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

[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 Marlon Sularen

The Black Hands of the Fifth Company delivered iron fury unto the waiting defenders, deaf to all but the commands to advance through the frozen streets. There was no waiting, even under the torrent of defensive fire that awaited them. In their brief tenure as an active unit they were no stranger to charging into the storm. Uphill on Korriban, pinned down at Circumtore, the rush of adrenaline propelling them from cover to cover was wrapped up in exhilaration and familiarity.

<<Two squads of Perished! Nine o clock!>>

His head snapped in that direction. The Battlemind AI immediately picking them out on the flank. Snow banks and rubble from destroyed storefronts marred his sight, but with the aided target tracking, he fired without remorse on the undead. Bolts punched through plates, atomizing the bodies underneath once penetrated. The disruptors were beyond lethal, more than enough to knock down the advantages the Perished possessed to naught but their sheer numbers.

"I've got somethin for you!"

A trooper, on the other side of the street with the Perished rose out of cover, tossing a primed thermal detonator.

The block brightened, and the storefronts that had been stood there further collapsed, upper floors caving in on themselves before spilling out into the streets where the Perished had been.

Before he could cry out for Brax, he felt, rather than heard him crash into cover beside him. "I'm here, I'm here!" Just in time, it seemed, with what Konrad was demanding of him.

<"It's Konrad - can you see the monorail running over that...glacier to the west">
<"I don't have enough demolition on us to blow it up but you do.">

Never do have anything, do you?

"Idiot," he grumbled. "Even today." Of all days.

The embodiment of bloodied retribution, and he still managed to come unprepared.

<<Confirmed visual.>>

Clicking out of the frequency, "Brax, pin them down," further down the line, "Jilqa, Tarsten, on me." They were the gun and ammo crew, alongside Brax. Even if he was missing his ammo man, Emil only needed that repeater up long enough for him to get clear across the street and to the underside of the monorail.

The tell tale sound of disruptor rifles and carbines going off continued down their position, but nothing was comparable in sound to the repeater as it belched fire down the street.

Racing out of cover as soon as it began firing, leaps and bounds sent the trio over mounds of rock and destroyed, uneven terrain. With covering fire easing their passage, it didn't take long for them to get into position at the monorail. Its pillars rose high above. Pointing out three of the supporting structures, Aemilio commed back in.

<<Kaiser. I'm setting charges now. Where's your match?>>

 

[Halketh]

I N S I D E
C A E L I T U S
Dark Lord of the Sith
vestment| creation
Darth Solipsis
Rurik Fel

​

The emergence of the Imperials plunging through the volatile atmosphere saw the Dark Lord animate from where he stood, tipping his head backward in challenge as he drew a breath through his nose. "So it begins as it ends." he mused to none but the ghosts lingering in the shadows dodging the periphery of his eyeless Sight. Hands hefted the faceless helmet to his head, twisting it into place to seal his countenance beneath, illuminating the golden gleam shining from the slats between the ivory plate. White cloak cracking, he ushered himself across the dark chamber to the sprawling doors beyond, which were met by the heavy shove of his clawed gauntlets.

Into the corridor he strolled, beckoning for the resident guard stationed along the edges to follow him, and they fell in step silently, matching his lengthy gait to wherever it was he was intent to head. Down the corridor to the spiraling marble steps, the High Warlord went, descending them with surprising agility given the weight of The Aegis safeguarding his body. "Reinforce the outer wall, there is one final act I must finish before I join the fray." His voice cast from his helmet, vocoded and altered by the backdrop of divine echo.

"We shall see it done, my Lord." Three of the soldiers parted at the fork in the path, rushing into a jog in the opposite direction, leaving him with only two in his company.

Still, he spiraled, creeping further into the darkness perpetuated by his sightless nature, acknowledging then, perhaps for the first time, the silence which had enveloped his home. Only the lonesome, thudding boot steps of his company called out into the tower, met back in force by the echo in return. It wasn't until he arrived at the sealed, durasteel doors of his meditation chambers that he gave pause, twisting his helmeted head toward those on his flank. "Hold here."

Guilded fingers flexed outwardly, channeling the coalesced essence of his years, that which was reaped upon his every harvest. A mere droplet of it, a taste, was all the sigil engraved deep within the metal required to be satiated, and once it had its fill, it parted, opening its bleak maw for the lonesome Warlord to enter. He pressed on, vanishing into the consuming black of the vast, stony chamber.​

​

The streets had been consumed by the visceral nature of conquest, with blood streaking the snow and painting the churning mass of endless bodies for as far as the eye could see in the darkness. The Master had willed his forces into a frenzy, an outright horde separated from their living counterparts by their unflinching, unfeeling bodies, and the insatiable hunger driving them into their foes with horrific persistence. Well-versed now in the art of fighting alongside the damned, The Carlaci Corps timed their counterattacks and pushes with the ebb and flow of the gun-toting hordes, using them as mobile cover when no other could be found. As dead as they all were, The Perished were not mindless, no, they shared their creator's cunning in how they relied on ambush and guerilla tactics to overwhelm and swarm their foes.

And there seemed to be no end to them.

Scatterguns blasted limb from body, splattering chunks of the living across the damned. Smoke hissed as artillery blasted, rocking the earth beneath with symphonic thunder. Blasters wailed and screamed. The cries of the terrified living were drowned out by the howls of the dead, who rallied beneath their singular objective with indomitable resolve.

It did not matter how many of them were put down, they pressed harder, stepping over the fallen to take refuge behind the Force barriers raised by the Users within The Carlaci Corps.

When ammo ran dry, firearms were used as melee weapons, and when that too had been rendered useless, The Perished found delight in tackling their foes to the ground and pummeling them into bloodied stillness.

Whether it was remaining instinct from their training when alive or the intelligence they were permitted, the hordes roved with the same tactic as they had in life, using cover and supporting one another just as any battalion of lion-hearted men and women would have in life. Regardless of their armor, New Imperial or otherwise, regardless of their species in life or their creed, they had been united in undeath under a single purpose: extinguish the living at the beck and summons of Darth Caelitus. Facing the lines of fire head-on proved pointless, as they all understood it would. No, the New Imperial firepower was unrivaled. Even at the expense of hundreds of troopers, the New Imperials would hold the ground they skulked upon, and such was a price that would be inconsequential to them and useless to The Master in the grand scheme of the battles to come.

They needed an advantage and they would find it quickly, as they were wont to do.

D I V I N I T Y
​

The heaving rise and fall of his shoulders is the lone tell to the toil he was burdened by in the darkness of his solitude, in this sacred place, where he had often found himself in isolation. There was peace to be found, despite the thunder rumbling the stone beneath him and resonating up the stony walls embracing him for what he was. This place, tucked safely in the heart of The Crown, was the only place he truly felt rest. It was his place of deliberation, the house of his ritual, and the source of nights he abandoned slumber. Centralized in the bleak, unlit expanse, stretched a sprawling sigil carved into the very foundation of the fortress, the source of its perpetual unease, and the heart of the sorcerer reigning over it all. It was a place of power for the Dark Lord, a place where no secrets would be exposed, no concealments chained him, and where none could peer into the depths of his broken soul.

There he rested, sitting with steady stillness in the center of the sigil, with hands splayed off to each side, chained into place by the threads of Darkness snaking around his wrists with their endless coil. The faint voices of his Perished called to him from across the world, their bodies twisted into shapes beyond recognition, yet they persisted. He felt it. Every drop of blood. Every hunger pang. Every broken skull and splintered body, he felt it. It was through him each of those threads was strung, and it was through that deathly spider's web that he understood what the price of this endeavor truly would be.

Caelitus sealed the doors of his mind, shutting himself away from his creations for the time, and expanded his focus to what lay beyond Fate itself.

That damnable connection with something he never could quite explain.

That unforgiving, unrelenting plague that had haunted him for as long as he had existed.

A black mark upon his soul, the very reason he had been groomed to conceal himself from an early age, that sinister tie that cursed him to forever wander between planes of existence, and splintered the very foundations of his mind with the torment of the task. It followed him regardless of where he ran, gnashing at his heels relentlessly, ravenously chasing him down no matter how many times he outright refused it. Those years he spent beneath his former Master's wings, groomed to hide the mark lain upon him from those who would see him torn asunder before curing him, had done nothing but refine the insidious nature of the beast, teaching it to craft itself into better designs.

It writhed between his thoughts, wormed its way into every groove of his mind, and had emerged triumphant in the end.

He was a psychopomp- a man chosen by hands unseen to bridge the distance between this plane and The Nether. Forever he was to be haunted and plagued by the howls of the dead and gone, cursed with visions of their end, and tormented beside them in their states of unrest. Yet it was not a fate he despised, no, amidst the glimpses of maddening horror he had found indifference, and from such, he drew strength.

