Junction The Battle For Carlac | Junction of Mobus & Oorn Tchis | BotM & NIO

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Freedom
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Omni drone (only in the Netherworld)​

Objective II.: UNDERWORLD
Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator | G1 OmniLink
Writing with: The Mongrel
Allies: Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Aemilio Valaar | Michael Barran | Ranoc Sar

[ It can be hard to be a hero… ] ​

Perfection? Rather an abomination! But I was so smart not to say it out loud in this situation. He had to come here, he had to kill me in a calculated action and not by acting suddenly. If he calculates, I will have time to react, if he attacks out of instinct, it is unpredictable. A large dose of adrenaline not only worked in the man's body, but in me as well.

Yes, I was scared! But this was not a sin; from that I did my thing the same way, it made me human. Because of this, I wasn’t as monstrous as the ones I fought against. I also had fear, anger and resentment, pain, grief. These were necessary for me to stay on my feet and be able to continue to fight, for a world where others didn’t have to experience this. Little shadow-killer? He just wanted me to be that way, but I had to disappoint him.

"If I were an assassin, you'd be dead! You were lucky I wasn't an assassin!" I said snarling as I looked up at him. I saw no point in lying; the truth is perhaps more painful that I tried to shoot a totally random person and I'm not a trained assassin.

I watched as he raised his sword. It will take only moments for my own attack; if he kills me and I will kill him… well, that would still be a great deal. However, at that moment, my communicator rang and since I didn’t have the option to turn it off or direct it to my ear, @Ranoc Sar’s message about the bombs was audible to everyone. Feth! Did they not know that I have my orders to come here to this place?

"Oh, if we had time, I'd even call you someone else, I have no idea who you are, you just became the target because your ugliness hurt my sense of beauty." I continued the mocking, teasing, while he raised his sword.

I had no opportunity to respond in the direction of Sar; and I had no idea how much time I left until the bombing began. As the sword was in the air, I immediately reached for my two daggers, my right hand aching again, but I didn’t care. The sword slammed down, and I swung forward; I tried to jump on the man and with this tried to avoid the sword as well.

The sword avoided, but the man's arm and I think the sword's grip also slammed to my side when the blade reached where I had been moments before. For a few moments I saw stars from the pain and I became nauseous, my breathing hurt, I think I broke some of my ribs, I groaned in pain and I coughed up a large amount of blood during my movement.

I’m not very strong, but I was hoping to be able to upset him with my momentum on the slippery ground as I bump into him if he'll not avoid my "attack". If he stays on his feet, I’ll be uncomfortably close to him. Anyway, I’m trying to stab his heart with my right dagger and cut his throat with my left dagger, or stab him in the throat, whichever succeeds. In the meantime, I didn't really care how many more injuries I could suffer…

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
Operation: Judas Contract
4th Rifle Platoon, 5th Shock Trooper Company Oathsworn, 501st Legion
ASOPORT

E N G E L​

A loud explosion rattled the ground, tilting the surface left and right. Even this far from it, sweat broke on his brow as Auria's flames illuminated the visor of his inscrutable helmet. There was no time to think on that; the enemy was right in his face. This close to her, he could see her clearly despite the raging storm. A face drained of color and eyes void of life. And of incredibly short stature, much shorter than she looked from afar. Chin up, arrogance flowed in the adrenaline rush.

The blade bit into her duster and instinctively he swiveled the hilt in one motion like a screwdriver. Whatever remained on the edge marked no flesh, nor blood. Her tumble away was fast. Too fast. A swift turn of the heel and he was right after her. No quarter, finish this fast. Especially against a Forcer. A witch, even. Again. She placed her hands behind her back and if it wasn't for the lifeless, repugnant features she possessed, he would've drawn the similarities with his former mentor the lady Indra of the Axis of Shadows. The duster, the boots and arms behind her back, evading each jab, hook and kick as if it was child's play. But this was no master of a thousand martial arts.

This was a mere crone.

A trespassing pestilence on Imperial soil.

The set up step slammed hard on the cold surface and the blade swung upwards to blind her eyes forever when the ground rattled and ran beneath his feet. Konrad should've stood firm. He had climbed slippery waterfalls a hundreds of times.

"Die-- ...!"

But he didn't. Arrogance cost his footing, conceding his balance to the quake. He wobbled and the blade missed, cutting the air beside her face leaving him open for a counter-attack.

ALLIES | NIO | Aemilio Valaar , Auria Blackmoore, Michael Barran
ENEMIES | MAW | Tegan Starfall , The Mongrel

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: Siege the crown
Location: Entrance halls to THE CROWN OF ICE
Allies: Maw and friends
Enemies: NIO and everyone else
Equipment: Staff of Dakrul, Cursed Gen'Dai Flesh Armour

​

Dakrull was curiously eyeing one of the crystalline figures before him. These undead how did they hold onto their form?
It was beyond him. Also the sheer amount of souls he could recognize far outnumbered that which he could maintain at once. Why had the Heathen Priests not taught him? Since his rebirth and first successful reanimation, it had all hinged on his unnatural bond to the Nether. Only with the staff acting as a tethering point and force siphon was he truly able to leverage the full extent of his power. Yet the pure scale of this was on an entirely different level.

There was also a lot of noise here, so many dead and so many tales to tell, but there was more, these soldiers, these troops it was almost as if they were reporting to their master. Indulging him in their feats of glory on the battlefield. It made it difficult to tune in and out of what Dakrull wanted to hear.

The attack came with a brute strength he hadn’t yet encountered in his young life, the enemy was ruthless but precise, overwhelming but controlled. It almost wasn’t fair!

It was like they were never meant to win in the first place. What seemed like an entire army set foot into the halls. At its helm, a huge figure cladded entirely in iron. The Mawite would kill them all, maim their bodies, wrangle them and feed them to the cosmos… the insectoid was suddenly flung across the room, his immortal body but a feather in the wind. His chitin-covered form hit the ground, a weakened beast, and a larger target. Multiple blaster shots ruptured deep holes into his chest. He couldn’t move his legs, he had been cleaved apart right in the middle. The man of iron disappeared deeper into the fortress.

The fight before the massive stairs quickly escalated into full swing as the living were duking it out with the dead.

His gigantic split form laid motionless on the ground, he wanted to draw power from within, wanted to call upon the mutated flesh inside but it was then and there he felt the ripples of a mighty ritual. The very fabric of death was at play here, from nothing came something, an ancient rule broken by extremely powerful spell weaving. Even more that he did not understand. He thought it impossible to resurrect where there was no flesh to spare. It was starting to get frustrating. All of it. On top of that, he missed his Master, missed the sound of the Voice. Missed the safety he provided.

Fleshy goo began to eke out of his rotten tissue, it crawled onto the stone ground, latching and clutching forward bit by bit. Dozens of pinkish tentacles reaching for his severed limbs. Once they made contact the process sped up. What had been broken now coming undone. Any onlookers would watch with dread as the giant torn carcass would pull its severed parts together, hands twitching, legs kicking, and with a terrifying roar Dakrull, the Faceless Hunger would raise to his knees and ultimately take his first step.

The four-armed giant grabbed the first trooper he could snatch, and launched him into the wall beside him, with a terrible splatter of bone and tissue the unfortunate soldier turned to nothing but a bloody splatter on the marble surface. The zealot now brutally carved a way back to his original position where he had dropped his staff of necromancy. His massive three-meter form trampling over anyone foolish enough to get in his way. Moreover, the same tentacles that had previously sewed the Cha’ta’ri back together now latched out onto his enemies to pluck them apart. Hailing from the apparent wounds that had been caused to him, the thick pungent tendrils now flailed from his trunk.

His opposition was caught by a disturbing sense of surprise, as the massive creature began turning the entrance halls of the castle into a bloodbath. The full extend of this horror only became apparent once his three-clawed fingers wrapped around the obsidian-colored cane. At first, it wasn’t even noticeable but then, screams. Wicked, wretched, and fear-induced screams. A New Imperial Solider, having clearly succumbed to his injuries and disfigured from his chest down, evidently due to some prior explosion opened his eyes in terror. Next to him, nothing but a severed helmet still oozing blood began to plead in angst. Hacked off arms and legs began twitching and quivering, forelimbs went thrashing about like startled snakes. The entire room turned into a living nightmare as the dead and even just parts of the dead were reminded of their existence and the pain their current state caused. These were not zombified minions of the night, no they were terrified souls tortured by an existence, senses, emotions they should no longer be able to feel.

