Faction The Blood Price | TSC Faction Thread of Metellos

[Varin Mortifer]

Metellos​

The city drifted lazily into the sky, overlooking its denizens below, wallowing in the slums and their own filth. Crime ran rampant while their overlords ruled above.

Rak Tuban Grimmin stood at the railings of the outskirts of his home, looking down in disgust at his people as he then looked at the datapad that sat within his palm. Gilded and gaudy, it was a sign of his fortune, fortune that had yet to be shared with his new rulers.

There was always a bigger fish.

The Sith Covenant had violently and completely taken over Coruscant along with its neighboring planets. Soon the core trembled to their knees to their new Empress and her Triumvirate. Demands were simple: offer tribute to The Sith Covenant and protection would be yours; withhold what is to be given and you will be replaced. The message was clear to Rak, but his pride prevented him from spending his funds on petty tribute and even pettier ultimatums. Instead, he invested in security and weapons for his capitol. His own floating city was now a floating fortress in preparation for who would dare challenge him.

He had already been visited by a member of The Sith Covenant just days prior. Lysander was clear on the matter that Rak was to offer tribute to his new rulers; he would have only a week to do so.

Such a being of Rak’s capability could have easily done so within the timeframe. Taxing and garnishing of wages happened to be truly effective. Yet, the tribute never came.

One week had passed by; Rak stood at his place ready to negotiate terms. Ready to declare a battle for what he believed was his. But when Sith Covenant ships tore through the skies, and the speeder landed that belonged to the Covenant, he was not greeted by the blonde hair with a voice of reason.

No, before him was a mountain of a man who stepped out of the speeder clad in dark armor that bent the wind with heat.

Varin had come, and he was not here to negotiate. He was here to claim.

His eyes pierced towards the Neimoidian, silencing any voice he would have given, any words of greeting. It was then that Rak knew voices of reason would not be heard. War had come, and he gave the word for battle to begin.

Objectives

In the chaos that ensued with the Sith Covenant’s arrival, the Governor of Metellos, Rak Grimmin, had temporarily escaped to the safety of his main office. Protecting the governor by means of men, machines, and traps. Turrets lie in wait for unsuspecting intruders while battle-hardened soldiers with advanced weaponry, mainly rifles, await an ambush. The goal is simple: locate and kill the Neimoidian.

Chaos has run rampant upon the capitol, security and military personnel move to intercept incoming Sith and soldiers, and artillery and heavy weapons fire at the ships, suppressing air support. A squad is to be sent down to sneak about and find a way to disable their defenses.

While the squad is in the guts of the city moving to disable weapons, another crew is sent to distract and overwhelm enemy forces with any means necessary. All-out battle runs within the streets of the Capitol city, buildings crumble from enemy fire and explosions. Let them see what it means to declare war against The Sith Covenant.

BYOO​

Whether it be in the poor streets below the splendid floating cities or aboard the cities themselves, Metellos has much to offer in opportunities. Seek your own path and rewards that lay within the planet.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

Blaster fire erupted from behind the Governor as Varin watched him cower towards the heavy bulky doors that shut him inside. Enemy troops already moving forward towards the Sith as his light shield erupted from his bracer. He held it in front of him, taking the brunt of the blaster fire holding his ground.

Raining from above was the heavy suppressive fire of artillery from Varin’s dreadnaught that hung from low orbit. Explosions rung out in dull thuds as impacts rung out from the ground below the city. The firing of heavy artillery was not concentrated on a specific spot, but more sporadic, offering unpredictability among the enemy forces.

As Varin held his ground his stride towards the enemy troops started slow. His gaze looked back towards his speeder. The presence from within rather familiar.

“The negotiations were short. Best to come out now and have some fun, all of you.”

He spoke through his comms and into the ship to the four individuals that had come to accompany the Sith Knight. Two he knew, the others that had yet to prove themselves to him. To his knowledge, untested. Perhaps they would surprise him.

Varin drew his Black Blade and swung it with vicious momentum, the blade met nothing, but the momentum of the swing sharpened the winds around the blade, sending forth an invisible blast towards a few standing guards, bisecting them instantly, their screams cut short.

Battle had started immediately before them, something Varin had expected.

For now he would hold the blaster fire until his company had acted.

Lysander von Ascania | Kaelyr | Sorc Nenn | Ayrith Drayen​

 

[Sumire Raiza]

COVENANT FIELD RECORD // SR-30

SUMIRE RAIZA

EXECUTIONER

LOCATION // Metellos

OBJECTIVE // NO DEFENSE

TAGS // OPEN

Bloodlust had never been one of her particular proclivities, though she had never been especially inclined to shy away from it either. Evidence of that lay unmoving, sprawled across the passage into the cockpit of the medium-sized cargo vessel.

What had passed for its crew had been sparse. A skeleton complement between contracts, most likely, waiting out a short layover on Metellos before taking on another shipment and whatever additional hands the work required. None of that mattered particularly to Sumire except for what their circumstances had provided her. Transportation.

