The Eighth Battle - Coalition Invasion of Triumvirate Ruusan

[Tempest]

OOC THREAD HERE

Spoiler

[member="Matsu Ike"] [member="Coci Heavenshield"] [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Connor Harrison"] [member="Setzi Lunelle"] [member="Sorel Crieff"] [member="Kei Amadis"] [member="Rayliav'enci"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Nikias"] [member="Cambria Zadira"] [member="Jericho"] [member="Zak Dymo"] [member="Máni"] [member="Joza Perl"] [member="Nima Tann"] [member="Charlyra Araano"]
[member="Judah Dashiell"] [member="Maya Carrick"] [member="Cath Lorr"] [member="Spencer Varanin"]
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]
@All other SSC members

Allies: [member="Muad Dib"] [member="Ijaat Mereel"] [member="Kana Truden"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Zef Halo"]

SWRP: Chaos – The Eighth Battle

Ruusan was a world important to the Jedi for almost two thousand years. Here, the ancient Sith Wars had come to an end, and now a Jedi led Coalition was moving to liberate the planet.
It would not be an easy battle, as the Sith Triumvirate had prepared themselves well for this conflict.

In orbit the largest Coalition fleet ever assembled would attempt to punch through and defeat the enemy fleets.
On the surface the City of Olmondo and the ancient Valley of the Jedi were the targets of the Coalition. Both these targets needed to be secured before any control of the planet could be complete.

On a transport down to the surface, Tempest checked her loadout. She had her Beskar armour of course, lightsabre, Mk1 boltgun, Cylix bolt pistol and a couple of assorted grenades. Both Olmondo and the Citadel were worthy targets, but in the end Firemane had decided to move on the city of Olmondo.

City was a generous term, as it was mostly in ruins and barely populated. Still, it was vital for securing the planet. Dropping down would be infantry, tanks and walkers in support with artillery behind to back them up. There were also some support vehicles for busting armour and some powerful artillery support weapons to deploy. Along with their landing were a few powerful droids with which to provide support.

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Darth Adekos"]

Space, the final frontier. Here the full might of the Coalition would be unleashed. The largest fleet ever assembled by the Coalition, led by the mighty Barsen’Thor, moved to engage the Triumvirate fleet in orbit.

Admiral Kyrana Gould was in command and as her ships exited the fleet began to form.

The fleet would form four Battlegroups, Alpha and Beta would move parallel towards the enemy, with Alpha on the left, Beta on the right. They would initially head straight towards the enemy. The Barsen’Thor’s mighty Nova Cannon and Vortex Cannons along with other long range weapons could keep up a constant barrage as the ships got closer.

Ahead of both groups would be Battlegroup Delta, a picket force to draw out any hidden traps and map out the enemy positions. These ships could pull back before the major engagement and serve supporting roles.

Finally, Battlegroup Gamma would move on the right flank of Beta, the Heavenshield Cruisers using their long range weapons to open a heavy barrage at long range.

All told the fleet had 22 squadrons of attack craft, for a total of 648 craft. Many of these were fighters, but Battlegroup Delta’s craft were interceptors, and the Barsen’Thor carried 6 squadrons of bombers.

Spoiler

Class
Length
Number
Total
Frontier Class Corvette

150​

3​

450​

Fulminatus Class Missile Corvette

125​

4​

500​

Vigilance Class Frigate

300​

2​

600​

Guardian Class Frigate

300​

7​

2100​

Sentinel Class Cruiser

500​

3​

1500​

Heavenshield Class Heavy Cruiser

800​

2​

1600​

Argent Class Carrier

800​

3​

2400​

Crusader Class Star Destroyer

1600​

3​

4800​

Paladin Class Star Destroyer

1600​

2​

3200​

The Barsen’Thor

2900​

1​

2900​

Total

30​

20050​

Battlegroup Alpha Ship Name
Barsen'Thor The Barsen'Thor
Paladin Justicar
Crusader Radiant
Argent Valiant
Sentinel Defender
Guardian Voss
Guardian Laekia
Fulminatus Dart
Fulminatus Arrow
Fulminatus Bolt
Fulminatus Quarrel
Battlegroup Beta
Paladin Destiny
Crusader Adamant
Crusader Deliverance
Argent Honour
Argent Warden
Sentinel Preserver
Guardian Dac
Guardian Tabaqui
Battlegroup Gamma
Heavenshield Valkyri
Heavenshield Winterborn
Guardian Tygara
Guardian Morellia
Battlegroup Delta
Sentinel Seneschal
Guardian Arkas
Frontier Pioneer
Frontier Adventure
Frontier Expedition
Vigilance Watchman
Vigilance Righteous