The silence of the chamber was disturbed with his voice, each whispered word of accursed incantation passed betwixt steady lips as fingers met palms, bracing himself for the agony to come. Bridge the gap as he may, mortal shells were not meant to pass in the direction he was heading. Through the abysmal depths, he reached, the talons of his mind rending the haze as easily as they had done to bind soul back to flesh for each of his soldiers. The memory of that day on Bastion, when the New Imperials betrayed their Sith allies surfaced briefly, bait to coax the spirits of those he searched after from the streams they may have found contentment in for the time.

Many were gone to places far beyond his reach.

Others had found respite in what came after life ended.

He knew, however, there were those who would do no such thing, far too vengeful to accept their fate in the end, truly. Caelitus would offer them the same promise he offered his soldiers when he plucked them from Death's handbasket: retribution.

Kyber Dark would be undone.​

" Avernus , I know you linger still," the Dark Lord spoke into the nothingness, focusing on the soul of the man he once knew as a close friend, "come forth, return to me, take my strength so that you may have your vengeance." Perhaps out of the few Kezec had trusted in his years, The Lord of Opulence was one who always knew the ploy at hand. The inevitable truth the others had been too blind to see.

The taste of copper came as a momentary distraction, one which was quickly dismissed as the fire of his burden overwhelmed him, flooding his veins with molten iron. He felt himself weaken, his body drained of the very essence he sustained himself by. It was required, should he be successful. One could not simply take life back without offering another, no, and in his refusal to provide his own, he forsook a handful of what he reaped in his years gracing the battlefields. Every slipping droplet of life force he collected lived within him, lived within his Perished. The very energy that spawned the souls of sentients and shaped them into who they were and everything they could possibly become.

When the pain subsided to nothing more than a stabbing ache, the Dark Lord lapped the blood from his concealed lips once more, wetting his parched throat to speak the next.

" Darth Bellum ," he spoke only the Anzati's name at first, knowing it would be more than enough to garner the spirit's attention, "come now, continue the war you were destined to finish."

With his mind's eye focused at last, Caelitus poured his sacrificial offering into the binds chaining him to The Nether, spewing his collected power into the faint connections established with the dead Sith. Their strength would be renewed, their spirits bolstered by the deaths of countless others, rejuvenating them to power unparalleled by anything since their passing. It was agony for the Sith Sorcerer, an emboldened attempt at something he had not done in ages.

And in his place of tranquility, he cried out in torment.

Mere moments passed him by in what felt like centuries, each rapid beat of his heart drawn out to hammer into his ribs a thousand times over until he was sure it was going to burst. Sweat broke from his pores, plastering his underlayer to his scarred body, and forcing him to shudder violently in the cold of the chamber. Crimson flooded his tongue, rushing from his nose to soak his chin. The air churned and hummed with the resonating power, reverberating through The Crown with a Darkness felt beyond its walls. The stone beneath cracked, shedding fragments to spiral upward.

Abruptly, it ceased.

Stillness settled into place of the chaos, extinguishing the power brought to peak mere seconds after his torture had begun. The shackles unseen unfettered him, thrusting him roughly to the floor with fatigue, where he lay to pant and shiver. "Go now," the Dark Lord whispered, "claim your revenge."

The passing moments saw him lie there until the last of the fire left him, rendering him mobile once more. Unsteadily at first, the necromancer rose to his feet, irritated by the rattling shake of his fingers crashing together. He clenched his fists, slowly focusing back upon himself and where he was, anchoring once more to his reality and present. He was gentle with himself, allowing the time he required to recuperate before his climb up the Crown once more, where he would lie in wait for the arrival of the Imperial Force Corps to claim his head. Satisfied he was, with the time he thought he had, right up until a spear of piercing wrath illuminated his Sight in blinding white.

It was a rampaging emotion, one projected through The Force without mercy, cast ahead of its wielder as a foreboding note of terror. It was familiar to him in its base, how it was tethered to the Presence of the one possessing it. And it was that very familiarity that brought a bloody smile to the miraluka's face.

The Iron Imperator had come to face him.

So it would be.

Delight rose through his quivering exhaustion, renewing his mind with a rush of excitement.

The very same carried him back across the path he had come and sustained him as he climbed upward, returning to the height of the Crown.
​

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

E A S Y N O W
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
N I G H T H A W K
// ELIMINATE HOSTILE SAVE AVENGER \\
Cromwell | Arken Rhau [soon!]

She had been amongst the few dispatched early on after Carlac's rather sudden declaration of independence, and as she expected, the cold was absolutely miserable. The woman couldn't wrap herself in enough layers of furs and finery to spare her magenta hide from the rushing winds or the perpetual snowfall that only seemed to worsen with each passing hour. It didn't help, of course, that there was some Dark energy at play, coalescing overhead in a storm she doubted would let up anytime soon. In fact, if her suspicions were correct, it was only going to get far, far worse. Already, she could feel the dread latch itself onto her, attempting to pierce her mind with its razored talons and sow the seeds of doubt and fear within her spirit, something which she, in particular, had to guard as though her life depended on it- in this case, it very well could.

Chaos had erupted mere days after her arrival, prompting her to hunker down and wait for extraction, knowing well that it would be some time before any attempt could even be made with the absolute carnage engulfing the entire world. With her blaster dead and the slugthrower she had plucked off a corpse she had only put down empty, the agent was up chit's creek without a paddle. So it was, she skulked about on the fringes of the conflict, searching for a means to get out. She wasn't a soldier, she was a specialist. An assassin. An infiltrator. An agent meant to scout out the finer details of operations for her comrades and return with precious intel that served as her day pass to relaxation.

She definitely didn't sign up for all this nonsense.

She didn't sign up to fist fight reanimated corpses in the streets of a meatlocker planet without any backup.

She didn't sign up to suffer frostbite to her toes.

She didn't sign up to-​

"I'm stuck." he grumbled dryly through the open line.

Sapphire eyes fluttered beneath goggles at the rather abrupt interruption to her bitter muttering as she scoured the side streets for any form of transportation. Now that was a welcome sound in what she had written off as Hell. Quickly, the agent ducked over a half-decimated food stall and pushed her furred glove forward, exposing the datapad embedded into her bracer. A tap to the screen saw her communication line crack open and she greeted him with a surprisingly stern tone: <"Well well well. Look who decided to call.">

A few more taps saw her trace his location, a feat otherwise unaccomplishable by anyone who hadn't spent approximately sixteen hours in front of a terminal obsessively trying to crack the encryption keys burying the signal of his devices. <"Hm. You're not that far from me, sweetheart, I think I might just be able to stage a rescue operation. But first, let me get out of this town without losing my temper, m'kay~?">

She left the line open and swiftly vaulted over the stall, bolting down the street and sliding into an alleyway just as the groaning mutters of The Perished echoed down the way. This whole planet was crawling with the corpses, something she remarked on briefly toward the man stuck both in a compromising position, and one where he had to listen to her chatter: <"Can you pricks just go on? Please. No don't look over there- no- just-"> Chel sighed, rolling her eyes and further flattening herself against the building, fighting against the whispers that crept along her spine with a resolute shake of her head.

<"I'm stuck, too. But not in any way I want to be. I need transport. Maybe I can find a speeder or something around here..."> ​

​

The wind was even more painful whipping past her as she raced across the frozen terrain with enough visibility to barely make out ten feet in front of her. It was reckless, it was stupid, but the Spectre needed her help. Not just help. No, her help. It was a golden opportunity she couldn't afford to miss- the chance to dangle something like this over his head for the next fifteen years was far too tempting.

<"I'm clear, I think, haven't heard anyone tailing me, though it's awfully hard to hear anything over this storm,"> the Zeltron huffed into her headset, cranking back on the throttle even harder to push the bike to its absolute limit. She wasn't far out from the flashing ping on her datapad now, and almost solely was using that for guidance through this mess.

That was until she saw the distant glow of flames fighting against the wind and snow in the distance.

<"Wait did you crash?!"> Chelenne spat the question out in shock, finding it awfully hard to believe the man who seemed to do just about everything right had managed to botch a landing, <"Hang in there, I'm close.">

The glowing flames grew brighter, hotter too, as she closed upon them and ground her commandeered bike to a halt, whipping the back end about with a shift of her hips to better disperse the momentum required for a rapid dismount. Boots crunching on the snow then, she fought the wind and struggled through the deepening blanket, grunting and twisting herself all the while. Lifting a hand to shield her screen from the blinding wintry mix, she squinted, realizing quickly she was standing right on top of his flashing blip.