Sumire settled into the pilot's chair and worked through the unfamiliar controls, finding what she needed quickly enough. Metellos dominated the forward viewport, the first signs of battle already crowding the planet's approach. There were boots on the ground already. Some would probably call her arrival late. Sumire preferred to think of it as deliberate. Time had a way of becoming useful when one stopped treating it like an enemy.

The vessel shuddered beneath her as the engines struggled to comply with her demands. Ahead, the floating capital had become considerably less inviting. Defensive fire reached upward from the city in intermittent flashes, heavy batteries answering the Covenant ships hanging above while smaller craft competed for whatever gaps remained between them.

Fortunately, Sumire had very little interest in joining that contest. Her attention shifted instead to the navigation display.

Cargo vessels required somewhere to go. Somewhere to unload, somewhere to refuel, somewhere for maintenance crews to disappear beneath the visible parts of the city. Defensive networks were no different. Guns needed power. Targeting systems needed data. Ammunition had to reach the batteries, orders had to reach the crews, and all of it depended on relays, substations, service corridors and control points buried somewhere beneath the armor and duracrete. Arteries, in other words.

And arteries could be cut.

Sumire marked a freight servicing platform beneath the city as her point of entry, close enough to the defensive infrastructure to avoid wasting time crossing half of Metellos once she was on foot. From there, the work would be simple in principle, if not necessarily in execution: get inside, identify whatever was feeding the guns overhead, and make sure it stopped. Whether that meant severing power, crippling a targeting relay, sabotaging an ammunition feed or putting a blade through whatever command structure coordinated the batteries remained to be seen.

That was a problem for once she was on the ground. For now, she opened a Covenant channel and transmitted the landing coordinates.

"Raiza. Heavy Artillery Batteries. Rally at the attached coordinates if you're coming."

The transmission ended.

Anyone inclined to join her would be aboard the cargo ship or know where to find her. The rest could find their own way into battle

 

[Shade]

Objective: BYOO | The Shade of a Ghost
Investigating: Allan Alhune

Metellos had survived the transition from possibility to pattern, and that distinction had taken time. Shade and Varin had sifted through everything recovered from Allan Alhune's network, looking for the kind of repetition most people eventually stopped noticing. Individual shipments meant little. So did isolated payments, changed routes, unfamiliar companies, and names appearing once before disappearing beneath another layer of intermediaries. Taken together, however, they had begun describing something larger. Metellos kept returning. Resources moved through it too consistently to dismiss, connections converged there too often to remain incidental, and eventually Shade was left with a conclusion she trusted enough to act on. Allan had something here, and she was finding out what had brought her to Metellos.

She had arrived ahead of the worst of the fighting, though she had never expected to remain quiet for long. Varin had his own reason for coming to the planet, and subtlety had never been the only tool available to either of them. Shade had chosen hers. While the Covenant concerned itself with the governor and the defenses protecting his floating capital, she had followed Allan's trail into the city without announcing that the two investigations had anything to do with one another. Then the shooting started, and the first distant impacts reached her as vibrations through the structure beneath her feet.

Alarms followed soon after, and whatever order had existed within the floating city began breaking apart as security personnel were redirected toward the Covenant assault. Shade paused beside a window long enough to look toward the distant flashes marking the beginning of the battle, already possessing a fairly good idea of who was responsible for at least some of them. "I did tell you not to get hurt." The observation was meant for a man nowhere near enough to hear it, and Shade suspected Varin would consider that a technicality rather than a reason to behave himself. She allowed herself the faintest smile before turning away from the window and continuing on.

The chaos outside wasn't her objective, but it was useful. Security was looking outward while people who ordinarily had every reason to behave normally suddenly had reasons to move quickly, protect things, erase things, or abandon places they didn't want associated with them. Shade didn't know precisely what Allan had established on Metellos yet, and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise simply because the evidence had brought her this far. Nor was she interested in announcing her presence by attacking the first suspicious person or terminal she encountered. For the moment, watching what happened when Allan's quiet little corner of Metellos discovered the rest of the city was at war could tell her considerably more.

Until now, Allan had enjoyed the advantage of forcing everyone else to respond to him. He had taken Varin and built his network behind other names, other businesses, and other people, leaving Shade and Varin to reconstruct its shape from whatever fragments they could recover. Metellos was the first opportunity they had found to change that. They knew something important existed here. The people responsible for protecting it didn't yet know Shade was looking for it, and the battle outside had given them plenty of reasons to reveal what they considered worth protecting.

Shade disappeared into the city's movement as another distant explosion rolled through the floating capital. Somewhere ahead was the reason Allan's trail kept returning here, and she intended to find it, learn everything she could from it, and then decide exactly how much of it Allan would be allowed to keep. For once, he could be the one left wondering what they'd do next.

 

[Arris Windrun]

BYOO
Lily Rhodes | Varin Mortifer (mentioned)​

Aboard the Catch Perfect in hyperspace - en route to Metellos.

"We'll be dropping in a minute." Arris looked over to Lily, who sat in the co-pilot's chair.

They hadn't spoken since Lily reached out on Abregado-rae to let Arris know that she was headed back to Coruscant. Of course, when Arris finally arrived, the Sith Covenant was immediately on the move. Varin Mortifer, hot on the heels of rising to the rank of Sith General, had led a fleet to sack Metellos and punish the Governor for his failings.

