Invasion The Day of Revenge | BotM Invasion of GA held Empress Teta and Foerost | TETA PART ONE

[Kenth Berik]

Location: Foerost Orbit
Objective: Engage Alliance Forces
Focus: Open
Allies: Akûz the Ravager Nadja Keto Aldo Garrick Wendell Mortimer Glolmark Khione Marlon Sularen
Foes: Liedran Kathause The Arbiter Tren Chaar Kaul "Joker" Emos Qellene Tyliame Ari Naldax
Fleet:

• FDS Adjudicator | Turbulent-class Pocket Star Destroyer [100|100]
• FDS Novus Ordo | Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyer [100|100]
• FDS Insurgent | Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyer [100|100]
• FDS Outlaw| Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyer [100|100]

​

Rot.

Death.

Corruption.

The stench of dead bodies filled the nose of the man. It oozed out of that thing. He was cold, it was dark and he could barely make out the figure in front of him yet he knew exactly what it was from smell alone. Dakrul . The hulking necromancer lurched forward, its limbs moving in inhuman motions. He was frozen and soon a burning sensation rose from the scar which started at the right of his stomach and ran all the way up to his cheek. It was agony. Kenth stared into the empty sockets where the creatures eyes should've been, he was a mere few centimeters from Kenth's face now. Low chanting came from the beasts mouth and he felt as the undead cha'ta'ri enveloped him. He screamed but no noise came from his mouth.

Kenth lurched up from his bed, eyes almost bloodshot. He looked around and he was in his quarters, which slowly lit up. His heart racing and he was covered in sweat. Another nightmare. He turned and stood up out his bed and walked to the sink, covering his face in cold water. Suddenly the intercom in his room lit up. "Sir, we are nearing Foerost now. We'll be exiting hyperspace in 20 minutes." Kenth sat there before responding in a cold tone. "Very well. Get crew to action stations, notify the other ships we'll be entering combat shortly." he said before switching off the intercom. From his wardrobe he pulled out a freshly pressed and ironed uniform. Putting the uniform on, he struggled slightly, wincing as he extended his arms to get them into the sleeves. It had been long since his encounter with the heathen priest yet the scars had never fully healed. Buttoning up the uniform before fitting the rank slide neatly on the left side of his chest he walked out his own personal quarters and soon found himself on the bridge of the FDS Adjudicator.

The bridge was a flurry of action, officers and enlisted darting back and forth between stations. He walked straight past them, down the catwalk that ran between the two crew pits which housed the gunnery, sensory, stealth and all other equipment used to control the ships fighting capabilities. As he stood there a man walked up behind him, wearing a neat white uniform and a crimson red officer cap. "Communications indicate the battle has already begun. Our tardiness has set us back and could cost the Fina-"

"Quiet." Kenth interrupted him, turning to face the man. The Caridian identified him as Major Peavey, Final Dawn Advisor attached to the FDS Adjudicator. In other words, a loyalty officer. The man was the pinnacle of what the Final Dawn hoped their personnel to be, orthodox with his tactics and utterly devoted to ensuring it controlled the stars. To Kenth a rather annoying man, who paid little attention to Kenths men and often was displeased at the former mercenary's tactics and loyalties. "Rushing off to war is no use if we don't have the adequate resources. Because you prioritized getting the ship armed we had no food save for ration cubes to feed the crew. I wasn't about to deploy us for a campaign without any decent food, crew morale would be rock bottom."

The Major looked unhappy. "The crew should learn to be content with what they have. Ration cubes would've gotten us through the battle." he argued back. Kenth turned back shaking his head slightly. This argument as all others they've had would lead nowhere. As he stood there the helmsmen turned from his station to Kenth and spoke. "Sir. We are about to exit hyperspace." Kenth nodded at the man and looked out the viewport as the blue streaks of hyperspace faded into black and soon the sight of a battle around the planet of Foerost appeared. "Give me a sitrep." he ordered and a young warfare officer instantly spoke, as if he was waiting on the orders. "Sir. The Holy Crusade Fleet is engaging with the Alliance Navy. The Grand Overseer appears to have taken charge of the fleet and is coordinating an attack with Mawite forces."

Kenth looked visibly disgusted as the names of the Holy Crusade Fleets commander appeared ahead of him on hologram. "Savages, raiders and fanatics." The major quickly responded to Kenth's words. "They will help herald a new age for the galaxy, they have their purpose in the cycle of war, death and rebirth. Now Helmsman, take us in, we must join the fight as quickly as possible." Kenth turned to look at the Major with a raised eyebrow, the man commanding his own ship. "Belay that order helmsmen." he said in a calm tone. The now confused and angry Major Peavey barked at Kenth. "What do you think you're doing?! We must enter the fray and help annihilate those Alliance dogs as quickly as possible!"

Kenth turned back and looked out the viewport at the Holy Crusade fleet before responding. "It is a mess of chaos in that fleet as they fight the alliance. Raiders and savages who follow different chains of commands trying to work in unison. We'd only end up risking our ship to collisions, or even worse, friendly fire from a trigger happy Mawite." he said. Kenth believed in a professional military and while no doubt the Mawites were dangerous foes, Kenth would never bring himself to trust them and their dark beliefs. He quickly turned to the communications officer and spoke. "Notify the Grand Overseer we have arrived and are standing by for orders. Let him know we are currently waiting at the outer edge of the battle, out of range from the Alliance Fleet." The young officers nodded quickly got to work sending the transmission straight to the FDS Predator. The transmission read "SHADOW INITIATIVE HOLDING QUADRANT KILO-9. AWAITING ORDERS."

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: Empress Teta, Palace
Equipment: Jedi Robes, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain, Eyepatch
Tag: Darth Carnifex , Caltin Vanagor , Rannan Kol , Iris Arani


"You're not my Master my Lord," Jax responded spitefully. "If anything your hubris blinds you to the simple and obvious truth, we will win on Empress Teta and we will on Tython."

Jax pressed on the attack slashing, stabbing randomizing his attack pattern to keep Carnifex on the defensive. He recognized his defensive stance, Juyo not known for its defense but it has some fundamental defensive principle taken from Shii-Cho. Jax once called Juyo Shii-Cho on Death Sticks when mastered, an opponent would have an unstoppable offensive. The Jedi Master frowned even though he was beating him back. What was he doing? Why was Carnifex so passive?

He didn't have time to dwell those thoughts as an explosion was heard from behind. Jax body shuddered from the blast, but he kept pressing onslaught. "Stay focused," he mumbled to himself he sensed one of the soldiers had blown himself up. Before Jax could do anything, Carnifex raised his arm as blue chains shot underneath his dark sleeves one of them scratching Jax across the shoulder. "Gah!" Jax knelt down and watched in horror as the chains headed straight for Iris while she was running.

"No!" Jax took his blade, rose it over his head, and broke the chains with an overhead slash destroying the chains before it reached Iris.

"IRIS! GET OUT NOW!" Jax yelled raising his hand to Force Push her as far away as he could. She was no match for Carnifex, a Master was needed to take on this abomination and even Jax wasn't so sure about that.

"You get your kicks out of killing Padawans?" Jax growled. "I'm won't let you harm her or anyone else! This ends now Carnifex!"

And with that Jax rushed towards Carnifex attacking with the Falling Leaf technique.