Oops.

<"Oops, I'm sorry, didn't mean to step on you,"> she didn't sound sorry.

And then down she dropped, shoveling the snow aside with both hands. Almost frantically, the woman dug, carving out a small hole to gauge the depth of the situation first, fingers raking at the hardening tomb he was encased in until she struck something solid. "Varian!" She called, barely heard above the gales, and continued shoving at the layer of snow with much greater haste.​

 

[Darth Bellum]

R E T R I B U T I O N
[ Theme ]

| Location | Carlac​

| Purpose | Rise Once More​

​

The balance of power within the Galaxy once more shifted. With the efforts of the New Imperial Order having finally seen fruition in seeing the fall of the Sith Empire, the Galaxy was led to believe that there would be a time of peace. However not everything was made to last, the hope for peace lest of all - From the shadows greater evils conspired to taint the Galaxy with their sinister and malicious touch; the Brotherhood of the Maw chief among them and those with ambitions that were harbored behind elegant veils of deception. It was from this act that drew the ever-watchful gaze of the Spirit of War.​

​

From deep within the Nether the spirit of Darth Bellum remained, having recused himself from the matters of the living for the time to let infernos of conflict linger and continue to grow across the Galaxy. The sudden death of Irveric Tavlar was one he had foreseen, though had not anticipated its arrival to be so soon. So few in the Galaxy existed that held potential to be even greater tools to him than the Imperator - His death was an inconvenience to his vision of the future, but one that failed to hinder it at all. Disappoint as it may have been, Tavlar's assassination was but just another step forward in his vision, with the fires of wrath and fury, now having been lit within the New Imperial Order, and with it, renewed vigor for the Dark Side Spirit.​

​

His will was after all that of eternal conflict - No matter how many pieces of the chessboard were sacrificed regardless of their value, so long as they served their purpose was all that mattered. With a hunger and thirst that rivaled that of the legendary Darth Nihlus, none would stop his great vision.​

​

He was inevitable...​

​

And so too did his legacy rise as the very powers that conspired against the world of the living sought to bring him back. With offerings of flesh and blood did his presence seek out Caelitus. Despite vexing Bellum with the death of his prized pawn, such an offering and sacrifice to him was not overlooked either. Caelitus would serve to fill the void that was created; whether he was fully aware of his new position and conscious of the fact that he now served as Bellum's new pawn was of no consequence to the spirit.​

​

A shadowy void of umbral darkness opened before the Sorcerer, the towering vestige of Darth Bellum stepping forward to look down at the enfeebled man. Darth Bellum's body stood as clear as day, his ethereal form given existence with such an impressive offering. The Sith Lord's arm raised to his side, parallel to the ground with claws outstretched as a smaller shadowy void began to swirl around it, extending outwards to reveal the blade known as Fellsong, enthralled to the gnawing hunger that overwhelmed its very core. The blade was brought to bear as Darth Bellum held it to Caelitus' neck, its sharpened edge pressed against flesh as his grating voice spoke.​

​

​

" The next time you believe yourself to possess the will or authority to command me shall be your last. ​

​

You only continue to draw breath in summoning my presence to your aid because I believe you to be a useful tool. ​

​

Do not forget that... "​

​

The blade was withdrawn from Caelitus' neck, a thin line of crimson leaking from where the blade had touched as Fellsong was brought to Darth Bellum's side. Given a corporeal form once more, the Sith Lord sought to once more remind the Galaxy that the Iron Sun was not eternal. Those who stood between him and his vision of a galaxy without peace would be slain.​

​

Halketh​

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CARLAC
NOVA VOX

Damn fools.

The lot of them.

Obviously there was a task force to respond to the act of rebellion from Carlac, way before the Imperial Assembly came together to discuss how the entire order should act and proceed. Survey the planet and gather whatever invaluable information there was to send back to the Imperator. Understand their defenses, what areas they could exploit, stages they could hold to land soldiers. A few examples that were expected from the espionage agents deployed to Carlac, and some given different tasks from their peers.

"They're all parasites."

His only opinion on the inhabitants of Carlac as he grasped an understanding of the world's views both inwards and outwards. They all, for the most part, echoed Halketh's declaration of independence. Despicable. They dared to secede from the Order after the autonomy that was granted to them? Did they think themselves better than the other planetary states that comprised the New Order? They all contributed for the general benefit of the Iron Sun, giving resources and able bodies in their war against the Sith and to build the New Empire. He could only expect a grand conspiracy brewing from the Crown of Carlac when the demented sorcerer unveiled himself the snake that he was.

He had yet to receive any orders from high command, and any attempts on the Carlaci Warlord was to wait for further notice. Orders that would soon change when he received an encrypted message; a message that would raise the hairs on his arms and the pupils of his eyes dilating with black dot on his eyes expanding to consume the iris around it.

The Imperator dead, assassinated within the Assembly

That was something he could not ever imagine. Sure, they were mortal men and were bound to die, but the man always survived the impossible that challenged him on the battlefield. A war hero, a legendary soldier, dying away from combat and in the one of many places that nigh guaranteed him security from death. A tragedy that would shape the domestic and foreign politics of the Empire.

Death had taken Tavlar, but not his legacy. There was no time to grieve as the war carried on.

He would burn down this world to a crisp; somehow, someway, he would. It didn't have to be today, it could always be tomorrow whenever that came. Irveric's death demanded blood from his enemies, and all of Carlac would bleed for it. Didn't matter who they are, even if they were innocent from the band of rebels, they would die and give color to the endless blue and white of ice and snow that reigned over Carlac.

Rage and anger rocked his core which was born from his grief, any morals he had were forgotten in his mission. There would be no quarter given to any that didn't wave the banners of the Iron Sun. The rules of engagement bared little weight for him to honor them.

All that mattered was the mission.

By any means necessary.

His fight was to be below the ice where the main assault of the New Imperials was expected to strike, besieging the main points of interests. A foolish strategy if anyone asked for his opinion. Bathe the world with raw power to destabilize the planet such as the Sith did on Mandalore. Make it a barren, uninhabitable wasteland. A large, industrial complex expanded miles upon miles. It was surprising how it didn't melt the ice from above or compromised any of the geological structures that could bury it.

Although, unironically, that was his main intent. Destroy the large plant and bury everything that was below here.

ALLIES | NIO
ENEMIES | MAW | CARLAC | Tu'teggacha

 

[Lyra Vent]

R A V E N
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CROWN OF ICE | CARLAC
ALLIES: NIO | Cromwell | Chelenne Akaris
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

ATTACK OF THE DEAD MEN
​

The storm was raging like a wounded rancor.

It beat against the stolen trooper armour like a baton on a drum, the cold cutting through the insulation like a hot knife through butter. If it weren't for the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the drive of preserving the true order in the Galaxy heating her blood, she would have been frozen in place, even in Carlaci Corps armour. The elements were truly out to bury them all.

And a spectre speaking ominously through the gales.

Lyra did not have enough time to respond to the shadow before the dead rose like daisies from the bloodied snow. The stuff of nightmares were raging on Carlac in full swing.

It was unfortunate, however, for the Madman and his new friends that metallic minds weren't so easily frightened.

Acting instinctively, the Raven raised a vambraced arm and ducked low just as the dead opened fire on her, a shield deploying from the gauntlet just in time to deflect the hail of bolts.

Gritting her teeth to keep her arm steady against the barrage, Lyra slowly advanced on her undead comrades-in-arms, heart clenching as she did so. Against the forces of Darkness, not even your death can be your own. You can't even lay to rest those that had valiantly given their lives for Imperator and country.

But the COMPNOR Agent bit down hard.

She had a job to do. While she still drew breath, the Imperator's death will not go unavenged. Luckily the dead troopers were slow and unwieldy, even if their blaster fire was deadly.

Stray bolts ricocheted off her cybernetic arms and face, sparks blinding her momentarily, but she had reached her target. Unclipping a C-35 Frag from her belt, she twisted it and chucked it out from behind the shield before retreating, still ducking low.

The satisfactory BOOM sounded before spattering viscera squelched a red painting across her shield.
"I'm sorry." she said quietly before drawing her side blaster with her free hand and turning her attention on the shadowy spectre once more, the shield still active.

Iron hearts would not buckle so easily.
"Come and face me in person, you coward!" she told the supernatural figure that had turned brothers and sisters-in-arms against her. "Only the craven hide behind illusions!"

She would fight the Darkness until her last breath.

It was payback time. For so many wrongs brought into effect by the hands of the Dark space wizards and their ilk.