Dakrull was now hungry for blood, for gore, for destruction. A rampaging necromantic mutant tasked with nothing more and nothing less the complete and utter annihilation of the enemy.

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

V O I D W A L K E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ASOPORT, CARLAC
ALLIES: Konrad Harrsk Auria Blackmoore Michael Barran
ENEMIES: Carlaci Corps, Perished, The Mongrel Tegan Starfall
Directly Interacting: Caarlyle Rausgeber​

On the trio’s tail was the barrage of blaster bolts, whining through the air past them as the nearby stormtroopers at their positions fired on the Warbands and their elevated position. Squad One, his own, had remained at their forward position, he noted as soon as he scrambled back into a crouch.

Yet, it didn’t take long for the hostile Mawite Warbands to turn their focus on the big gun. The same gun that he was ducked into cover beside.

As the first of the bolts hailed down on them, Voidwalker remained secure in his position, instead, eyeing the battlefield behind them from where they had come to spot the rest of his men. A single squad against an entire city? That was a death sentence that not even the most loyal of Tavlar’s supporters would take.

<<Torayga?! Get me Squads Two and Three up here now! I want those heavy weapons brought here!.” We’re breaking this holdout, now. Undead, Carlaci Corps, and whoever else sought to oppose the New Order… They didn’t have the means to halt an entire legion from entering the city.

<<They’re protecting Squads 4 and 5 with the Cradles.>> The answer was almost enough to quiet him, before he saw Brax catch a bolt to the shoulder and he reached up and dragged him down into cover with him, belly flopping to the cold earth.

<<Let the rear guard pile the dead. We’re leading the charge!>>

Glory, recognition, fame… It was bound to be theirs if they were to be one of the first to succeed. The first breach point into the city would siphon defenders from different locations. The harder the fight, the more impressed the brass would be. And deep down, Valaar knew he was destined to be among them. The upper tier, the High Command. It was the only way he’d be able to change the Order for the better.

Before he could even rise up to re-assess the conditions of the battle, a bright light lit up across his visor, immediately dampening it as he raised an arm to shield his eyes nonetheless. The light passed in the direction of where much of the hostile fire originated.

Aemilio could only guess that it was Konrad’s match catching aflame.

That’s no cannon.

The world erupted, enough to shake the ground as both the building was consumed by fire, and the monorail. Which inevitably led to the flames consuming the charges at the bottom of the support beam, adding to the flame as the concussive explosion boomed across the battlefield.

Slagged rock scattered across the streets and the monorails in every direction, covering much of the western flank in flame.

In the aftermath, Aemilio raised up from his makeshift barrier of protection. He felt like the ground was still shaking. Smoke and metal contorted his vision of the street that led down the intersection. Glance shot over his shoulder, his HUD allowed him to make out the bulk of his platoon quick marching up to to his position. In hand, mortars, launchers, and more repeaters.

"Torayga," Aemilio said as the Commander approached. "Take Squads Two through Five to the intersection down the street. Secure the advance."

After years of time spent together, Torayga knew when he wasn't needed anymore. Without so much as a second look to him, Aemilio patched in to the encrypted comm line.

<<This is Lieutenant Valaar of the 3rd Shock Assault Platoon of the 501st,>> he reached down to one of the pouches secured around his waist, retrieving the circular, hand-held device from his men before throwing it up into the sky. Coming to life, the miniature probe droid was on a course deeper into the city. A live transmission fed back into the holoprojector that sat neatly in his palm. <<Requesting deployment of AT-ASG's on initial 501st landing zone Onith.>>

Meanwhile, hundreds of feet above the ground, the probe droid lingered, projecting images of whatever awaited their approach in a live feed back to the holoprojector. The use of such technology was archaic, but in an urban setting, where enemies could be in every window, hunkered down on any rooftop... Fire balls weren't going to be available for every ambush. He had to know about them before they occurred.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Allies: BOTM
Objective: Uh BYOO I guess
Enemies: NIO/ whoever wants to catch hands

As the battle raged all around a dark infection was taking hold. A side effect of being within the galaxy for so long. Deep within the slums of the city among those that much of the Maw hasn’t noticed and neither did the New Imperial Order. Much of the conflict had distracted many, and largely left the Master of Ren to his own devices on the world. Deep within the slums was something that would frighten even the most battle hardened of stormtroopers. Within the rundown areas was a slow crawling horde of the undead. Not like that of the Sith agent for the Maw but an infection from Kyrel’s own walking corpse.


All that had to be done was to take a few bodies to feed on. Usually the homeless, and dregs of society were chosen. From then on it was pure chaos. Within hours you had the mangled flesh ridden corpses feeding on victims who were already asleep. When they awoke it was in violent screams. The same black fluid that largely came from Kyrel’s own mouth had infected much of the wounds of the living. With his own viral pathogen the process was different. Some of his victims took hours. Some were still alive although suffering from violent convulsions and pieces of flesh falling off. The mind itself in time was soon consumed in a rabid like state before attacking anyone near them.

The monster himself walked with the slow moving dead. When what little police units were dispatched to the seedy underbelly of the city they were overwhelmed. The crowd moved and you couldn’t hear anything but distant screams and a painful groan of sorts. As if that was all the sounds they could make at all. Soon the undead monsters started to invade complexes hoping to turn more victims of those that slept soundly. Only to awake by limbs being ripped off and bitten by a little pack of ravenous animals.

Kyrel moved slowly with the dead. Hoping to take the city. Moving from the lower dirty levels to where the rich were. Moving unnoticed by both Sith and the NIO alike. Too busy to notice his own little chaos being spread throughout the battlefield

 

[Michael Barran]

5
SECOND_SON
OBJECTIVE 2: UNDERWORLD
CARLAC

ALLIES (NIO): Aemilio Valaar Konrad Harrsk Auria Blackmoore
Keilara Kala'myr Amadeus Blackwood Ranoc Sar

ENEMIES (BOTM/NSO/KOR): Halketh The Mongrel Marlon Sularen
Tegan Starfall Glossa

MICHAEL'S FORCES
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD
ARGYLL COY. - INFANTRY
LARGS COY. - INFANTRY
FARRIN COY. - ENGINEERS
ISLAY COY. - ANTI-TANK

BLUE-HEART BRIGADE
220 XT-62,"CATAPHRACT" TANKS
32 SCOUT-AFV'S
10 MLV'S (NAKAIOMA)
5 PREDATOR LAUNCH-PLATFORMS (NAKAIOMA)
1 COY. OF GUARDSMEN
1 COY. OF MEDICS
1 COY. OF QUARTERMASTERS

THE GOLIATHS OF ILUM
40 VH-140,"GOLIATH" REPULSORTANKS (NAKAIOMA)
5 SCOUT-AFV'S

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE
SECONDARY WEAPON: BLASTER-PISTOL

PROVING GROUND: THE WANDERER'S DEPLOYMENT TO CARLAC - PART EIGHT

​

Northern Srares Mountains,
Srares' Outskirts, Carlac

Michael....​

Much of the civilian power-grid for Srares was brought offline by the destruction brought down on it's northern districts from a distance, with suburbs and industrial estates alike crumbling and crashing around the city's horror-struck northern population. No Galidraani troops would be ordered to move on the rest of the frozen metropolis in the south just yet, as there would be far too many hazards and potential Carlaci choke-points being set up around such and more challenges known for being created by fire and rubble alone, and Lord Michael still didn't know if moving the entire Galidraani line through the city was the wise choice or not; patiently watching on as the city burned before him, Barran would casually chat away with Yorunarr until he realised he was being lazy, pausing to think on what play to make next while there was still time to prod at the defence-lines for the right hornets' nests. The Blue-Hearts needed the opposing mechanised elements exposed before long, and the Wanderer knew this would be a necessity more than most, seeing for himself that the air and the general perception of his surroundings was slowly undergoing a troubling change around them, deciding quickly to act on the spot before other factors got in the way.

'Barran to AFV One! I want your contingent to veer out east to offer support for the scouting troops there, and that means now. Guardian Company have their means of keeping up, but you'll have to provide transport for Eclipse Company so you can all move, when required, as one. It's time we test these Mawites' mechanised capabilities once an' for all - but you're not permitted to engage in fully-pitched battle! Behave like nomads instead, understood?'