 

[Kralmus Orr]

The Hunting of the Chancellor
​

Location: Teta, Starport
Tags: Aerarii Tithe | Auteme

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus closes in, and notices Auteme

It wouldn't be long before Tithe found out that he didn't need to call anyone to know that he ought to sell, sell, sell.

Pretty soon, every asset left on this planet was going to either belong to the Maw... or cease to exist.

Cutting his jetpack's thrust, Kralmus dropped smoothly to the spaceport roof, landing in a predator's crouch. In the city behind him, thousands upon thousands of howling marauders were already boiling out into the streets, their secret deployment plan allowing them to suddenly materialize in the very midst of the capital. By the time the rest of the Brotherhood arrived to assist them, invading the planet the traditional way - from orbit - they would already have secured (and ravaged) many of the population centers. But Kralmus Orr had a head start even on them, a head start intended to allow him to outpace even the swift and slippery Chancellor.

He aimed to put it to good use. Tithe would't have too long to worry about his local market share; decapitation solved everything.

Creeping across the durasteel roof, his years of practice stalking prey giving him balance so perfect that even his armored footfalls were all but silent, the cannibal Mando closed the distance to his target. Sentient prey was much more challenging - and interesting - than mere beasts. Its behavior was unpredictable. Animals were largely limited to a small set of behaviors, the "four f's": fighting, feeding, fleeing, and... mating. But people like Tithe had more complicated drives - probably wealth, luxury, and power, in his case - and a much wider range of potential responses to any given situation. In the end, though, they had one thing in common.

They all wanted to survive. That was their most basic and most powerful motivation.

Survival instinct would drive Tithe, who was smart enough to know he didn't want to get himself directly involved in a battle with the Maw, to find another escape route. Kralmus, the hungry predator stalking this skittish game, needed to cut him off and bring him down before he managed it. Creeping toward the edge of the roof, the Mandalorian peered down at the landing field below. With the aid of his visor's magnification, he could pick out the Chancellor some distance away, not far from a crowded civilian transport. Well, his reputation had not been exaggerated - the guy worked quick. But he hadn't quite made his escape yet...

... perhaps because he was being delayed by a seemingly heated conversation with a young woman.

A young Jedi woman. Kralmus recognized her from her little "march of hope" on Epoch.

Well, things just kept getting more and more interesting, didn't they? On the one hand, good, because Tithe probably couldn't fight for chit and Kralmus would be terribly bored if he didn't get some kind of challenge. On the other hand, bad, because it would give the notorious escape artist a much better chance of slipping through the Mandalorian's Beskar-armored fingers. "The target has an additional escort," Kralmus sighed into his comlink. "A saber-jockey. Might slow me down a little." The pilots would know what that meant: keep an eye on the skies, just in case the Chancellor did manage to board a ship despite Kralmus's best efforts.

They'd take every shot at Tithe they could get. Demoralization was a powerful weapon, after all, one of the Brotherhood's favorites.

Oh how the little markets would tumble when they heard how the grand marketeer had suffered.

 

[Jaivant Graush]

Location	Iron Citadel / Krath Insertion Point
Enemies	Galactic Alliance
Allies	Brotherhood of the Maw | Alars Keto
Equipment	Lightsaber

The moment the ramp descended and the gates to his mother's home opened he was in motion. This was his home, his planet, his people - try as best as they could there was no reality in which the Alliance could erase the thirty years of forward momentum that his mother brought this system, and there was no better successor to her legacy than the woman that had helped guide her. His lightsaber ignited as he moved through the air, leaping out from the shuttle and straight into one of the unfortunate souls that had been placed in harms way by a farce of a replacement for the true Empress of Teta. He felt the sickening churn of his stomach as he cut a man and woman down, his blade tearing them in two with a single, fluid, sweep, and felt his temper begin to rise at the pointlessness of it all.

They had been in power just a decade ago, his mother had sat on the throne with the infant heir in her arms with a government that had refused to court controversy - his birth being the sole issue, son to a man in the First Order that had helped push the last incarnation of the Galactic Alliance and its New Jedi Order into obscurity before its most recent resurgence. Blood ties to an infamous Sith lord and infamous arms dealer had always kept his mother under tight scrutiny by those who would prefer to see every last relative to the dark order exterminated, their efforts to push her out succeeding only after she had her child - it only took one attempt on the infant's life for her to abdicate her throne and leave the planet in exile.

Glancing around at the wanton destruction, the chaos, he wondered if the planet would have been spared this fate if she would have remained instead; if she would've put her people before her son.

Alars Keto likely had not an inkling of who he was, just that he'd wormed his way into Nadja's ear when circumstances had brought her back into the fold of the Krath. He caught a glimpse of the man moving into the fray with the rest of the crusaders in the assault on the planet's capital, quietly hoping he wouldn't have to bury more of his family - however distantly related - today. The man's attention turned back towards the palace, however, and towards the central goal of the Brotherhood's efforts on Teta:

To place the Krath back on the throne.

 

[Erion Justeene]

Objective 1: The Invasion of Empress Teta
Section: Walker
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM
Enemies: GA
Engaging: Kyell Laysel

There was a Jedi now up here with him and the sound of an activated Lightsaber pulled Superious into a sudden sharp focus, as he too activated his Saber in response. He had found the silently defiant Jedi. The only one to stand his ground thus far. Even more so, as they were now facing each other high on the Walker, Superious did not think highly of Kyell Laysel thus far, he looked down on the Human with contempt most of all. The Ubese hated just about everyone.

The young man before him looked ready for a fight and what was better, he wasn't talking, Jedi are arrogant and love to hear their voices. Not this one, this one got down to business. The Ubese liked that, no snark, no backhanded compliments, just pure combat. He got into a more offensive stance, ready to strike, he will judge whether Kyell Laysel was indeed a challenge or just someone that needed to be done away with so that he can complete his mission without any interruptions.

The Walker stomped off regardless of its two passengers to continue its objective. Good, because having to watch where one stood would hinder things greatly. Neither would get very far as pancakes. Yet he had to grin as a hapless Jedi got stepped on. This is war, after all, he's lost plenty of his fellow sith in wartime accidents. These things happen and they need to be more careful.

But now there is the business of fighting, the stare down can only last for so long before it got tedious. So he made the first move by going on the offensive, aiming for the chest mostly. The heat of the Saber made the air around it shimmer with plasma heat, he has not forgotten he has a Voidsaber that he can use if all else fails.

 

[Joseph Torson]

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D A Y_O F_R E V E N G E
Operation : Golden Spear

FINAL DAWN
EMPRESS TETA, DEEP CORE
OUTFIT

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HAND OF JUDGEMENT - TASK FORCE 001
Elite Raptor SuperCommandos | 24/24

As Joseph Torson and his Squad of Elite Raptor SuperCommandos reached a turbolift and prepared to enter it, the Palace suddenly shook as it’s glass windows were shattered as a result of the explosion although other then that Torson and his squadmates were at a considerable distance from the section of the Palace that had been vaporized by a Proton Bomb. Thus they entered the turbolift and headed straight for the first floor ready to confront the Senator and his escort.

At the same time, the Fleshtaker that had contacted Joseph Torson earlier had already gathered up with the rest of his squad which was composed of 5 other Fleshtakers. Upon meeting up they quickly activated their personal cloaking devices and headed in pursuit of their target, Senator Seto de Couteau as he headed towards the Rear of the Palace, trailing the Senator and his escort even as they were joined by a bunch of Cadets and the Empress herself while keeping a considerable distance from them while remaining in view

Soon enough, Joseph Torson and his Elite Raptors emerged from the turbolift inside a hallway which only a few meters away intersected with the main corridor in which the group could find Seto and his escort were currently in. “Alright Raptors. Weapons free. Remember to kill everyone BUT the Senator. The Grand Overseer wants him alive.” Torson said to his men. They soon began to walk towards the intersection and once Seto and his escort were in proximity of the intersection they made their move.