Silence consumed the cockpit again. Arris did a handful of unnecessary checks, then looked at Lily again.

She knew something was off immediately. Was it what happened in her apartment weeks ago? Did something happen on Abregado-rae? Was she just moody?

Arris debated whether to say anything or not.

'Ah, fuck it.'

Of course she'd open her mouth.

"What's wrong?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Naniti Kaelyr Sorc Nenn Ayrith Drayen​

A week passed without Lysander finding another word worth spending on Rak Grimmin. The Governor received his terms in plain Galactic Basic. An exit once stood open, its cost marked, its consequences left undraped. Even so, Lysander gave the performance his best effort, as he always did. Diplomacy, combat, or some less dignified form of persuasion all deserved a proper attempt; the method mattered less than the discipline behind it. From his perspective, at least.

Once, failure might have troubled him. A collapsed negotiation could leave a person feeling personally diminished. The instinct grew colder after his return to the Core. That wasn't to say the disappointment disappeared. An Emissary could open a door. He could describe what waited beyond it, explain the advantages of one road over another, and make mercy sound like the practical decision it so often was. What he could not do was compel another person to recognize mercy. Once the door closed, remaining there only to argue looked weak.

Varin took the lead through the passage, leaving behind them the sort of trail the Covenant had developed a reputation for making. Bodies accumulated quickly. Lysander found himself comfortable enough to follow. The arrangement appeared to suit them both. The same could not always be said of Sith. Rank always had a way of making sensible people territorial, and power often made terrible company when everyone in the room wanted to prove they possessed some greater share.

Maybe this was homecoming of another kind. Naniti nearby, and death keeping pace.

Depending on whose hierarchy mattered, and what virtues it happened to reward, his battle brother might one day climb higher than he did. Another thought that inspired no discomfort. Which was why, even here, he had no trouble offering his counsel.

"If you'll indulge me, brother, I'd take the Governor alive."

Naturally, more lay behind the request, but all of it depended upon one basic prerequisite.. Rak Grimmin needed to remain breathing long enough.

There were no qualms, however, about pacifying each and every loyalist of his.

 

[Naniti]

The violet Togruta stepped out of the speeder wearing a lower-face mask. Bright, blue eyes peered out at the scene around them and beyond Varin as he stood there with his shield. Her eyes slid from the bodies ahead to those that accompanied them. To Lysander in particular.

Varin was important to Lysander, she knew that, but Varin and her hadn't gotten nearly so close. While Lysander saw him as a friend, the Togruta weighed his actions carefully. Much like she weighed any other Sith's actions. They weren't to be trusted. Ambition had a way of winning out in time. Perhaps Varin wasn't just any other Sith though; Lysander certainly trusted him.

Though in this particular instance it seemed the man wanted those accompanying him to prove something. To him? To their selves?

With a glance over at the three she did not know -- and whose motivations were far more suspect as a result -- Naniti turned her gaze forward once more. Meanwhile, Lysander sought to ask or convince Varin they take the Governor alive. Even after he'd disappointed Lysander and doomed himself to this assault, there was more to do with the foolish creature?

For now, she would watch what the others did to better align her own actions. Otherwise, she'd be out there carving a wide path through the bodies with two sabers. If this was some sort of proving ground then she should leave some targets for these others to prove themselves. Unless they did nothing, of course.

"Thirty seconds." That was the lead time they got. The Togruta bounced from one foot to the other as she drew the sabers into her hands.

Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania | Kaelyr | Sorc Nenn | Ayrith Drayen​

 

[Kaelyr]

✺TAGS: Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Sorc Nenn Ayrith Drayen Naniti
✺ Attire: Battle Armor
✺Weapon: Sith Lightsaber

✺ There was always room for diplomacy, even for us sith. But even the Dark Side had a limit to its patience. This Rim... did he really think he could go so long without giving us what we wanted, and we wouldn't take offense? Was it cause of his pride? His hubris? Arrogance? Nonetheless, if he couldnt get with the program, he would be removed and replaced with someone who could.

Hearing Varin call us from the speeder, I exited alongside the others, coming to stand a foot or two behind Varin on his left side. Hearing the other encourage Varin to take the governor alive.....I couldn't help but scoff through my helm. "If he betrayed us once, he'll do so again. I say let his ashes be a cautionary tale to those willing to defy us." I voiced, my miniature sunlit eyes peering at Varin through my helm. "However, I will defer to your best judgment, Varin. I came to help you in this endeavor after all."

With that, another symphony of blaster fire erupted around us, causing me to step forward and raise a barrier of force energy around us. With that same hand, I brought it down to an even level and fired off thin beams of cosmic heat at them. Yggdrakses, however, stirred, his presence wrapping around me like a serpent. "✺A part of me resides within these halls, further in. Claim it, and bring us one step closer to our goal.✺" I mentally acknowledged the Dark God and continued to lay down suppressive fire, shielding us from their futile attacks. ✺

---

"Common Speech"
"Ancient Sith"
"Mandalorian Speech"
"✺Yggdrakses Speech✺"
"Internal-Thoughts"

 

[Isley Verd]

GOD OF DREAD​

Wearing: x | x
Objective: Remove the Head

So...This was the next generation.

