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Invasion STANDOFF | Bryn'adûl Invasion of SJC held Lexrul, Ruusan, Sev Tok & Shador

Dungeon Master



It is a tumultuous time in the Galaxy, again and again the borders of what were once considered the Galaxies safe havens are being torn apart. The ever encroaching black columns of the Bryn’adul continue to march forward. They remain unmatched in their military might, killing at will and cutting off system after system to be left at their mercy. Now, that same genocidal intent is let loose on the planet of Sev Tok with the intent of yet again striking hard against the defensive Silver Jedi Concord, slowly ripping apart their territory piece by piece.

In light of the new arrivals within the Bryn’adul, many question if they have not been made weaker by the adoption of new species. To maintain stability and faith, the Bryn’adul decide on a risky course of action. Going against the wishes of the Ish’makra council, the Chieftain and his most trusted warriors lead a daring effort to test themselves, to prove their strength.

The Bryn’adul war-ship
the Epitaph arrives in orbit, a singular attack ship, guarded by a selection of three Kraemonen support crafts set its eyes on the planet Sev Tok, and its neighbouring Concordian fleet. Alone, they are outnumbered but believe their opponents outmatched as their unity and strength will see the day won. The solitary vessel, composed of an elite force of the Chieftain’s most trusted warriors, makes its way toward the city of Anvil.


There is no hope to prevail if the Epitaph cannot reach the city of Anvil, all else is expendable. The force wielders of the Bryn’adul must work together to ensure the survival of the Quilxyn aboard the Epitaph and it’s safe guidance to the planet surface. Those of military might must ensure our forces are well prepared, when the surface is reached. A foothold must be gained, a line in the sand drawn that this land is ours forever more.

-Force users aboard the epitaph must ensure the survival of the Quilxyn and the protection of the ship until land is met.

-Military leaders must ensure the readiness of their forces before arrival and the deployment of a strong foothold upon landing.



Phase One
Location: Aboard the Epitaph
Allies: Osam Osam | Udomek Seker Udomek Seker | Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok | Sethrak Sethrak | Galak Galak | Primarch Drek'ma Primarch Drek'ma | Quoron Ver'dum Quoron Ver'dum | Ursa Antar | Sarask Hiskt Sarask Hiskt | Sylok'Vanari Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu Krarolk T'manu | Carask Uduun | Kelmor Kelmor | Kyrim Tenebris Kyrim Tenebris | Gordrak Gordrak |
Enemies: TBD
Axe | Gauntlet | Armour |

A steady hand settled on the helm of the navigation console. Around the towering Titan,
Ungulloi engineers darted round his feet as Aeravalin artificers continued to operate in tandem with the Kraemonen throughout the Epitaph. They were close now, they had just entered the Kurost sector, leaving Varl behind and a trail for the Concord to follow deep into their own territory. This was no surprise attack, no grand effort to attack swiftly. Today, they let their enemy know they were coming. It made no real difference, the hyper-trail wouldn’t leave much indication as to how many ships were at their disposal anyhow. Soon enough they would be in the system, and any doubts or regrets regarding their actions would be nothing but a memory. Any doubt he personally had about this course of action died when he saw them. Akehnaton, Vaydralen, Kraemonen, Ungulloi and Draelvasier side by side aboard this warship. He knew it was necessary, it was the way of the Bryn to test oneself.

This was the way forward.

Aureate eyes shifted to the steady Baedurin at his side, clad in plate. Warlord Galak, one of his most trusted allies and an accomplished warrior. A knowing glance exchanged. Even with one eye, the Warlord’s expression said more than a thousand words. This would be the greatest challenge yet, the battle that would decide whether their goals could ever truly be possible. If this worked, the reach of the Concord would be crippled and a direct shot at their capital would arise. Through attrition, they would see the day won. Maroon fingers lifted from the navigational console, shifting as he turned to face Galak and those behind him. Today, an array of faces joined him on the bridge of the Epitaph.

The Primarch, the First Warlock, the Risen, Warlord Sethrak and Overseer Ostak. None needed introduction, each had earned the right to be here. To stand side by side with one and other, to stand alongside him as for the first time, the Draelvasier did not fight alone. He savoured that image, all gazing back at him. They were his children, his true sires and he could never have been more honoured than to fight and bleed alongside them. Today was not only a battle against the Concord, but a momentous occasion, for through unity the greatest strength is found.

The Epitaph came to a sudden halt, dropping out of hyperspace with its escort of three Kraemonen support crafts encircling it. Artificers and Stonesingers scrambled to prepare the Epitaph for full forward thrust whilst the Ashaka and Shamans prepared the Quilxyn shield, the Kraemonen ships harnessing their energies as golden tendrils stretched from the trio out to the Epitaph, empowering it. Ahead of them, a growing fleet of Concord warships ready no doubt to face off once again with the infamous fleet of the Divine Brutality. But not today. Today there was but one ship, one alone against countless.

“Chieftain, planetary scans show a large force spread throughout the capital. They outnumber us, more than twice over!” Called one of the Artificers. A red glyph erected from the marble table in the centre of the bridge, forming into a rough representation of the city below.

Even more so in orbit, but that did not stir him. The Titan’s fists clenched at his sides, raw purpose fuelling adrenaline.

“Then it is an even fight.”

Tathra spoke quietly, a word of certainty for himself alone before turning to the others. A black gauntlet raised in a fist to his chest. The Epitaph began to move at full speed toward the planet, heading directly for the city of Anvil, but first there was the enemy fleet to push through.

“I have brought each of you here, for a reason. Galak, Drek’ma, Sethrak, Ostak, Hrajlmak, Osam. You are here because you are my brothers. You are my flesh and blood, and you embody what it means to not just be Draelvasier. But what it means to be Bryn’adul.” His left palm, reaching out to the Mind Stone implanted into the marble table.

His warriors had never faced a challenge like this before, today many would die. But they would ensure many more of the Jedi and their servants fell first. He had to prepare them for that, promise them that it was worth it. That proof of strength was worth it. In his heart, he believed it. But he could only hope that was carried by his words.

“No doubt you all know what it is you face today. A horde of those propagated by the weak, countless numbers of foes who wish for us to be driven to extinction once again! This day will be long remembered! A true test of legends, of the greatest warriors in the Galaxy! On this battlefield, we shall prove that no matter the numbers, the strong shall always prevail. Those bonded by unity, duty and purpose. Brothers and sisters, bound by creed and strength more than blood. Each of you, is worth a thousand of them.”

Tathra leaned against the marble fixture, eyeing Anvil city. Yet another construct of those he hated, another obstacle in the path of the righteous. His heart thumped in his chest, rapidly crashing back and forth against bone, mind analysing every small detail.

“Today you are Chieftain’s Fist!" The transmission ended as Tathra stepped back, turning to the others, his back turned to the observation port as the enemy fleet grew larger and larger as they approached, seconds away from coming in range of the enemy fleet. Things would get ugly, fast.

“Will you fight at my side?”

He would have it no other way.
The Young Lion


Objective 1: Defend the City

The City of Anvil remains the only safehaven on the otherwise desolate world of Sev Tok, located in a canyon and built into a mountainside. Its high walls have never been penetrated, however its inhabitants have never before had to partake in a war on a galactic scale. Its militia guard, while numerous, is poorly equipped to face the brutal onslaught of what is about to hit their world. Antarian Rangers and Silver Defense Force personnel alike have been deployed, but the defenders are stretched thin along such a mighty walled fortress. Turret emplacements and anti-air guns are positioned along the walls and on city rooftops to cover as wide an area as possible, with walkers and tanks positioned in key chokepoints to better prevent a breakthrough by the enemy.

Join these brave defenders and hold out until reinforcements arrive, or be said reinforcements arriving in the nick of time to shore up the defenses.

The City of Anvil cannot not fall! It must not fall!


Objective 2: Protect the Shield Generator

Atop the highest city level there stands a tower where one may look down at the city itself. This tower holds the city's shield generator with which the inhabitants may shield themselves from any orbital bombardments, and until it falls any would-be attacker would be forced to brave the thick walls surrounding Anvil. Protect this shield generator from an advantageous position, perfect for any artillery or long-range weaponry one might possess.