Even covert-soldiers had a line that should not be crossed.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr | Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Aemilio Valaar

They have come. The message came up the line in tones of hushed excitement, comm operator to comm operator before spreading through the rank and file. They have come, and Asoport is besieged. For the Carlaci Corps, this was a grim moment, the stark reality of the need to defend their home against a galactic great power crashing down upon them. They bore it stoically, with discipline, loyalty, and faith. For the Mawites, this was a glorious moment, an end to boredom and a chance to earn the favor of the Avatars. They had fought the NIO many times before, on many planets.

They were eager to do it again, and win glory.

The Perished and Carlaci Corps were already fighting at the city's edge, heavily engaged with the invading forces... and the location of the enemy's attack made their goal obvious. The monorail. They hoped to cut the connections between Carlac's cities, preventing the movement of troops and supplies. Did that mean they expected a long, drawn-out siege? In the short term, a logistical interruption would hardly matter, since the city - now empty of civilians - had plenty of supplies for the warriors who remained within it. Perhaps they doubted their ability to retake the planet quickly.

Their lack of air support would slow their advance.

Of course, attacking the monorail right at its terminus was not a strategy that made much sense; there were countless miles of track well outside Asoport, and destroying any part of them would have the same effect as destroying the terminus. But The Mongrel was glad that the NIO had chosen to make their move within the city, because it meant that Mawite and Carlaci forces could fight them while they tried to plant their explosives. Their tactical... error? Eccentricity? Bizarre master stroke he couldn't comprehend? Whatever it was, it was his opportunity to push forward and engage.

"Move the Tarar up to the rooftops here and here," the Warlord commanded, indicating areas on the tactical map in front of him. It was strange to be back at the command tent in that central square, making large-scale tactical decisions, rather than fighting in the thick of it; he reassured himself that the personal involvement part would come later. He was somewhat less motivated to face these particular NIO troops personally in any case. He was still hunting for Aron Gowrie, still determined to finish their contest... but it did not appear that he and his unit had deployed to Carlac.

At least, not that Mawite scouts could determine.

At The Mongrel's order, fearsome Tarar Warbands rushed to the buildings overlooking the monorail terminal, near where its supports rose to cross the glacial walls that hemmed in Asoport. The NIO forces were already planting their charges, using a heavy repeater to keep the street clear in their wake. That would work well for street-level foes, the Carlaci and Perished squads working to hold the roadways and alleys, but it might have a harder time dealing with fire from above. The Tarar smashed fifth-floor windows and mounted fire escapes, getting into position from on high.

Then they unleashed a withering plasma barrage from above.

Crossing the street to get away from the monorail's underside, now studded with explosive charges, would mean moving into that killing ground of plasma fire, directed down from on high to melt the duracrete road... and anyone who set foot on it. With any luck, Aemilio Valaar and his troops would be pinned down next to their own charges. Had they been Mawites, they would have blown them anyway, assured of their place in paradise... or perhaps rushed out in a suicidal attack first, killing as many foes as they could. But the NIO unbelievers would not sacrifice themselves.

It would be interesting to see how they got out of this one.

Still directing the battle and preparing for his own entry into the fray, The Mongrel did not notice his cloaked observer, Keilara Kala'myr . His sub-chiefs came and went, informing him of the conflict's progress, and he reallocated forces wherever the Carlaci lines seemed to be thinning. His raider walkers, no longer needed for patrols, pulled back, preparing for a line-breaking charge later in the fight. His Scav Kings he kept in reserve, knowing that these elite fighters might swing the tide at a desperate moment. All the while he had no idea that the eyes of an enemy were on him...

 

[Rika Hiro]

LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR
NEW_IMPERIAL_ORDER
Tags:// Don Belkora The Avatar

Continued on from prior

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear~ H.P Lovecraft



They were dead.All of them.


Strung out before her was the ritualistically mutilated remains of the observation team, where eyes once were, now lay empty mechanical sockets that stared lifelessly into the great distance. The head replicant of the team lay tied up to a cross-like effigy, head lifelessly slung down, and it's datapad nailed into the replicant's hand in an almost mocking manner. Something moved in the mist around her; she turned her gaze around, shapes forming and twisting in the great expanse. Asa felt something she had never experienced or came to know.


What was it?

The effigy moved; she turned to look up at the once dead replicant whose empty sockets bore deep into Yubari's eyes, it was alive where it was once dead. Strange, she did not detect any activity from its central processor, which had long lay dormant after ending up on a cross mutilated and dead.


"You should be dead; state your agent rank and product number."

"Make us whole."

"State rank and product number," she replied blankly, adamant about keeping to the procedure. Asa kept her hand close to her firearm; whatever was going on, it wasn't natural. He should've been deactivated, not speaking back to another replicant when his life signs were zero and his electronics fried.


The dead replicant laughed at Agent Yubari's request, though his laugh was as natural as his state of being alive was. It sounded like a choked gargle as there was nothing where the replicants vocal chords were; whatever attacked it had not only took its eyes but its vocal chords too. A lone streak of sweat passed down her brow, and for once in her existence, she did not have a response or an answer. The laughter bore through her and seemed to be everywhere, the Atrisian replicant grimaced and lifted her gun at the dead mans head.


"Consider yourself terminated."


A shot rang out across the wasteland.


The laughter stopped. But something changed; she felt a deep pain in her chest and stomach, causing her to fall to one knee. Something ate away at her internally, something so foreign to her system that she spent a lifetime of service, never truly empathising or understanding what it was. Something that had been so far out of her reach, and yet in this moment, she had felt something so terribly human.


Fear.​

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 1
Objective: Mad World
Location: Near Auria Blackmoore Location
Equipment: Mind Crown | Black MidNight Duster with Hood | Echani shield suit | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Defender | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | x2 FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X4 Daggers | Pack of Death sticks | Various Explosives on person and in backpack | Holopad
Allies: The Mongrel | Marlon Sularen
Enemies: Auria Blackmoore | Konrad Harrsk | Michael Barran | Keilara Kala'myr | Aemilio Valaar
Special Tags: Auria Blackmoore | Open to More

---

Tegan’s orange eyes stared at her hand in it was the warm heart motioning it’s last few beats after being ripped from the chest of a man who laid dead next to her. Warm blood rolled off her sharp black nails that protruded from her gloved hand blood pouring over it and down the sleeve of her jacket. In the right light the blood would be crimson but in the air of this world it looked inky black. The Color intrigued and fixated her like this whole world seemed to do. Everything about it was perfect in minds eye of the insane. The pure Chaos of it all feed her and made the darkness in her hum vibrantly as if she was standing directly in the destructive vortex of a Darkside Nexus.


The traitor sith, fallen of the Krath, and exile witch of Dathomir now Sorcerror of Rhand was flooded with power like no other in this place. On any given day she had power that were exceptional to some but her she felt like her power could be almost limitless. It wasn’t the first time she felt this way not the first world filled with Chaos that fueled her like this, but it was few and far in between. The dark feed her like a drug she felt like she could take on a god and rip there heart out like she had this mere mortal at her feet.


She slowly brought the heart to her face and like a savage crazed animal her eyes began to burn a furious glowing orange as she bit into the heart. She devoured like she herself was one of the undead legions feeding and devour on all the flesh that crossed it’s paths. It was the first open indication of her madness she had openly showed in a while. She devoured every last bit of the human heart the blood smearing across her face and making the visage of her painted face even more horrific.


After she devoured the heart, she looked around, taking in the carnage and skirmishes all around her. The Dark had led her here alongside other forces of the Maw. Dozens of Rhand Sorcerers had come to this world, but they were being held in reserve in case the sith Sorcerers failed. Along with hundreds of the scarred men that acted as protectors of Rhand Sorcerers. Tegan had been the only one so far to venture out into this delightfully terrifying world.


Tegan began to wander away from the body she had just devoured the heart of. The wind blew violently through the streets and long coats tail danced about. The diminutive figure began wandering in the direction the dark called to her a skip in her step. It wasn’t long and her eyes gleamed as she saw the undead charge on several Imperial landing ships. She watched for just a moment when the air hit her just right, the cheer fading from her face. She could smell it in air just a hint, the essence of the unclean child that hung on someone. Someone had come in contact though awhile ago with Tegan’s wayward daughter Cord.


She scanned the battlefield before her looking for the strings of the dark that would dark the one one she sought. The one who had been in contact with the unclean, the dots slowly began to connect, and a direction path was given. The diminutive figure that was Tegan began walking through the lines of undead who for some unknown reason paid her no mind. It wasn’t long and Tegan found herself in the front of the undead hoards and was being fired at by imperial forces. She charged one of the line slamming a force push into them as another line turned to her opening fired. The power surging through her she squeezed her right fist tight and forced choked several of them as their necks snapped and their bodies slumped to the ground, just to rise up again and join the undead ranks. A Sergeant came rushing at her with a baton, but Tegan just stopped him dead in his track before he could even reach her. “You should Just surrender; you don’t stand a chance.” Tegan's voice unnervingly calm and barely raise coming out soft and sweet sounding as she spoke to the soldier. Nothing about Tegan from her voice to stature gave hint to her true power in fact it was almost contrast to it.