It was a lifetime ago that the Sith had set his gaze upon affairs. For a small, quiet eternity, Darth Metus had withdrawn from the Galaxy at large. He had made his mark on history. His fingerprints were left upon the very fabric of creation. Now, he had naught to do but rest. In his wake stood a monolith, his daughter born of darkness. Once, he called her apprentice. By the time their conquest of the Outer Rim was complete? He called her family.

Between them ran a river of understanding that was thicker than blood. Truer than birth. Although he was physically on the edge of the cosmos, Darth Metus could see and feel his daughter. Her triumphs. Her might. Her patience. And, in recent history, her wounds.

For her children...for the garden which bore the name Sith...she would gladly bleed.

And for her? He would gladly burn.

Such was what tore Darth Metus from the jaws of stagnation and returned him to the proverbial table. The Empress always held a winning hand, he would simply take his place as her Wild Card. A Winnower who would snuff out the weeds that dare challenge her garden, so that she may tend her to her roses in peace. From this vow arose a question that only observation could answer. A question of raw curiosity that wormed its way into the Sith's mind and ferried him all the way to Metellos.

How sharp were her roses' thorns?​

The tale unfolding upon one of the Covenant's worlds was all-too familiar. The conquered refused to acknowledge their position. In light of this, there would always be consequences. Could they have been avoided? Most certainly. Yet ego and avarice would always drive lesser men to stand when they should kneel. Combat had begun. The sound of blaster fire and explosions rocked the ground beneath his feet. For his part, his Will had placed him within the speeder.

To the naked eye, he was simply an initiate. An unproven whelp standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Titans of the next generation. With lightsaber in hand, he "fell in" adjacent to Kaelyr , sharing an...uninvited...word of acknowledgment from behind his mask. There were differences in opinion on how to proceed, this one seemed to understand that...

"Peace is a Lie."​

Varin Mortifer , Lysander von Ascania , Sorc Nenn , Ayrith Drayen , Naniti , Kaelyr + Open

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

BYOO
Underbelly
Gear: Mask | Weal & Woe | Zhaboka | Chest Plate
Tag: Ives​

Metellos needed to be brought to heel. It was a simple, familiar story to Naamino Zuukamano — though one that stung for his displacement from the responsibility of higher command. Were he with the Order as he completed this campaign, the man would be lush with resources and wielding a vast portion of an army. As things were, the zabrak still commanded a platoon but he was deployed to do ground level work rounding up new recruits for the Sith Covenant military and sussing out possible Force users to be brought into the fold.

It was work that needed doing and he didn't rankle at it, but couldn't help his eyes drifting upward from time to time where others fought in the cities above. Naami tried not to let that distract him, the work he did in the underbelly would directly aid his compatriots elsewhere. He had to remember his purpose.

Clad in relatively simple gear, the man was masked, wore a breastplate beneath a flowing poncho, while fit with basic combat pants and boots. His weaponry was the only clear marker he bore of being Sith, two saber hilts on his hips and a traditional zhaboka of very fine make held in his hand.

He and his platoon had cleared a fair few blocks, separating civilians into able bodied military hopefuls, dissidents who were summarily put down, and laypeople told to shelter in place while Sith occupation advanced. His efforts, a long with other platoons working toward the same goal, were followed by armored shuttles manned by my Covenant troops ready to welcome new recruits, with an iron fist where necessary.

Another sector cleared, more civilians rounded up and separated into groups, a few more fallen to his blade. Suddenly a familiar sensation rippled up the center ridge of his horns and he turned, wolfish visage peering in the direction his senses warned of a low thrum of power.

"Huh…"

Force sensitive, somewhere in the chaotic din of fearful wounded and marching enforcers. Naamino was suddenly a hound on a scent.

 

[Leontis Antalis]

LEONTIS ANTALIS
Outfit/Armor

The floating city burned beautifully. Leontis Antalis decided that was an unpleasant thought approximately three seconds after having it. He stood behind the partial shelter of an armored personnel carrier, watching brilliant streaks of weapons fire cross between the towers ahead. Smoke curled upward only to be caught by the winds surrounding the floating metropolis, smearing the evidence of battle across an otherwise pristine skyline. Somewhere beyond those towers, Sith were hunting Governor Grimmin. Elsewhere, another Covenant force was working its way toward the weapons that had made approaching the city such a dangerous proposition.

House Antalis had been given a simpler task. Be noticed. A company-sized force had accompanied Leontis to Metellos. Most were House Antalis regulars, soldiers equipped for the sort of conventional fighting that noble houses preferred to call security operations until the shooting started. Mixed among them were members of the House Guard, distinguished by better equipment and the practiced discipline expected of those entrusted with protecting the Antalis family itself. Six of those guards remained close to Leontis. The rest were spreading through the avenue ahead.