“NOW!!!” Torson shouted. Quickly the Raptors threw a trio of Repulsor Grenades at the wall adjacent to Seto and his escort with the Grenades bouncing off the walls and landing right in front of the group before detonating. After the detonation, Torson and his Raptors would emerge from the corner immediately proceeding to open fire at the escort targeting the Cadets, the Senate Guards, the Empress and the Jedi Master with the objective of neutralizing them in a Shock-and-Awe attack before taking the Senator with them.

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Tags [GA] | Zark San Tekka | Kier Grey | June Pepperpetal | Seto Du Couteau | Elena Lowe
Tags [BotM] | Thalia Senn
Tags [Other] | Hex | Hilal Vizsla ​

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[Tu'teggacha]

Objective 1C: The Iron Citadel​

Location: Teta, the Iron Citadel
Tags: Henna Ashina

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Tu'teggacha sends his guards to engage Henna

With a vague mention of threats and a loud pop, The Manifold vanished.

Tu'teggacha blinked slowly at the spot where the Omni-Drone had been. Was it allowed to do that? Hadn't they bound the thing's will, forced it to heed their commands? How DARE it abandon him here! The Ebruchi would punish it - and the Heathen Priests who had assured him that it would obey his every whim - most severely when this battle was over. For now, however, he needed to look to his own defense. This was not one of his laboratories on Exegol or Copero, riddled with escape tunnels and fortified boltholes in case of enemy attack. This was enemy territory, an active battle zone.

His survival was entirely in his own knobby, long-fingered hands.

Well, that and the hands of the teeming horde he had helped to unleash. Now that wave after wave of eager but inexperienced marauder aspirants had poured through the hypergate, softening up the enemy defenses with a tide of bodies, tougher veteran units were beginning to enter the Iron Citadel. Tarar Warbands, shock trooper units armed with plasma weapons and lightning cannons, marched alongside the zealous Cirihut Warriors, madmen with vibromaces clad only in loincloths, dangling trophies, and runic tattoos - though the latter provided them with considerable mystic protection.

Tu'teggacha was always glad to have such a wall of blood-hungry flesh between him and danger, but he put his greatest faith in his Palatini, who had delivered him from the jaws of death or capture many times. The tall, masked warriors, their dark robes hiding their feet and making them appear to float as they moved, were exceptional fighters, and would battle to the death to ensure that no harm befell him. Their gleaming vibro-voulge polearms were excellent for surrounding enemies and keeping them at bay, but they also carried lightsabers, weapons that the Dark Voice himself had trained them to use.

It was good that they were there, for suddenly the other warriors parted.

Tu'teggacha found himself staring directly into the amber eyes - and gleaming golden blade - of a Jedi. That was bad news indeed; if this woman was powerful enough to fight her way so deep into the citadel, she must be considerably more skilled and experienced than the mere padawan his Palatini had held off back on Copero. A thrill of fear surged through the Taskmaster's rubbery flesh, but he pushed it away. He was the terror-bringer, and he would not be intimidated by one of these self-righteous do-gooders! She was outnumbered, and though he was no warrior, he had other gifts to wield.

Sith, she called him. The Ebruchi chuckled, a sound akin to a sink's garbage disposal grinding up a wet mass of felinx hair and snot. "Guess again," he replied, facial tendrils wriggling in nervous anticipation. "You Jedi. Always so sure of yourselves, so certain that the entire galaxy revolves around you and your ancient enmity with the Sith. There's so much more out there than your dull, repetitive rivalry." Raising a mottled hand, he beckoned his guards forward. "Kill her. Keep the body intact if possible." His mind raced with the potential cloning experiments he could use her corpse for.

The four Palatini glided forth, the razor-sharp edges of their sinister polearms glowing with a dull red radiance. The weapons could hold up against a lightsaber, at least temporarily... and if these were sundered, they had lightsabers of their own to fall back on. The guards fanned out as they approached Henna, two of them staying roughly in front of her, two moving around to each of her flanks. The reach of their vibro-voulges was far superior to that of a mere lightsaber, allowing them to strike at her from half again the distance at which she could hit them. They aimed to keep her at bay, herding her like livestock, leaving her nowhere to turn.

As one they closed in, two swinging high, two swinging low...

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"You're really going to make us do this?" She accused. "All the energy I've put into keeping you alive, and you're going to make me kill you." They remained locked for a moment in a power struggle, the tip of her dead jedi saber pointed at the ground. Darkness flexed through her muscles and she did not budge, her control over it balancing on a pin point.

"You can try." he retorted as the two Jedi's blades locked a cross with Jem's parry. "If you can't step back into the Light -- I'll drag you back." he could feel his flesh squeeze his hilt tighter and tighter against Jem's newfound strength.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Her pain was palpable. She wanted nothing more than to pretend she had never sat on that corrupting throne, but her father pushed her further every day and her master...

An eyebrow slightly arched up, "Wh--"

"Who is this?"

That was for Corin to respond. Feeling the resistance of her parry begin to falter, Dagon stepped back and to the side seeking to flank her followed by a horizontal slash of his blade across her arm. Had Jem been the one on his side, he'd known she would've followed to flank their enemy on the opposite side. Just like they had trained. Just like in the good old days.

Oh, this divine irony of it all.
​

 

[Fen]

Location: Foerost Orbit
Galactic Alliance

Korr sat in the cockpit of his Stealth X. He swiftly ran a preflight check before accelerating up out of a hangar and into low orbit.

Unattached to any specific squadron, the old Jedi hung back from the fight at first, looking for an apt target as he studied his data readouts to determine the layout of the battle.

Several new signatures emerged out of hyperspace, but the readout looked distorted. Cloaked? Kenth Berik .

Ryan activated his own cloak and angled his single starfighter toward the new arrivals. Reaching out with the Force, he saw what his eyes could not and accelerated through space toward the distant Mawite ships at the edge of the battle.

 

[Corin Trenor]

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #3 w/ Dagon Kaze & Jem Fossk

​

He was no Jem.

Far from it.

But now, of all times, he resembled her current state most of all. Even as the Master of the three shifted out, a clear chance for himself to do the same, Corin elected to remain and in an effort to hold her there, to be better than her. It was all he wished for now, he was unable to ever confess otherwise, least of all as he leaned further into his own blue-bladed saber and his features contorted in order to be more tense than ever before.

"I'm Corin," he mustered between all the exertion, "Your replacement."

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

” The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.”- Albert Einstein

” There is no passion, there is serenity…”- The third tenet of the Jedi Code​

Hook… line… and sinker…

It’s a phrase used to emphasize that someone has been completely deceived or tricked. That is not the case here though as the man who stood before Caltin Vanagor was a highly dangerous, brutally efficient, violently dangerous, and horribly powerful foe to anyone whom he wished to destroy. This man was “no joke” to say the least. He was not only a master of the physical living Force and almost all that it entailed, he was freely capable of entering and controlling even the most disciplined of minds. He may not look like it, but Vanagor took Kol very seriously. Kol had the tools to destroy any and every Jedi he faced, and Caltin knew this, but the big man was not like the others.