Objective 3: Escort Civilians

As SJC forces arrived on Sev Tok, the civilian population of Anvil has since been relocated into the mines inside the mountain, but they will not remain safe should the city fall into enemy hands. While the enemy is kept at bay, assist in secretly escorting these civilians through the dark tunnels leading through the mountain until you reach the other side, where extraction shuttles may be called in to evacuate the population offworld. Beware of any eventual ambushes!


Note: The invasion takes place at night!



The City of Anvil at nighttime.

(Continued from this post...)

"This is a general distress call from Lieutenant Thirdas Heavenshield of the Antarian Rangers, requesting urgent reinforcements to the Sev Tok system. We have confirmed reports of Bryn activity in the area -- I repeat, the Bryn'adûl are on their way. I say again, this is a general distress call to any and all forces in the vicinity -- we are under attack!"

The call had been made. All they could do now was wait and pray that someone -- anyone -- would hear their plea for reinforcements, be they of the Silver Jedi Concord or otherwise. Hells, even a Sith armada showing up would be a step up at this point.

Stepping out of his command center that just earlier that day had been a regular school building, Lieutenant Heavenshield summoned to him those within distance. Already the word had gotten out; the Bryn’adûl had arrived, here of all places. The fleet which had brought them to this rock would do its duty in slowing their advance, but they were limited in number whereas the Bryn were known to bring nothing short of their entire horde whenever on the hunt.

Switching on his comm-link, Thirdas addressed the brave defenders.

“Brothers, hearken unto me,” he began.

“As we speak, the armies of the hated Bryn’adûl descend upon us, and we are woefully unprepared to meet their challenge. But meet it we shall nonetheless, for we are the shield that guards the countless souls of this galaxy!”

He then pointed towards the mountain behind him and the ascending city levels, each built into the mountainside.

“This city is called ‘Anvil’, and it is indeed a fitting name! For upon this anvil the Bryn bastards will be crushed into oblivion, as the ceaseless tides crash against unrelenting rocks. We shall hold them here until our fleets arrive, providing the hammer with which to smite our enemies!”

As he spoke, morale seemed to soar amongst his men, spreading throughout the city with each sentence uttered.

“Too long have we been besieged by these foul creatures while other great powers of this galaxy feel content to sit by and do nothing! Too long have the Bryn staked their claim unto this world in which we live, yet they have no right to it! Too long have we been the prey, ever dreading these monstrosities that await us!”

Soldiers and militiamen alike raised their weapons as infectious cheers of defiance broke out.

“I say, it is high time that we become the predator! We become the terror; the slayer of beasts! Become, what my people call ‘Jaeger’ - Monster Hunters! Roar like lions as you defy the jaws of death, as you lay waste to the enemy!”

He now waited until the cheering had died down somewhat before finishing his speech, relaying the critical importance of them succeeding to hold Sev Tok. There could be no holding back this time; every last man needed to go all out.

“My brothers, consider this our last stand. Should we fail to hold this world, there will be nothing standing between them and our capital of Kashyyyk. We give our lives this night so there is no need for others to do thus. However the battle goes, I offer you all this solemn promise: Mine will be the last boots to leave this earth, and I will leave no man behind. In victory or defeat, we shall all go home together.”

“Go with the Gods, and may the Force be with you.”

The drilled Rangers knew to salute their commander in unison, prompting the local militia to do their best impersonation to mixed success. Thirdas returned the salute, then put on his helmet and toggled his nightvision.

Tonight was about to get very nasty, very quickly.



Location: Aboard the Epitaph
Bryn'Bois: Osam Osam | Primarch Drek'ma Primarch Drek'ma | Quoron Ver'dum Quoron Ver'dum | Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus | Udomek Seker Udomek Seker | Sylok'Vanari Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana Ostak Cl'mana | Sarask Hiskt Sarask Hiskt | Ursa Antar | Kyrim Tenebris Kyrim Tenebris | Carask Uduun | Kelmor Kelmor | Kyrim Tenebris Kyrim Tenebris | Gordrak Gordrak | Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok |
Adversaries: TBD
Equipment: Triad | Armour | Shredder | Bryn Shot |

He had not been sure of Tathra’s plan when he first spoke of it after the battle of Charros IV. But, as much as the Chieftain may have believed that the Bryn needed this, he knew that Tathra needed it too. He had seen the look in his eyes, the need to prove the strength of their new covenant. The only way forward was together, united. Galak knew that, everything Draelvasier on the bridge of the Epitaph knew that. But it did not change the fact that what they were undertaking was unlike anything that had come before it. A singular ship, one unified force against an entire planet. It was a test, a true test of the mettle of every warrior aboard the Epitaph. Every battle that had come before, from Eshan to Sarka. None of it would have truly prepared them for this, they could only hope to steel themselves for what needed to be done.

And in truth, there was nowhere else he would rather be now than at the side of his friend, his leader. Galak gave the Titan a nod as he looked to the Warlord, his heart told him this was possible. Even as the Epitaph bolted toward a much, much larger fleet at breakneck speed with the escort ships at its side, the odds did not appear in their favour. Not here or on the battlefield below, once they landed their forces would be outnumbered twice over, and that was even before the Silver Jedi brought in the rest of their fledgling whelps.

This would be the fight of their lives. The Warlord straightened to attention at the audible mention of his name, his one eye shifting between the others as Tathra called them out as well. He was right, each had earned their spot here. The words of the Chieftain filled him with zeal, with pride to stand alongside equals of various races and species. To be part of a unified whole much greater than himself. He could feel the blood in his heart, the heat of the battle called to them all.

The Titan turned to them, his rousing speech to the some fifty-thousand souls on board the Epitaph felt through the Mind Stones. The rhythm of the crashing of feet, the hum of the Juggernaut Haka and the anticipation of the Aeravalin throat singing, radiating through the ship and the Kraemonen themselves. There had never been a greater moment to be Draelvasier. Would he fight alongside Tathra? It was his honour. The Warlord fell to a knee, gauntlet riding against his knee cap as he bowed his head to the Titan.

“Now and always, Titan. I will fight by your side till the day is won!” Zeal ran through his veins more than blood.
Enforcer Overseer of Kesh
LOCATION: Sev Tok atmosphere, the Epitaph, Command Bridge
EQUIPMENT: Fireproof ceremonial Shaman robes
ALLIES: THE BYRN | In vicinity of Galak Galak / Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok / Osam Osam / Primarch Drek'ma Primarch Drek'ma / Sethrak Sethrak
ENEMIES: SJC & ALLIES | Open to engagement

The order of the galaxy was one step closer to being changed on all fronts.

Already, the purifying crusade of the Byrn’adul had brought their vast empire across hundreds of planets in dozens of systems. Sev Tok would be another glorious conquest, its population of mongrels cleansed in righteous flames.

The Ungulloi engineers who scurried around the bridge were ugly sights, their small stony forms rushing from console to data tablet. The covenant of species was a recent affair, and the involvement of so many non-Draelvasier in Byrn invasion forces was still a relatively new concept. Yet as promising as a covenant sounded in boosting population counts and enlistment, the veteran Overseer had his concerns.

Along with many of the other Overseers of the conservative bloc in the Tachael-Vemnak secret police organization, Ostak had opposed the initial call for a covenant. If new species with their own moral codes joined the Byrn’adul fold, then how could their loyalty to orthodox ideas be maintained? It was much easier to generate heresy in a newly added species whose habits had yet to be thoroughly studied by the Vemnak than to continue to police over the well-documented Draelvasier. However, the liberal bloc of Overseers as well as the Ish’makra itself had prevailed, and the covenant had been established. So far, no major uprisings or heretical conspiracies had been documented, but Ostak’s guard had yet to be lowered.

With a loud thump, the Epitaph emerged from hyperspace. A large Concord fleet awaited them in orbit, and it would likely soon be a race of the Epitaph’s speed versus the defense fleet’s firepower. Just as he was about to comment on the situation, the Chieftain himself, who was situated nearby, began to speak.

“Will you fight at my side?”

Despite his hesitations and long-held cautionary approach to the future of the Byrn’adul collective, Ostak did not hesitate in his answer as he dropped down on his knee in a symbol of respect.

“Yes, my Chieftain! My strength is yours to use as you see fit.”
Last edited:

With Some Forces Dedicated To:


“Colonel, Hades Platoon states that they are in position.”