<"Understood, Milord. Moving up now, an' will confirm as soon as we link with Baird's lot. AFV One out!">

Michael....​

Everyone was moving, all but the Highland Brotherhood's four companies of revolutionary soldiers, fresh off the bloodied provinces of Westcape and Preston, hardened by some of the wildest firefights in Galidraan III's recent history. They were still as far back as the rearguard command-centres, but the Highlanders had been ready to move since all the vehicles moved beyond Springboard Valley, so all the Brotherhood needed was the Wanderer's final command, the final go-ahead to advance using the destruction to screen their approach for the first phase of their city-assault. Putting his comm-device close to his lips, Lord Michael decided to change that, making sure that every playing piece was either moving or attacking accordingly as he said,'Barran to Cairn Two! Time to move up, the city is open to attack from the north - and we've got plenty spare Cataphracts for infantry-support, so don't be aw that apprehensive way on approach. We need the same Brotherhood companies who bled Milton-on-Westcape drier than auld bones! Can ye manage that, McBain?', keeping the Highlander's aggression-levels as high as he could in the process.

<"As always - can't make promises, don't make promises. "Best do an' then say ye did when it's done.", an' nuhin's changed, Milord. Cairn Two out!">

Michael.... I know you can hear me.​

The Wanderer couldn't ignore it, stifle the echoes or the blot out the tone of the breathy voice in his mind, understanding that even attempting it by then would have proven senseless in the short and long term; but in Barran's ever-strengthening mind, body and soul, none of it would ever stop him from trying to irritate it for as long as it felt safe to continue doing so, seeking an early advantage in temperament to prod away at the voice for as long as need be. Not reacting to the insanity in any way that would be expected of a man with some-one or some-thing raiding his mind, it was fairly obvious to Lord Michael that the only game the voice would be playing with him was Yorunarr's, and if other voices dared to join the party, Barran (and probably the Novanian with his own too) would treat each new addition like another challenger in the bodyguard's strange version of,"Who flinches first?". This game would also get more interesting when the Wanderer deemed it fitting to ingest Melarria's Root, knowing that both voice and victim would have to contend with these new hallucinations; the strangest way to level the playing-field with his own insanity, but the young aristocrat found that he wouldn't have it any other way.

'Is it happening for you yet, Milord?'
I'm not alone out here, Michael.

PROVING GROUND: THE WANDERER'S DEPLOYMENT TO CARLAC - PART NINE

Northern Srares Mountains,
Near Srares' Outskirts, Carlac

Moving westward, the Goliaths of Ilum were trying to remain undetected by keeping as far back from the treeline as possible, hoping to get to the coordinates they had chosen without having to fire a single shot as they opted to veer around the city's defences in a wide-arcing, semi-circular journey behind plateaus, woodlands and several other view-and-sensor obscuring landmarks along the way. The two Galidraanis in command were making wise choices for the most part, only once relying on their five Scout-AFVs to clear out a small patrol of Carlaci militia, wiping out the small platoon of locals before they could be detected; all was going as according to plan, and without any casualties or impending threats to worry about for the next stretch of quiet manoeuvres, both Brand and O'Callaghan could relax enough to talk, opting to discuss their first-impressions of the young Lord for a while as the second lull continued around them. The one to prompt this discussion would be the Carrack, but in a rather cynical tone as he asked,'So, what do you make o' the bai? Something different to this one, and we both know it's somethin' completely different to his force-abilities.', with a knowing glance that hinted his disapproval of other aspects to the Wanderer that escaped his mention.

'Hasn't been right since he lost his big brother, mate. Whatever Michael we're dealing with now, you can be sure the one we're dealing with is something completely different to the Lord-Captain of before. Still bears resemblance to his,"Usual", self in passing conversation, not doubting that for a second; but if you look into his eyes when you talk to 'im, actually listen to his voice, you'll see and hear something new in there that differs entirely to Lord Erskine - and in every way imaginable.... A menace he might be in the end, but we both know Lord Michael's loyalty makes him into the juggernaut he should be for now.'

I'm - in - your - heads....​

'Phil, what the kark was that?', the Carrack asked as soon as the voice was done whispering from the deepest recesses of their conscious minds, knowing for a fact he had no intention of letting it stand if there was a chance a man of the cloth could make it stop. However, whether O'Callaghan liked it or not, his faith would hold no power on Carlac, not whilst Darth Caelitus still lived to wield his darkest powers yet, giving Gary no choice but to either let the voice run rampant in his mind or to trust in his mental fortitude for the sake of the other. It still didn't stop the 1st-Leftenant from seeking guidance from the chaplain though, yet both officers knew that they had no other relevant weapons in their arsenal, made quite obvious by the look on Phillip's face as Gary persisted,'I don't know if you're all that wise to Carrack and Woad superstitions, but.... Do you have any idea what the,"Voices in the mind", omen means to people like me?', doing very little to calm his Northern-Galidraani comrade as he continued.

'You know I don't, Gaz! Now 'ave out with it already, we haven't got all bleedin' night!'

Listen to you two! Cracking already? I would be disappointed if it wasn't so hilarious.​

'Shut ya gob, mate! We're tryin' to talk 'ere!

'All I'm saying is this, it's a good thing we have opponents to fight while,"ThInGs....", persist!', O'Callaghan jokingly snapped back in reply, calming the tone of the discussion by disparaging the voice and beginning his answer at the same time. Sparking up a Fortaner cigar, the Carrack would adopt a more grim facial expression as his gaze caught the chaplain's once more, though still kindly enough to offer an amiable smirk before continuing.'Voices in a Carrack's mind often lead such a man to kill a friend, a brother, even a son.... But in Woad lore, such voices can spur a warrior to victory if he has enough strength, and enough enemies standing in his way.', and finishing with a shrug that implied Carlac had every chance of going either way as a result. Although such breeds of lore always troubled him, the Rooster was comforted to see that the voice wasn't getting to the Carrack as badly as he first thought, deciding there and then to let his friend's good judgement dictate their attitudes going forward, a beacon of light that Phillip would take as an omen of his own.

Birrell suffers in the Netherworld, Brand.... Just thought you should know.​

'I would believe you - but I know the truth of his soul's final resting place, I was shown the light - and the face of my god within the HEART OF THE CRUCIBLE!!! HÆGL ALWEALDA!!!!! BRETHWALDA!!!!!!'

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

T H R O T T L E
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// RESIST THE DARKNESS \\
Avenger | Arken Rhau

​

The Zeltron eyed him warily, concern bubbling to the surface of her sapphire pools, but she didn't express it. Nor did she strike him with a taunting remark for getting himself into the mortal peril he had gotten into, surprisingly, Chelenne was quiet. A deep, reverberating note had struck her shortly after excavating him from the frosty tomb, one which left her deeply unnerved and snatched the tongue from her mouth. She had gasped audibly, hugging herself tightly, shuddering from something beyond the cold. Narrowed eyes plagued with grimace glared at the looming fortress they approached, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to run the other direction. Something twisted, inexplicable was happening within the dire castle, something she couldn't quite explain properly. There was a grave disturbance, one that sent the avatar of death to murmur into her ear, raking her spine with fevered chills.​

"Death is your only escape."​

Nighthawk lingered in Varian's shadow, keeping to the path he cut through the deepening snow ahead of her, allowing her greater ease of venture. Iridescent strands blown and decorated by the relentless snowfall whipped around her features, striking out against the boundless white with a splash of color uncontained by the hat pulled snugly down over them. As he spoke, she found her focus scattered by the nigh-overwhelming surge of hatred and rage espoused by the Crown. "V-Var-" she started to stammer, shaking her head violently as the whispers surged again.​

"He sleeps with us now, in the places Light cannot reach."
​

The agent grasped her head, stopping dead in her tracks, whimpering softly beneath her breath. This was no place for one of her people. The raw emotions overtaking this world were far beyond anything she had encountered and as trained as she had become to resisting the nature of it all, she found herself attacked from all angles, surrounded by its inescapable grip.​

"Target."

Was that real?

It was getting harder to discern as the wolfish voices encircled her, whispering so quickly she could barely process them. Unsure, Chelenne looked to the Spectre, reading his body language. His attention was focused forward. He triggered his silencing weapons of choice. Surely then, it was real. There was a tangible threat before them.

Feeling something wholly raw and unfamiliar to her, the Zeltron swallowed down the stone forming in her throat and shakily nodded, breaking away from her impromptu partner to circle under the cover of the blinding storm to the left, lowering herself to creep through the snow. Unsteady hands drew the stun baton from her belt and she readied herself, barely creeping through the snow to avoid the sound of crunching beneath weight to expose their ploy.

With Varian out of sight, it was all she could do to wait for him to make a move.