Portable barriers had been dragged across one intersection. Heavy repeating blasters were being established in the windows overlooking another. Two squads were already advancing through the lower levels of the buildings on their right, clearing rooms and securing elevated positions while another element pushed farther down the street. It was not subtle. That was precisely the point.

A holographic map hovered above the gauntlet covering Leontis's hand. Enemy positions blinked across it as reports arrived from his officers. The governor's forces were beginning to react. Units that might otherwise have reinforced the governmental complex were turning toward the Antalis advance. Not enough. "Push Second Platoon another block."

The lieutenant beside him glanced toward the avenue. "My lord, that puts them inside the range of the emplacement at—"

"I know." Leontis enlarged the map. A defensive position dominated the next major intersection. Infantry had occupied the surrounding buildings while a heavier weapon covered the avenue itself. Advancing directly toward it was precisely what any sensible commander would avoid. Leontis smiled faintly. "They have to believe we're trying to break through."

Understanding replaced the lieutenant's concern. "If they believe that, they'll reinforce it."

"Exactly." Leontis closed his fist and the projection disappeared. "Let them."

The order went out. House Antalis advanced. The response was almost immediate. Blaster fire erupted from the intersection ahead. Red bolts hammered against the portable shields carried by the first rank while Antalis soldiers returned fire from doorways, windows and the wreckage scattered across the avenue. A repeating cannon opened from somewhere above, sending the advancing soldiers scrambling toward cover.

Leontis flinched when a bolt struck the vehicle beside him. Once, that might have been enough. Abregado-rae had changed the arithmetic. He knew what blaster fire sounded like now. Knew the strange little gap between seeing a weapon discharge and realizing it had been aimed at you. He knew what wounded soldiers sounded like over a command channel. He knew how quickly a carefully considered plan became a collection of desperate decisions once people started dying. And, perhaps most dangerously, he knew that he could function anyway.

"My lord." The senior House Guard standing beside him had noticed Leontis checking his weapon. "The command position is secure here."

"I'm aware."

"There is no need for you to advance with them."

Leontis looked down the avenue. His soldiers were moving from cover to cover. One squad had reached the next building. Another was pinned behind a disabled transport. The heavier emplacement continued hammering the avenue while more of Grimmin's troops appeared on the tactical network. They were coming. Good. There had been no need for Leontis to stand where he had stood on Abregado-rae either. He stepped away from the vehicle.

"We're supposed to convince them that this is the Covenant's main advance." Leontis drew his weapon. "It would be terribly embarrassing if they didn't believe us."

The House Guard exchanged looks. None argued. That was one of the advantages of being Lord Antalis. It was also increasingly becoming one of the dangers.

Leontis started forward. His six guards moved immediately, forming around him as they left the relative protection of the command position. A pair surged ahead while the others covered the flanks and rear. The nobleman's pace quickened as they crossed the first stretch of exposed street. Blaster fire cracked overhead. Leontis ducked instinctively. Not gracefully. But quickly enough.

They reached the next piece of cover and Leontis pressed himself against ferrocrete, breathing considerably harder than he would have preferred anyone notice. One of the guards looked toward him. Leontis straightened. "Don't."

The guard's helmet tilted slightly. "I didn't say anything, my lord."

"You were considering it." A burst of fire struck the other side of their cover. The humor vanished. Leontis activated his comm. "Antalis Actual to all elements. Maintain pressure. Do not pursue anyone withdrawing toward the government district. We aren't here for the governor."

His eyes lifted toward the enemy-held intersection. More hostile signatures were appearing. A transport had just arrived behind their position. Then another. Grimmin was committing reserves. Exactly what the Covenant needed. Leontis raised his weapon and glanced toward the soldiers preparing to move beside him. Fear was still there. It would have concerned him considerably more if it wasn't. But beneath it was something newer. Confidence. Perhaps too much of it.

"We came here to get their attention." The young lord leaned around the shattered ferrocrete and fired toward the defenders. "Let's be obnoxious."

​

​

 

[Sorc Nenn]

Objectives: Remove the HeadSorc Nenn arrived fashionably late, already smelling of blood and burnt flesh by the time his speeder had arrived. He may have taken a detour or two. Although to his slight disappointment, the fighting was already in the thick of it as the pale Umbaran lazily deflected blaster bolts as he almost casually strolled towards the governor's palace, appearing as if he were disinterested. Blasters were terribly disappointing weapons to fight against, and he often had to retreat to his Niman, a style he found rather pedestrian and boring, though utilitarian and begrudgingly useful. It was mildly aggravating to him that this felt as though it was some sort of trial, a proving ground to demonstrate his abilities. But what challenge was there in slaughtering palace guards and automatized turrets? Crude matter being thrown at him was a tedious task, especially when he couldn’t take the time to enjoy himself.


He occasionally found his mind wandering, his eyes lining the architecture of this place, the Neimodian taste was always incredibly tacky and self-indulgent, qualities he could appreciate. Though he did not share the contempt many had for Neimodians, they were not a warrior people perhaps, but they would starve their own children to weed out the weak, a very Sith like quality. His mind then shifted sharply, as a guard had gotten just a little too close with a vibrospear, nearly thrusting towards him. The shaft of the spear was cut off, and then his head removed from his shoulder in a few fluid motions.