 

[Maestus]

Maestus Fury
Dragon Shield Talisman
Shield V1.0
Lightsaber

ALLIES: BOTM | Halketh | Too many to tag
ENGAGING: Kinoan

Another frozen planet. Why did the Force hate her so? She pulled her heavily furred cloak tighter around her body. She pulled the hood down further, and buried her hands in the sleeves. She wasn't even off the shuttle yet, but the cold had seeped into her bones. By the Dark Side, she hated the cold. She longed to return to Mustafar. The fire and warmth. She needed to go back.

Finally, she strode down the ramp, a unit of Chosen behind her. 5 men, all at the peak of physical fitness. They were bare chested, with a Beskar pauldron on their left shoulders. Over that, they, too, had heavily furred cloaks, though their hoods were down. In their left hands, they held Beskar pikes. Standing at attention, their eyes remained on their Mistress, awaiting orders.

Maestus had to roar over the din of whipping winds for her Chosen to hear. Her voice carried on the vicious winds.

If you see an Imperial...Kill them. If you face a Jedi Kill them. If you can not, you will face my wrath.

The 5 men, in unison, lifted then slammed the butts of their pikes onto the frozen ground in response. Maestus was confident in them and their capabilities. However, they were not The Mongrel . They were not a fantastic beast capable of standing against Jedi and surviving. But perhaps one of them would prove himself this day. She would wait and see.

The 5 Chosen marched off, heading towards the nearest collection of buildings and people, preparing to sack the small city.

For her part, Maestus shielded her eyes from the wind and glare coming off the ice. She slowly scanned, turning a half circle, until something caught her eye. The ignition of a gold lightsaber blade in the distance. A vicious, wicked smile curl upon cruel lips.

With a soft, dark chuckle, she began the trek towards Kinoan

​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Carlac, Nova Vox
Tags: Djorn Bline

As the Taskmaster made his rounds, inspecting the sprawling refinery and overseeing the transfer of fuel, he continued to be impressed. The produce of Carlac was truly immense; it would keep the Mawite fleet well-supplied for some time if the transfer was fully completed. A vile Ebruchi smile crossed his face, a twisting of rubbery tentacles that exposed the ring-like maw beneath. It would be amusing indeed if Brotherhood star destroyers smashed through the Alliance's northern border while running on Carlaci fuel. But that was the way of the Maw: scavenge, steal, use the enemy's assets against them.

It was how they had survived long before taking planets of their own.

Tu'teggacha was torn from his contemplations, however, when he sensed a presence intruding on the refinery. He would never have noticed it amid the cacophony of other living beings, except for two things. First, he had sensed this presence before, in the crystal caves of Ilum. He had not actually crossed physical paths with it, but he had unleashed warbeasts to deal with it... warbeasts that had evidently failed. Second, the presence radiated anger, white-hot rage that burned in his mind's eye with the intensity of a lightsaber. This intruder was driven by fury, driven to avenge the death of his Imperator a thousandfold.

The Taskmaster blinked. He could not sense any of the intruder's companions. Were they hiding amid the thousands and thousands of workers, keeping beneath his Force senses by blending in with the crowd, or had the man come alone? If it was the latter, he had made a dire error, perhaps blinded by his anger. This complex was almost unfathomably vast, full of dedicated security personnel in addition to countless patriotic workers - all of whom would eagerly report anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. Unless this intruder moved with great stealth indeed, he would rapidly be detected and attacked.

Tu'teggacha doubted that any one man could do much damage to the sprawling refinery, but there was no guarantee that the intruder was alone, and any damage he might do was unacceptable; the war materiel gained here would grant the Maw a huge advantage in the battles to come, and no one could be allowed to jeopardize that. Would an NIO agent really sabotage this refinery, a place that could provide so much benefit to the Imperial fleet, merely out of vengeful spite? Perhaps, perhaps not, but the Taskmaster couldn't risk it. "Intensify our patrols," he ordered. "Someone is here who should not be."

His glassy black eyes blazed. "I have sensed his presence. I want him found."

 

[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

[ Uprising ] ​

So far, I’ve been lucky and they haven’t noticed me, though several soldiers have passed quite a few times not too far from where I was. In the meantime, other soldiers also showed up, which made the cold shake me out, although I haven't been cold in my armour so far. I didn’t have much experience with Maw so far, but to tell you the truth, I started to feel like I would have been happier if I didn’t get to know them now either.

I took another deep breath, softly so that no one would hear me. There was a command tent; at least it looked like it was here in the square. I was also given the best possible place for this meeting. Damn it! The noise of the fighting became louder and louder, i.e. the units approached. And that meant that chaos and bloodshed would soon break out here. The strange man seemed to be one of the generals because everyone came to him for orders and he also said some.

Although I didn’t hear what, I was too far away for that, but his body language and gestures were clear. In this situation, I would have been very happy to I would have learned how to assassinate others, in the past. I mean, actual assassination, but I wasn't an assassin. But I think I had to try; if not for some other reason, because it was my duty. If I cause enough turmoil here, enemy armies can be confused as well. I wish I had brought a grenade or explosive…

I quickly looked around and found a route through which I could get closer to the command tent. So I set off for that. First, I had to go back to the little street on the side of the house and hurry along it. The hardest part here was not to leave a mark and footprint in the snow; if someone comes to this, you will surely notice that someone has come for it. I had to go through a few more alleys, then evergreen bushes followed and I was finally able to get closer behind them.

Now I was positioned sideways relative to the command tent and I had a clear target. it was time to avenge the death of the Imperator. Since I was over fifty metres from my target, I couldn’t use my weapon's shotgun mode, just normal mode. Anyway, as soon as I aimed at the man, I fired a short series in his direction…

Yes, in the middle of the enemy camp, alone. If I manage to take him down, it's worth the sacrifice… for the NIO and for the Imperator!

 

[Darth Tennacus]

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

Theatricality was always a good mechanism for the Sith to execute. Most would display their powers to boast their limitations to the enemy. An intimidation tactic, in some sense. In many cases it had worked, but in others, it initiated another aggressive response. Tennacus had foreseen the latter. As he earlier presumed, a lone warrior did not wander in solitude without the ability to protect themselves. It was one of the primary reasons while the Sith had sought to exposing himself to her, if not for the cause at hand. Regardless of the victors today, there would always be war somewhere. In a galaxy such as this, it was inevitable.

The demise of the troopers did little to initiate an action from the shadow, save for conjuring a weak Force Sphere to deflect what debris had been sent its way. The residual smoke from the blast lingered in the air for a moment, floating between them amidst the risen dust and snow. But through it all, the shadowy guise pierced in its dense blackness, and remained idle in its pose, even after the cloud had settled. There were still two troopers he had not animated under the influence of the Force, but truth be told, they would be useless. Damaged bones - if not blown apart completely - were not the simplest of things to marionette, especially through a dilution of the Force which posed as that lingering shadow. The shadow lowered its veiled head, obscure eyes tracing the cyborg female up and down.

"Cybernetic installations," the disembodied voice started, leaving her taunts - for the moment - unanswered. Its head lifted to turn its gaze back to her own. "I'd suspect your primary functions are designed for war. It was wrong of me to assume you invaluable to your cause." Its head swivelled off to the side, looking towards the Apprentice's shadow. They had an unspoken agreement between them: no interference. Sith were not known to be honourable; working from the shadows and stabbing backs was what had brought them thus far. But interfering was another situation entirely - especially between them two. The Master had been given a battle, and he would fight it alone.


The shadow started to dissipate. "Very well. There is only so much we can demonstrate through shadowy hosts. But I must warn you," its voice started to sound disembodied, and more embodied. Emanating specifically from behind her, growing more and more distinct in its monotonous lilt with every movement against the snow closing in behind her. "the calculations of a cyborg's survival are slim." Eventually, the disembodied tongue silenced altogether, solely calling out from behind.

The Sith had revealed himself as she had asked, abandoning his dark cowl for an attire more suited for the conflict that was to come. He stood tall, upright in his posture, as if his spine were a stiff board mounted beneath the flesh. His mouth was masked by a black respirator, cupped tightly against his cheeks. He had abandoned his Sith sword, too, leaving it with his Apprentice's host. This was not a battle for such weaponry.