But of course, now more than ever, with her desire to get off this hellish rock peaking, the agent started toward the target directly with full intent to take them down. She poised to lunge, coiling tension up in the muscles of her legs. Breaths came and went, steadying herself for the conflict to come next. And ready to strike, the Zeltron pounc-

-was paralyzed by the warm, familiar voice that spoke in her ears next:​

"Chel, my star, how far you've fallen..."​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

NIV TREGESSAR
CARLAC
FALL RACHE
Allies: Aemilio Valaar | Michael Barran | Auria Blackmoore
Enemies: The Mongrel | Tegan Starfall

Carlyle cast a gaze over the world, his bloodshot gaze casting itself across the storms and violence of the world. It was the waiting that was infuriating. Why had they not at all begun slagging the planet? He deemed it the new Imperator's ego. Want of revenge. And to some degree Rausgeber understood that. The Lord Executor was a hound, dumb, loyal and brutal. Much like his ancestors of the old Fel Empire, Rurik had challenged an ascendant Sith leadership, and won. All under the tutelage of Irveric Tavlar. Fel had been there far before Rausgeber arrived on the New Imperial scene. And yet, this revenge was too costly. While not necessarily as intimate as sliding a lightsaber through Lord Halketh's gullet, there was nonetheless still a job satisfaction in watching a world pelted beneath the yoke of turbolasers.

"Grand Admiral," Carlyle froze, and straightened his hunched posture. Reeling around to address the report, from the portside crew pit. He starred down the young Pa'Deshi engineer who had sought to address him. "Sir," She bowed her head, "Navigation and the sensor data team have performed an analysis of the atmospheric interference in orbit." She raised her head slightly, although her gaze would not reach the wounded tyrant's ravaged face, "They estimate, based on current trajectories, this interference, presumably some form of force storm, will potentially be in range of our outer defensive picket, in approximately forty three minutes. Potentially yielding severe damage to vessel integrity." She paused, "Will there be any deviation from our present course?"

Carlyle stood silently for a moment, and relieved his maw from the muzzle of the ventilation mask, "Bah!" He snapped, voice low and husky, "The trickery of Lord Halketh does not concern me." He barked, "In forty minutes, I dare say we may have the man dead. His acolytes scattered, and this storm.... Dissipated." He hobbled, and turned back to the viewport, assessing it for a moment. He did not want to move at all from this post. It was of course, a prime position for bombardment. And he had that specific instruction. But, there was a prudence, he could not help but abide by. His lip curled into a snarl. "Have the picket line," Carlyle wheezed, "Fall back in approximately, sixteen minutes." He then turned back, raising the mask, and taking a quick hit of unadulterated oxygen, "Begin, to diverge formation." He added, "We'll see if we can skirt around the periphery of this storm, and maintain congruency of potential bombardment."

Carlyle then began to move toward the bridge. Limping as he did so, his steps casting deep, dull thuds against the deck plating. "Grand Admiral," Another situation report, this time from around the holotable. Colonel Galston Kryck waited, a Prefsbelt Stossjaeger commander, and chief ground forces liaison. "We have received an immediate request for material support sir." Galston informed him, clicking his heels, and standing to attention, "The Five Hundred and First, Third Shock Assault platoon. Presently engaged in and around Asoport sir." Kryck nodded and an aide manipulated its location on a map, "Specifically, one Lieutenant Valaar. He's requested immediate deployment of an AT-SG force."

The Grand Admiral drew the mask to his mouth, and breathed in deeply, before removing it. "Authorise immediate deployment." He gave a nod, "In fact, lets take a moment to ensure these are ours." Rausgeber pointedly added, giving a grisly smile, "We have elements of the Fifth Stossgrenadiers, correct?" Kryck acknowledged with a nod. The fifth were a unit of Stossjaeger, specialised for vehicular combat, and support. "Engage their AT-SG force, with some smaller support tanks." Carlyle settled. The propaganda victory would be rich. New Imperials, regular and specialised from the warlords, fighting together, hand in hand. "Have them dispatched as soon as possible." He grunted, "In fact, relay to this Lieutenant Valaar," His stare now met Fleet Admiral Braisley, "That we will be dispatching close air support in the form of a rhypalm strike once the walkers have made landing. Should he have capacity for relaying that further." Rausgeber continued, "Ensure a full escort. I want two full wings of TIE fighters, one for the transports, the second for the bombers."

"There is to be no interruption to our support of our allies."

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
New Imperial Order
Knights of the Empire
501st Stormtrooper Legion
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Halketh

SILVER FOR MONSTERS...​

Mere mortals opposite of gods, unnatural or ethereal servants to the otherworldly and depraved, the adherents to chaos. That was the eternal struggle to the Imperial. To force by will of man what had been corrupted by the obscene. Carlac was another mountain to overcome just as the rest had been. What felt like quick work in these moments, to carve through the legions of the damned- the Sith always laid the path to their true form in the blood of their servants. But it was hardly ever a path walked with any difficulty. They yearned for the dramatic encounter- the feast of blades in the grandest venue in the hopes of striking down their nemesis with their lifeblood soaking in the brazen light for all to bare witness to their triumph.

It was their nature- they sought power above all else, and no power came without spectacle, even if it rose in the shadows as it did here. He was waiting for him. Yearning for that cross of blades and fates.

But Rurik was a leader before he was the champion now.

<"Enigma- the path is clear enough...start planting the charges. If you are ever overrun...initiate broken arrow. We must leave nothing left for these demented savages. Any string of flesh is another thrall in their army. They will be denied the spoils of this day...and the traitors will be denied their glory. Because we...we will have our vengeance."> Rurik voiced through the comms connected to his command unit as they strayed away from stalking his shadow with trained movements and frantic blaster fire.

The blast door ahead of him lifted to reveal the final corridor...to the crown.

His saber was snuffed from the open once more as he began a slow approach. The whispers of those darkened, tortured souls jailed in the hereafter began to fill his periphery as the darkness continued to proliferate like the cancer it was. He shut his mind to this, abhor the unclean.

Two sentries , towering automatons of rotting flesh, tortured bone and strained sinew stood before Rurik in a gothic panoply, ready and prepared to protect their master. Undertaking their wordless oath, jagged, ornate polearms were levied toward the Man of Iron who stared them down in placid iron.

The first began a thundering charge toward him which caused the Champion of the Empire to vault himself into the air and rolled down behind the first guard, his gaze snapping toward the second, his saber still dead in his right hand. He lurched himself forward, his lone organic hand secured in its grip of heavy metal bursting with energy congealed around his hand, will by the Force through the armor donned by the guard, his grip effortlessly maneuvering through flesh and bone until he grasped the automaton's spine in his hand before he forced a jolt of lightning through the guard's body, cooking him alive from the inside. A moment later and his attention snapped to the other, only just now able to turn to face the Imperator once more.

He lifted that lone organic hand into the air once more, closing his fingers into an empty grip at the air before soon enough the towering guard was lifted from his feet, the halberd clammoring to the floor as two hands raked along the side of its helmet before eventually the metal caved completely around its skull, returning the guard unto the useless pile of meat it was shaped from to begin with. And then he threw it toward the heavy door, causing it to swing open violently on impact...where the traitor awaited him.

Rurik walked forward with heavy footfalls of metal on metal. To the Sith Lord, Rurik's piercing argent gaze could be seen immediately, the metal features of his faux gaze following as he entered the haunting chamber- the souls of the damned chained to Kezec's being in half projection between the mortal realm and the hereafter before him.

A ghastly, unnatural sight. All the more reason for Rurik to cut the man down where he stood. But that would take focus...patience. There was no doubt this raven expected the once Executor to vault into the encounter swinging and swaying his silver blade with vitriol in the hopes of emerging with the man a pile of cauterized matter.

No. Rurik was more meticulous than this and anticipated that his calm and placid form...may very well put Kezec ill at ease, where savage combat might have had him immersed in the anticipated.

Almost immediately, Rurik began channeling the way of the Vornskr, the innate ouroboros that could be channeled through his pneuma in siphoning the darkness channeled unto him before spitting it back at his opponent.

In contrast to the eldritch darkness that Braxus Zambrano sought to subject Rurik to...he was well prepared for an encounter immersed in the blackness, where the Force could hardly be called upon for aid past the shroud of evil.

"A virtue you must be shamelessly unfamiliar with...but you've done something far worse haven't you..." Rurik remarks, his eyes narrowing.