He was reminded that during every Council meeting.

During his time, Caltin was almost an outcast, much like a Kiffar Jedi Knight who does not need to be named right now, but anyone curious enough could research the Republic era and find his name immediately. The difference is, where the other did not care what the Council or the other Jedi thought, Caltin did, he did not like to be “alone” in his beliefs, his feelings, or his actions. That was why he “took the fight to the Sith” like he did, in a secret, un-admitted hope that he would be finally accepted if the target of his sociopathic behavior was gone. They were never gone and forever he continued fighting. He did not know it at the time, but this was preparing him, everything he did was preparing him, and only over time would he understand. He would understand that all of his battles then, all of the fighting, all of the… solitude… it prepared him to be able to ignore the pokes, the prods, everything without losing who he was. Caltin Vanagor could still experience the emotions he professed were nothing to be concerned over (provided you do not let them control you), without losing his ideals as a Jedi.

He no longer “rode the fence” between the Light and the Dark Side. He busted the fence down.

After all, what Jedi would simply reach out and crush a foe’s vessel into a ball? What Jedi would encase a would-be killer in their own armor? Even the more pragmatic Jedi of today would look at this with less than accepting eyes. This would all be addressed in time, but there was a reason for everything he completed and hoped to accomplish. This Jedi was following a new path, he was not the champion of the Jedi he once was, he knew this, and there were more than enough of them out there to easily fill his shoes.

Oh, it’s okay to talk now?

The thought permeated his mind as some sort of humorous irony. Kol was “droning on” about Vanagor’s power and what he could do, how he cod be so much as a Sith, even threatening the person from his past. This sealed Kol’s fate in a manner of speaking because now Vanagor knew that the Apostle of the Dark Side could no longer enter his mind and even if he could, Kol would find nothing new in there. Not like it mattered anyway.

Caltin did not move once he was able to rise to his feet, but the big man simply remained stationary. He stayed silent for a few moments, pondering what he would do. Now it was his turn. Would he speak? Would he retort? Would he go into some long and droning monologue like Kol was expecting? Or would Vanagor simply pull his lightsaber and fight? Again, this was not some fool assassin jumping at him, no, this was a Master of the Dark Arts, one whom he needed his full attention for Kol could even control Vanagor’s mind if he were not on point in his focus.

I will not bother you with the waste of time that is insulting your intelligence with cheap Jedi platitudes. You know as well as I do that the Jedi stand against the Darkness, just as the original Blood Sith, those born from the creations of the old Rakata Empire were raised to believe that if they did not follow their elders that the Jedi would come and kill them. So I will not “drone on” about that.

If I could though, I would like to put a response in words you would “appreciate”. You see, you speak in envy of my skill, my power you might say. You convey a veritable “awe” of my strength as if I do not see it. I assure you that I do. I understand fully what I am capable of both now, and potentially further on. One thing you do not know is that I am not the only Jedi like this. There are more, more than you might think who are like this. We hold the same auras that you do, but where you believe that using it is what makes you powerful, does it? I know that I could kill you with a snap of my fingers, but why do so? What is the point? To simply kill “one more Sith”? To let you live serves a better purpose to me, to my friends. No, not to tell your Masters in some pathetic attempt to steer clear of us, or some vain attempt to attempt to bring us to your side. No.

I want one more person out of the fight.

Vanagor let those words sink in. What did he mean? Was he cowering himself? Was he tired of fighting?

” Dark Side”... “Light Side”... “Grey” crap… none of you get it. Those are just opinions and ideals… there is really… truly… and only the Force. The rest is just semantics, but that is an argument for a Cantina over a couple of ales. No, I will not “fall” to you or anyone because there is no “fall” for me or anyone. What you failed to notice down there on the Cinnagar surface was all of those people, scare out of their minds, finding the will to pick up a weapon and stand together. Not Jedi, not troopers, Cinnagar citizens. THAT, my friend, is “power”.To be able to inspire like that, to enable others to do what they once relied on you for. That is the strength that none of you who follow the Bogart do not truly understand. I could face you two, or two hundred more times, it would not matter. I’ve already won.

Quietly, he stood, waiting for his target to stand erect. Calmly watching, expecting anything so as to be surprised by nothing, he stood like structural support, carrying a load of a crumbling roof on him, watching this Master of the Dark Arts plan his next move. They had a fight in front of them, and this time Caltin did not need a vision of the future to know that he was more than fine. Even with visions of the past popping in and out of it. He still did nothing but stand there, but the big man knew what was going to happen next. It was the only thing that could. They would stop talking and fight.

By the way, the woman from my past? She says “hi”.

TAG: Allies - Jax Thio
TAG: Foes - Rannan Kol , Carnifex-Demiurge

 

[June Pepperpetal]

June was all grins. At first. Then a nervous laugh as she scratched her cheek and shrugged. "I was nervous. Wanted to come see you and how everything was going. Which, I guess can be said is going terribly." Light humor, or at least an attempt to. Wait. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, glancing towards Zark San Tekka and the ignited blade. It was that serious, then? Maybe she should invest in getting some kind of com herself to at least know what's happening around.

"We're leaving? Hold on! Wait a moment! What about the others? Is everyone aware of what's going to happen? We can't just leave people! Seto you're not just going to run are you?" Prank or not, this had gone farther than she expected. And Seto Du Couteau was the only reason she was going to end up in the throne in the first place. But that only made these people hers, right?

"Lets at least tell everyone they need to get out before we just run away. They're our people."

Elena Lowe

 

[Jem Fossk]

Spoiler: The Story

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

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"Beautiful." The Dark Voice bellowed.

Powerful gusts tugged at his robes violently, the air was thin, the view however.. spectacular.

Vroom!

A single hypersonic roar flooded his senses, a single Eradicator class starfighter screamed by. The single vanguard of an encroaching storm not long behind. Mawite fighter craft and dropships carrying the zealous holy crusaders and fierce tribal marauders peeked through the clouds. Streaks of exhaust spat out in their wake as the sky thundered with their approach. It would not be long before green and red bolts of luminous laser fire would flicker back between earth and heavens above.

Glorious.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, leaning closer towards the 'edge' of his vantage point. Soon the vast cityscape of Cinnagar was in plain view. He could see the palace, the Great Library, and soon…

Rumble! Shake! Thunder!

"Ah, there it is."

The city quaked, there was a symphonic shockwave that melodied from the heart of the old capital. It percussioned a cloud made of duracrete and glasteel, crescendoing to the rise of the Iron Citadel. Soprano cries of terror, baratone wallows, and harmonic crashes filled the chorus of the Krath.

With the power of Sith Sorcery, their return was boldly broadcasted to the pretenders occupying the Tetan throne. They bore with them a gift, a secret long buried that ignited with eerie luminance filling the ancient ruin with a sickly emerald glow. The hypergate had opened.

"The time has come, daughter."

The beast roared beneath them.

​

Be a pool of water.

Like a lake...

cool... unmovable... without ripples...​

Jem forced herself to envision it. The jedi meditation practice had once been a security blanket. Now its ragged form kept slipping through her fingers. Calm was not something Jem typically embodied but she stood at her father's side and force herself to remain still.

It was becoming harder every day to manage it.

Her father's corrupting measures seared through her veins and she suffered for it. Every moment was a battle inside her own mind. Every breath was effort-- a cognitive task of control.