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Fort Nowhere

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Steam curled gently from the contents of an enormous porcelain cup. Darth Orcus blew on the tea, then took a deep sip, savoring the exquisite earthy tones. Imported all the way from Chiss space. Nothing quite like it. He smiled happily and leaned back in his chair. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The office was rather spartan, little paraphernalia. The few furnishings in the room were entirely utilitarian, but made from the highest quality materials, such as the dark brylar wood of his desk and the plush leather of his chair. Expensive? Extremely. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A knock came at the door. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Enter.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A Mirialan man entered, skin green, features pitted from a battle with some disease in his adolescence. He wore his long dark hair pulled back in a bun. The parts of his body not covered in crimson robes were armored and he clutched a helmet under one arm. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Ah, Centurion Grannis.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“M’lord, dire news from the deep space sensors. A large quantity of ships are approaching from the direction of Silver Sanctum space.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Hmm,” Orcus took another sip of his tea. “Grim tidings indeed.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“M’lord?” A puzzled expression creased his green features.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Yes?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“You don’t appear worried.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“No, we’ve run simulations on such possibilities, though I confess I had not expected them capable of it.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Another sip of tea.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Sir the scenarios we’ve run through all show a high likelihood that they’ll outnumber us.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Of course they will. Ah, I see you are still confused. Hauum. Allow me to enlighten you. You think them strong because they have numbers, but they are a soft, spineless order. Too long spent cloistered away in orgies and buried in scrolls, while the rest of the galaxy has been at war. Even so,” Orcus rose and set his cup down on the table, “we must prepare to meet them in battle. Go, rally the garrison. I will soon join you.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px][member="Haytham Kaze"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Dagorn"][/SIZE]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Gear: Weapons in Signature

• Shoulder Dartlauncher loaded with (2) Dragon's Fire Darts, (2) Cyroban Darts
• (2) Class-A Thermal Detonators, (2) Force Breakers
• Carrying an Individual Field Disruptor on belt with other mundane equipment

Personally, Draco didn't give two womp rat's anuses about the Dark Side or the Light Side of the Force. If he could have his way, the Valley would have been left alone. It wasn't meant to represent one of the other. Jedi and Sith both had died to create the Nexus of energy, and Jedi and Sith both would likely die here today if the reports of an assault were true. He was a little out of the way, in a carved out section, with line of sight to the apex of the Valley, anvil before him, forge burning behind him, and oil boiling beside him.

Steel and Iron lay in small crates, and the smith was waiting for the forge to heat while he sat, affixing his armor and checking his weapons. He would be content to sit here and complete his task without interruption, but he wasn't a fool. Most of his interactions with Jedi resulted in much screaming about how the Light Side told them to murder everything in their path because it was tainted, and many of the Sith these days were violent sociopaths with tendencies to over-indulge their bloodlust. For now, he had an agreement with the One Sith, and just this morning he had completed a shield for Darth Orcus as payment for the right to use the Valley for his projects.

Why Darth Carach was obsessed with corrupting the site, he didn't know, it would serve his purposes better leaving the site as a neutral wellspring. As they say in the business, not his monkey, not his circus. Now the smith had moved to other, more personal projects. A hammer, much like his mace. It required time, and time he would likely have little of given the rumors of an attack on the planet.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="Tempest"], [member="Charlyra Araano"]
Gear: 1x MKI bolter, 1x sonic blaster, 1x sonic shotgun, wrist-worn flamethrower, vibroknife, grenades, lightsabre, beskar'gam.


Unsurprisingly, Siobhan had decided to tag along on the Firemane dropship. The transport vessel descended down upon the desert planet of Ruusan, piercing the atmosphere. Undoubtedly a dramatic battle awaited them. So they've finally found the guts to attack, have they? Pity it required two zombie invasions and Sith appearing right on their doorstep for them to get proactive instead of meditating. Hopefully they won't waste time trying to convert Sith to peace and understanding, Siobhan thought to herself.


As usual she was a big ball of sunshine. Her cynicism was deeply ingrained and she did not consider herself beholden to the Coalition or the Silver Jedi. She had actually fought on Coruscant when the One Sith 'returned from the shadows'. She didn't care much for the prattling about how the Valley of the Jedi had to be 'liberated' from the 'grip of the Dark Side'.


The Countess glanced over to Tempest while she checked her equipment. She'd brought her beskar'gam, a Mark One Bolter, sonic shotgun, FFE sonic pistol, lightsabre and plenty of grenades. Hopefully no one would detonate a thought bomb, for she did not relish the idea meeting the same end as the Jedi of old. Same applied to someone crashing a battleship. She'd had her fill of planetary apocalypses when an asteroid dropped on Kaeshana, thank you very much.

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Fort Nowhere

For once, Haytham didn't do things himself anymore. For all his life he had been taught to be humble with his actions, use the Force only when it was absolutely necessary. Picking up a glass of water, was hardly an application of the powerful entity that was the Force. Whether he had learned that from someone, or it was a self-imposed rule, it didn't matter anymore as his golden eyes rose the pieces of armour and slipped them onto his person. Within a few minutes they were clipped onto him, locked, clasped, tightened.