"You undid it...you returned them to this mortal realm...you returned them...only so they could witness as you joined them in death." Rurik said, the argent blade hissing to life with its piercing white glow that cut through the darkness in stark, visceral light.

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

ALLIES: Konrad Harrsk | Aemilio Valaar | Michael Barran | Keilara Kala'myr | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Ranoc Sar
ENEMIES: BOTM | NEW SITH ORDER | The Mongrel | Tegan Starfall
ENGAGING: Tegan Starfall
GEAR: I'm a Witch - What more do you need?

O~~>I AM THE FIRE<~~O​

It was chaos.

Pure, unfettered chaos.

The undead increased manifold, slowly gaining ground in the city, even as the ground shook from both the sinkhole she caused and the blast. Yet, the stalwart hearts of order kept barring the way as far as they could. Until a malice seeped into their minds.

Auria, who was struggling her way over to where the witch of chaos was toying with Konrad, was stopped dead in her tracks by the ethereal.

Auria.....​

The voice was eerie yet soothing.

...your Sisters suffer at the very hands of those you now fight alongside of...​

Auria's hands grabbed her head, smearing her temples with the very blood she had been attempting to stem minutes before. Gritting her teeth, she fought to gain the upperhand in her mind. For the rogue witch knew - she knew, despite leaving, that her old coven was still trying to stem the tide of carnage wrought by the Bryn'adul.

A cleansing blaze ignited within her being, searing away the Darkness that had tried to grab hold of her psyche. Fresh sweat beaded on her forehead at the intensity of it, but she was able to wrench her mind free from the clawing fingers of a Dark Lord she could not even see.

With renewed resolve, Auria pushed on, blood seeping freely from the wound in her side now as she swept away Carlaci and Perished alike with the Force. Just when she thought the Troopers' momentum was wearing down, relief touched down from the storm above in the form of reinforcements.

Spirits bless the Iron resolve.

Auria got in range just as Konrad missed his strike at the witch. Raising a blood soaked hand while running up, she fired a blast of flames in Tegan Starfall 's direction, aiming to disrupt any counter strike at the Buckethead.

Skidding to a stop across from the sorceress, Auria already had flames kindling in one of her hands, ready to fire.
"Footwork, Sunshine!" she barked at Konrad as she took in a defensive stance facing the Dark Sider.
With her attention on the agent of Darkness in front of her, Auria noticed again that there was something familiar about the woman. Not only the Force signature, but something else. And then the glowing orange eyes hit Auria. She had seen them before....

...on Cord Starfall .....

"Cord sends her regards." Auria told the woman, taking a shot in the dark on a hunch. And then she launched another inferno at Tegan, wincing as the wound in her side protested.

 

[Lyra Vent]

R A V E N
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
PLACE | PLANET
ALLIES: NIO
ENEMIES: BOTM/NEW SITH ORDER | Darth Senthral
ENGAGING: Darth Tennacus
GEAR: E-1 Carlaci Corps Armour (stolen) | Shield hidden in vambrace | Side-arm | Rotary cannon | Standard cybernetics | Standard Grenade loadout | Vibroknife

SAIL
​

It seemed her initial bash had hit a mark.

Lyra watched as the Sith Lord's arm hung limply at his side while she listened as he applauded her skill. It meant little to the Raven. She was merely doing what she had always been doing - preserving order. But as he spoke, her shield started to hum slightly with interference. Curious. But she did not have to wait long to figure out what it was - the Sith was quite ready with his history lesson.

What he did not know, was that she indeed have memory of the technique due to all the infiltrations she had done into the heart of Sith country. Her primary objective is intel gathering for the Order - all of it. It was a horrible technique, but one equally dangerous to himself if he doesn't know what he was doing.

Her knowledge of it could not dispel the effect of it, however, and her shoulder grew heavy as he manipulated his way into her circuits. It was the strangest sensation, but the Raven kept her face stoic, as she tried to move her feet slightly. Thankfully, her lower body had less installations, so they weren't as highly affected as her upper body was.

She attempted to dive out of the way as the Force Lightning erupted from his fingers, but she wasn't fast enough with devilish technique wearing her down. Stray snakes of electricity latched onto her and run up her body in one searing movement. It suspended her in place on the ground, causing her to curl in on herself in pain. Her jaws locked, preventing her to let out a sound.

As in so many different cases, however, when dealing with a sentient being, things did not always go according to plan as it would have with a droid or a beast. The sole thought on Lyra's organic mind was to make the Sith pay for the pain he was inflicting - not only on her, but the Galaxy at large. The electric currents had been raging their way to the mechanical part of her mind, when the unthinkable saved the Raven's life.

As the fingers of Mechu-deru attempted to override her during her pain, her cybernetics finally responded in the opposite, snaking the tendrils of the Force back at its caster with fervor.

With the electric currents interrupted, Lyra's body relaxed slightly as tendrils of smoke rose from her curled form. With a groan she struggled to her knees, half dazed but ready to face the Dark Lord in front of her, the little it would do.
"You will not succeed, Demon." she said through heavy breaths. "The Iron voice will not be silenced. Order will be restored, whether I live or die."

She tore the helmet from her head and struggled to her feet, picking up the rotary cannon from where it had slipped from her back, as she did so - ready to stand against him once more. Moss green eyes burnt brightly in the dark as smoke still wafted from her shoulders and chest - a Raven risen from Hell to avenge.

To protect.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Allies: Tegan Starfall
Foes: Keilara Kala'myr | Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Aemilio Valaar | Ranoc Sar

The little infiltrator protested as The Mongrel stalked forward, denying that she was an assassin... even claiming he would be dead if she had been. Did she truly not know who he was? Surely that couldn't be the case. He was The Mongrel, the Thrice-Born Hound, the first to rise from slave-soldier to warlord! He had fought the NIO across countless battlefields; they could not ignore him! "Assassins fail," he snarled in reply, and swung his blade.

The little spy lunged forward, getting under his swing; it was a good move, evading the heavy blade of his broadsword. She did not escape unscathed, however; the hilt of the sword, propelled by The Mongrel's literal iron fist, slammed into her side. The warlord grinned as he felt bone crack beneath the blow. Unfortunately, just as his momentum had continued forward, so did hers. Her body slammed into his legs with considerable force. On ordinary ground he would have kept his footing, for his lower body was strong and steady, but the ground in the alley was covered in a sheet of ice.

The Mongrel's feet slid out from under him, and he landed hard on the duracrete. His sword flew from his hand and clattered across the ground, out of reach. Then the infiltrator was crawling over to him, stabbing with her daggers in an effort to finish what her shotgun had started. But the locations she had chosen were those most heavily armored on his body. One knife slammed into (and through) his ruined breastplate, but again skittered off his durasteel ribs, drawing blood but not finding his heart. The other deflected from the base of the metal mask covering his face and neck.

"Persistent, aren't you?" The Mongrel grunted. "You'd make a good slave-soldier." Indeed, despite her initial cowardly act of attacking from the shadows, perhaps this one was worth taking alive - worth transforming into a servant of the Maw. The Taskmaster would find her... interesting. Before the infiltrator could strike again with her knives - and perhaps hit something more vulnerable, like pectoral muscles or his un-augmented legs - he simply punched out at her. One fist tried to strike her in the side, where her ribs were already battered and broken, hoping to add to the pain.

The other hand shot out to try to grab her throat.

---------------------------------------------​

Elsewhere, the 501st were advancing deeper into the city; one Mawite-infested building down, a hundred and more to go. Tarar Warbands lurking on upper floors readied themselves to fire down at anyone who entered their street, while Raider Walkers lurked in the alleyways, ready to open fire with their blaster cannons and grenade launchers on anyone who tried to pass. Nor were they unsupported, for eager Marauder Aspirants thronged around, ready to exploit the chaos the walker attack with a frenzied melee charge. Their vibroblades and scatterguns were ready for blood.

Elsewhere, the elite of the Scar Hounds were stirring, reacting to this intrusion deeper into Asoport. A unit of Scav Kings, veterans of countless battles, powered up their battleframes and stalked forward down the street. Heavily armored, each one was like a vehicle unto himself... and each bore a different selection of heavy weapons upon his suit's three mounts. Concussion rifles, missile launchers, heavy repeaters, railguns, an arsenal of big guns looted from a dozen far-flung battlefields over the past three years. These would be the anvil against which the foe broke.