It took Beltran a moment to realize that he was the one being spoken to. His promotion to Colonel had been a last minute thing, much like his promotion to Captain had been. It was a last minute scramble to get any experienced commander into the theatre. Lieutenant Thirdas Heavenshield Thirdas Heavenshield had been granted overall command of the defense, by virtue of his being on the planet first and having the best lay of the land.

In fact, the only reason Beltran and the forces under his command had even arrived was because they'd been passing by on the way to reinforce another world. They had barely enough time to land before the Bryn'adul had moved into the system.

Officially, Beltran was now the commanding officer of the Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry Regiment, a former reserve and training unit based on Kashyyyk. It consisted of every able-bodied trainee and reservist that could be mustered from the Wookiee homeworld and surrounding systems, about 1800 in total. They were more lightly armored than the Rangers of other units but carried all the same weaponry and were currently deployed along the lower most wall of the city.

In addition to the 3[SUP]rd[/SUP], Ranger command had been able to deploy the bulk of the 666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized: about 1000 Rangers in total. The “Devildogs” had been on Kintan and in dozens of engagements since. As well, there was the 663[SUP]rd[/SUP] Mobile Artillery set up alongside other artillery batteries from Sev Tok’s planetary defense forces, his own former unit: Paladin Company and Hades Platoon, a highly trained unit of scouts from the 5[SUP]th[/SUP] Rangers Special Operations Group.

Said scouts were spread out in small units in the areas surrounding the city of Anvil, located in the side of an actual mountain. They had been tasked with setting up observation posts in order to monitor the Bryn’adul’s advance.

“Excellent,” He responded, looking down from the top of the walls. “Any word from Colonel Higgus?”

“Not yet sir.”

Colonel Remiel Higgus was the commanding officer of the 666[SUP]th[/SUP]. He was personally overseeing a pair of companies as they worked to mine the most likely enemy landing areas with Thermonuclear charges. It was delicate work, but work that needed to be finished quickly.

“Alright, find out the latest enemy landing projections and be sure that he’s aware. We can’t afford to have his men caught outside the wire when the Bryn start landing.”

Leaving his aide, some Major sent from Command, to her work Beltran keyed his commlink and spoke.

“Captain Mrawr,” He called the freshly promoted commanding officer of Paladin Company. “Are you in position?”

“Yes sir,” Responded the Togorian officer a moment later. Mrawr had served as Beltran’s second in command the whole time that he’d commanded Paladin Company. In that time, the Togorian had proven himself an extremely capable warrior and a tactically savvy infantry commander. When Beltran was promoted, it was only right that the giant cat-man be promoted in turn to his old billet.

Paladin Company was currently set up in the upper levels of the city. Each soldier clad in the powerful A.I.P.S. power armor/weapons system. Their job was to protect the city’s shield generator: located atop the upper most level of the city.

“Alright, be prepared. The Bryn aren’t going to make this easy and that shield generator needs to stay operational.”

Located in the levels between were small quick reaction units of the remaining 666[SUP]th[/SUP], working at the platoon level with small groups of armor from the 212[SUP]th[/SUP] Armored Battalion. Their job was to plug any holes that that emerged in the defense.

It was a lot of moving parts to keep track of, as Beltran was learning. But he had faith his people. They would hold the line until help arrived, or they would die in place-fighting to the last being and taking ten Bryn’adul down for every one they lost.

“Brothers, hearken unto me,” Came the Lieutenant's voice over the comms. Beltran listened quietly as the younger officer rallied the combined forces of this world. It was a good speech, one that inspired courage in the face of an implacable foe. When it was finished, Beltran keyed the coms, feeling the need to add one thing:

"Rangers don’t quit. Rangers don’t run. Hooah!"

Hades Platoon – 50 Rangers – Divided into squads and set up in observation posts outside of the city. Snipers set up to take down high value targets (Bryn officers and the like) and communicate enemy movements.

Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry – 1800 Rangers – Set up along the outer most wall of Anvil, anchoring key sections of the defense along side SDF and Planetary Militia – This is Beltran’s current location

663[SUP]rd[/SUP] Mobile Artillery – 64 Rangers - Set up inside the walls alongside other artillery units for priority fire missions as needed

666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized Infantry – 1000 Rangers in CAV vehicles with minor armor support – 300 Rangers and CO currently deploying thermonuclear mines at possible Bryn’adul landing zones outside city, 600 divided into Quick Reaction Forces (100 Rangers each), located in middle levels of city. Utilizing Gweld-Class CAV’s for quick movements.

Paladin Company – 150 Rangers – Deployed to top most level of Anvil, all utilizing A.I.P.S battle suits in defense of Shield Generator
Father of terrors
LOCATION: Sev Tok atmosphere, the Epitaph, Infantry Bay
EQUIPMENT: In Signature + Spitter Utility Bow (20x explosive arrows)
UNITS: Zealot Elite Squad
ALLIES: THE BYRN | Open to cooperation
ENEMIES: SJC & ALLIES | Open to engagement

The time had come.

Krarolk stood at attention, his newly formed Zealot Elite Squad surrounding him. He was now a full-fledged Zealot Commander, a position that would have never expected to be in only a month earlier. However, fate had been a cruel mistress.

He thought back on the date of the incident. The old Zealot Elite Squad of Krarolk, Abvor, and their Commander had infiltrated the sewers of Charros IV, moving to sabotage a defensive platform in possession of the Silver Jedi Concord. Deep within the sewers, the trio had split up, with Krarolk and Abvor each individually making it inside the platform. However, the Commander was nowhere to be found. After about thirty minutes, Krarolk detected a sudden and significant burst of spiritual energy coming from deep within the sewers. Instinct told him that it was the final release of energy from the Commander, her final burst of resistance before death. Surely enough, she did not show up when Krarolk and Abvor leapt onto an Urasik Wyvern and made their escape. He had held out his resolve for several days afterwards, hoping that perhaps he had been mistaken. Yet the continued absence of the Commander was all the conclusion he needed. She had truly died, one of the most skilled Zealots in the entire Order killed without a trace of the killer or killers.

Krarolk and Abvor both had a brief moment of grievance afterwards. They had held a great deal of respect for their Commander, who had led them through hundreds of missions and battles without failure. Her exceptional combat prowess had saved the squad time and time again, her skill unflagging even in the face of insurmountable odds. Her death on Charros IV was a brutal reminder that for all her immense power and seemingly unshakable position as the leader of her squad, there would always be a stronger foe.

After the Zealot Commander’s death became public record, Krarolk was promoted in her place. Between him and Abvor, Krarolk had participated in several more missions, and was seen as more suitable for the position. However, the newly minted Zealot Commander was by no means comforted. Try as he might to hold them back, doubts constantly struck at him. If someone as strong as their previous Commander could be slain without a word, then how would Krarolk fare if faced with the same killer? Was his skill in battle and experience on campaigns truly sufficient to earn him a place as a Zealot Commander?

With a deep sigh, Krarolk slammed such thoughts down into the deepest recesses of his brain. He had a squad to take to battle, and they would need his immediate attention.

In the semi-darkness of a large storage closet deep in the infantry bay,
a lone shadow stirred.

Its goal: Isolate and eliminate the remaining members of the Zealot Elite squad whose Commander challenged the First Overseer’s idea of stability.
Whirlwind of the Cosmic Force


Location: Aboard the Epitaph
Allies: Gordrak Gordrak | Udomek Seker Udomek Seker | Sylok'Vanari Sylok'Vanari | Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok | Sethrak Sethrak | Osam Osam | Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus | Ostak Cl'mana Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu Krarolk T'manu | Kyrim Tenebris Kyrim Tenebris | Kelmor Kelmor | Carask Uduun
Enemies: TBD

Stave | Cuirass

As the Primarch looked around himself, he noted faces he imagined to be long lost. Osam, Hrajlmka and Sethrak. All three of them, he had underestimated, wished to persecute and use the Tachael-Vemnak to remove them. He had believed them nuisances, unworthy to fight among their ranks. But how wrong he had been, Tathra saw something in them that he could never have. The Chieftain saw greatness, he understood it and sought it with every action taken.