She ignored her father. She ignored the city, she ignored the pending war. She was running out of ti--

A familiar presence cut through it all. Her attention jolted outwards, a pained gasp escaping through her lips. It only took a moment for her to make sense of the presence.

Not even the darkside could make her forget her master.


Her own presence was weak, barely identifiable amongst the corruption that threatened to swallow Jem whole. A warning image jolted through the tentative bond they still shared, powerful as it tried to drive itself like spikes into Dagon's mind.

Her father was coming. He was more powerful than ever before.




Jem winced and released the reigns from her grasp. The metal had warped under her fingers. "Yes father."

She let herself free fall to the ground, disembarking to... she no longer knew. She no longer asked questions. Her strength was conserved for one thing.

I am a lake.
​

Dagon Kaze Darth Solipsis Ryv Corin Trenor

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor
Ryv Darth Solipsis

The Sith are a superstitious cowardly lot.

From day one it has been so. The resurgence of the New Sith over the corpse of the old and decrepit on Thule. A pattern Solipsis had followed religiously throughout his crusade to warp and change reality itself. Logistical lines, strategic locations, all rational military targets had been delegated to the 'simpler' minds of the Final Dawn. Instead, he'd waged war against the hearts and minds of the galaxy, against the sole existence of the Jedi.

From torching to ash the Enclave at Jakku and the pilgrimage of Jedha to the massacres in the Sith Worlds and all the way to the heart of the Jedi, the home of galactic civilization - Coruscant. None could forget the Sacking of Coruscant that had driven the New Jedi to the edge of extinction.

This was no war of occupation, no war of tangible strategic value or anything of the sorts.

No, this has been an existential war. A war of life itself against the forces of entropy, of death.

A war to forever change the hierarchy of power and the natural order of the universe.

Forever.

The coronation on Teta - home of the legendary Krath, a dynasty known for its historical roots with the Sith. Where and when else could he have attacked? To make a point. To demonstrate true power. Symbols and superstition.

And yet, as predictable as Solipsis may have grown to be in the eyes of the Jedi, the question that truly held importance was neither where or when but could he be stopped?

Once more, they came in droves. Springing from the depths of an ancient, long-forgotten hypergate and cutting through the skies; a dark curtain enveloping the light and casting an impregnable shadow over the world.

The heavens hung in black.

In that unending sea of darkness converging in the skies, a behemoth of Sith Magic stood out. A creature born solely for the purpose to destroy and annihilate and atop it he could sense it. Not the twisted nature of the beast and neither the malicious maw of death that its master was. No. Her presence may have been like the sound of a nail falling into hay but to him... it was all he could hear.

"Jem..." he heard himself mutter, eyes narrowed unto the behemoth from his vantage point atop one of Cinnagar's many high rises cutting the clouds. A warning shuddered the rusty bond between master and apprentice, wedging itself into his lobe. Strong enough to force an involuntary step back.

It bore no threat, conveyed more like a friend's caution.

A moment later it abated, replaced by the malice of corruption which enveloped the sender and the weight of guilt upon the recipient.

It was time to move.

To act.

As always.

He caught her lithe form freefalling from the skies, an enviable feat she hadn't truly mastered before. Even this distant from her, Dagon could feel the power her father had provided her with. The shortcut. The easy way. A clear sign of his own failings as a mentor. It dug deep into his heart.

"Corin, we move to intercept her." Dagon said, unnatural gloom besetting the usual easy-going bravado he was known for. Solipsis would never send her away on a menial task. No, she was his key. The single soul in the whole wide galaxy he would trust.

The heiress of Apocalypse.

"Time for you to meet my... former apprentice."​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Ryv
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

WRATH

​

The beast's roar rippled through the skies of Cinnagar like a hurricane wind. Smoke and fire spilled out as far as the eye could see as the battle for the soul of the planet began in earnest. A quick glance to his daughter saw her off as she made her way towards the edge of the floating behemoth. Without a hint of fear or doubt, the apprentice gracefully stepped off.

The Dark Lord of the Sith pressed his right foot forward and dug in, eyes like daggers following the trajectory of his kin. He hissed, extending his right hand forward, palm opening in gesture as the psychic connection between man and beast intensified. The Summa Verminoth groaned and dipped, diving towards the cityscape with it's tendrils extended out.

​

A typhoon tugged at his robes relentlessly, fierce winds powerful enough to uproot him threatened to remove the Dark Voice from his fortified stance. He would not budge, the gusts were like waves breaking against the unmoving rock. Twin orbs of sulfuric hate glared down as the beast savagely slammed into a nearby tower, cleaving through an entire story.

Vroom!

Wherever the massive beast loomed, dust and debris followed in it's savage wake. Buildings partially collapsed if not outright crumbled under the weight of the apex predator. As the monstrosity circled, the Dark Voice lifted himself and cast off. Touching the empyrean, he gathered the Force and leapt from the dome of the Summa Verminoth, descending in a slow controlled fall.

He came down, eyes casting a terrible glare down towards the landing site of his kin. The Sith'ari's black robes enveloped around him, an umbral shroud that defied physics floating down. The Dark Voice lowered, drifting into a dust cloud kicked up by the rampant destruction around them. Smoke and ash filled the air, his form vanished completely, lost in the chaos.

"You may think this is suffering. No."

"It is salvation."

The Dark Lord emerged from the fog of war, the smoke and dust rolling off his midnight cloak as the winds pressed against him. He advanced, eyes honed and ready.

"Dread it all you like. Run from it if you have to. The facts remain the same… huh.."

His gaze twisted away, immediately drawn to the final obstacle in his daughter's training and full conversion as a Sith.

"Time to let old things die. You know what you must do, do not hesitate."

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #1 w/ Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Darth Solipsis Ryv

​

His new Master had felt distant at times, as if an extended arm refused to allow them to become as close as some other students he had been. It wasn't as if Corin had not been all too aware of the Padawan that came before him, but he failed to realise that it was fear; fear of failure had seen the two remain focused on the business-end of their connection, to find interests outside the Jedi Order and their mission... that fear of loss. It never seemed to settle in Corin and at the mere mention of Jem, had Corin frowned. Not for his Master, but for himself - his mind lost all focus, all that he needed was lost as he turned into the second born to the favoured star.

He had too much to lose.

She could succeed into her father's embrace, or fail into her Master's.

Corin shut himself off from the chaos, and a breath followed in an effort to find some composure. To no avail.

The Padawan nodded towards Kaze as the world crumbled around them. He had no words for all of this, and followed his Master as the two traversed the ruins of Teta, of the same ones that continued to increase in destruction as each second came and went.

Some small amount of calm had found itself returned to Corin, but that sliver was tested once the distant two came into view and both Dagon and Corin came closer and closer. He was better than her, he assured himself, he was not so weak as to crumble onto a traitor's road and abandon all that he knew.

Jem fell without feeling. Lakes didn't enjoy the thrill of free falling through air. Lakes didn't care that buildings were exploding and lives were ending around it. Lakes moved for no one. Well...

Except pebbles. And wind. And feet-- and...


She followed his gaze, her gray skin loosing luster as she caught what held his attention. "I'm not running," she asserted quickly, trying to bring his attention back to her.

"I accept this-- I'll not--"



Her stomach fell out from under her. She was forced to meet her father's gaze, his very presence demanding her acknowledgment. She wanted to melt into a puddle. Those seemed less noticeable.

"Yes... father..." Stupid, stupid Dagon.