All of it done in the right places as he straightened himself, tightening the Yuuzhan Vong blade construct at his waist, two of the three lightsabres on his waist, and one in his right sleeve. The small of his back held those two ranged pistols. One a disruptor pistol, the other a regular blaster pistol. Mostly for the stun setting that it had more than anything.

Stepping through the door that would bring him into the corridor, he headed to [member="Darth Orcus"] as he pulled the Force into himself again, tugging the ebony hood over his black hair.

He fingered the hilt of the blade that Orcus had given him.

The shikar.

The blade that would break off when the hilt was snapped and leave the blade in the target's body. He remembered the picture perfectly.

"I figure Nikias will be there anyway." He mutters to himself as he continued on path to the Dark Lord of the Sith.

 

[Subject 37]

Olmondo
Main Road
[member="Laguz Vald"]

"Things have gotten complicated, haven't they Jeremy?" Kiran said to the man kneeling in front of him, the mask sitting on his face muffling his tone slightly. The armor he wore gleamed brightly in the cutting rays of the sun, turning him into a shining reflector in the center of the city street. His fingers flexed slightly around his blaster, pressing the tip of the weapon against the kneeling man's neck, a small plastic looking wire ringing around his throat. The kneeling man did not speak, instead he simply shook uncontrollably, thick beads of sweat gleaming across his skin.

Perhaps he had a right to sweat though, and not just because of the heat.

His situation was a precarious one. He was kneeling before Kiran Vess, his hands tied behind his back, his face half beaten into a pulp, a ring of detonation cord tied off with a small electric switch hanging around his neck. He was a victim of circumstance really, brought here by Kiran to be a solution to a question. That question was a simple one, what did you have to do to keep a morally superior foe at bay?

The simple answer, the answer that Jeremy so helpfully supplied, was to target those morals. Kiran knew that, mostly from personal experience. That was why Jeremy was here. Why Kiran had dragged him onto the main rode leading into Olmondo. He stood there, with Jeremy in front of him and buildings to his side.

"It's okay." Kiran said quietly. "At least you're not alone."

Behind Jeremy, behind Kiran, was an assortment of men and women who had been arranged just like Jeremy. They too sat on their knees, their hands bound and their necks neatly decorated with a thin rim of plastic hooked together only by a small device. That device? A small communicator receiving a constant signal from the dead-man's switch held by Kiran Vess in his left hand. The Zeltron half turned to face the crowd of men and women, catching a glimpse of the one other Saeva Guard standing to the far right of the crowd as he did so. He watched them, in total more than a hundred individuals. "Though, I don't think they're too thrilled to be here either."

He shrugged slightly, the roll of his shoulders knocking the handle of his Titan Tomahawk into his rifle.

Kiran wondered if the Silver Sanctum would even show. He supposed they would have to eventually if they wanted to take Olmondo. The city was large, but not large enough that they could ignore the main road leading into it. If they wanted to bring armor into the city limits, they would have to pass by him right at it's entrance, and hopefully they hadn't abandoned too many of their principles.

He was eager to chat, though the small machine in front of Jeremy showed that he was prepared for all scenarios.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Gear: Weapons in Signature

• Shoulder Dartlauncher loaded with (4) Dragon's Fire Darts
• Carrying an Individual Field Disruptor on belt with other mundane equipment

In the end, Ijaat was about as LIght sided as... Well... There wasn't really a sufficient hyperbolic allegory because quite frankly he wasn't a "good" or "pure" man. Nor was he by any stretch a bad or evil one. In the end he really rather simply was. The Silver Sanctum had mobilized to wrest Ruusan from some Sith, and Ijaat had signed up. Frankly he wasn't there to fight or kill, not this time. For once in his career, he was going into a War Zone, a Holy Site really, to ply his trade. Nothing fancy was brought, just the typical armor and sword and the like and a Keldabe Cannon from [member="Draco Vereen"].

Kitted for battle, his true weapon was bared and laid against his shoulder. It was a simple thing, something he had learned from self study in Voss and other places, like on Atrisia when he learned Force Imbuement. It was a battered, worn hammer of simple steel he had at the back of his Forge. Maybe it had even been one of his fathers, or one of his first hammers itself. The only visions he got were of fire, heat, and endless toiling when he opened his mind to it. It had seen countless years and work. Other tools rustled here or there with his steps and he was sure to not be stealthy. As he moved, he saw Draco and froze, lifting the hammer and sitting down his rucksack a few dozen yards out from him.

A block of steel thudded heavily to the ground in therucksack, sufficient enough for an anvil. Most, including himself, liked a nicer anvil. But the clink of hammer sand tongs was present too. He drew on the Jukre tuning he had begun learning from the Varanin holocron. It was quite a different ideal and mindset, but he had a rudimentary mastering of it. As he began to set up his forge, he began humming wordlessly, voice rising and falling. Eventually, a small gas powered forge, the air venting in directly from Tython, was spewing flame, and a block of luminescent steel was placed within.