As he looked around he saw the magnificent vessel from which they resided in, a master class of cross-engineering among the new races as the Ungulloi and Kraemonen expertly ran the vessel with the assistance of their own stonesingers. Below them, the Akehanton and Vaydralen stood side by side with their infantry. Aboard gunboat, in their deployment bays. Today, they would fight as one or die alone. That was the decision given, every single warrior here had been given the choice to be here. Fifty-thousand, almost half of what they could've brought. But, the willing were more useful than the potential conscripts.

Among them were some of the most elite of the Bryn'adûl. Zealot Elites, Juggernaut Ultras and Beast Masters. They may have been outnumbered four times over by the native militia. But, this would be a battle for the ages. Drek'ma knew this in his heart, the force communed with him. The beasts knew it too, stirring below as the cosmic whispered to them, the rage and fire would soon be all there was - the whispers of the force drowned out by the miasma of death and glory. He could feel it, like waiting for the knife to drop from a loose grasp. It would be a critical moment long remembered.

And he was glad he was standing alongside those who had proven him wrong. Like the Titan, they showed him new things about the world he would have never understood otherwise. For that, he was thankful. Drek'ma was ready to fight, with a nod to his fellow Shaman; the Primarch followed the example of the Warlord, kneeling with Stave in hand.

"It has been my great privilege to serve as your Primarch, Chieftain. You have taken us this far, Sire. I believe in you, your truth. Your strength. As much as I believe in the collective strength of the Bryn'adûl. We will follow you, no matter the odds, Sire." The Primarch spoke with sincerity, humbled by his equals.

Humbled by Sarka. He would lead the Shamans as best he could, he would follow Tathra Khaeus.
Sraelvun Survivor

Location: Epitaph
Allies: The Bryn'adul
Enemies: All Others | ( Zephyr Krayt Zephyr Krayt )

Squad A (12) - Osam's Personal Squad

Squad B (13) Juggernaut Support

Squad C (22) Beast Support

Squad D (30) Logistics and Reserves
-20 Akhenaton Combat Engineers
-10 Vaydralen Reservists

It had been a great honor to receive a summons to stand before the Chieftain and his closest companions. Osam had fought through adversity after adversity in order to catch the eye of the mutual sire of the Draelvasier, and finally it seemed as if though his actions had been rewarded. Yet... he could not help but to feel as if though he had not accomplished nearly enough. His mind flashed back to the wicked injuries that he had sustained at the hands of Sith forces in the defense of their worlds, and the subsequent and more severe amputations he had suffered at the hands of the Concord's Jedi.

He had fought to prove himself mighty and powerful, but there was little doubt in his mind that his most recent work among the Invasion forces had ended in personal defeat, even if it had contributed to the success of the Bryn'adul forces as a whole. Though he had scraped for whatever glory he might attain for years, fighting in countless wars at the behest of his superiors and his brethren, he could not help but to feel unworthy for the honor now presented to him.

Where was his mighty and valorous deed that would convince his heart that he belonged in this relative position? When would he strike out and attain a trophy that would make him feel worthy of standing alongside someone like Warlord Galak; his dear and trusted ally and friend, or the mighty Primarch Drek'ma, whose mental prowess was so adept as to command the greatest war beasts. The Titan called them brothers, spoke of them as being of his blood and of his mentality, and of his creed, but Osam still felt dwarfed in the presence of heroes - a child playing after legends.

He hid it well. He'd learned to hide what he truly felt long ago when he had been nothing more than an unfortunate Sraelvun. Then it had been important to never demonstrate weakness for fear that he would lose his command and his life. Now he felt like he might vomit up his pride if the aureate gaze pierced into his hide enough to discern how small he truly felt.

The Jedi had done this to him - the way that they had hacked and slashed and torn him to pieces. The way that they had held out against his forces and slaughtered them to a Drael. How could he ever rise to a position higher than this if he was held back by his defeat? He needed victory... not just the victory of the collective and of the whole, but a personal victory, something that he could grip between his hands and between his teeth. The flesh of martyred humans would sate this desire, and as a vengeful spirit, Osam resolved in himself to take it for himself.

They were declared to be the Fist of the Chieftain, and a question was posed to them - whether they would stand alongside Tathra. Ever-loyal, and swift to the response, Galak - once Emissary, and now Warlord, made clear his dedication. The way that he had seized upon the opportunity to declare his loyalties was inspiring... if ever there was a fist, it was embodied in his form. Ostak too took the opportunity to make known his predilection towards supporting the Titan, and so, filled with a burning desire for vengeance and to make known his aspirations to fix his shortcomings, Osam too knelt upon the ground before their sire.

"You are our Father, and we, your image. Where you choose to stand, so shall we be."

His assertion of support given, Osam held in him a request which was blurted out almost as swiftly as he had finished.

"If it suits your will, Chieftain... grant to me the service of the Akhenaton and the Vaydralen, and I shall take a few of them and show them the way of our Crusade."

Phase One

Post: 1

Sethrak did not deserve to be here. He had questioned Tathra time and time again. He had taught The Lothal Guard unorthodox tactics. He had disobeyed the orders of the late Keldotherra. Yet here he was.

He stood inside the bridge of The Epitaph, the quiet rumbling of air crashing against the exterior shaking Sethrak's chest, interuupted only by the stronger vibrations of his heart. Around him, the greatest, most renown warriors of The Bryn'adul. Every one of them had earned the right to stand by Tathra in this battle. All but Sethrak. Had this been just one year ago, Sethrak would believe he deserved to be here. He would think of himself as the savior of The Bryn'adul, having saved Tathra Khaeus once, and being, perhaps, the spark that lit the way for The Bryn to accept the new species into their ranks. But today he saw things differently. He felt that he had nearly destroyed the Bryn with his heretical thoughts.

But Tathra must have seen something in the young Warlord, because here he was.

He listened to The Titan speak, taking in each word. Outside he felt the presence of the Kraemonin support craft, the Quilxyn on them being the main source of protection for the transport. Just beyond the bridge fifty thousand Drael awaited the landing, including some members of Sethrak's own Lothal Guard. Leading the Lothal Guard was the Albino Ahkenaton, Thatzaer, appointed by Sethrak himself to be second in command of The Lothal Guard for purposes such as this.

The battle approached as Tathra spoke: "Will you fight at my side?"

Sethrak did not hesitate, following a few others he fell to a knee. He didn't speak. Those around him knew the significance of his action. It sealed the once destroyed bridge of respect between Sethrak and Tathra. They had endured a lot, they had even come close to exchanging blows before. But now, at least for Sethrak, the balance was restored. His acts had been recognized and his crimes forgiven. He was a Warlord, not a Heretic. Tathra was his chieftain, not his death.

He watched The Titan, and those around him, ready for whatever would come next.
Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii
Forces: 1st MIL Battalion "Netherhounds", 1st Armored Platoon "Wraith Division"
Equipment: In bio
Allies Jax Thio Jax Thio Aayla Shan Aayla Shan Varn Barakis Varn Barakis
Enemies: TBD

Mig closed his eyes, thinking back to what brought him here. The Bryn. He closed his eyes and focused, remembering his discussion with his daughter, Leddie Gred Leddie Gred , before this….

Days earlier aboard Star Pheonix

“Jagyc’buir, I want to go and help fight.” Mig sighed, looking at the teen Zabrak.

“Leddie, I already told you I wasn’t discussing this. You need to stay here. Keep your Dalyc’buir and brothers safe.” Leddie just kept following, not seeming to listen to what her dad was telling her.

“But a lot of Mandalorians have had an actual battle be a verd’goten. This could be….”

“Leddie!” Mig sounded harsh, but this…. Something about this fight scared him. He looked at her, a stern yet worried look on his face. “This isn’t a normal fight, Led’ika. Bryn…. They don’t fight like people. They’re the truest to the title of demagolka (real-monster) that I’ve ever seen. This isn’t a battle to make your first….” Leddie just looked at Mig, sighing a little and nodding before hugging him.

“Just make it back….” Mig smiled a little.

“I will, ad’ika. I will.”


He would open his eyes again, taking a breath before looking at the Netherhounds and Wraith Division tanks that were nearby. He had been practicing something for this, but he didn’t know if it would fully work. Then he turned to see Fora, the Netherhounds’ commander, walk up, seeming a bit annoyed.