Around them, howling and barking and panting and clanking, came the cybernetic Firefang Wardogs so favored by the Scar Hounds. Well trained to fight alongside their marauder comrades, who had hunted and fought beside them in the deserts of Mar'Zambul, they were eager to sink their mechanized jaws into the flesh of their foes. But it would be a moment before the Scav Kings and their loyal hounds closed with the enemy. Until then, walker ambushes and Tarar plasma snipers would harry and delay the foe, making them brittle before the veterans of the tribe shattered them...

 

[Kinoan]

Allies: NIO
Enemies: BOTM | Darth Maestus
Gear: Ligthsaber

RUTHLESS​

The Knight skidded to a halt once he saw the Sith’s weapon.

It had been some time since he had seen a lightwhip. They were strange weapons, one he could never figure out. What frightened him the most was the odd fighting style attached to them. Regardless, he wouldn’t back down from the fight.

“Hype. Kino Hype.”

Spinning the blade once in his hand, the Knight held a defensive position. Striking first against a lightwhip was never a good idea, so he decided to play this Sith’s games…for now.

“Now tell me your name, so I can add it to the list of Sith casualties here on Carlac today.”

This all seemed too formal. He didn’t like being a part of all this chatter. The golden blade belonged in this Sith’s chest, not down at his side waiting. He began to grow impatient.

He would not hold his attack for much longer.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Freedom
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Omni drone (only in the Netherworld)​

Objective II.: UNDERWORLD
Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator | G1 OmniLink
Writing with: The Mongrel
Allies: Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Aemilio Valaar | Michael Barran | Ranoc Sar

[ It can be hard to be a hero… ] ​

What did I expect? I really have no idea; I shouldn’t have even embarked on suicide action, that wasn’t my area. I never had to do that, not even during the uprising and rebellion at home. It was different; as well as the fact that I was able to install explosives in the right place. That didn't make me an assassin. These thoughts reached my mind through the thick fog of pain while the man’s words echoed there still in my mind.

And in the end, I ended up on the ground too. I hope after my report they won’t ask me how I got to the man because I didn’t remember. I just remember the two stabs, cuts. I probably didn’t really look at where I was trying to kill him, I only attacked places that would be deadly to a less armoured man. In the next moment when I could think clearly for a moment, I remember being above the man and stabbing the blade in his chest.

Not with much success, his bones were also reinforced or were implants. He didn't die, not even now. My eyes widened for a moment; I was almost beginning to believe that he was not a living person. Maybe he's some kind of undead, too? No, I felt warm. Or did I just imagine? I do not know. For a moment I was embarrassed by the situation that he was lying on the ground below me, I was above him… the situation was ironic and embarrassing, I felt myself blushing.

Meanwhile, my other blade also hit only his armour(?), and at the end the dagger stood in the ground next to the man's head and neck, strong and deep. So hard I couldn’t even pull it out of the ground. It was then left for me to try to stab him again with the dagger that I held in my damaged right hand, hoping that I would now be able to stab her in the heart. I responded to the man's words with another angry snarl, then tried to strike him down again.

The next moment, the blade fell out of my hand; I tried to scream in pain as he hit my broken ribs, but the air also squeezed out from my lungs and no sound came out of my throat. For a moment, everything darkened, I felt even stronger nausea and dizziness. From somewhere very distant I heard the dagger knock on the ground even though it had fallen beside me. I could see nothing from the tears that flooded my eyes.

All I felt was falling on the man’s chest in pain as I cried and gasped for air as he was the only "thing" under me; then something cold, strong grabbed my throat. Instinctively, I keyed both my hands around his hands to try to untie it, and with my feet I tried to stand up and push myself from him… anything to get rid of his arm's squeezing, though every move hurt, the adrenaline suppressed it somewhat. Although my side was still throbbing after the previous blow and I could still see vaguely from the pain.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Halketh | Rurik Fel

​

“It is all coming together."

A momentarily flash illuminated the darkened chamber, a stroke of brilliant light from the nearby battle around them or the storm that threatened the skies above in all its grandeur. A figure could briefly be made out, a shape of that belonging to a man seated within the confines of the Dark Lord’s throne room. The same chamber the voice echoed out from.

“Even now as your enemy approaches, striving to undo the Great Work. You must finish it.”

In the darkness, only the glowing orbs of the Dark Lord shined through the shadow, an oubliette containing the scarce outline of his form against the cold marble. He leaned in, face revealed amidst the dim lighting of the chamber. It was clear, no way in and no way out, he had not arrived by any means traditional if at all. It was a projection, a specter of the Sith'ari, the spirit of evil cast from the depths of Exegol. An imprint cast upon Carlac to bear witness to his Shadow Hand's greatest triumph.

"It is time."

The heavy doors swung open violently, the towering guard from the other side of the veil crashed and burned, tumbling within. The Dark Lord allowed a wicked smile to pair with his terrible glare as he set his sulfuric gaze upon the Iron Imperator as he entered. The sparing of words between the two, the rampant emotion and drive.

It was intoxicating.

The Dark Lord leaned back, and watched.

​

 

[Ranoc Sar]

Objective II: Underworld
Location: Asoport City, Carlac
Storm Commando Team 'Cresh'
Allies: NIO, and those associated
Enemies: BotM, and all associated with them
Relevant Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr

​

The coordinates are confirmed. The warheads are prepped. Unfortunately, they were just too far to hear when it fired - nor could Ranoc, in good conscious, just leave the area without being sure that the agent had left. So they waited, setting up an ambush with grenades and blasters primed on either side of the alley they'd first come near the camp in. Across tactical comms, the Cathar's voice began to sound off once more.

"We'll push in once the place is on fire. Start dropping anyone you see with a weapon in their hand - Cresh 4, Cresh 5?" He looks over to them for a momentary glance, then motions towards the initial hotel they'd scouted the camp out in. A marker appears across the squad's HUDs a second after. "While we move in, you start putting HE through the sixth floor's windows."

After that order was given, he turned his gaze to the windy, lightning-stricken heavens above, obscured as it is by this unnatural snowstorm. His confirmation that they understood came with the clicking and arming of Viperwasps switching out to AT mode. After this, he motions forward -- the squad advances once more, taking a slow, steady and straight shot right for that hotel's back entrance. "On my mark - storm through. Kill everything that looks like a savage."

Was getting this close to the splash-down area dangerous? Most definitely, but that's the sort of thing these commandos did; danger close, always. What they didn't do, however, was deal with fel voices on the wind.

"...Does anyone else hear that?"

All that was left was for the tank commander to give the order. Once he was finished double checking, then triple checking the coordinates, he nodded to himself and muttered a small prayer to the Force. "Fire all incendiary and airburst, and pray enough of them make it through the storm."

Seconds later, that tank commander was thinking the sound protection his gear gave him - those missiles screamed as they fired. Two, five, ten -- more and more were fired, until some twenty missiles - five of those being the incendiaries - were now struggling against the wind to find their targets. Several were simply shorted out mid-flight, to fall and detonate (or not) mostly harmlessly against random hab blocks. One unfortunate squad of troopers had a missile blown off course, right towards them - they're largely shredded by the airburst warhead, and soon to be overrun by the undead Carlac forces assaulting them.

Just five of those missiles managed to find their targets. Three thunderous detonations sounded over the camp, catching dozens upon dozens in a rain of steel shrapnel. A full block down the street, whatever windows were left were blasted out by the combined concussions. A heartbeat later, the central command tent took one of those two incendiary missiles left over right into the center, rhypalm sticking to whatever was near.

A second incendiary, rhypalm-fueled warhead splashed down next to whatever passes for an armory amidst the scavengers. None of the detonations were, fortunately, near the dueling assassin and warlord - but the effects were plain to see in the carnage everywhere.

Back with the squad, the command is shouted - "Breach, breach, breach!" Two more explosions sound off across this sudden area of contention as Cresh 4 and 5 unload their first grenades through a pair of the hotel's windows - right at the sixth floor, showering two separate rooms in further shrapnel. The rest of the squad rushes through the first floor to find openings in the main lobby, bursting particle blaster fire into whatever targets they might see that were anything but dying, burning, or dead. Cresh 6, without orders needed, watches the stairs behind Ranoc and the other two with him. "Stairs covered, lead."

"Cresh 5! Bring that grenade launcher up here, load HEAT!" He shouts this out without once stopping his fire, snapping between a pair of screaming, burning fanatics some meters ahead to put multiple charric bolts in their chests.