As the humming wove, he opened his mind to the Force and fed it into his voice as it rose. Eventually he pointed at Draco with the ancient hammer in his hands, and picturing the allies he had flown down to the surface with from the Coalition, he slammed his hands to the thigh plates of the armor in challenge, strutting and challenging in an ancient form of Taung battle-dance, mando'a rolling off his tongue once his grey and scarlet helmet was placed next to the anvil. It was pure challenge and retort. They were on different sides of the battle-lines and war today, but rather than fight, he spun his hammer as he slammed a foot down in final challenge.

Hammer met songsteel in echoes of the first strike as he began to sing, weaving the Force into the metal, and to Tune his challenge and show he was here not for blood, but for sport.

"Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal vebor'ad ures aliit. Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se, kote lo'shebs'ul narit!"

Spoiler

Songsteel (( Objective : Consecutively rhyme the last word of every other sentence in a paragraph in every post for the full duration of a duel against a Force User player character –OR— assist members in completing ten other objectives --OR-- have your character sing a battle song IC during an Invasion/Rebellion thread for your allies ))

Assuming that singing various Mando songs and poems while using a tiny talent for Jukre tuning to inspire his allies nearby and to keep tempers calm, collected, and inventive rather than violent.

First Song: Buc'ye gal, Buc'ye tal

 

[Loray Tares]

Location: Fort Nowhere (potentially the Valley of the Jedi, if the field trip goes that route)
Gear: Items in profile
[member="Darth Orcus"] and friends

Spoiler

Weapons
A pretty rifle
Stabbing thing
An artifact (hidden in the arm)
-Armor
Armor
Fabric cloakhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/31393-ael-summer-line-warden-cloak/ thing
Leather waist thing
-Other Stuff
Force Disperser
AI Wrist Blaster
Field Disruptor
Holographic Disguise Matrix
Melee Shield
VT-CERS Augmentation System

Piece by piece, the mind seemed to slip towards the ethos of what he had once considered the paradigm of the sith culture. Perhaps that conflicted with the mentalities of the Sith Triumvirate, their cause for some sort of sense of order far beyond the viscera he had grown to appreciate. Worlds quaked from his commands, people died, civilizations burned, and he couldn't see the end of it. Assumingly, he had left that thing somewhere in the distant past but as he stood now, windswept and hungry among a world soon to be stricken, he felt the rapture once more. The anticipation, the potential for conflict, the desire to see everything washed away. Riveting and, for all he knew, far less civilized demeanor than those that now stood grateful host.

To cut or be cut, there was no other desire. He didn't care about the Sith Triumvirate or whatever this entity was that clouded the sky with presence. It was inconsequential, a thing requiring no thought. And that was for the best. His mind was already consumed with words of the mind and the blade, cohabitating a place that never really knew any form of silence. And just one more voice to add to the mix, a command for garrison formation.

Clenched teeth, the only response a being of his form could have to a perceived command. But it was par for the course, services rendered for goods. What goods, were those? He couldn't recall, didn't seem pertinent. He'd judge the shine after cleaning blood and gore from used blades. And with gripped hands, he wrapped fingers around the cloak and tightened it around his torso.

He couldn't recall why he was on Ruusan, or when he had discussed this arrangement. The blackouts he had once caused, in another life, were catching up to him it seemed. Perhaps it was the violent flicker of a candle, just before being blown out. He could only hope so, a spectacular end painted in coats of pain and agony. His end, someone else, maybe both. But he could feel it, the epicenter of the fight and how it would revolve around this place. And if not, there were always shuttles to be stolen.

Flinging the pink rifle over his shoulder, he began moving towards the dictated location, towards the garrison formation. He'd likely stick out like a sore thumb.

 

[Cathbodua]

Location: Heading to Olmondo
Gear: In Sig

"Be careful." She said it while sitting there in the ship as it was preparing to head down [member="Tempest"] was for now someone she wasn't certain of but she seemed to have the main forces. So when she moved the healer could move while checking her equipment and changing out the rebreather pack with a field one for her iconiq bodyarmor while she had heard @Siobhan Kerrgian was in the field as well with a raised eyebrow. Only thing that might be able to really beef up some of the power would be if [member="Jericho"] who she had been spending time with training in the heavy gravity rooms at levels the two jedi might be labeled insane to reach. He could do a lot of artillery with some of his fists.

Her lightwhip pulsed as the healing crystal of fire within it gave a good feeling along with the rest of it. The aged hilt gleaming like glass speckled with the small shards that let the force flow freely same as the gleaming sparkles in her armor. She touched the rest of her equipment while standing up and luckily her padawan was safe off in a temple just in case. He didn't have the experience to fight so no need to drag him into a battle like this... Instead she might have to worry about the like of [member="Zak Dymo"] who as a padawan menace could cause trouble... unless they gave him a bunch of sugar, some of the anti vehicle magnetic caltrop to spread around on sith armored units.