“I don’t get it Mig. I signed up to fight Sith, not smart Aklay. Why are we even here?” Mig looked at Fora, taking a calm breath as he went back to his memories. He took off his helmet to look at the Dathomian face-to-face.

“Because they can be just as bad, if not worse than the Sith Empire. They kill any species that isn’t their own…. I’ve seen it first hand, and what they want to do honestly hits too close to home for me to just….” Fora nodded a little, not sure what exactly to say.

“I’ll… try to explain it to the others. We’ll be ready when they come.” Mig just nodded a little sliding his helmet back on as he looked up to the sky. This better work. If they couldn’t stop the Bryn here…. No…. They wouldn’t let them pass. Not here. Not another world. He knew they would be here any time now. It was time to stop them in their tracks.

Fleet: Keros' Kad, 4x Shield-class Escort Cruisers, 6x GF-2B Super TwinTails Squadrons, 2x "Kodashi" Viper MKII Squadrons, 3x HA-2 Pike Squadrons, 2x Dinii-class Dral'tabalhar Me'sen squadrons, 2x HF-2 Jair Kyr'am squadrons, 8x DF-1 Scarab Swarm Fighter squadrons
Allies: Liedran Kathause Liedran Kathause
Enemies: Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus
In orbit, the Keros’ Kad and an escort of four Shield-class escort cruisers sat in orbit. Squadrons of TwinTails, Kodashi Vipers, Pikes, Dinii, swarms of Scarabs, and Jair Kyr’am all flew waiting for the moment to strike. Then it came. The Bryn were there. The fleet would unleash a hail of fire on every ship. Particle cannons, turbolasers, railgun launched baradium shells, and walls of flak all came towards the Bryn fleet.

Aboard the Keros’ Kad, Capitan Malo and Kaddie would quickly take aim at the largest ship in the group.

“Kaddie? Are we ready?”

“Yes vod!” Malo nodded to the holodiplay of the AI. He smiled before looking at the crew.

“Fire the main battery!” The Kad then hum as the forward particle cannons charged in sequence. Soon, each would fire, one by one, until they began to deliver a continuous stream into one of the Bryn frigates. As it did this, the Pike's would aim at the lead ship with their heavy launcher modules slung under the tail, allow them to launch a single BB1 each at the massive Bryn ship. Malo then looked at the comms center. “Let them know the Bryn are here!”


Mig’s eyes shot open, and he looked up again, barely able to make out the flashes of the more powerful baradium weapons from his position on the ground. He looked at the Netherhounds and Wraiths, nodding to them. “You heard the fleet, get ready to send them to the Nether!”
Most Paladins are "Lady parts"

You know those types you don't want to meet in a dark alley?


Armor - "Apostle" armor(all),
Weapons (team)- T-73 Handgun, Combat Knife, FTB Rocket(2 FYB Rockets each)
3 Grenades (each), 2 Thermal Detonators (each)
(Snipers)- M-14 Sniper Rifle, Wrist Blaster, Carbine
(Assault)- RI-17 Assault Rifle-w-LPD53 Grenade Launcher(5 FYB 40mm grenades each), T-73 Handgun
(Heavy Weapons)- Minigun(if in the field), Defender-Automatic Weapon(if in CQC) Assault Rifle
GOLD TEAM: Azrael(Assault/Team leader), Castiel(Asault/Pathfinder)
BLUE TEAM: Sauriel(Sniper 1), Samael(Heavy Weapons), Michael(Sniper 2)
RED TEAM: Gabriel(Demo/EOD), Bartleby(Tech/Team Second)
PEGASUS 1, HAAT 1- Jeremiel(Pilot), Barachiel(Weapons)
PEGASUS 2, HAAT 2- Ariel(Pilot), Uriel(Weapons)
PEGASUS 3, HAAT 3(Carry-all variant)- Barachiel(Pilot)*
HAAT 4(Carry-all variant)- Uriel(Pilot)*
*When needed. Weapons Intercept officers will be assigned randomly
RONTO 1- Raguel(Driver), Selaphiel(Gunner), Jegudiel(Cover)
Ship Captain/Teams Overwatch - Metotron
Ship Engineer/Tech/Teams Overwatch - Jophiel
Ship Corpsman - Raphael
Ship Pilot(s)/Gunner(s) - Chamuel, Jeremiel, Barachiel, Ariel, Uriel
ORDERS: Defend the City of Anvil
Tag: Thirdas Heavenshield Thirdas Heavenshield Beltran Rarr Beltran Rarr

They were not here for open combat. Omega Squad was here for blood. They were forced to sit out the last time that the Bryn'adul invaded due to their serious convalescence. It changed them forever as while Azrael did venture out without the gear from time to time, they were more introverted than ever. That also meant that Azrael prepared them more than ever. The new gear, the new equipment, all of it, this was the moment they were training for. No, not this in particular, but too much had fallen... too many lives were lost. A line in the sand was going to be drawn...

... Azrael was not into drawing lines...

... he wanted to dig a ditch.

The city's security Force was stretched thin, this was not something that they were prepared for, and even Paladin Company may not be enough. The call was made for reinforcements and he had hoped that they would come, he was making the call himself with the Annunaki running high altitude recon as well as the HAATs in the air. Defensive charges were set in key emplacements to allow for a necessary tactical retreat, but they had other weapons. They also had more people. Taking a page out of the old Corsec book, it was time to train up the populace, those that wished to fight anyway. No, none of them wanted to "babysit", but this is bigger than all of them.

"Anvils do not break. You can pound them with more or less anything and they still stand strong. The City of Anvil will survive. You will.stand.strong. Those making their way here have overstepped their bounds and they will be stopped."

... yeah, we scare them.

Metal Face


M A N _ O F _ I R O N
Iron Skin | Lightsaber | Vengeance of Sword and Sun


An infernal age. No stretch of peace within this caustic, chaotic Galaxy lasted longer than minutes...hours. This was a generation of peril, as the vaunted power of seemingly unwavering old gods waned and the seekers of vengeance seized control of the future. War was unavoidable, to any and all who dwelled within this crucible of hellfire that was the being of the soul attached to its mortal shell, its false visage and guise of skin and bone.

For many, it was the war without, the ever gnawing conflict of survival, in seeking prosperity. There was a finite end to this war in all who fought it, when the body seized and crumbled in its march.

Then, there was the war within. The battle fought not in Galactic markets or orbital trajectories, but purely within the sole, the fibrous machinations of ones very being and thoughts. Secluded within his personal meditation chamber aboard the 'Antares Draco', he sat, his tortured mortal shell draped in the brazen steel, save for his face, the scarred and burnt features bare as he lavished in The Force, utilizing his connection to the ethereal bond to explore himself internal, to speak directly with his subconscious and unearth the deeply burrowed flaws and faults that rotted at the core of his being. No being lived within the epitome of its ideal self, Rurik was no different.

Within recent battles, there was deeply poignant and important lessons to be learned.

Serenno. It had been a home of sorts, one that spat him out into the great beyond, all but aimless. And he returned a scion of revenge, seeking with blood as his aim and hatred as his fuel to strike down the very man who'd cast him into exile. No different a chip on the shoulder than many of the Sith he reviled. He paid deep, bloodied consequences for his mental fragility and short coming as he all but heaved unto what felt like the final breathes of life on that vaunted day. Just as he rose from the bloodied dirt on Borosk, so too did he rise from crimson granite on Carannia. Just as he snapped the jaws of death closed on Bastion, Dantooine, Serenno...he would endure again.

His meditation became disrupted by metallic footfalls he could source from the corridor headed unto his meditation chamber, a circular room with the symbol of the Empire, the New Order fixated in the center, enveloped by a small garden on all sides, best replicating the circumstances of his personal enclave in Ravelin.

His eyes snapped to life again, the iron cold visage awakening from its meditative state.

The metal hiss of the door behind him demanded his attention, clasping the metal masque in his hand before fixing it to his face and turning to see the naval officer who'd interrupted him. The Captain of this vessel, clearly, it was no minor nuisance if it demanded the attention of the two highest ranking military officials aboard the vessel.

"Lord Executor." The man said before he lowered his salute at the nod of Rurik's head.


