Junction The Final Countdown - AC/NIO/EE/GA/Enclave/BotM Junction of Dromund Kaas/Centares/Lutrilla/Aruza/Hypori/empty hex above Sposia

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Some Old Ruins
Objective: Capture or Kill Darth Arcanix
Allies: Wyatt Morga // Romi Jade // Coren Starchaser
Enemies: Taeli Raaf
Equipment: Coat | Armor | Lightsaber: 1 & 2 | Gun | Arm | Corellian Jedi Credit | Ring
Music Theme

Unclipping a lightsaber, he rolled it over and under his hand like some tricksters might a coin. A simple limbering exercise for keeping the fingers dextrous and loose. His reply came almost distractedly as he closed his eyes, seeking the flow of the Force around him to prepare his mind for the battle that would come. Alive was preferable, but the Sith they hunted would come quietly without a fight as likely as Julius himself likely would if she were to be hunting him instead of the other way around as it currently stood.

"The Peace, eh? Should work nicely. I recommend void stone or steel lining. Kira had a few things made of it. Blocks the Force real well. Less finicky than those slugs. But I like keeping it mobile."

Finally his eyes opened, and his stance seemed to, oddly enough, soften.

"I'm ready... Any leads?"

 

[Lyrrin]

-

Passkey_Accepted...
Accessing_Mission_Files...

Allies: Jax Thio [Open]
Awaiting Designation: [Open]
Hostiles: Djorn Bline [Open]
Location: Imperial Intelligence Operational Center

---

The fighting had been fierce, of course, with so many attempting to pick at the scraps though the Strategic Intelligence Agency had sent Lyrrin to obtain critical intelligence reports and secrets from the beleaguered (and functionally defunct) Imperial Intelligence's operations center on Dromund Kaas. With him he brought his usual kit. It was compromised mostly of sensory devices and concealed projectile weaponry for his own personal protection.

Lyrrin was able to slip through much of the area unhindered as he could pass off his existence in the street as a terrified civilian seeking shelter. This however would not always be a viable form of 'disguise' and he knew this. Passing by a ruined building he reached to his belt, under his black waist length shawl, and pulled out a grappling hook launcher. With the sound of hissing compressed gasses and steel cord over reel, the metallic claw latched firmly into the upper surfaces. Lyrrin ascended the building's side a quick pace. Below him he saw the fighting pressing ever closer "This is Lyrrin, I'm ascending near the objective." he reported to Jax Thio over his commlink mounted to his left wrist "I'm going up, you should be fine below." despite Lyrrin's mistrust and disdain for Jedi he knew they were competent frontline combatants and if anyone could break through a symbolic security perimeter it would be a Jedi Knight and his trusty lightsaber. Meanwhile, as a mere mortal, Lyrrin needed to be a bit more evasive with his entries.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY
DROMUND KAAS | JUNGLES | DARK FORCE TEMPLE PERIMETER
BEYOND THE EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE,
THERE'S A KIND OF REAL DARKNESS
WHERE EVEN THE LIGHT HAS GONE ASTRAY

​

There was selfishness behind her curiosity. The balance of Jedi duty and family was not a new dilemma. It was one Ishida had been wrestling with for a while now.

~Don't waste your life pursuing some fairy tale crusade across the galaxy fighting the horrors of the night, when it's time, come home and expand upon your fathers dreams and take it to new heights.~
~Honour him, it is our way.~

The demands of a name, and the duty required to bring honour, versus the demands of another title, and the honour it demanded at a conflict with one another. There should have been harmony, somehow, years ago, her ancestors had made it work. How could she?

——but they also give me another reason to do what I do,"

A small smile ghosted across her lips and she nodded. In a strange way, anything to do with the Maw was just another way she could get closer, and closer to keeping her brother beneath her boot and not give him the success he sought with self-defined greatness. And each victory she earned was at least another triumph in the Ashina name. It was small drops in a large bucket, not enough to maintain her father’s approval, but it would serve for now until she could otherwise reunite the fractured family beneath her banner.