The jedi knight shook her head to well stop imagining the antics or get the idea of such a thing. She couldn't unleash such a terror on the sith even if they were considered the enemy. Instead she would work with some of the stronger possibly masters that were coming like [member="Kei Amadis"] as she started walking. Raising up the hood as the force attuned weave glowed like a web work in the slightly exposed sections. Her sigil within her armor glowing a little to resonate with the force energies she was focusing and channeling. Her eyes narrowing while she stepped into the drop ship to head and take them down towards the city limits so she could preform as needed with healing.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Opponents: [member="Ijaat Mereel"]
Gear: Weapons in Signature

• Shoulder Dartlauncher loaded with (2) Dragon's Fire Darts, (2) Cyroban Darts
• (2) Class-A Thermal Detonators, (2) Force Breakers
• Carrying an Individual Field Disruptor on belt with other mundane equipment

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aj4qbuheNvk​

​

Draco looked confused for a moment, the Mandalorian wasn't sure what the reborn beskarsmith was doing on Ruusan, but based on his armor and gear, he was fighting for the Silver Sanctum. Nothing wrong with that. Another week, Draco might have been representing them as well. But it wasn't that way.

Nevertheless, the tenants of Clan Vereen prevent a Mandalorian from drawing another Mando'ad's blood for pay. There would be no swords lifted against each other in anger or hatred, no battle to the death for Draco against his former mentor. His own laws, written by his own hand were plain. He would stay out of Ijaat's way unless his contract required him to stall the man. Which in this case, it likely didn't. Ijaat alone couldn't cleanse this place, nor did his contract have very specific wording. His duty was to defend the Valley of the Jedi, and he could do that easily enough.

However the beskarsmith had a different plan. Instead of continuing on his way securing the valley and firing upon Sith bloodletter after Sith fanatic, he dropped a hunk of metal and stamped his feet, roaring the old words of challenge. Draco's eyes widened behind his mask and it took a moment before he realized what was going on. "Really? You wanna do this here?" Draco said, the annunciator amplifying his voice enough that it could be heard over the din of the Forge and over the movement of men and women nearby.

"Okay. You got it old man. You've been gone a long time." And Draco had been busy during that time. He had learned a great deal during Ijaat's retirement, even took to venturing with Gotal'veman when working on custom pieces. He may not be as good a smith, but he knew more about alchemy, force imbuement, and crystallurgy that Ijaat. He knew he did. He was confident he did. In the back of his mind, he wasn't sure that compensated enough.

Draco took up the Hjarna stone hammer that Ijaat had left him and checked his tools, stuck neatly in his belt. The Forge was coming to temperature, but he had been taking it easy. Now it was time to get serious. The Force churned in this place with Carach's fanatics corrupting it, but it was still pure enough, still balanced enough to be useful to him. He tugged on the infinite web and drew the power into himself, fueling his muscles, his bones, rising him to new heights. Dark flames crackled in the Forge as his focus turned to the metal bar or steel within. By the time he finished crafting it would be a superb exampled of euk'gar and a prime example of alchemized metal for his new warhammer.

Battle of smiths, Song of the Duels of the Forge.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Fort Nowhere

Inside the headquarters, two decanii stood on either side of Orcus, strapping on his armor.

"Vanitas," rumbled the cetacean when he sensed his apprentice's presence at the entrance. The man stepped through, his back straight, his gait even, girded for war. Raven locks tumbled down near his shoulders, framing a haughty face and eyes of cloudy gray. Every inch the Sith warrior.

Some foreign emotion stirred in Orcus' chest at the sight.

Where was the angry, aimless youth who once confronted me in a lonely station hall?

"Will we fight side-by-side this day and drive the Jedi invaders from our soil?"

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

In the courtyard, [member="Loray Tares"] would find the tank crews of the garrison prepping their vehicles, while infantry hurried to the armory. Flight mechanics ran out fuel lines to the shuttles and gunships stationed outside. Comm officers coordinated with one of the Herglic Trade Empire cruisers in space and the Myrmidon company stationed on it. All in all, a bustle of activity.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Gear: Weapons in Signature
Opponents: [member="Draco Vereen"]

• Shoulder Dartlauncher loaded with (4) Dragon's Fire Darts
• Carrying an Individual Field Disruptor on belt with other mundane equipment

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJwo6bMKBaw​

Ijaat raised his hammer and the singing stopped for a moment as blows began to rain down upon the glowing metal. Songsteel was quite honestly a new animal to forge and shape, and it was a challenge to him still. But that is why he had chose it, there was no labor worth doing that was not worth being challenged, pushed, and strained on. Helmetless now, his brow furrowed in sweat, tongue stuck between his teeth, dirty blonde hair already a mop almost. Swiftly he turned and drew the metal out longer and longer to shape, the hammer beats continuing the odd beat of the drinking challenge he had sent out to Draco a moment earlier. Perversely, even in concentration, his eyes danced with laughter and mirth. This, this almost as much or more than battle drove his blood to sing.