"Our commscan has picked up a transmission, from Silver space."
Could mean close to anything. A contingent of the Imperial Knights, including Rurik had been stationed to patrol and fortify the southern reaches of New Imperial space, alongside several Stormtrooper Legions being deployed and based domestically to strengthen the front and move into Mandalorian space. No doubt, the Silver Jedi could have been mustering a response to this unchecked military build up on the bordering frontiers. Or, as well, could've been communications relating to Sith Imperial or Eternal movements within Silver space. Something that would greatly interest the Lord Executor. If the Sith were attacking the Silver Jedi in force, then they'd abandoned some part of their borderlands with the New Imperial Order and the justification for another deep reaching incursion or military movement was necessary, to attack while their attention was split and incur chaos in their ranks.

But the following words from him were not quite his ideal, but certainly, rightfully demanded his attention.

Rurik's audible indifference implied to the officer that he should continue.

"Best you hear it yourself, make your own judgement of it." He offered before soon enough they were aboard the command bridge of the Battlecruiser.

He stood before the viewport of the battleship, looking through the segmented glasteel to take in the view of the endless starfield before him.

"Whenever you're ready, sir." The commscan officer voiced out to the Lord Executor, peering away from his console for a moment.

Rurik nodded once.

"This is a general distress call from Lieutenant Thirdas Heavenshield of the Antarian Rangers, requesting urgent reinforcements to the Sev Tok system. We have confirmed reports of Bryn activity in the area -- I repeat, the Bryn'adûl are on their way. I say again, this is a general distress call to any and all forces in the vicinity -- we are under attack!"

Heavenshield. There was a bitterness to that name in Rurik's thoughts. The dynasty of Thurion Heavenshield Thurion Heavenshield , the man who'd squared him and his own New Jedi ally down on Dantooine, fighting side by side with Sith. And now, they reached out into the great beyond of the Galaxy in desperation.

Rurik now had to crucify his ego. To forsake the personal grudges he'd wielded to those who wronged him in the past. Else, he would be grasping weakly unto life again, as he did on Serenno. A lesson written in his own, dark, crimson ichor.

"They seem desperate...much more so than anything we might have anticipated..." The Captain continued.

"Set course for the Sev Tok system...prepare all ships for war."


"The Bryn'adul have showed in force there...the Silver Jedi have been pushed back several times before by the Bryn'adul...and they've never called for help then as they have here. Do you know the mission of the Crusade Fleet, Captain?"

"To battle the darkness in whenever, where ever it appears."

"Today...we shall do just that. We are carrying stores of the Xenophage aboard the fleet, correct?"

"Aye, sir."

"Make sure all of our ground assault assets are equipped with it. Death will come for the Bryn'adul...our will be done."
With that, the battle stations alarms began to blare in its foreboding rhythm through the fleet and soon enough, the black and shimmering starfield distorted into the electric blue stream of hyperspace.

Soon, the Iron Sun would rise over hell.

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SJC | Saaveina Saaveina | Hans Rennagen Hans Rennagen | Paz Koon Paz Koon

ENEMIES | BRYN | Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus | Krarolk T'manu Krarolk T'manu

The Albino


LOCATION: The Epitaph
EQUIPMENT: Verikast Juggernaut Platform 12A | Assault Carbine | Glaive
ALLIES: Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus | Osam Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok | Sethrak Sethrak | Galak Galak | Primarch Drek'ma Primarch Drek'ma | Quoron Ver'dum Quoron Ver'dum | Ursa Antar | Sarask Hiskt Sarask Hiskt | Sylok'Vanari Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu Krarolk T'manu | Carask Uduun | Kelmor Kelmor | Kyrim Tenebris Kyrim Tenebris | Gordrak Gordrak
TAGS: Open

Another test stood before the young Udomek, this one even more challenging then the last and he had nearly died in his last battle. It had been a long road to recovery for him since Sarka, he had not seen battle since that day. Once again, he felt that nervous adrenaline itching to fight but not knowing what to except ahead of him. He had found out last time just how formidable the jedi were but still they had fell to the Bryn'adul. Today they would even be given the numbers advantage, no doubt they would bring their silly death robots as well to give them overwhelming odds. The Jedi needed all the help they could get even the Bryn’adul purposely disadvantaging themselves it seemed like the Chieftain was taking pity on them giving them a fighting chance this time.

Udomek stood among so many new faces, then again all his Juggernaut squad had been killed on Sarka leaving him to have to find new squad. Luckily, he hadn’t spotted the old one yet, he didn’t want to get shot before this fight even started. Which reminded him that old bastard still owed him a drink, well more then one Udomek figured he should be compensated for every piece of shrapnel dug out of his back. His albino back that was now forever scared reminder of his first battle.

He listened up as the Chieftain spoke through the mind stone to all those present aboard the Epitaph. Pride swelled up in, him pride of being Draelvasier, being a Juggernaut, for being Bryn’adul. The war drums began thumping in his head as he stood there among the gathered war parties. Today he would march into battle once and just like the last time he would emerge out the other side, hopefully this time he would pass out right after.

The battle songs began to ring out around him just like on the burrower on Sarka. Udomek began pounding his metal gauntlet of his new armor against the chest piece in beat to the war chants. The sound of war bewgan thumping in his chest as once again he found himself looking to all his other fellow Bryn’adul. He did not wonder who would die this, but he wondered how many would claim their glory on this field of battle.
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Jedi Maverick



Location: ANV Peagsus
Equipment: Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi ArmorJax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Aayla Shan Aayla Shan , Liedran Kathause Liedran Kathause , Varn Barakis Varn Barakis , Beltran Rarr Beltran Rarr , Jairdain Jairdain

The Alliance fleet arrived just in time to see Sev Tok be under siege by the Bryn, it was tough to see the planet through all of those bio-ships covering it. Jax clinched stood at the main room his gaze rooted to the Bryn fleet ahead. His fists clenched in anger seeing the planet in the process of being besieged, "too many foes," Jax whispered crossing his arms. At least they arrived just in time save to prevent the Bryn from decimating Sev Tok. Memories of Charros IV plagued Jax mind and how utterly ruthless the Bryn were destroying cites executing civilians. 3/4 of the rescue team Jax lead were destroyed and the Jedi accompanied him were mortally wounded. Josh, Aalya both Jax's friends whom he sent to protect the civilians evacuating. Both of them nearly lost their lives that day, if it weren't for Jax's impulsiveness they would've surely been dead.

The Living Force teaches to let things fall were they may, but everyday it was getting harder and harder to obey that tenet. Jax did fell 50 feet from X-Wing just to save Aayla from being killed even though he was criticized by GA command for abandoning his Squadron it was for the greater good. Besides Crosten Feyn Crosten Feyn did a fantastic job of guiding the remaining X-Wing Squadron from the battlefield. The evacuation of Charros IV was a wake up call of sorts for Jax. The Galactic Alliance wasted all their time and resources along with millions of lives just to fight the Sith for no other reason other than the fact that they were long time rivals. Mean while the real enemy, the Bryn swept hundreds of planets in their never ending thirst for conquest. Now they have entered the mid-rim and now for the Silver Jedi Order.

"You were right Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir ," Jax said staring at the battle ahead. "Not many people believed you but I did and now we're going to make sure that the Bryn will advance no further."

Most of his life Jax felt inadequate, he never deserved to be a Jedi Knight. Master Oda died sacrificing his life for Jax in that fated battle at Tatooine. For many years Jax wanted to die, whether it was by the hands of some thug or the bottom of a drink. The guilt that Jax felt for recklessly charging into battle allowing his Master to be cut down weighed down upon him as though an entire planet was crushing his head. Years of drowning in self pity and grief but Jax managed to get back up on his feet mostly thanks to his friends, his padawan, his lover but most importantly: Himself.

A Jedi must sacrifice their selves for the greater good, but first one must love themselves. Jax knew in his mind, in his heart that he was worthy of being a Knight all along. Witnessing Sev Tok under attack, Jax held his head up high he wasn't going to fight to die. He was fighting for the right for others to live. This battle was more than just ideology or simple conquest: But a fight for survival. Jax loves his friends, his lover and the ideals of the Jedi Order whether it was the Silvers or the Alliance but most importantly for the first time in what felt like for a long time, Jax loved life and he was willing to do whatever it takes to protect the life from a merciless killing machine. The fury of the force swirled inside him churning like a Tornado on a rampage. As a Jedi, as a human being, he will go forth with vigor in his heart and a goal in mind: To stop Bryn nothing else matters.