"If you lose, I would like to make you an offer in sparing your life," the Sith started, slithering his fingers beneath his jacket, withdrawing his lightsaber in the process. Much like his shadow, its hilt was as black as midnight. "If I deliver you to the brink of destruction, and you accept your defeat, I will spare you in a transaction for your recruitment. I am very much intrigued by those who walk the path you do, and there is much experimentation I can execute to amplify your installations for my own services. If you refuse, I will kill you and strip you for parts, anyway. The difference is that you will be alive in one scenario to see me get what I want. But if I lose? Well," the pause in his verse was soon filled by the ignition of the lightsaber, ascending out of the hilt in its deep crimson hue. "I suppose a lightsaber is always valuable to someone somewhere."

The Force had intensified yet again, but with the Sith only focusing on one object this time. A blaster, specifically, which he slowly - carefully - rotated to point at her. From its current angle, it would only blast at her foot, but he was not about to do anything like that just yet. He'd made his move; now it was time for her to make hers.

"Now, make your move."

Spoiler

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

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

He shrugged with his shoulders, "I'm not the fire conjuring freak between us two."

"Now keep your head down and follow me." Konrad said before he shuffled forward crossing the fledgling front lines to a position of overwatch on Voidwalker's demolitions team. Both storm and artillery roared in a chorus of destruction. Troops fell under the gruesome melody, men and women met their untimely demise in the furious push against the Carlaci turncoats, the Mawite swines and undead monstrosities.

Through the killing fields, they finally arrived at another covered position overseeing Voidwalker's rush to plant the charges.

<<Kaiser. I'm setting charges now. Where's your match?>>

Peeking over the cover, he opened his mouth to answer but stopped at the sight of marauders emerging from the rooftops and unleashing pinning fire upon Valaar's position. The Voidwalker troopers were between a rock and a hard place but the mission came first. They would understand...or they won't. It didn't matter, they'd be dead anyway. His helmet turned to Auria to give her the order to light it ablaze both charges and Valaar when his comm crackled interrupting him midway:

<"Sir, we've got a problem.">

<"What is it?">

<"North. Center of the line. Forcer ripping through the lines.">

He saw her. A woman in a duster strolling through unharmed.

Konrad's face twisted into a resentful snarl. Now he was in between a rock and a hard place. A choice, a dilemma - each bearing a hefty cost. His troopers or Valaar's. The clock ticked. Each move of the hand echoing through time and space all the way back to his childhood. The clock ticked on the dejarik board as he stared wild-eyed at his father's death gambit. A thousand times they had played and a thousand times Konrad had lost.

Except once.

Eyes narrowed into a satisfied frown, <"Melnau, Adik - pull back, pull back from the forcer now and lay all fire on that building to the west."> he indicated at the Mawite's occupying the block over Valaar's position, then to Auria, "Burn these curs to a crisp, witch. When Valaar's men move out, light those charges." the Imperial glanced up at the meandering figure of the forcer ( Tegan Starfall ) in the thick of their lines up ahead and said, "While I...have a witch to slay."

"Don't disappoint me." Konrad called out back at Auria as he bolted towards the crone in a duster, holstering his disruptor pistol and opening a quick line to Aemilio when Melnau and Adik's squads opened fire at the building, <"Move, Valaar; move or die!">

Instead of the hefty pistol, Harrsk found the feather light hilt of his songsteel blade in his hands. Forged by Keishiro Hayata himself. He came straight at her, right from behind the sergeant she had planted in place. A silent whistle trailed the blade as it slashed an overhead feign before plunging for a stab center mass.

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

 

[Michael Barran]

2
SECOND_SON
OBJECTIVE 2: UNDERWORLD
CARLAC

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

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

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 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 TWO

​

Southern White-Crescent Mountains,
Near Srares' Outskirts, Carlac

<"Milord, this is Sergeant Yorunarr! If you're going for your speeder, I'm getting one of the plundered Ilum swoop-bikes we brought with us!">

'Well hurry up then, we can make our acquaintances on the move! An' count yer lucky stars the Guardsmen left wan behind for somebody. Cairn One out!'

Busy were the moving pieces, yet everyone within the ramshackle Blue-Heart high-command still needed just a few more incentives to move, everyone but Lord Michael; moving back to go forward, the Wanderer would giggle childishly as he descended the Northern Munro's north face to get his speeder-bike from the dropship they all sprung forth from after all, breaking out of the process of thinking there would be a chance he may not have needed it on that occasion. His father's bodyguard was certainly enticing Lord Michael further into his will to drive through the Carlaci snow at speed, just like he did on his first trip to Krieg with Lord Ollis, though the Wanderer was certainly wondering if his Novanian shadow could keep up, especially in anticipation of when they eventually reached the flat base of the conjoining dip between the peaks that marked the Srares' outskirts and the Southern White-Crescent Mountains. Dubbing it,"Springboard Valley", to himself, Barran showed he would be happier seeing it with the wind and snow whipping by his head, serving as a means to become the stuff of tracking-nightmares for any experienced Carlaci sharpshooter.

Has there ever been a more majestic darling than you? None to me anyways! Been too long, dear Thistle.... Far too long!​

As Michael gawped in awe of his favourite vehicle in life, the one he almost never got the opportunity to take out, (and certainly not in times of war) the Lord-Captain would be trapped in the rarity of the moment so intensely that he never even heard the Novanian Guard-Sergeant making his way inside; completely oblivious to Yorunarr saying,'Greetings, Milord. I'll just be heading through- oh.... I'll leave you both alone together for a moment or two, huh?', chuckling as the shutters for the loading-bay flap-doors opened quietly behind them. Barran would still find himself in this state of childlike wonder for a little while longer to his own infinite delight, all whilst the substitute bodyguard was still getting used to the intricacies of the salvage-repaired swoop bike in the next loading-bay, giving the Wanderer's mind every chance to wander a little farther as he tinkered, clicked and twisted with an ever-growing amazement of his own. However, with time stacked against everyone on Carlac, the Novanian would be the first to snap out of the awestruck states, revving his swoop's engine into life and snapping the Woad out of his own with nothing but the loudness of the ignition sputters alone, reversing with a casual wave in greeting as the back of the bike's chassis dipped behind him.

<"McBain to Cairn One! Recent reports in - Eclipse Company made landfall in the Srares outskirts mountains, an' IMPMAG are aw'ready movin' in. Line's movin' up, Milord.">

'WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! ROLAND'S ROLLING IN AGAIN!!!! THE MORE GALIDRAANIS THE MERRIER!!!!'
Well.... He's not wrong this time around, but only if we soldier properly, every step o' the way. An' only if we weather - him.

All his misgivings were justified, but Michael was never one to back down from any challenge, the only thing that was bugging him most was the responsibility of laying lives on the line that weren't even his to begin with, polite and welcoming though the Blue-Hearts and Ilum Goliaths had been when they approached him to lead their retaliation efforts just days beforehand. Besides the subordinates he'd be throwing into the crucible, the Wanderer was given pause for thought when he paid closer attention to the same creeping feeling he'd been experiencing since they passed the planet's orbital sphere, and despite the limitations that were being enforced on his powers, Michael still had enough residues left to at least slightly detect the foul magic in his weakened state. Halketh had become someone new, something completely disdainful of his former self, and the Wanderer could feel every ounce of that hatred, disgust and apathy towards all things resembling supreme ideological order; however, against all convention, Michael had a slight understanding of what that meant, being the main reason young Barran had veered so aggressively away from New-Imperial politics to begin with.
I can smell something else in the air too - but I don't know what it is.... Can't make sense of it yet.

'Copy that, Cairn Two. Mark the static lines on the top-down, oor datapads can handle the rest. Cairn One out!'

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

"Springboard Valley",
Near Srares' Outskirts, Carlac

'Aw'right, lads! Form up on the Swoop-Leader bike! We have new orders fae the Lord-Commander's laddie!'

Aemilio Valaar's IMPMAG contingent had been busy since they arrived, creating a whole host of problems for the Mawite-Carlaci supply lines with a chain-reaction detonation that left a burning flash which could be seen for many miles in all directions, made all the more intense by the contrastingly-dark backdrop around it. Even the Lord-Captain and his new bodyguard would see it on their way over to Srares' outlying mountainous approach, though none quite so intensely as the guardsmen scouting ahead, with their entire forward-observations ordered to halt by Guard-Captain Baird on account of this new development, waiting on the Free-State's youngest ever captain as he scouted ahead on his own for a while. However, when Ryan returned, the Wanderer had been in touch, feeding intel and orders whilst the rest of the line creeped towards the very south of the Springboard Valley behind them; the young Woad was more-or-less in a position to see the next few steps in his new commander's attack-plan, so the stir-craziness would be dead in the water as soon as Guardian Company halted to form their latest defensive perimeter, giving Baird all the calm and readiness he needed to project to amplified extents when he returned to the others.