Her feet felt like foreign objects. They obeyed her father and moved her towards the one thing she did not want to face. She couldn't stop them, but she could control the speed. She moved with slow precision onto the roof ledge... she... braced... and arched gracefully through the air, from one roof top to the next. He had taught her that. Dagon. The idiot with a death wish. Every step towards him felt like shifting through cement, the bags under her eyes growing deeper as she hoped without hope that her father would look away.

She brace... and jumped again... the skies above crackling with streaks of red. She saw a tuff of black hair and stopped on that roof ledge.


"I gave you a chance to leave," she hissed, her voice reaching the figure masked by the shadows. Up close she was unrecognizable. Her once hearty, gold-tone complexion was now colorless and hallow. She had not slept nor eaten in days, sustained by the corruption that consumed her, and it showed. She was lifeless and frail, but she rippled with unmistakable power.

"You should have taken it. Master."

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

There was a time before the bliss.

Those times and places were distant things, left to fade away into obscure stories told by hardened veterans and displaced refugees. Some found hope in those tales, while others looked upon them with abject hatred. When foreign and abstract ideals drove a boy to become something more. A monster who militarized an Order of masterless children and turned them into killing machines not seen since the times of Revan or Lord Hoth. Or maybe a hero, a symbol of unshaken hope that stood unbowed against the flowing tide of darkness.

A time better left in the past. Before the arrival of a loving family and nights spent in peace, where the greatest of toils were beer poured and food served.

Memories of pain, interwoven through the years by a sense of purpose.

Ryv sighed.

He looked up past the city limits, his gaze locked on the distant horizon. War came for him again. It appeared in the form of someone in need, as it always had. War promised him an end. A bloody one. Trapped, alone, away from his family in his final moments.

The tension in his chest, the storm of chaos that buzzed about the air like a swarm of starved locusts. He knew this place better than any other in the galaxy—a battlefield. Where the brave marched off to their death, and the foolish went to live.

There was a time when the kiffar longed for this feeling.

Now, Ryv yearned for the cozy armchair in his bedroom, where he would read to his children or tell them stories of his legendary exploits. It was a safe place. The memories dulled with the passage of years. War could not reach them there on Denon, not in the heart of his home. His territory.

But here on Empress Teta, within the city of Cinnagar, it had found him. War crawled closer, driven forth by the machinations of a mad man changed by alien designs the sane could not begin to fathom. A demented beast thundered towards the city. It hungered for innocent blood, to feast upon the dying breath of hope as pawns of light and shadow fell beneath its bulk.

In another time, on another world, the battle to determine the galaxy's fate would be fought.

Ryv paced across the flat top of a towering starscraper. He stepped up onto the ledge meant to separate him from a fatal plunge, his eyes never leaving the monstrous behemoth as it lumbered closer to its death.

"Fossk," Ryv uttered the name in a whisper, infused with subtle power. The words found the great empyrean like a smooth stone skipped across a calm lake. Power rolled through the ethereal, cutting through the ghostly echoes of battle between the Sword of the Jedi and the dreaded Sith'ari. "Surely you've waited long enough for this confrontation."

Darth Solipsis ​

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor
Ryv Darth Solipsis

The sky above crackled with fury and laid its vengeance upon the world. Threads of life cut short by the pestilent hand of the Sith quivered as ripples throughout the ethereal. The air reeked of plasma and burnt flesh, filling his nostrils with that all too familiar stench of war. It dug into the very skin you wear and no moments of peace nor joy could ever wash it away.

Dagon wrinkled his nose. The New Jedi Order, baptized in the flames of the Stygian War, learned that reprieve was a luxury they could neither have nor could they afford.

Reprieve had filled the gutters of the galaxy with the blood of its sons and daughters. It's the only lesson the New Jedi ever learned from their absent masters.

The Jedi duo's traverse came to an abrupt end, cut off by the appearance of a hollow shadow standing in their way. A grey shadow of a once colorful past and fateful future. Grey like the skin of a dying man, dry as a funeral drum. And that drum banged loud, beating into a crescendo of grief and regret.



"You know I like beating my head against the wall." he dryly responded, the hilt of his saber materializing in his hand. It had come to this, hasn't it? The pinnacle of his failures and mistakes shaped the monster that stood before him. That had taken his apprentice away from him. But the corruption -- as tight as a tourniquet around her -- could be broken. Blood does not dictate fate, only what we do defines us.

He'd prove it to her.

Or die trying.

The Knight's eyes narrowed sideways at Corin, a plan of action on his tongue but never uttered. How could he? After all, the infallible chemistry he'd built was with the one standing against them, "I'll go low, you go high." he whispered. A simple stratagem indicating the fledgling progress they had made. Then hoarsely reminded, "No killing."

The proverbial bell rang with the snap-hiss of his blade and the Force surged through his feet sending him darting at her. His body folded into a crouch as the cerulean saber sought to make contact with her legs.
​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Jem Fossk | Dagon Kaze | Corin Trenor | Ryv
Cinnagar, Empress Teta

W R A T H

​

His daughter had accepted the dreaded task given to her and asserted herself ready. She was not, no one could ever truly ready themselves to make 'the Sacrifice'. It was spiritual collapse, a rebirth of identity as the last vestige of compassion was killed off along with those dearest to you. To complete her transition into a Sith, she had to cut the last link holding her to her former life as a Jedi.

She had to kill Dagon Kaze .

The Dark Lord had intended to follow and see the job done before his very eyes, to watch the life leave the Jedi as he fell at the hands of his very own apprentice. The one he fought so passionately to save, to redeem and bring home. He never understood the truth, she was home, where Jem belonged. Her destiny was intertwined with that of her Father's, she was the heir to his legacy and the key to the future he designed.

Alas, his attention drifted elsewhere. Caught unawares as the silent speech of the Sword saturated his thoughts from the empyrean wind. His eyes widened, orbs of incalculable wrath glistening in the shadow of Cinnagar.

"…The Sword of the Jedi."

The Sith'ari cooed.

"You should of remained in exile."

The Dark Lord of the Sith stretched forth, hand reaching out across the expanse, his mind probing the depths of battlefield. He uttered a savage hiss before muttering in the 'Old Tongue' an unrecognizable command.

The earth shook, the skies thundered, and throughout the city streets a monstrosity glided overhead. The Summa-Verminoth groaned violently as it made haste in the direction of the valiant Sword. Earth and Heaven moved before the apex predator as it turned towers into turmoil.

The Beast lumbered on, carried by it's master's command to seek fresh meat.

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #2 w/ Dagon Kaze Jem Fossk Darth Solipsis Ryv

​

He stood there, so disconnected from the core of the situation as the former master and student made their remarks to one another. He was the extra, the added addition, the one that came after, the one to find himself cast aside should Jem be returned to his side. His features scrunched and narrowed, from the creases on his forehead to the clench of his teeth. Corin was tense, and it remained so difficult to discern whether it was the nerves of a true test of skill or the fire that storm that near-thundered beneath the surface.

Corin returned a similar narrowed look back towards his Master, he readied himself to follow one command and still remained so unsure of the other. Had their success as two ensured his own loss as one? He wished he had all the chance to dimiss all the intrusive ideas that flashed before him, but there was no time but the here and now.

His weakened resolve had turned him into a moldable mass of flesh and bone.