“If I may interject.” The Umbaran remarked through the carnage of battle, with a tone starkly dejected from the current situation. “This particular Neimodian, to stand against the Sith so brazenly, must be a particular kind of moron, completely insane or perhaps he is far more competent than we initially suspected, and we're all walking into a deathly trap. Regardless, I think he would prove entertaining to at least interrogate.”

Tags: Isley Verd Kaelyr Naniti Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer

 

[Brool Koon]

​

A blue lightsaber blade shone among the smoke pouring out of the nearby shopping plaza. Or what remained of it, at least. The Sith Covenant had come to the planet, and they had left nothing but rubble in their wake. Brool Koon was among those who descended upon Metellos, and it was his lightsaber that cut through the darkness of the smoke and fire. This time, he had been 'gifted' a collar by Anet Raine , one that ensured Brool's obedience...or his destruction.

It was an ingenious trap that kept the Kel Dor in line. It would punish him when his thoughts strayed from where the Sith liked them, which in and of itself was painful, but the Sith had gone one step further. She had added a mechanism that, if he had too many slip-ups, would detonate. Of course, she never gave him the exact number, and he wasn't sure if it ever reset. He had been shocked a few times already, mostly when he hesitated to strike.

"Five."

He muttered reluctantly under his breath, his re-breather working overtime to filter out the smoke choking the air around him. The number meant more to him than it ever had before. Anet, along with the ability to punish him for his thoughts, had equipped the collar with another means to kill him. If he didn't kill twenty people directly before Anet decided time was up, he would die. Again, Brool had no idea what any of the parameters of the challenge were. Just that his life was constantly in danger.

To his left, a father cried out as he ran toward the Kel Dor, makeshift weapon in hand. His wife and children cowered behind him, making themselves small to hide from the prisoner.

A hand reached out, and four fingers tightened into a fist as the man stopped in his tracks. The Force wrapped around the father, dragging him toward Brool with frightening speed. Bloody gurgles and children's screams were the only things he could hear as the father dropped to the ground and Brool's lightsaber disengaged. There was a moment where the adrenaline broke, where the fear subsided for just a moment, and the Padawan was able to muster the confidence for one word.

"Run."

His voice was hoarse. He was tired.

A painful shock ran up his spine. He wasn't sure how many charges he had left, but he did know one thing.

"Six."

OPEN​

​

 

[Sumire Raiza]

COVENANT FIELD RECORD // SR-30

SUMIRE RAIZA

EXECUTIONER

LOCATION // Metellos

OBJECTIVE // NO DEFENSE

TAGS // OPEN

The cargo vessel's transponder proved more useful than its crew had.

Metellos' automated traffic control recognized the freighter's registration and assigned it an approach vector without questioning who now occupied the pilot's chair. The battle had reduced the city's traffic network to its simplest priorities: keep military corridors clear, divert civilian craft and prevent anything large from colliding with the capital's underside. Sumire allowed the automated guidance to carry her beneath the worst of the defensive fire before taking control again.

The floating city looked considerably less impressive from below. Duracrete gave way to exposed support structures, freight elevators and machinery dense enough to obscure entire sections of the superstructure. Artillery thundered somewhere above, each discharge sending a dull vibration through the metal surrounding the platform. The guns had been positioned to command the skies and the approaches along the city's perimeter.

The freighter's starboard repulsor coughed during the final descent. Sumire compensated, but the vessel still struck the servicing platform hard enough to throw unsecured equipment across the cockpit. Magnetic clamps locked around the landing gear a moment later, preventing the ship from rebounding into the structure overhead. Several warnings appeared across the console. None of them seemed to suggest the vessel would explode imminently, which was all she required of it.

Automated traffic control had accepted the freighter's transponder. The platform's security detail was less trusting. Sumire felt four minds through the hull, arrayed beyond the main loading ramp with their weapons trained upon it. They didn't know who occupied the cockpit, but they knew where a conventional crew would disembark. Beyond it, four presences gathered in a tightening half-circle. Sumire felt their impatience through the Force as one moved toward the external controls and the others spread out to cover the ramp. Every weapon and every pair of eyes remained fixed upon the same entrance. The maintenance hatch at her feet received none of their attention.

Artillery spoke somewhere above, sending a shudder through the freighter. Sumire lifted the hatch while the thunder still moved through the hull and descended into the hot darkness beneath the ship. Pipes trembled beside her, and narrow strips of light cut through the machinery overhead. The guards' boots crossed those strips as they shifted around the loading ramp, close enough for her to hear but unable to see beneath the vessel. Sumire followed the pipes away from them, keeping within the freighter's shadow until she reached a service door set into the rear wall.

Behind her, the loading ramp groaned open and voices spilled into an empty hold. They were already fading when the service door closed at Sumire's back. It had opened onto a narrow junction washed in amber emergency light. An engineering terminal stood against the opposite wall, its display crowded with warnings from the battle above. Sumire called up the defensive grid and watched the city arrange itself into guns, power lines and ammunition routes.