​

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Allies: Tegan Starfall
Foes: Keilara Kala'myr | Ranoc Sar

The blow to the infiltrator's ribs had disoriented her with pain, and as she gasped for breath, The Mongrel's durasteel hand closed around her throat. She struggled hard, kicking and bucking, grabbing at his arm... but he did not even feel pain in that mechanical limb. If she wanted to force him to let go, she was going to have to hit him somewhere else. Blood poured from his ruined chest, dripping onto the spy below him. He reached out with a second iron fist, aiming to strangle her with both hands, trying to choke her into unconsciousness. He had no weapon close to hand...

... and besides, he wanted this one alive, to serve.

As he choked her, however, the NIO plan was unfolding behind him. Ironically, it was her attempt to kill him that ultimately saved his life on that fateful day. Beyond the mouth of the alley, alarms blared - incoming ordnance. That gave the scavengers and priests only moments to scramble for cover. A few made it to safety. Most did not. The rhypalm warheads touched down, and all was fire and steel and blood in that central city square. The command tent where The Mongrel had been standing only minutes before was incinerated and torn apart. Nothing there could have survived.

The warlord felt the hot breeze of it at his back, heard the sirens, and he knew what had happened. With a snarl of rage, pain, and exertion, he forced himself back to his feet, his hands still wrapped around the infiltrator's neck. He tried to pull her up the alley wall, intending to hold her suspended off the ground with the incredible strength of his mechanical arms. There he intended to finish choking her into unconsciousness, unless she could find a way to wriggle out... or hit him somewhere more vulnerable, like his un-augmented legs, causing enough pain that he'd drop her.

"So this is civilization," The Mongrel raged, his masked face pressed close to hers. "Cowards sticking to battles they are sure they can win, afraid to risk their lives. Spies hiding behind stealth technology when they dare not fight their way to the heart of the enemy. Artillerists pushing buttons to kill from a distance because they lack the courage to stand before their foes." His strength was flagging now, the adrenaline wearing off as pain and shock took over in its place, but white-hot anger kept him upright when nothing else would. How he hated them all!

"Your civilized ways are weak. They disgust me."

As NIO special forces began storming the surrounding buildings, six soldiers against dozens and dozens, Mawite forces in the area surrounding the now-obliterated square began to react to the destruction - and the weaponsfire they could hear. Cresh squad was about to discover the disadvantages of striking so deep into enemy territory. A trio of raider walkers clanked up the streets surrounding the hotel, moving to cover the exits. Spinning up their rotary blaster cannons, they fired indiscriminately into the lower floors, seeking to brutally avenge this covert attack.

Raging Tarar veterans above and walkers below, with more and more Mawites converging on the area all the time, hungry for blood. If the NIO special forces expected to escape from the heart of their foes without so much as a scratch... well, they had best be praying hard to their gods, for it would take a miracle.

 

[Rika Hiro]

LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR
NEW_IMPERIAL_ORDER
Tags:// Don Belkora Halketh

Music

For once in Yubari's existence, she was truly alone. All connections to the mainframe, which every Compnor HRD had a neural link to was entirely and utterly severed by the mists interference, and her scanners were rendered useless. Only once before was the replicant Atrisian ever cut off from the mainframe, and it had been on one of its first missions posted in the core. Her handlers had found her nestled in an alleyway, eyes rolled back and dead to the world. If she had been any other droid, they'd of retired her and left her remains to a scrap heap. But her kind was invaluable, and the agency wasn't about to let their expensive pet project go to waste.


The wind ripped through once more, and she shuddered hard, an unfamiliar sensation washing over her body as the cold hit her, and she looked down confused and examined her arm, which had goosebumps all over. Something so alien and yet so human frightened the replicant to her core, so many sensations and feelings she had been deprived of came in overwhelming waves that terrified her, and the once comforting feeling of being linked with the mainframe had left her so vulnerable and alone.

As she approached what appeared to be the remains of some road, the fog seemed to lift, at least along that stretch of road. Unlike the fleeting shadows from before, she could absolutely make out the shape of a man in the distance. As he looked to be walking away, she cautiously ran up and approached him with her pistol drawn. But the man did not stop, continuing at such a pace that she could not follow nor keep up with; moving at such a speed, he soon disappeared from sight.

"Hello Agent," said a voice from behind, causing her to turn around with her gun drawn and pointed directly at the voice. Whether it was the man from before or not couldn't be known given how far away and obscured her initial viewing was. But she did recognise that voice, that same old voice the replicant had known for so long, that carefree gravelly tone of a man who smoked too many packs a day. Jaeger. Her former commander and handler, who she had known all of her life since being born in the depths of a lab deep within a Compnor black list site. And yet, he was dead, and his replicant tool lived, ironic, really considering the purpose in which Asa and other Eris project replicants were made.

"I thought you had died, Harrsk."

"I did, and yet here I am, conversing with a scared synthskin."

He walked around leisurely several feet away, almost seeming to circle her like a shark. While he didn't appear overtly hostile, it was still hard to trust someone who appeared so suddenly in a place that was bereft of people. Disturbingly, he appeared as he was when he had died on Muunlinist, horrifically burned and maimed by another Imperial. She had seen the post mortem photos compiled for the agency archives, and though she had felt nothing back then, deep down, she did miss him despite being unable to communicate that or grasp real emotions. He still wore his signature shades which gave him a macabre appearance as he placed a cigarra in his mouth and lit it.

"You're not real."

"And neither are you, you wear the skin of a rebel the agency plucked from the streets of Atrisia."

"What, not got anything to say?" he asked, pulling one hand out of his pocket and raising it as if to gesture for her to speak. But, upon closer examination, she noticed his mottled and burn skin, which revealed his yellowed bones and sinew. Burns covered almost every inch of his fingers, hands, arms, and even up his neck and into his hairline, the only place devoid of burns being his face.

He circled his hand, causing her to realise she'd been blankly staring off into space, considering all of this for far longer than a person should. Clearing her throat, she finally stuttered out, "I'm sorry, Harrsk." Then, after a pause, she repeated, "I'm sorry- about what happened to you, I wasn't there for you in the end."

"Some things are out of our control."

Harrsk shrugged nonchalantly, merely observing her as he continued to walk. For some reason, he didn't seem to really be looking at her so much as through her. What he intended to find wasn't clear, though. "Why are you here?" she finally asked to try and break the ice.

He stayed silent for several long and painful seconds, eventually saying, "This place is old." Whether he was dodging the question or simply didn't hear it asked was yet another mystery.

"I assumed," Asa responded. Several more tense seconds passed, the two doing a kind of dance where Harrsk would continue to walk in a circle around her as she turned to continue facing him. It was almost dizzying, with the fog obscuring all around them.


"You'll outlive us all at this rate, Agent," he replied promptly, looking her in the eyes for the first time since they'd met. "It seems you were right the last time we talked," he continued. "This planet was once beautiful, but now it's dead and gone like me." Rather than being saddened by this, he seemed to smile. "You should consider turning back Asa."

"You know I can't, Harrsk."

"I know, I know." the ghost conceded, his form beginning to dissipate as he looked at Asa once more and nodded with the familiar smile she had always known.

"Keep fighting kid."


And with that he left Yubari for the second time, this time for good.

​

 

[Darth Tennacus]

Objective I: Siege the Crown
Affiliation: Brotherhood of the Maw
Equipment: Lightsabers, 2 (Tenacious & Viscious)
Allies(present with him): Darth Senthral
Enemies: Lyra Vent


​

Demon, Tennacus thought. It was unfortunate to see what damage she had forced herself to endure. More mechanical engineering for him to meddle in in the event that he brought her to heel. Then again, from what had already taken place, it appeared to be a matter of when. Some Sith were demonic in their nature, weren't they? They would sooner see torture over reason, fuelled by such emotional trauma that they would not stop at a few streaks of lightning. Tennacus' demeanour had not changed since the beginning of their conflict. Still, he maintained a complete sense of confidence and calmness, watching her with narrowed eyes and steady breaths emanating from beneath the mask obscuring his cheeks Maybe he was a demon, simply tormenting her, like a hound toying with its prey.

Then again, perhaps not.

His outward impression on her rising back to her feet remained unchanged. He was hoping that she'd give in to what little power he had produced, but apparently she had announced herself a warrior again, even removing her helmet in expression of some unspoken sense of honour. "Protect," the Sith repeated. "What exactly can the Galaxy entrust you to protect when you cannot even protect yourselves." It wasn't a question. "Even now, as you and I stand here in supposed solitude, I have an ally waiting on the wings, ready to swoop down and protect our cause. You could exhaust yourself to the brink of destruction in killing me, but in seconds you would be confronted by yet another obstacle, all-while your friends suffer and fail around you. You are alone, Cyborg."