Finally, as the metal began to move more surely, the heat back into it, he tugged it from the forge and began the rough shaping with a narrow bead in his eyes. He would make a take on the beskad, of sorts. A singled edged sword, that began life with the Taung as a farming implement, a tool for clearing growth and chopping crops when manda'yaim was still yet untamed and wild. And as the shape began in his mind to form and flow, he began to pull on the Force even more, feeling it suffuse his being. Battered hammer rang true and solid, each hit still to the beat of the former challenge, until he began to sing again as he forged. This one his people sang when they drank, when they fought, or whenever. It was a song that gloried in the identity of his people...

"Naasad'guur mhi, Naasad'guur mhi, Naasad'guur mhi. Mhi n'ulu. Mhi Mando'ade, Kandosii'ade, Teh Manda'yaim, Mando'ade!"

With that the blows began to change, and he began to shape the belly and breadth of the blade, shifting to draw it out to the proper size and heft. Each blow rang with the Force, the metal seeming to flow with less effort, each blow driving it quicker and easier than it should. While Draco may outdo him on Alchemy and Force Imbuement, Ijaat knew metal better than almost anyone else alive, and he could use a very stammering, stuttering application of Art of the Small. Sensing the crystalline structure of the songsteel itself, he wasn't able to alter it entirely, not yet. But he could emphasize qualities it already possessed. Like making it lighter, making it shine brighter, and the glow around it becoming almost like the flicker of the Force-fed flames of his forge itself.

Spoiler

Songsteel (( Objective : Consecutively rhyme the last word of every other sentence in a paragraph in every post for the full duration of a duel against a Force User player character –OR— assist members in completing ten other objectives --OR-- have your character sing a battle song IC during an Invasion/Rebellion thread for your allies ))

Second Song: Naasad'guur mhi – Mhi n'ulu

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Fort Nowhere.

Haytham strode through the halls, his existence in a constant war trying to decide what to do. Rolling his shoulders back as he watches the two Decanii strapping on the armour... His eyes watched for the weak points, the joints, anything that could be exploited. If he aimed to live in this battle, he would have to protect Orcus from those that would harm him, and that meant he had to defend against his weak points. Besides, he doubted anyone would take note of him next to the hulking humanoid that should've been in a body of water instead of in a battlefield.

"I don't see why not. Battles have been won with fewer numbers." He said drily. Despite his presence in the Force being a raging ocean, his voice was devoid of almost every emotion.

"Besides... I'm curious to see how you corrupt Jedi so easily." Of course, he was revisiting the time that he had been defeated Vassara Raxis, his master before the Herglic Sith Lord.

[member="Darth Orcus"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Fort Nowhere

Such a flat, cold voice. So empty of the raging caldera the Sith Lord could sense inside the young man's chest. Orcus' lips split wide. It seemed the boy had learned control after all.

In that armor, he almost looks the shadow of Exar Kun himself.

Given several years under Orcus' tutelage, the tyro would no doubt realize his potential and become every bit as formidable. A true Sith, not one of those mindless butchers who haunted Coruscant's spires.

"Corruption is such a foul word. I will merely reveal to them the truth of the galaxy, as I did to you. Such corruption is a sacrifice for the betterment of the whole. Without it we are weaker, incapable of fulfilling our destinies."

The armorers finished girding the cetacean and stepped back. He gestured to his apprentice. "Come, let us prepare to meet them."

Then he made for the courtyard.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

Valley of Jedi

He was too hot. He was too cold. He was not alive or dead. Neither here nor there. He was betwixt and between. He was the neutrality of nothing. He had no feeling but the extent of his lust and therefore noticed none outside of it. He he could not discern why he was still latched onto his proverbial coffin-contract with the Triumvirate, but did not wish it terminated. He did not wish to die but one day hoped for a glorious death.

To which ever end it supplemented, he'd spent a fair amount of time on this planet however, first during the most-recent rebellion and afterwards to toll in the Citadel. It was in places such as these that he found knowledge to consume, shoved and shoveled like ice into fire, one end of the spectrum of sensation to the other. Although affiliated, Oron had no desire to become a Sith. Yet despite this, his studies of the Dark Side ensured that anything righteous and benevolent in him, was turned like a dying flower to a cold sun.

He had no care, nor caution….only the existing exhaustion after living through the end of all he held dear. Events he couldn't alter and decisions that couldn't be undone. Yet there were no regrets and he never releases the sight of weakness from his unforgiving gaze.