Cutting the power would accomplish less than she had hoped. Each artillery battery drew from a different part of the grid, and several possessed reserves sufficient to keep firing after the surrounding section went dark. The ammunition feeds offered a more permanent solution, but they ran through too much of the city. Destroying one might silence the guns above it. It might also tear several occupied levels out of the capital.

The weapons batteries did share one necessity. Targeting information.

Three hardened relay stations divided the city's defenses between them, each coordinating one section of the artillery line. The batteries could still aim locally if their relay failed, but they would lose the shared sensor data that allowed them to track the same targets and concentrate their fire. The nearest relay served four emplacements along the southern edge of the capital. One of the relays glowed on the terminal two levels above her.

The route leading to it was less inviting. A straight corridor connected the relay to the freight level, with an automated turret at the far end and a barricade positioned halfway between. The defenders had left nearly twenty meters of open floor in front of them. Sumire's lightsaber could turn aside a bolt, perhaps several, but its shortened blade was not made to carry her through a corridor filled with sustained fire.

The schematic offered another route. A narrow maintenance passage curved behind the defended corridor and ended beneath the relay room, with its nearest access point marked only a few paces from the terminal. She closed the schematic. Sumire followed the wall until she found a shallow seam almost lost beneath grime. Faded yellow markings framed the panel, while a cluster of coolant pipes beside it helped conceal the recessed latch.

The catch yielded beneath her thumb. Sumire eased the panel outward, ducked through the opening and pulled it closed behind her. The passage narrowed as it turned behind the corridor, forcing her sideways between the pipes. Heat pressed through her armor with the steady pulse of coolant being driven toward the weapons overhead. Each artillery discharge sent another tremor through the confined space, shaking dust from the seams above her.

Voices reached her near the end of the run. Sumire slowed beneath the final panel and focused, sensing what her eyes couldn't see. Two guards stood near the barricaded entrance, their attention fixed on the corridor beyond it. A third remained beside the relay controls. The turret waited above them, pointed toward the threat they expected to come through the door.

Sumire eased the panel aside and rose behind them.

The turret noticed first. Its motor whined as the weapon began to turn, but the kama had already jumped into her hand. Its plasma edge flared to life and passed through the turret's base, dropping the weapon against the deck with a clatter. A burst of blaster fire tore into the ceiling as it fell, showering the room with sparks and turning all three guards toward her.

The nearer man fired. Sumire caught the fallen turret in an invisible grip and swept its ruined chassis into his line of fire. The bolt vanished into its armor an instant before the wreckage struck the barricade and carried the gunman down with it.

His companion stepped clear and leveled his rifle. Sumire released the kama. It crossed the room in a spinning red arc, its active edge cutting through the weapon's receiver before burying itself in the wall behind him. He stared at the smoking halves for a moment too long. Sumire's second kama came free with its plasma edge still dormant, the reinforced hook catching behind his knee as she closed. She pulled his leg out from beneath him, and his head struck the deck before the remains of his rifle did.

The third guard had been standing beside the relay when the fighting began. By the time Sumire turned toward him, his weapon was already lowering to the deck.

"Step away from the relay."

He obeyed.

The relay's internal display showed two incoming feeds. One carried targeting data from the primary fire-control network; the other connected to a neighboring relay in case the first route failed. Both converged inside the same distribution bank before separating again toward the four southern batteries.

Either connection could deliver targeting data to the relay, but all four southern batteries received it through the same distribution bank. If that failed, the guns would retain local control but lose their connection to the wider targeting network.

The terminal offered controls for taking the relay offline or transferring its batteries to another node, but both required authorization from defense command. The physical maintenance cutoffs beside the housing however, did not. Sumire pulled them, isolating the distribution bank from power. Its hum faded, and the four southern battery indicators shifted from green to amber as their connection to the targeting network dropped. With the machinery no longer energized, a safety interlock released the service cover and exposed the components inside.

Without hesitation, Sumire drove the kama's plasma edge through the center of the assembly. Metal sagged around the blade as she drew it downward, cutting through the primary junction and the emergency connection beneath it. She passed the weapon across the exposed contacts once more, leaving the severed ends fused into glowing slag. Restoring the link would require more than resetting a breaker.

The artillery didn't fall silent, but, it lost part of its rhythm.

One of the four southern batteries completed a shot already waiting in its firing cycle, shaking the relay room around her. The next never came. Guns elsewhere in the city continued their barrage, but the four indicators on the display separated from the wider network and changed to local control. After several seconds, one resumed firing, followed by another at an uneven interval.

The city retained most of its defenses, but four batteries had been forced onto local control. They could still fire; they could no longer share targets or concentrate their fire against the same vessel.

Before returning to the display, Sumire took the surrendered guard's commlink and nodded toward the wreckage pinning his companion.

"Move them."

The turret chassis shifted beneath the Force, lifting just far enough for him to pull the first man free. He dragged both fallen guards into a maintenance room at the rear of the chamber, one conscious enough to groan and the other still limp. Sumire removed their commlinks and weapon power packs before taking a pair of binders from one of their belts. She secured the remaining guard's wrists, closed the maintenance-room door and engaged its manual lock. The indicator changed from amber to red.