In a silent rush of his own, Trenor mimicked Kaze as the blue blade hissed into existence. Beside the other Jedi, Corin bounced into the air and made the motion of an overhead attack, as if in effort to rid the fresh Sith of her arm.

He had finally hardened his heart to her. No more begging. No words. He had finally accepted the inevitable. She should be relieved, but his resignation burned like salt on a wound.

There really was no going back now. Her face hardened as he descended, her own saber jumping to her hand in turn.

She caught both the blades with a powerful upward strike-- forcing Dagon's up and entangling them both with the third before it could reach her shoulder.

"You're really going to make us do this?" She accused. "All the energy I've put into keeping you alive, and you're going to make me kill you." They remained locked for a moment in a power struggle, the tip of her dead jedi saber pointed at the ground. Darkness flexed through her muscles and she did not budge, her control over it balancing on a pin point.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Her pain was palpable. She wanted nothing more than to pretend she had never sat on that corrupting throne, but her father pushed her further every day and her master...

Her attention fixated on the jedi fighting besides him. She had dismissed Corin Trenor and his tangle of black hair as a cousin or even brother of Dagon's, but it struck her then that didn't make sense. The jedi-- the boy-- was her own age. She was Dagon's only connection.

Her resistance slackened with shock.

"Who is this?"

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

THE DAY OF REVENGE
THE GREAT ERROR vol. III
Issue #4 w/ Jem Fossk & Corin Trenor

"You can try." he retorted as the two Jedi's blades locked a cross with Jem's parry. "If you can't step back into the Light -- I'll drag you back." he could feel his flesh squeeze his hilt tighter and tighter against Jem's newfound strength.



An eyebrow slightly arched up, "Wh--"



That was for Corin to respond. Feeling the resistance of her parry begin to falter, Dagon stepped back and to the side seeking to flank her followed by a horizontal slash of his blade across her arm. Had Jem been the one on his side, he'd known she would've followed to flank their enemy on the opposite side. Just like they had trained. Just like in the good old days.

Oh, this divine irony of it all.
​

THE DAY OF REVENGE
IDENTITY CRISIS vol. III
Issue #3 w/ Dagon Kaze & Jem Fossk

​

He was no Jem.

Far from it.

But now, of all times, he resembled her current state most of all. Even as the Master of the three shifted out, a clear chance for himself to do the same, Corin elected to remain and in an effort to hold her there, to be better than her. It was all he wished for now, he was unable to ever confess otherwise, least of all as he leaned further into his own blue-bladed saber and his features contorted in order to be more tense than ever before.

"I'm Corin," he mustered between all the exertion, "Your replacement."

Jem flinched in understanding.

Pain came at her every which way. Grief ripped away her sense of self and replaced everything with searing anger. That was what her father had wanted her to experience, and he had won. That fact haunted her as she stared at the source of her undoing. He struggled against her blade, weak an unable to overcome her in a simple stand still. And yet ... he was her now. He why Dagon hadn't even bothered to try this time.

Something in her cracked.

Her lips coiled with malice. "You will never replace me."

She stepped to the side the exact moment Dagon's blade descended into her arm, releasing all of Corin's kinetic energy into its path. Her own skin burned and bubbled by the closeness, but it wasn't her that would feel its true impact.

"His apprentice would know that was coming."

She kicked at him, holding Dagon's gaze.

Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Darth Solipsis

 

[Iris Arani]

The colors turned to a shade she'd never seen before. And at once it filled her with dread. She tried to speed up her run as much as she could, scrambling down the hall to get away from the chain, the Crownsguard. Until the color faded. She blinked in surprise, near falling as she turned her head to see what was going on. Only to be thrown? Jax Thio ? She didn't spare another glance back before going back to a sprint. She needed to find someone, anyone, who could help Jax. She couldn't, she knew that. But there had to be someone who could help stop Darth Carnifex .

 

[Kyell Laysel]

Location: Empress Teta​

Objective: 1​

Location: Erion Justeene ​

​

For a moment longer, Kyell just quietly stared at the Sith, his blade drawn up defensively and his mind focused. Deep down, he was nervous, scared even, but he had learned to set it aside when he really needed to be focused. This was likely the most serious battle he has ever found himself in, so he could not afford to make any mistakes.​

​

He had to be the Eye of the Storm.​

​

Then, finally, the assault began. With great speed, the Sith Lord closed the distance on the top of the walker and aimed a powerful swing toward Kyell's chest with his crimson blade. Elegantly, the Padawan brought down his green blade and held it close to his chest, positioned vertically to block the strength. ​

​

Up close, he could feel the intense hatred and the heat of plasma getting closer and closer to his body, but he held on. With all his strength, he pushed back the blade and aimed a quick sweep down towards the Ubese's knee, hoping to land just a grazing strike that could off-balance him.​

​

Kyell's left hand then pushed out, and with it he aimed a Telekinetic push towards the Sith Lord, hoping to send him off the edge of the walker.​

​

 

[Electra-12]

Location: Debris Field - Orbit of Foerost
Call Sign: Crimson 17
Objective: Last Stand at Foerost - Remember Coruscant
Equipment: Orestiad Flight Suit │ Hekler’Kok FP-01
Allies: BotM ( Khione Marlon Sularen Akûz the Ravager Wendell Mortimer Glolmark Wilhelm Vonreg Kenth Berik )
Enemies: GA ( Liedran Kathause Ari Naldax Fen )
Direct Engagement: Tren Chaar Qellene Tyliame

She was on the prowl.

Having deactivated her active sensors so as to avoid compromising her position, Electra-12 relied on her eyes and ears, in both the literal and metaphorical sense, as she scoured her way through the debris field. Had she been of a more reckless, impatient character, the strand-cast might have found it to be dry, boring work. However, Electra’s flying style had its foundation in patience and precision. In her mind, it was always best to kill an opponent while they were unaware of her presence or position, best achieved by a combination of stealth, misdirection, even just keeping a distance.

If Revenant sought to wait her out, they would be sorely disappointed.

“Cowards…” Electra-12 hissed under her breath, perhaps somewhat hypocritically. She might have done the same in their position. “Moving into sector Nern-214.” She added, now speaking up through ion-scrambled comms. “Nothing so far, One.”

Then, just as the words left her lips, the strand-cast’s eyes went wide as a single contact registered on her sensors.

“Wait…” Without delay, Electra-12 pulled her yoke to port, shifting her heading towards a derelict starliner within the debris field. As if on cue, more contacts appeared on her sensor readout.

A full squadron. Revenant was here.

“Sector Nern-214. Positive contacts.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• TIE/wi Interceptor - Designation: Electra
  
  • Universal Missile Launcher
    
    • Concussion Missiles

 

[Kyrel Ren]

​

Location: Inside the Palace
Enemies: Seto Du Couteau Rika Hiro
Allies: Joseph Torson Chassella Rannan Kol
Objective 1


The courtyard was strewn with corpses. Blood flowed through the ancient stones, and the banging of the battering fist didn’t cease to end. The men only continued with the chant. “Break, Break, Break, Break!” Over and over as if the mantra increased the efforts of tearing down the walls. Kyrel stood observing, fixing his death mask back into place after separating the old man’s head from his body. Just like the gates before, cracks started to form among the walls. All over the cannibal troopers had stopped from the assault to feast on whatever piece of meat the men could find.