Jax turned to the one of the intercoms pressing the button. "Attention ground team," Jax said. "This Jedi Knight Jax Thio, meet me at the briefing room on the double."

Wayward Padawan
LOCATION: Anvil, Shield Generator
EQUIPMENT: Kroket Combat Armor, Lightsaber, OS-PBC-770 Blaster Rifle, Reaper Blaster Pistol, OS-101 Vibro Swords x2.
ALLIES: THE SJC Beltran Rarr Beltran Rarr
ENEMIES: BRYN (Open to engagement)

It was frankly a load of nonsense that he wasn't being allowed onto the field of battle, nor allowed to take to space for the defenses. Rather, Kadan was being placed as far from combat as possible to watch over a shield generator, not even in a combat role however, but a supportive role. In a way, it made sense. He was untrained, untested in battle, and the generator was still an extremely important piece of the defense for the world. So, like a good little padawan, he bowed his head, pushed down the frustrations he felt, and took to his position on the wall.

His key job? Radio in updates to forces within the city. It wasn't the dignified position in this battle he had hoped for, but then again, he would just have to let it pass. Arms crossed, heart thundering in his chest, the padawan looked down at the forces amassed below, wondering how in the hell the Bryn would even have a chance at getting through the defenses. They were just insectoids weren't they? Surely they could be a real threat, the higher ups had to just be over reacting to an incursion. But even as he thought those ideas, they didn't sound right to him. As much as he didn't understand the orders' stance towards war, they weren't foolish. He had seen them battle other forces as well, but there was something different about this deployment, or perhaps he was just getting another view being here on the ramparts for once.

Mulling to himself, the padawan could only wait and see what the great Bryn had in store, as his idea of a sift rout began to morph into a disturbing scenario of being overrun. Only time would tell.
Portent's Prodigy



Centuries of core-world allegiances brought the Kel Dor no escape from devastation and oppression. Time after time, their light had been eclipsed.

No longer.

The Iron Sun shone over Dorin with an emboldening gleam, safeguarding against another black sun. With Paz as their leader, no more would complacency plague the Kel Dor. The Baran Do, her people, no longer sit in seclusion as eccentric wizards. They are soon to become Dorin's strength, trained in the ways of the Imperial Codex. The Knights of the Empire would mold them into a caste of warriors with strength sufficient to stifle all portents of subjugation.

The most capable of the endemic order's volunteers had been brought aboard the Antares Draco. Paz trained them personally, with advisory assistance from the Lord Executor himself. Their accompaniment to Imperial forces was an immersive exercise in the ways of the Codex. Each of them granted formal rank, treated as equals, trained as equals. Pacifistic tendencies would be wrung out of them like a wet drag to dry. They would hone the way of war, tailored to their precognitive mysticism.

Two sparring Baran Do concluded with a decisive victor. One flat on the floor, the other standing tall with eyes emanating smug victory. Paz stepped forward, tempering her praise toward the two with helpful criticism as she helped the defeated to his feet.

"Do not grow overconfident, Jor. A true enemy will not show you the same restraint that Olo did," she admonished sternly. Turning, a hand placed onto Olo, the defeated sparrer's shoulder. "Olo, hesitation is death. Sith know no restraint, you show know only the minimum. Do not hesitate."

"Knight Colonel?" Olo inquired. "If they show none, why should we?"

"Order restrains chaos," she illuminated vaguely. "Again!"

At her command, the pair began another round. Volunteers watched in a circle, observing, learning, waiting for their turn in the circle. Footsteps clamored hurriedly toward Paz, an Ensign clad in grays stopped beside Paz, saluted. "Knight Colonel."


The Ensign quietly informed Paz of the transmission and the Lord Executor's order. All commanding officers and various individuals of choice gathered on the bridge. Preparations were scrambling elsewhere in the ship, and the Baran Do in the lowest bowel of the metallic wedge among the last informed. Due only by virtue of seclusion. She nodded, dismissed the Ensign, and turned to her pupils in the Codex.

"Hold!" she ordered. Both combatants froze, all observers turned curious eyes toward her. "Eat, retrieve your kits, prepare yourselves for a practical demonstration. We're en route to Concord Space."

"Is it Sith!?" and observer inquired from the back.

Precognitive visions assaulted her mental theatre. The carnage portended was an overwhelming shade of blood-black chaos.


The Baran Do were underprepared to face the Bryn'adul. The same could not be said for the whole of the Crusade Fleet. This was its purpose, after all. Paz did not allow herself to foresee the deaths of her kin this time, though the force was insistent on providing such clarity. While the Concord had never truly been an ally and knew well the seat of an antagonist, the Crusade fleet operated without prejudice. If the lives of Imperials spared Concord worlds who wished them no good will and buried the darkness in the process, so be it. Egos and politics wouldn't stand before their mission.

Old bones ached against the trek for the bridge. Paz's short, hooded figure waded through crowds of scrambling officers and marines flooding every durasteel corridor. The minutes it took to get to the bridge blurred into what felt like mere moments. Paz entered through loud sliding doors from a turbo-lift. "Lord Executor," she addressed, falling in line beside her mentor. "My volunteers are making their preparations. What is our situation? The Ensign that informed me wasn't generous with details."

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SJC | Saaveina Saaveina | Hans Rennagen Hans Rennagen | Rurik Fel Rurik Fel

ENEMIES | BRYN | Tathra Khaeus Tathra Khaeus | Krarolk T'manu Krarolk T'manu



Phase One
Location: Aboard the Epitaph
Allies: Hrajlmak'Natok Hrajlmak'Natok | Sethrak Sethrak | Ostak Cl'mana Ostak Cl'mana | Sylok'Vanari Sylok'Vanari | Osam Osam | Quoron Ver'dum Quoron Ver'dum | Gordrak Gordrak | Galak Galak | Primarch Drek'ma Primarch Drek'ma |
Enemies: TBD

Kalanthir watched from above the bridge, standing over a set of ramparts. Behind him, the central hub of the Kraemonen hive-mind organising the ship. A large bulbous construct of hundreds of Kraemonen working together. It was the proverbial brain if one needed to draw a comparison to the anatomy of a sapient. Was that what this ship had become? So full of whispers and its own thought was she now, it could be argued that the ship was its body. The Bryn'adûl warriors within like microbes, bacteria.


In his hands, the Seer held the embryotic sack of a
Barricas Terraformer. Taken from one of their facilities on Edemar, a premature babe. It was not quite dead, but far from the needed circumstances to be living as normal. Or so one would think. The Seer did not see but felt Sev Tok. It rumbled, plates of earth chaffing against one and other in unease. The planet called out for correction, control. This was what would be delivered to them, a forced gift to help them understand.

But now, he would require feeling. Standing in a semi-circle to his back, a number of Ashaka to assist him. This was a dark art to be performed, and the Seer would have the privilege of being its catalyst. He cradled the larvae babe, careful not to rupture its sack as he carefully placed it in the massive urn. Ancient Draelvasier inscriptions, imbued with the force ran across the cylinder holding the urn upright, empowering it with the force to change. The Seer stepped back, hands clasped at his waist as the Epitaph made its way toward the planet, the fight had already begun. Outnumbered and alone, the warship moved in without hesitation, he wondered if the zeal of a construct was matched by a lack of fear in the Hive-Mind within. A curious observation to be detailed later. The Ashaka at his side lowered themselves into a state of subservience, submission to his will in meditation. Their strength, supplanted and added to his own.

Now with feeling.

The call of the planet was not all that was felt. But the fear and confusion of their enemy. Those aboard their ships, some ready to defend whilst other made way to the Sev Tok system with a sense of duty, a call of purpose. One not shared by all. Even as a singular entity, the identity of the Bryn'adûl was stronger felt through the force. Yes their foe was one of many aspects, but they lacked the shared perspective, mindset and goals. The unity of the Bryn'adûl was unmatched, and thusly they beamed through the cosmic as one singular united fist.