One wall display remained lit on emergency power. It no longer showed firing solutions; it showed the network's response to the damaged relay. The four southern batteries blinked amber while new lines formed between the surviving defenses, shifting more of their coordination through the primary fire-control nexus deeper inside the capital. The maintenance system traced the route one junction at a time so repair crews could follow the fault. Sumire followed it until the nexus appeared on the map.

She opened the Covenant channel.

"Raiza. Southern relay disabled. Four batteries reduced to local control. Primary fire-control nexus identified. Updated coordinates attached."

Sumire transmitted the route and closed the connection. Metellos's engineers had built the network to remain functional after losing a relay, and it had done exactly that. Its recovery had also exposed the node now carrying more of the burden. She pulled the embedded kama from the wall, extinguished its plasma edge and followed the amber route deeper into the city.

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Tags: Arris Windrun​

Lily’s head tipped back against the chair. She was draped in misery and still feeling the dull effects of the half bottle of whiskey she’d gotten through before Arris found her. Sobering up as the minutes ticked by, watching the blue swirl of hyperspace beyond the transparisteel.

She could feel the debate in Arris, the announcement that they’d been dropping soon earning no response. It was only when she asked that Lily made any form of acknowledgement that she was even there. Her head turned slowly to look at Arris.

Did she really care? Maybe, in her own twisted way. For a moment she just looked at her before her gaze moved back to hyperspace patterns.

“I broke up with Vess.” she said quietly.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Lily Rhodes​

Arris kept her eyes peeled on the dashboard. Anything to make the awkward moments of silence more bearable.

Hmm. She tapped one of the view screens. 'That's odd.'

She nodded along when Lily answered, saying nothing.

Wait.

"What?" She did a double take. "Why - what happened?"

Arris looked back at the screen and tapped it again. 'Well that's not good.' She looked at Lily. "I haven't heard from her in a minute! I thought... I don't know, that you or she needed time after Abreg--"

She furiously tapped the screen again. "Well, fuck. The IFF is dea--"

The Catch Perfect dropped out of hyperspace, amidst the chaos of Covenant capital ships that blockaded the world. Star Destroyers took their positions, and starfighter swarms patrolled the vacuum.

"Intended Fury to unknown vessel. You've entered a restricted area. Power down and prepare to be impounded."

Of course, the Catch Perfect's transponder was masked, with the IFF not up and running.

Arris looked to Lily. "I'll clear this up." She flicked some switches on the console and opened a channel. "This is--"

There was only static.

Oh.

"And we're being jammed."

She failed to mention that they were only following the protocols she mandated. "Hold onto something," she sighed.

Then, Arris punched the throttle. Catch Perfect accelerated without grace, the SubLight motor accelerating the single ion engine to maximum thrust in a near-instant. Fortunately, the stealth countermeasures meant that auto-targeting would make them impossible to track at the range of capital ships. Less fortunately, the same could not be said for the TIE Hunters that fell in behind them.

While the Catch Perfect was a faster ship, the TIE squadrons were numerous and all around them. A few strafed their fighter as Arris booked it towards Metellos.

"Seriously though," as if this wasn't the problem. "What the hell happened?! Am I seeing her again?"

 

[Ayrith Drayen]

/// DIRECTIVE SET, ASSIST IN TARGET APPREHENSION.
/// TERMINATE OFFENSIVE MEASURES, GUARD ALLIED FORCES.
/// REMEMBER YOUR BANNER, REMEMBER YOUR PURPOSE.

/// LOCATION: METELLOS
/// OBJECTIVE: RIP & TEAR
/// NEARBY: Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania | Kaelyr | Isley Verd | Sorc Nenn | Naniti |
/// EQUIPMENT: IN BIO

Comradery. a term reserved for those that actively and truthfully upheld the interests and ideas of one another; however, it was among such shadow-drunk hearts gathered amongst each other that this term could only loosely be applied. There was no warmth shared among the flesh that coalesced into a unit of dagger-like points, meant only to stab deep into the hearts of those opposed, or those foolish enough to defy a strength greater than themselves.

Ayrith held no opinion on the situation at hand, one way or the other. Her prime directive was simply that of a blade, an instrument meant to dismantle and take apart that which no longer resembled a shape that could fit within the Covenant's capacity for diplomacy. That time did not exist within this time of punishment, a living moment of a now earned reeducation.

Peace at an end.

Wordlessly striking outward, Ayrith made her presence known to her party, her sanguine blade screeching as it came alive. Blaster fire redirected with calculated movement, some bolts being batted back with a greater force than when they were discharged in her direction. "19-SC-V, suppressing contacts."

The red of Ayrith's visor pulsed faintly as she steadied herself, stance solid as she held her lightsaber in a defensive manner. Further incoming blaster fire continued to be knocked back effortlessly, opposition struck again and again as their cries sounded off one after the other, their numbers slowly but surely thinning with each effort made by every individual present.

"Razor engaged, viscon of primary target lost. Press forward, contain objective."

Humanity absent, only results mattered.

Only the directive mattered.

​