'Any intel wi they orders, sir?'

Was oor intel really that shoddy afore? Well t'that narrative can feth off, though Barran is feeding us quite a good amount so far.​

'Naaaaw, Feeney! We just talked about oor favourite Chiss supermodels for five minutes straight- OF COURSE HE GAVE US INTEL!!!', Baird snapped back, but with the response weighed down by the fullness of his jesting tone. Jokingly punching ribs and chest-bumping all the subordinates who were too slow to part for his approach to the swoop-leader bike in the middle of their little hilltop clearing. The laughter, hushed cheers of approval and the general spring in their step was all the indicator that Ryan needed to know that these chestnuts would be supremely difficult for the Carlaci living and undead to crack, reassuring the young commoner that all the right people had staved off the temptation of early-retirement rights, as the number of replacements since Ziost had troubled Baird in particular, but time had passed productively for Blue-Heart Brigade since the closing months of 865 ABY. The replacements had been put through rigorous training since, forced to operate beyond their physical, mental and tactical capacities since Ziost 3, so the likes of young Feeney were no longer the weak-link concerns they once had been.

'We've got incoming friendlies, an' friendlies we're all quite acclimated to an'aw! Valid challenge is,"Imperator!", valid response is reported to be,"Tavlar!".... A wee reminder of who we're fighting for here tonight, an' the friendlies coming to join us are none other than Eclipse Company! That's right, Galidraan wishes to leave 'er mark on the place, so we best make the Free-State proud of our exploits the-day. No room for failure in this one! Aw oor zombie-wannabes are long dead now, mind? We like staying dead here an' I'll hear nothing of the contrary from you lot, understood?'

Fist-over-heart salutes were given in reply all around him, and they would've remained calmly about their latest predicament had it not been for a sudden drop in temperature, one that hit so acutely that the fact they all felt it had G-Company on high-alert all of a sudden, but the changes wouldn't end there. From the dark-blue glow from the moon attempting to beat through the blizzard's clouds above, the poor visibility would take on an overlapping purple glow, intermingling with the deeper blues with ease and mess with their distance-perception more intensely than before. Baird's second-in-command would be the most aware of the difference, and in a sense that only the Guard-Captain could understand, seeing the extent of the Miraluka's power on multiple occasions since 864 ABY, though the difficulties would only be intensified in Munsten's ever-superstitious wariness about the whole subject. 'Halketh was never this capable before.... How do we proceed, sir?', the Carrack-born Leftenant asked, very much looking for a beacon of confidence to draw strength from, though Baird would be too busy looking southwards to the mountainous expanse ahead to answer straight away.

'We'll know when Roland's lads arrive, nae use in making rash decisions just yet. We're aw a bit isolated up here, an' though that often works ti a scouting-company's advantage, we also need that lack of visibility that goes with such isolation.... Good job oor engines are humming at low-rev growls, eh? No so sure ah wanty know what sort of early attacks that might invite before long. We're no even finished oor reorg an' the world's gawn weird aroon' us aw'ready, so there's no use in actin' big an' brave jus' yet - we're better off conserving oor strength until Eclipse Company arrives.'

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

NIV TREGESSAR
CARLAC
FALL RACHE
Rurik Fel

​

"Grand Admiral, the remaining reinforcements mustered have arrived." The Signals Officer reported, Rausgeber turned away from the bridge, and limped toward the holographic display. The Grand Admiral heaved the respirator back to his maw, coughing a little as it returned to its post. He could see them now, turning in. The Dissident Aggressor of course, leading the pack. Good. Very good. Admiral Koon would be a fine addition to this operation. "Transmission coming from the Aggressor sir, on all frequencies."

Rurik Fel, the Imperator in Waiting, stood atop the holographic display. The bridge, seemed to freeze in curiosity at this new leadership. "Denizens of Carlac!" The Imperator began, Rausgeber's reddened gaze fixated on the man as he now made his first pronouncement, as the assumed leader. "As of the date of your traitor Lord's declaration of treason- you are no longer Imperial citizens!" Carlyle's brow quirked in wry surprise at the declaration. He knew that Fel was force user. Filthy as they all were. But this, this was a welcome surprise. A new form of ruthlessness in leadership the man could get behind. "But it is within your power to enact change to this grievous injustice that has been done unto you. Surrender or assist any New Imperial military authorities at the soonest contact...and to those who choose to align with the parasite scions of darkness and chaos- those who choose to subject themselves to eternity as slaves to darkness...someone else will raise your sons and daughters." Well played. Well played indeed.

A glare around the command deck sent the crewmen of the Tregessar back to their stations, having let their curiosity on their masked leader wander a little longer than neccessary. The look told them effortlessly, to get back to it. "Grand Admiral, transmission from the Dissident Aggressor." Carlyle's curiosity piqued. "It's the Imperators private line sir. Shall I put it through?"

Carlyle raised a single digit, in respite. Before removing the mask. He tried to hold it back, but could not hold back the rabid fit of coughing, as phlegm splattered across the console. Smashing his good hand against his chest, he composed himself. Giving a curt nod, "Proceed." The command was given. And Rurik Fel came up across the screen. Rausgeber, flanked by Braisley, immediately bowed to the new Sovereign Imperator. "My liege. A pleasure." Rausgeber huskily drawled. "What is thy bidding?"

The ghastly figure of Rurik Fel cast a proverbial shadow over the Admiral Regent. "Rausgeber." It made a chill run up his bruised and battered spine. "Run interdiction protocols of this system. None of these traitors are leaving." Fel commanded, "They bound their fate to this system...and they will perish with it." Did that include the citizenry? He could not quite tell. Or would let him know. There was no change in stature as he sat there bowing. "I will ensure the death of the traitor Lord personally...regardless, be prepared to inflict full surface glassing of this world should," Oh did that ever put a smile on his face, "I give the direct authorization. It's time to send a message."

"Of course your lordship." Rausgeber rose, even on his burned features, the smarminess of his grin could be seen, "Your will commands it." The transmission ended, and Carlyle moved to marshal his forces. "Send word to Admiral Moden, Commodore Grife, and Commodore Prayde," The Prefsbelt Warlord thundered, "Their sectors, are to begin interdiction mining in surrounding sectors. A second layer," He then pressed to a map of the fleet now in orbit, "Dispatch our corvettes, and have pickets do the same. Have the Interception and Roar, spurl their gravity wells." Carlyle dicated to the Signals team, "Priority one. Nothing escapes Carlac. And if it does, then it will not escape this sector. We will tie a noose and strangle these dissidents."

To the next stage of operations, Carlyle swapped the display. "I want all large, capital and cruiser grade vessels, to move into line, on this latitude," He brought up a map of Carlac, "We'll have an entire firing line, focusing targetting on this here." He gestured to an entire vast portion of the planet. Something, which betrayed by Fleet Admiral Braisley, confused her. Carlyle put the mask to his lips, taking a quick hit of the pure oxygen. "Prime batteries, and have them aimed there. I want us, moving in rotation."

There was a pause, as the Chief Ordinance Engineer, and Braisley approached the issue, "But sir," The Ordinance Engineer gruffly began, "If I may, there don't seem to be any major target's 'ere." The Dosuunian veteran mused, "It uh, it's largely just, small settlements. Inconsequential. Apart from one or two places."

"Inconsequential or not. Today Carlac suffers." Rausgeber barked, "At the Sovereign Imperator's word, we'll cover him, and the ground forces. But," He wagged a finger, wheezing, "We will also slag the entirety of Carlac's western hemisphere."

 

[The Mongrel]

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

"Set up roadblocks here and here," The Mongrel said, indicating major thoroughfares leading deeper into Asoport. Although the fighting had been confined to the outskirts so far, with the monorail terminus becoming the current epicenter of the battle, he had no illusions that it would not move further into the city. The good news was that none of the glorious tank charges he'd come to expect from the NIO forces, such as the ones that had broken the Mawite lines on Ilum and Korriban, would be possible in the tight confines of the streets. Chokepoints would be a strong defense.

"Bring up the AT-RTs and position them in the alleys, to ambush as enemy formations pass. The Tarar will open fire from the third floors of these two buildings. Ready the Aspirants to-" He never finished the order, for at that moment a burst of blasterfire came straight at him. One bolt slammed into his mechanical shoulder, the impact throwing him off balance and forcing him to grab the edge of the map table, lest he fall. Another burned a hole through the open front flap of the command tent, and a third hit an adjutant right in the chest, killing the shocked tribesman.