From the lowest Ungulloi to the greatest Draelvasier, the zealous power was drawn upon through the Mind Stones. The urn began to glow, dark magicks whirling through the air as the Seer began to whisper ancient Drael; speaking to the barricas larvae.
The Slowhand

Location: ANV Pegasus
Tags: Jax Thio Jax Thio Aayla Shan Aayla Shan Jairdain Jairdain Beltran Rarr Beltran Rarr Liedran Kathause Liedran Kathause

It was happening again.

The Bryn were making enough push into the Concord's territory, bringing with them fire and death. It was always the same. Fire and death and lost worlds. Varn had once wondered what it was that drove the Bryn'Adul to commit the atrocities they did. He hadn't been able to find an answer. No matter how many times he asked the question, he always came to the same conclusion. They were monsters, pure and simple. Or maybe just simple; there was nothing pure about the Bryn.

Unless you counted their thirst for violence. Varn knew from experience that is was something that could never be quenched. Even when all the races in the Galaxy had been put to the sword, still they would thirst.

The Jedi Knight hoped it wouldn't get that far.

Waking early, he had hit the head and mess hall in quick succession, his mind somewhere else as he ate a hearty breakfast. It would not do to fight on an empty belly nor would it do to squander what little free time he had left before they reached Sev Tok, and the enemy that would meet them there. Feeding his plate into the recycler, Varn bid farewell to the men and women he had sat with. Strangers all, they had not turned him away when he had approached. He was grateful for that. For the company, and the words they'd shared. When he returned to his quarters, the place seemed lesser somehow. Lonelier.

Sitting down on his cot, Varn folded his legs beneath him, his eyes closing as he began to meditate. This was something he always did before a fight. Like a ritual of sorts, it helped ease him into what was to come. It gave him focus, and wiped away all of the stress and tension that had been building up on their short journey to Sev Tok. Well, almost all. He could not help but dwell on the last vivid memory of his family as they waved him goodbye back on Kashyyk. The image of their spectral smiles drove daggers through Varn's hearts. Oh, what he would give to see them again.

A message from Jax marked the end of his meditation. Slipping from his cot, Varn began to slip into his armor as the message began to play. Short and to the point. Varn liked that. He sent an acknowledgement back before giving his quarters one last look. As spartan as it was, it might be the last visage of comfort he'd ever get to see. Varn paused for all of a second. Then, slipped out the door.
Never Say No to Bacta.


Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, Field Armory, Nearby Improvised Command Centre
Local Time: 22:07
Primary Objective: Defend the City of Anvil Alongside SJC Forces in the Area
Secondary Objective: N/A
Loadout 2 (Carrying 1x Portable Clip Recharger in utility Field Butt Pack. Flame Projector swapped out with a CryoBan Projector.)
Friendlies: SJC | Aien Mueller Aien Mueller | Beltran Rarr Beltran Rarr | Thirdas Heavenshield Thirdas Heavenshield (Always open for more friendly interaction!)
Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Open for opposition!


Before the priority transmission to all available Silver Jedi Concord elements in the sector, Kranak was returning from a mercenary contract enroute to the Clan house on Roon to get some rest and recuperation. At the time, the giant was about four days into his two week leave of absence from the Mandalorian Covenant. The giant had hoped he could spend some time hunting the wildlife on Roon with his fellow kin, but the Bryn’adûl invasion of Sev Tok and the sectors nearby surely threw a wrench into his plans.

He was duty bound to the Covenant -and the Silver Jedi Concord for that matter- to assist in the defence of the planets under attack by the Bryn’adûl. As soon as he received the automated distress call, Kranak changed his course to Sev Tok to aid her defenders with haste.

Now, the giant Ori’ramikad was preparing for the sudden call to war inside the field armory, shortly after making planetfall on Sev Tok with his gunship. With a crisp clack, the giant Ori’ramikad inserted a power cell magazine into the magwell of his Paranaor Blaster Rifle. He gave it a little tug to see if the magazine was seated properly in the magwell. He was in the process of re-checking his weapons and equipment for the fifth time now. Over time, checking and rechecking his weapons and gear a number of times prior to a mission became a ritual for the Mandalorian. He hated to leave things to chance.

Satisfied with the state of his weapons and gear after a few moments, the giant gathered and wore his kit over his beskar'gam. He was ready for the fight to come. He exited the large olive drab tent that was being used as an armory shortly after he finished his fifth and last equipment check with his buy’ce tucked under his left arm. The loudspeakers nearby blared a few moments later. Rangers and local militia nearby formed a large crowd in front of the improvised Command Centre to his right as the loudspeakers blared.

“Brothers, hearken unto me,” he began.

“As we speak, the armies of the hated Bryn’adûl descend upon us, and we are woefully unprepared to meet their challenge. But meet it we shall nonetheless, for we are the shield that guards the countless souls of this galaxy!”

He then pointed towards the mountain behind him and the ascending city levels, each built into the mountainside.

“This city is called ‘Anvil’, and it is indeed a fitting name! For upon this anvil the Bryn bastards will be crushed into oblivion, as the ceaseless tides crash against unrelenting rocks. We shall hold them here until our fleets arrive, providing the hammer with which to smite our enemies!”

As he spoke, morale seemed to soar amongst his men, spreading throughout the city with each sentence uttered.

“Too long have we been besieged by these foul creatures while other great powers of this galaxy feel content to sit by and do nothing! Too long have the Bryn staked their claim unto this world in which we live, yet they have no right to it! Too long have we been the prey, ever dreading these monstrosities that await us!”

Soldiers and militiamen alike raised their weapons as infectious cheers of defiance broke out.

“I say, it is high time that we become the predator! We become the terror; the slayer of beasts! Become, what my people call ‘Jaeger’ - Monster Hunters! Roar like lions as you defy the jaws of death, as you lay waste to the enemy!”

He now waited until the cheering had died down somewhat before finishing his speech, relaying the critical importance of them succeeding to hold Sev Tok. There could be no holding back this time; every last man needed to go all out.

“My brothers, consider this our last stand. Should we fail to hold this world, there will be nothing standing between them and our capital of Kashyyyk. We give our lives this night so there is no need for others to do thus. However the battle goes, I offer you all this solemn promise: Mine will be the last boots to leave this earth, and I will leave no man behind. In victory or defeat, we shall all go home together.”

“Go with the Gods, and may the Force be with you.”

The Ranger Lieutenant spoke like a true warrior, instilling zeal into the hearts of his subordinates. The man could certainly talk the talk.

<So, hold out until relief forces arrive. Sounds easy enough.> Thought the giant. It did sound easy, seeing as they would have a number of advantages as the city would provide to the defenders. He also had been in plenty of holdouts before. But he could feel this would be a very long night.

The Bryn’adûl were a force to be reckoned with. They were not by any means to be underestimated; as far as he heard of the stories from the aruetiise that were fortunate enough to survive their onslaught and tell the tale. Despite their horrible intentions of reducing the known galaxy to rubble, they fought bravely with no mercy and no remorse. That, the giant showed great respect. The battle to come would be a memorable one, regardless of the outcome.

After a curt nod at the Lieutenant’s speech, the giant Ori’ramikad put his helmet on. <I wish we had more aruetiise like you in the galaxy.> he thought to himself, as he turned on his helmet visor and lowered the macrobinoculars. The helmet had already pressurized itself with a short high pitched hiss as soon as he slid his head into it.

[“Nightvision.”] said the giant. The interactive heads-up display turned on his macrobinocular’s night vision as soon as the verbal command was spoken. A green haze was now cast over his surroundings, illuminating the shroud of the night for him that was cast over all.

At the same time, he leaned his head to the right to slip on the single point sling of his Paranaor Blaster Rifle over his left shoulder. He kept the rifle on safety and assumed a low carry stance as he started to make his way towards the city’s outermost perimeter wall. He quickly took mental notes regarding the whereabouts of the Field Hospital and a number of Casualty Collection Points as he made his way to the outermost wall of the city. They would most certainly have casualties during the siege.

Combat boots clattered on the ferro-concrete pavement as the defenders walked, on their way to the wall. The surrounding streets and the structures were hollow, save for the giant Ori’ramikad and a number of militias and a couple of Rangers. The civilians had already been evacuated to a safer place to ensure their safety. There were a couple of speederbikes and airspeeders lying around unpowered.

The giant Mandalorian would take up defensive formations nearby friendly elements on the outermost perimeter wall as soon he reached his destination.

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