen. Not knowing where it came from or why, lightning strikes absolutely exploded from her hands, and into the Chosen. The victims began to quiver and shake. And then the screaming began. And at that, Maestus grinned wickedly.

She held the lightning as long as she could, straining from the effort. When she could give no more, the lightning stopped as quick as it had begun. The 2 Chosen lay on the floor, their skin charred and burnt off in places. Oh yes, they were dead. Maestus studied them, wondering what caused them to turn on her in such a manner.

She could only surmise they had fallen victim to the illusory powers of the Croke, and attacked her. Thinking her the enemy. She shook her head. She had bigger problems to be concerned about, such as the blood pouring from her side. She limped her way to a med cabinet, and pulled out a Bacta patch. With trembling hands, she fumbled with opening it. If she had her wits about her, she would have tried to heal herself as her master Darth Solipsis had taught her back on Mustafar. As it was, she was becoming light headed from blood loss.

her legs started to get weak, and she wobbled on them. The world began to go black. She tried to grab onto something, anything to keep upright. But her hands flailed futilely, finding no purchase.

She collapsed to the floor of the shuttle, bacta patch clasped in her hand.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Arena
Objective 2
Nearby: Katachi Ren Tu'teggacha

The crowds cheered, awaiting the next challenger that faced the Zabrak brute of a champion. For Kyrel such things would not prove much of a challenge, he had fought time and time again from the dark enforcer of the First Order, to the undead harbinger of the Maw. While most were inclined to take part in the campaign against the capital. Kyrel stayed behind, facing a lone warrior, in hopes of winning not by brute force alone. But through trial by combat, yet another type of politics. If Kyrel were to win, the world would provide countless converts to the Maw's ranks. The Heathen Priests would be pleased, and Kyrel has shown yet another token of loyalty to those that would bring about both the cleansing and the journey that carried them all to this moment.

He knew agents of the Brotherhood were watching, blending with the crowds. All he could do as the crowds were cheering more for the one they called Draxus, rather than the stranger clad in black, and with a red cracked helm. Kyrel remained silent, for how could a dead man even breath. Even surrounded by the wreckage of droids, vehicles, dead men. The ground in itself was soft sand, now crimson red due to the blood o those that had been stained by Draxus's large ax. Kyrel even saw a couple of lightsabers, as if the man had faced other force wielders.

Even that in of itself was not enough to deter the Master of Ren, Kyrel walked forward, Vader's Bane had ignited within his grasp. The crimson blade shined as Kyrel gave an emotionless expression to his opponent. As he planned to have some fun before utterly destroying the pitiful being. The man spoke, sounding as if he was made of confidence. "Well, you don't look so tough!" He said with a laugh as he pointed the mighty ax. The blade in itself was a Mandalorian Executioner Axe, it was even said that one of the Knights of Ren wielded one long ago. Now it seemed to be the weapon of the champion before him. If he was worthy enough, Kyrel might take the weapon for himself, as such was the Maw way.

Kyrel continued not to speak, first Draxus seemed annoyed, and then the Zabrak, when not even given a retort. A mention at all or even a word from Kyrel. He finally charged, intending to strike Kyrel with his blade. With raising his hand, Kyrel met the blade blocking it, as was suspected the blade in of itself did not break but was heated with bright orange. It even made Kyrel question I the ax was made of Beskar. Something he was not entirely sure about. At first, he let the Zabrak believed that he had the upper hand. With such brute force power attacks attempting to drive Kyrel back through the shifting red sands. After one intense blade lock. The motion started to change, with Kyrel using his own strength, the strength of the undead to drive him back. The confidence slowly started to dissipate, and the Zabrak slowly started to realize as Kyrel pressed his attack. This was no man he was dealing with.

 

[Gren Blidh]

Objective 1
​

Gren's grip on the illusion's throat tightened. He watched his own visage struggle as if looking in a mirror, seeing his own face gasp for breath. Opposing hands jumped up and clawed helplessly at his own, but they were not enough to break his grip. His doppelganger would soon lose consciousness in a matter of seconds as Gren felt the pulse fading between his fingertips, dug firmly into skin. And with it, he felt his own pulse begin to slow.

His grip loosened, and Gren moved back.

His Croke body double fell backward as he was released from the grip, landing on his back and looking up in surprise. The surprise soon turned into a wry smile, which gave way to uncontrollable laughter that took control of the doppelganger as he lay sprawled in the sand.

"Now you see our power..." Twin Gren said in a raspy slither, hoarse from the struggle moments ago. "Your will may be strong, but your ego has felled you. You couldn't bare to see your own life extinguished in front of you, real or not..."

Twin Gren unsheathed a blaster from his trenchcoat, twirling it along his finger playfully.

"But what is real? You said it yourself, none of this is. Or at least it wasn't, until you made it real."

With another elusive smile, the doppelganger leveled the blaster at Gren's chest.

"And now you die."

He pulled the trigger.