Despite the retrieval of her cannon, Tennacus started to walk towards her, his crimson 'saber spitting, sizzling and hissing as it burnt its way into the snow. "Go ahead," he added. "Fire it at me. You are probably calculating what I am about to do, but it is pointless. The only guarantee I can relay to you is that by the time you have fired that blast, I will have reached you, and will have used this very blade to sever both arms from your torso. Maybe that is what I need to do to make you understand that you are not escaping this battle unless I am the one to oversee it."

 

[Amadeus Blackwood]

Eclipse Actual

Engaging: Darth Senthral

Loadout: Double-bladed lightsaber, blaster pistol, vibroknife, Imperial Mk. I "Dooku-Pattern" Jedi Armor

Allies: Lyra Vent, NIO

Enemies: Darth Tennacus , BotM

Part One: Awaken, Iron Sun!

A few days ago...

Eclipse Company had enjoyed some relative peace in recent months, though they eagerly awaited their next major deployment. Days were spent running drills and gathering intel regarding potential threats to the NIO. Though their great enemy, The Sith Empire, may had been gone, something new was stirring on the horizon. A new threat to the galaxy had emerged, and had even successfully destroyed a planet. The Maw had become known by all, and Amadeus wanted Eclipse Company to be prepared for the inevitable conflicts of the future.

Amadeus would never forget the day that he heard the news. It was a particularly cold day, though it hadn't phased the ever-diligent members of Eclipse Company. They were running deployment and covert insertion drills for three days now, as Amadeus had anticipated that there would be a day that they were placed deep within enemy lines. He didn't know when, or where, but every piece of him knew that it would be coming soon. As for the commander himself, he had been pouring over all of the data he could gather regarding the Brotherhood. Many long nights were spent studying, analyzing, waiting...

This was one of those nights.

Roland burst into the room, a grim look upon his face. Amadeus shot a look over to him. He never knew Roland to show concern, but something in his eyes said that something had gone very, very wrong.

"Sir... I... well... ah chit, there's no easy way to say it. The Imperator is dead. Fel has taken command."

His eyes narrowed as he looked back down to his desk. The words that spilled from Roland's mouth barely even seemed to make sense. It all seemed... surreal, as if Amadeus had found himself stumbling through a bad dream.

"How?"

"Halketh. Looks like our Carlaci friend has decided to claim the title of Dark Lord. Intel shows that Carlac has had the backing of the Maw as well."

Amadeus' fist immediately slammed onto the desk. He had always looked up to Lord Halketh. As a fellow darksider within the ranks of the NIO, Amadeus yearned for the acceptance that he always perceived the Carlaci to have. Unfortunately... it appeared that the Force had other plans. He immediately grabbed his lightsaber from his desk, clipping it to his belt as he looked back to Roland.

"If you use the term 'friend' in regards to Halketh again, in any context, I will have you shot. Halketh is a traitor and a Sith. Any Carlaci that stand by the traitor are also considered to be such."

He started for the door, grabbing his blaster as he passed by Roland.

"Prepare Eclipse Company. When the time comes, we will burn Carlac to the ground."

Part Two: Death to the Disloyal

A Dish Best Served Coldly

Amadeus kept to the shadows as he maneuvered his way through the cold streets of Carlac. He had left Eclipse Company in Roland's capable hands once again, opting to move ahead as part of the taskforce meant to cut the head from the snake. The rest of Eclipse Company would be moving to sweep across the planet, linking up with elements of the Blue-Hearts in the area as they made their way through the shadows.

The Black Sheep of Galidraan was like a shadow himself, moving from cover to cover as he got closer to his objective. He could have made the advance with the other teams, but this was his wheelhouse. Slitting throats and hiding bodies came naturally to the former Sith assassin, and there would be plenty of that on this day.

He kept pushing forward, till he felt a shift in the Force...

Sith were near.

Amadeus made sure to mask his own Force signature as best as he could. He had grown quite used to hiding his presence, though the storm that raged above Carlac made things difficult. It was hard to pin things down within the movement of the Force, and even harder to tell if he would be successful in completely cloaking himself. Either way, he would push toward the dark energy he felt swirling nearby. As he pushed through the cold darkness of Carlac, Amadeus finally saw the encounter between the Sith and the COMPNOR agent. Though Amadeus wasn't familiar with this particular operative, he felt that taking on a Sith lord was a tall order, even for a skilled operative.

It was time to even the odds.

He didn't waste any time, igniting the crimson blades of his lightsaber as he dashed for Tennacus. Using the Force to enhance his speed, he was able to close the gap in very little time, hoping for the element of surprise. His lightsaber cut a horizontal line through the air as he hoped to decapitate the Sith with the first blow. If he could end this fight before they had time to react, perhaps they could continue the advance. If not, then at least the operative wouldn't be in this fight alone. Either way, his bloodlust was in need of satiating. One way or another, the fallen Imperator would be avenged.

Roland Thorne: Eclipse One

Location: Near Srares' Outskirts

Objective: Link up with allies

Allies: Michael Barran , Aemilio Valaar , NIO

Enemies: Halketh , The Mongrel , Marlon Sularen , BotM

The cold winds of Carlac had only been enhanced by the storming airs of darkness, but a bit of snow and darkness wasn't enough to stop the brave soldiers of Eclipse Company. They were trained to withstand the harshest of winters, and their resolve had only been further steeled by the loyalty to their fallen Imperator. As the last of them exited their dropships, Roland could hear the familiar voice of Tycho Vosk over their secured channel.

<<Overwatch to Eclipse One. No sign of Barran or the Blue-Hearts yet. I'll keep making the climb, see if I can get a better view.>>

<<Eclipse One here. Heard ya Overwatch, will be in touch. Keep your head down out there. There's more than just Mawites out there. Reports say that we have a lot of those undead in the area. Best to keep a low profile. Eclipse One out!>>

With those words, Roland gave the signal for the dropships to depart, leaving Eclipse Company alone in the snow. They had made sure to spread their numbers around, maintaining a wide line as they pressed through the dark, cold of Carlac. The more space between them, the harder it would be for the enemy to detect their movements. They slowly pushed forward, scanning the area for any sign of the enemy.

<<Remember, if you see a friendly uniform, you call "Imperator". If they can't answer, then you take 'em down. We don't know how many of our own have been risen thus far, so we can't be too careful.>>

Roland could even feel the cold seeping through his armor, almost as if the planet were attempting to invade their very bodies. Perhaps it was some form of sorcery, or perhaps Roland was just becoming paranoid. He did his best to shake it off, maintaining focus as he pushed through the snow. The march through the snow was long and slow, but it would be worth every inch in the end. They were here for one reason... vengeance.

A quick signal to hold position came from the commander as he heard sounds in the distance. Raising his blaster to meet the unknown, he called out to the mysterious approaching figures.

"Imperator!"

The winds were howling on the hillside as Tycho and his recon team pushed their way up the hill. The team had been handpicked by Tycho himself, and had undergone extensive training under his watch. Though he had found the methods of Eclipse Company to be easy to fall in with, Tycho had often wished for a squad that operated as he did, and thus far, it seemed that it was working out. They continued their climb until they reached a nice, flat portion of the hillside. One of his team took position at the edge of the ledge, looking over the planet below for any sign of enemy movements.

"Any sign?"

"Negative, sir."

"Chit. Guess we'll have to keep moving."

Tycho turned back to one of their team, a quiet, Carlaci man by the name of Algren Tesh.

"Well, Algren, this is your home. If your people were to give us trouble, where could we expect them to hit us from?"

Algren shot a look to the sniper. Though his face was obscured by his helmet and cold weather gear, Tycho could feel the frustration.

"Hard to say. If I had to guess, we won't meet much in terms of actual Carlaci till we get closer to bulk of the fight. As for those corpses... well, in truth, they could come from anywhere. If there's one thing I know, it's that Halketh wouldn't have made his move without being fully prepared. My best advice is simply keep your wits about you."

Algren looked over the hillside and across the cold lands that he once called home.

"By the way, these are not my people. They ceased being my people the moment that they took up arms against the NIO. Remember that."

"Fair enough, Algren. Fair enough."

Though Tycho's personal loyalty was to his unit more than the Empire, he still found it hard to not question the man. He may have picked him for the unit, but ever since Halketh's betrayal, every Carlaci's loyalty had come into question, and the last thing Tycho needed was to have one of his own team shoot him in the back. For now, he would opt to believe the man, and pray that it wouldn't come back to bite him later.