The damage The Mongrel had suffered was not so severe; the outer casing of his left shoulder was melted, but when he raised his arm and flexed his fingers experimentally, the cybernetic components within still functioned. He whirled on the spot, drawing his warblade in one hand and a heavy blaster pistol in the other. His visor scanned the infrared spectrum, and there she was: a spot of heat against the cold snow and duracrete of the alley. Behind his mask, The Mongrel grinned. It seemed the battle had not been content to await his arrival, and had instead come to him.

"My first assassination attempt," the freshly-minted Warlord said, walking quickly toward the alley with his weapons at the ready. "I suppose I should be honored that the NIO has recognized me as a high value target at last." He'd certainly killed enough of their soldiers over the years to be worthy of notice. Breaking into a run, The Mongrel charged at the alley, seeking to close the distance with the infiltrator. He fired wild bursts from his pistol as he advanced, trying to force her to keep her head down until he could get close enough to hack her apart with his blade.

Oh how he loved the thrill of war.

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

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

While waiting for that answer from Hellion, Voidwalker eyed the surroundings underneath the monorail and the surrounding buildings. It was an active warzone, danger was undoubtedly in every window and alleyway. The settings offered by the helmets imaging systems were naturally in use. The naturally cold Asoport was the ideal contrast for thermal imaging and spotting something that he typically wouldn't.

At the first sign of heat at the top of buildings overlooking their position, his features darkened behind his helmet. Still, he turned back to drop into cover with Jilqa and Tarsten. "Forget the charges," thumb shooting out over his shoulder in the direction of the Warbands. "Stay down." Peering over the base support of the pillar, a plasma bolt splashed across the surface of the structure which caused him to drop his head back down.

After the first bolt was fired, the snowpacked grounds around them quickly began to melt as the superheated weaponry lanced into their position. The snowpacked ground quickly melted away the frost and left black markings across the terrain instead.

He's going to blow it. He knew he would. Something nonsensical about strengthening the Empire while sitting behind the front lines and watching, would be the justification. Aemilio was certain of it as he transitioned into a crouch. They'd just have to make a run for it, he resolved. And hope that fate saw them returned safely to the platoons position.

In his minds eye, he could see the shooting range the race for life would be. Head shaking from side to side, they'd just have to fight until they couldn't any longer.

Bringing his rifle up and around, planted on the surface of the pillar support, his HUD was already picking up stray bolts flying off from angles that didn't make sense. Head snapping in the direction of friendly forces - and the source of the bolts, per the AI - it became clear that allied forces sought to recover them.

<"Move, Valaar; move or die!">

Truly the Force was on their side.

Aemilio nodded to the two with him, and he leapt from cover. Even with Konrad's people distracting some of the overhead forces, it was still up to the trio to fight their way out with better odds. The disrupt rifle hummed, spitting out its beyond lethal energy bolts. The instant impact was made, it rendered the living sentient beneath the clothing to nothing, only dropping a pile of their clothing to the floor. "Go!" Aemilio cried out, switching into his squad's comms. <<Brax! Linked Fire! Bust down that barricade now!>> Only moments later did they emerge out the street.

The repeated fire from the repeater died down, the tell tale sound of it humming while it charged before spurting out a powerful pair of rounds to crash into the intersection position down the street. An explosion erupted, and then the second and third rounds were fired in quick succession. <<To the roof, the roof!>> He points as he ran out into the street.

The weapon was made to mow down both infantry and with its charged firing setting, destroy lightly armoured vehicles. They were no mechanized infantry, despite having both the training and the experience for it, so the repeater and other forms of ordnance were all they had in order to destroy entrenched positions. Aside from their grenades naturally.

Diving into cover next to the big gun, the linked channel swapped again. <<Blow it Konrad, BLOW IT!>>

In those following moments, it'd be up to Konrad's witch. But until those charges were blown, Aemilio lined up his next shots to fire on the Tarar Warbands that had pinned him and his trio down earlier. The repeater gun behind them punching holes through the walls and lip of the roof, taking arms and legs, and punching holes through the bodies of those Maw forces unfortunate enough to be struck.

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

ALLIES: Konrad Harrsk | Aemilio Valaar | Michael Barran | Keilara Kala'myr
ENEMIES: BOTM | NEW SITH ORDER | The Mongrel | Tegan Starfall
ENGAGING: The Mongrel 's Marauders | Tegan Starfall (SOONᵀᴹ)
GEAR: I'm a Witch - What more do you need?

O~~>SEASON OF THE WITCH<~~O​

No chit, Peabrain.

Auria pulled a face at Konrad's words, but kept her mouth shut as she ducked low before rushing through the chaos of the frontlines after him, diving for cover every once in a while to avoid being made a strainer from by the madness of blaster fire. The amount of undead shuffling about brought back disturbing memories of a similar phenomenon on Lorta not too long ago.

Somewhere, Puppet-masters were hard at work keeping it all running.

Finally reaching what seemed to be their destination, Auria took a second just to get her breath back. Note to self: Jog around the block a few more times before calling it quits. The respite was brief, however, as she noticed the arrival of some heavy hitting-yet-rag-tag infantry on the rooftop overlooking the rail. She shifted her position to get a better angle on them, but Konrad speaking into his comms drew the rogue witch's attention. She could not hear what was going on in his ears, but following the direction the helmeted head was looking in, Auria caught sight of the woman sweeping through the lines. There was something familiar about her, but Auria couldn't put her finger on it just yet.

Not that she had much time to walk through memory lane anyway.

"Burn these curs to a crisp, witch. When Valaar's men move out, light those charges."

"Got it." came her surprisingly non-sassy reply, moving over when he took off so that she had an even better angle on the fools currently pinning down the Black Hands.

"Don't disappoint me."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" she called back before diverting her attention to the task at hand. "You! Tell Valaar building's going down, they need to move." she then barked at the Trooper called Malnau. The New Imperial hesitated only a second, watching her through his visor, before hailing Aemilio Valaar . After making sure that the Black Hands were clear, Auria then unleashed hell on the "curs".

The large fireball soared through the air like a missile as she launched it at the few Marauders that have not yet been mowed down by the repeater. It bowled over a few of them on the fire escape before exploding into the building, buying time for the pinned unit.

And then Auria touched the Earth.

It responded with a roar underneath the building the Marauders found themselves in before the ground directly below the foundations gave way into a sink hole, crumbling the building along with it to the depths of Carlac.
"Get the guys to cover! All of them! You too!" Auria told Malnau before moving forward on her own.

When the men were clear, all haran rained down on the monorail terminus.

Auria unleashed the twin torrents of flame she'd been wanting to do since setting foot on the planet. The cleansing blaze spread throughout the area, lighting up the charges in unison.

What she did not contend with, was the force of the unison blast and the debris that went shooting in all directions. Auria got thrown several feet back while large pieces of durasteel lanced down from the sky. The situation was dire. Dazed, bloodied and winded, Auria scrambled to reach cover before getting impaled.

Collapsing against a wall while the steam, dust and snow filtered down, Auria tried to get her breath and bearings. Ears ringing shrilly, she tried to scan the area while a sharp pain shrieked from her side where a lance of rail had nearly run her through.

And then she caught sight of Konrad engaging the other witch.

Groaning, she struggled to her feet. No way was a magical agent of chaos going to get away with wreaking havoc on Auria's watch, even where the Buckethead was concerned. Not while she still drew breath. Clutching her side to try and stem the bleeding, the rogue witch moved back onto the battlefield, adrenaline pushing her to stay low as she made her way to Tegan Starfall 's location.

 

[Don Belkora]

DON BELKORA
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Tags: Rika Hiro

​

He was way out of his league; all this crap from the get-go was way out of their league. Freaks and creatures in the fog had lay siege to his shuttle for what seemed an eternity, a small wonder they hadn't already broken in and did whatever the hell likely happened to Yubari and the rest. He'd already killed a whole load of them, yet they came in ever-increasing amounts.

But, what those creatures didn't have Belkoras ingenuity and stubborn criminal born will to survive, fashioning a makeshift flamethrower using one of the ships oil tanks and using masking tape to bind it to his blaster rifle. The blind lord's abominations shrivelled away in terror and loathing at the blinding fury of the flames, setting many on fire and sending their writhing forms back into the fog. Belkora used the chaos to shift away in the direction of where Yubari was. Armed only with his makeshift flamer, pistol and a machete for company as he battled the creatures of the night in the fog.



One thing for certain, no bloody mist dwellers was gonna be the death of Don bloody Belkora. Not now, not then, not ever. This Tetan planned to die of old age surrounded by twi'leks and heaps of credits.

​