Then the sound of boots, marching over smooth floors in the halls drew his attention from an old text as Oron turned, his lips set in a severe line whilst he regarded the shadows of a myriad of soldiers and acolytes that began shuffling in and out of the citadel. He turned again, this time towards the window, the sun managing to break its way through the lacklustre haze in his dark room. The lack of artificial lighting that only bled through from the distant orb outside, allowed an ominous halation to form against his hazel skin as he sighed, a long suffering sound, while he waited for the beeps and buzzes to relay to his comms - and they did.

The Marauder raised a thick brow, lining himself back against the cold wall, as he flipped through page after page of alerts on his HUD; images, texts, maps, warnings- all in response to a massive fleet gathering above the planet. Moving across the room, Oron began to don his armor and weapons, illuminated in meager light as he picked everything up and pursed it to his body. A cursory glance ensured nothing was left behind and he moved outside and began to trot down the massive stairs.

Come and run with us, said the wolves to the sheep.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Olomondo
Not-quite main road

While [member="Kiran Vess"] had been tying the civvies in their new gift wrapping, Laguz had assumed the inconspicuous shape, size, color, texture, and [SIZE=14.6667px]smell[/SIZE] of old ferrocrete. Xe used this particular form so often that it was almost ingrained into xir reflexes. With a few minor adjustments made to add continuity and blending with this particular destitute wall, the shifter was done.

One would be hard-pressed to spot the difference standing a few paces away, and given how high up Laguz was perched, detection by sight was going to be unlikely.

Which was an excellent thing when you were a sniper. All other venues of detection were rendered practically nil by the weapon xe carried. Xir dear, darling Tessie. She required gentle handling and a steady hand, but when taken care of properly, the rifle was as silent as the void of space. The firing mechanism also removed all worries about muzzle flash, and a thin coat of special paint applied to the scope did away with lens glare.

Laguz was a professional.

It’s why xe worked for Saeva and earned obscene amounts of money for equally obscene deeds. Any half-decent man would’ve gone down and stopped the other mercenary from rigging the civilians with explosives. Laguz wasn’t half-decent. Xe wasn’t even a man.

So xe just watched from above, filling a hole in the wall of a nearby building. The range was right in that sweet spot, and xe got to hide in plain sight. What more could an assassin want from an ambush setup?

Xe suppressed the urge to giggle and instead bottled up xir excitement. Xe’d channel it into the first shot when it came to it. Because it would come to it; that he didn’t doubt. The SSC weren’t your conventional Jedi order. From what xe’d heard and learned during xir time with the Primeval, there weren’t even that many Jedi in there. Odd folks, fringers, never black-and-white.

A few civvie casualties wouldn’t stop them, probably. And then Laguz would get to press the trigger and riddle the attackers with holes.

Lovingly, xe caressed the pouch of pellets xe’d brought with. The thought of piercing even the toughest of armors nearly had xem salivating. Songsteel? Easy as pie. Phrik? No problem. Beskar’gam? Say goodbye. Breakneck velocity and xir new ammunition were a deadly combination.

Just in case someone got close to xir position, however, Laguz had brought a couple of explosives of xir own. And a knife. Could never go wrong with a knife. There was also a vicious little sidearm, but it wouldn’t see any use.

No.

Today was Tessie’s birthday and damned if xe didn’t honor her.

 

[Kei Amadis]

Objective 2: Olmondo
Location: Heading to Olmondo | Outskirts of the City
Mission: Secure the City, Assist in Evacuation, Healing of Wounded, Negotiate.
Allies: TBD
Enemies: TBD
NPC Allies: Background Fluff. Unless engaged vs NPCs.
Regular infantry and fluff armor also arriving nearby, perhaps run by someone else.

Muse Music

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAgnJDJN4VA

“Like old times Sir.” Rann remarked. Six of them laying low to the dirt, range finders looking for a weakspot for entry. “Main roads packed itself up tighter than two gungans trying to audition for a holomovie.” Old Burnsass replied. "Only way in. Get me some eyes in the air." Amadis would have a couple of long range fighters sweep overhead taking photographs of the location from high range, to hopefully see what was what.

Coming here had been considered cautiously by the silver council, healthy debate to have. A Jedi didn’t pre-emptively strike unless he had considered his ground beforehand. Striking now meant saving lives later, hard as that was for a Jedi, some days you initiated force to save lives. Recon said the city was reportedly well defended, you couldn't ever trust intel till you had eyes on. Regardless, walking or driving up in line of sight would paint a bullseye for any sniper for miles. Kei was too old, too cagey, and entirely too pig headed to be shot without so much as a hey you! in polite greeting first.

Separated off from the main efforts, to find high ground, Amadis was out in his grudgingly worn armor, showing streak or two of silver stubble contrasting the usual black across his chin, due to the sun obviously! Brown Robe half covered the darker armor, if only not to stand out so much by any shine. These days the wildcards supporting the infantry were an aging unit, a place men served their last years out in humanitarian work, or rescue operations, an honorable place to go to finish your career for the SSC. They were not your front line battle unit, that was the ranger's or infantry’s job beside them! Most of them were vets and most of them had at least as much silver on their chin as he did, which was due to the sun in his case.