Slowly with each battering the wall took, the cracks started to form. Then all of a sudden the wall had collapsed open, and Kyrel could see such splendor the palace had. His heavy steps were among the first inside the Palace. Looking back to his men, faces dripping with fresh blood. He looked to them all, the smirk on his face hidden by his mask. “Well boys we are in!” He said raising his fist to the ceiling. His men chanted. “More meat for the fire! More meat for the fire!”

The frenzy of barbaric troopers flooded through the hole. Quickly they started to run all over the palace, shortly after one could hear the pleas. The begging and cries for help. The slashing of blades against flesh as soon Kyrel saw some of his men asserts with arms and legs. If the nobles were smart they would have a way out. If not then they would be slaughtered just the same. It went as far as one of his men going around to collect meat from corpses. It wasn’t before long that his men entered the kitchens. “The boys am hungry… let’s prepare a feast.” One of the troopers said sporting a chef’s hat as they started to prepare a meal from the bodies of guards and the nobility.

Soon the men were gathered in the great hall. The long table fixed with meats prepared in many different ways. Taking a short respite from the hunt, the cannibal troopers laughed, drank, and ate as Kyrel looked around. He felt something off, he felt eyes watching him. He looked around puzzled by the strange tremor he felt and wondered he would be brave enough to hunt him?

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The fiery lasso of energy snapped when slashed by Jax's blade, the energy dissipating into nothingness when severed from its source. The rest slipped back into Carnifex's palm, disappearing right as the Jedi Master rushed forward to attack the Dark Lord. He could have easily parried the weapon with His own lightsaber, dodged perhaps, but the Dark Lord was enamored with theatrics and the systematic crushing of an opponent's resolve to fight. Rather than do any of the aforementioned things, the Dark Lord watched impassively as the Jedi Master neared, watched them raised their blade, and as the weapon came careening down towards the Dark Lord.

Carnifex reached out and caught the weapon with His hand, the blade stopping a few centimeters from matching contact with the Dark Lord's armored palm. With His fingers curled around the energy blade, the Dark Lord angled His helmet down to look Jax directly in the eyes. "How can you hope to save anyone from harm, Jaxon Thio? You cannot even save yourself." The Dark Lord pushed against Jax's weapon, attempting to throw him off-balance. His leg then snapped out, His sabaton rushing forth to try and connect squarely with Jax's torso and send him flying backwards.

Lightning then ejected from around the Dark Lord's body, rather than from any directed limb. It was not aimed at the Jedi Master, but rather those soldiers that yet survived in his periphery. Each bolt was enough to send their cardiovascular system into failure, their heart seizing as electricity surged through their bodies and into the ground. With their adversaries soundly defeated, the Crownguard slowly withdrew and stood close to the wall with their sabers held perpendicular to their bodies; like still and silent statues. They would not move from this position unless commanded to or threatened into action.

"Observe," commanded the Dark Lord, not to His retinue but to Jedi Master Thio himself. A curious thing happened at that moment as the shadow running off from Carnifex's body, which had been created from the corridor's illumination bulbs, began to move of its own accord around the Dark Lord's body before slipping into the shadows at the base of the corridor walls. The shade then moved along the wall, like a living mural, and disappeared out of the hall and began to move in the same direction that Padawan Arani had last been seen. It would not stop until it had caught up with Padawan Arani, emerging from the wall or floor like a terrible nightmare to strangle her with ethereal hands or pierce her body with sharpened shadows.

"My shadow will hunt down the Padawan," informed Carnifex, "It will not stop until she is dead. I believe you called her Iris, that wouldn't happen to be Iris Arani, would it? A shame that Master Noble will not reach her in time to save her." With a snap, the Dark Lord unclasped the brooch that was keeping His cloak wrapped around His body. The black curtain slipped away, revealing the full extent of the Dark Lord's terrible form, resplendent in the panoply of war. The runes etched onto His armor glowed ominously, as though the entire armor was rousing from slumber. The frigid shiver of the Dark Side grew stronger as well, the entire hall thoroughly suffused with its misery.

"But you could save her, Jaxon Thio. You could leave right now and get to her before my shadow does. I will not stand in your way." Carnifex levied His lightsaber towards Jax, the tip pointed towards his heart. "But then I would be free to do as I please in your absence. And who knows what mischief I will indulge in once you have gone."

Iris Arani | Jax Thio
Rannan Kol | Caltin Vanagor ​

 

[Voldran Molf]

Rhyssa Edaara Quillan-E’ron
Ace pilot, commando, major, 1st Expeditionary Fleet, 3rd Squadron, ANV Cadence - Deputy CAG, Force disciple ​

Objective: Protect the Iron Citadel, to get back to her team
Location: Iron Citadel, Empress Teta
Equipment: Purple blade lightsaber | 1x Assault Rifle | 2x Fyrirdögun Shortswords | 2x Hybrid Pistol | Light Armour with this look | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m || BB-4 astro droid – Little One || X-wing
Tag: Darth Ptolemis

[ Nuclear ]
"Galactic Common" | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tl;dr

• The smoke grenade wasn't too good.
• Rhys gets her lightsaber back.
• She tries to behead Ptolemis.

Rhys didn't want to let the man separate her from her weapon, though she couldn't do much about it at the moment. After the kick, she was still lying on the ground in agony. Although her armour protected her belly, she still felt the Darksider's knee quite strong. So now she was lying on the ground in pain, whimpering, holding her belly, and coughing somewhat. Fortunately, her military training did not let her down, so she was able to kick the man with a good strong kick on his ankle. However, she could not stay on the ground any longer.

"Karabast!" she said.

She was at a disadvantage now, and because she hated a helmet more than anything. Rhys wasn't wearing it now. The smoke grenade exploded not long before, meaning it began to spit out the smoke. Rhys pushed herself up from the ground in pain despite what she felt, then pushed herself back with metres with the help of the Force. Her stomach still hurt; she assumed she had received a larger bruise, possibly with less internal bleeding as the result of the meeting with the knee. True, she was still luckier than not wearing the armour at all.

She coughed a little, her eyes pinched by the smoke as she looked around and saw the hilt of her lightsaber on the ground in the direction of the corpses. Rhys flew the hilt to herself with telekinetic force, but has not activated it yet. The red-haired woman wanted the man to believe she hadn't regained her weapon yet. Instead, she decided to try to take advantage of the smoke the grenade had caused. She bit into her lower lip for a moment, then clenched her teeth to suppress the pain in her stomach.

Rhys then ran silently towards him, in the direction of the man, and then tried to take advantage of the smoke and jump over it, to get behind the Darksider after the jump, but not with her back, here she'll activates her lightsaber, it was a purple bladed weapon, and with that, she tried with a firm motion to cut off the man's head.

 

[Arlo Renard]

Objective 2A: The Belly of the Whale
Tags: Jin X

Kai didn’t show much of a reaction to the cannibal’s words. He had already steeled himself, knowing that her answer would likely be no. But he’d made the offer anyway, and he always would, no matter how inevitable his foe’s refusal might be.

Even his seizure of her weapons was easily reversed. She abandoned her pistol for another lightsaber in addition to her lightwhip, and turned his choice upon him. He was a bit surprised, though. She offered to spare not only him, but the soldiers too if they would just leave… and abandon the entire planet to be desiccated by the Maw. Devoured by this creature with the voice of a child.

<You know I can’t do that,> he replied. There was no question about it. Again he raised his blade, beginning by swinging at her shoulder in a downward slash. The fight was on. His movements were fast and fluid, untiring. She could thrash him all she wanted with that twisted whip of light, but he wouldn’t let her pass.