[member="Kiran Vess"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]

“Put me through on all comm channels, sent via the forward line.” A city wide broadcast. Not sent from his location obviously, but relayed via the front. Signal coming from somewhere distant to Olomondo “This is Master Amadis of the Silver Jedi Council, if the defending forces of Olmondo lay down your arms and come out willingly, we will escort you from the city, and no man or woman will be harmed. To the Civilians of Olmondo, stay inside your homes, do not venture outside, our medical and engineering staff will be at your disposal.” Telling civilians you meant them no harm when you were about to kick in their front door would be foolish, telling them to stay safe and out of harms way wasn’t, people had tendency to keep their heads down when shots started flying. He’d done this before.

“[member="Cathbodua"], what do you see from where you are?” Somewhere forward of him, his comm was sent privately to her. He’d spotted her making approach a short distance away. He was too far away, but did she see the setup of the prisoners from [member="Kiran Vess"]? Did Kei's recon photo spot Kiran's move, or passing snipers such as [member="Laguz Vald"], both who might need to duck down for a second as they passed very high overhead at subsonic roar.

Gear
Tempest Jedi Armor | Power Blade Mii Knife (Hip) | Lightsaber (Hip) | MCR Rifle Ion Ammo (Hands) | 2x Stun Grenades | Basic Field Medical Kit (Pouch) | Grappling Hook/Tie/Field Rations (Belt)

 

[Kana Truden]

Objective: Valley of the Jedi
Location: Not the Valley of the Jedi, yet.
People: [member="Spencer Varanin"]

She was eased down on the outskirts of the battlefield after passing atmo. There was a distinctly somber silence hanging in the air, deafening all around in preparation for what was about to happen once the loading ramp opened. The commandos that she had been partnered with all checked their equipments and shared their last few moments of banter before the muja hit the fan. They already knew the Jedi wasn’t there to assist them, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to ridicule her as well. Mainly comments about medics in the field or the fact that she wasn’t bringing anything other than her saber to a what could become a big engagement.

Obviously they didn’t know the force like she did. She merely feigned a chuckle and achieved minimal eye contact with their leader. For some of them it would be the last she saw of them, for the rest of them it was still up in the air whether she would have to stick around for the post-victory or defeat party. The latter meaning more work hours at the clinic, but it wasn’t exactly like she could complain about that. It was her job, her duty to keep others alive. Even herself to a degree. Though just for the day she was willing to make an exception.

Metal squealed and the party left their shuttle. There was a brief moment where they tried to cover it up and make it less noticeable, but with a tightly packed schedule you could only ever get so far.

“Spread out, secure the area.” The commander whispered to his crew. “Check the perimeter and…”

Kana phased out and looked over the vast fields before her. A few clicks ahead of her was where she knew she would find her old home. Excitement, eagerness and the unfathomable grip of recurring depression grasped at her heart as she took the first step.

“Let her go,” The commander held his troops back before whispering something he assumed the jedi wouldn’t hear. “If she dies it’s a good distraction.”

Though Kana scoffed and pretended she really didn’t hear that one particular bit. Not at all.

 

[Lassiter]

Objective: Almond-... Ulmond? Olmondo City.
Location: Who knows?
People: [member="Ameli Trahir"]

There was little in the way of things to do around here. Sena had never been one to do things just for leisure, but just this once she was desperately holding out for something exciting to do. Her mind screamed at her, demanded the taste of blood but much like the good girl she was she kept the voices of her mind at bay. If she was trying to get in the good graces of this particular branch of Sith there was precious little to be gained from wanton acts of violence. Instead she had signed up for security duty. For the last week Sena had been overlooking the movements and schedules of the citizens of Ruusan. It wasn’t the kind of stalking she was used to, or preferred, but as it turned out there was very little difference between stalking someone in order to kill them and stalking someone in the hopes of catching them acting out of line in order to kill them.

More often than not Sena’s tracks had ended up in a dead-end, but for the sheer thrill of it she had continued to torment the people within the limits of what the federal bureaucracy would allow her to. On paper it was all legal, on paper she had taken to the title of ‘Ruusan Loyalty Inspector.’ It bought her the freedom she needed to truly bring home that good old ‘You have done messed up now’ vibe that the citizens feared so much.

And it didn’t really help that she was a mute at that. Words never parted her lips as much as theirs. It was the beauty of mind control. And all of it in honor of her dead master. Indeed, Sena had one day decided to shut her lips to the public eye and as it turned out silence could serve an individual like Sena quite well.

There were exceptions, of course. Well, no, there was just the one exception. [member="Ameli Trahir"].

With her latest report in hand and ready to be sent to HQ Sena took a short moment to look out the window of her office.

There were ships in the sky.

A groan parted her lips.

Whyyyyy?