Ishida gave a grunt of acknowledgement, softening near the end as she reached a placid state of understanding. It was difficult to leave home, to stay away from those you loved. Duty might have demanded it, but that was a half-hearted explanation. The reality was for Ishida, and likely for Valery too, to do what I do meant to kill. There was a catharsis, a calm, that came with each stroke, each monster of the other side vanquished. Idle hands would be a disservice and would eat people like them alive.

“You’re not afraid.” Ishida spoke again. Not a question, necessarily, more of an observation. Despite the evil pulsing all around them, cooling the air like an unseen winter, the Master adjacent to her remained a bright spot. “I admire your choice.”

She sidestepped a gnarled root and ducked beneath a low-slung vine covered in thick coils of moss. “Balance seems difficult when it comes to love.”

At that time, Valery held up a hand. Ishida looked past the Jedi Master’s knuckles at the grey-coloured world ahead of them. Another gesture was evidenced, and the Shadow indicated a less fortunate Jedi. Ishida’s lips curled back in distaste.

Another silhouette, further ahead, was slumped against the foundation of a tree. The eternal twilight made it difficult to perceive the terror in the fallen’s face. But their lack of movement spoke volumes. While there were no signs of any sort of battle on the knight’s body, their weapon had been drawn and now lay in a limp grip on the ground.

Distantly, she was aware of the heavy, distinctive sound of someone walking.

"Seems we'll have to fight our way in."

“Seems so.” Ishida agreed, never one to run from a fight — but preferred to enter a field on her terms. For now, she and Valery at least had a meager advantage of concealment within the brush. They might have been detected — she was almost certain they had been — but it would be their choice to emerge.

Several meters away, in the direction Ishida and Valery had meant to go, a single red blade activated. Ah, so they had been detected.

“First, a distraction.” Keeping low, she maintained a crouch and made her way to the crumpled body by the tree. The bushes still concealed herself and Valery from view, so she took the precious time to close the eyelids of the dead and pressed her hand to his chest. Awkwardly, she used their shoulder as a pedestal to get a running start up the tree that stretched over the bush line. Her vantage point now broadened exponentially from several feet overhead.

From a small packet at her side, Ishida withdrew four shurikens made of Ashina steel, pulled her hand back, and released them in quick succession at the glowing red blade. First, to test the reflexes of the opposition. Second, to potentially disable their blade if they made any contact with any one of the deadly steel stars whirling at their position. Third, to draw their attention upward, to her, and take attention away from Valery.

​

---

ALLIES | GA | AC | ENC | Valery Noble | PROXIMITY: Orlov Ansonnir
FOES | SITH | BOTM | Darth Kentarch | PROXIMITY: Zlova Rue | PROXIMITY: Taeli Raaf

 

[Sasmay Cull]

WEAPONS: 4 Whimsy Knives, 1 Nastirci Combat Knife, 1 HG-88 ‘Big Iron’ Hand Cannons, K914 SMG, (4) Elemental Grenades, (2) Impact Grenades, Phase X-E CryoSonic Heavy Pistol
EQUIPMENT: Phase II Haywire Armor without force mask UL-13 Corporis Skin Suit, Kirino Visual Interface
FLYING: The Gray Queen's Throne carrying The Termite
ESCORTING: x3 Agrilat-series Freighters lightly loaded with food, medical supplies, and buildings materials in internal storage. Heavily loaded with Refined Rhydonium in outer containers.
LOCATION: Entering System near Brotherhood of the Maw space
TERMITE GEAR: 1 HG-88 ‘Big Iron’ Hand Cannons -(Outfitted with Glitter Bullets), BR-3 Rowdy Rancor, Winter Rose Rifle, Phase XI Anti-Material Rifle
DROIDS: (4) Droid Bois - (Tremor, Clang, Skitter, Pop)
ACCOMPANIED BY: Myunna
TAGS: Onrai
ENEMIES: Anyone that interferes - BoTM
ALLIES: Unknown

The sudden appearance of intense energy across the shields and scoring the hull surprised those in the bridge. The rocking of the entire ship at the sudden incoming tossing those few unprepared from their spots as the crew scrambled to right themselves.

"This is a stupid idea. This is a stupid idea. This is a stupid idea." Vella squalled as she caught herself from falling over. Sasmay cackled at the sudden impact, eye shining in the light as she pointed and began dispensing orders in lieu of Vella being blatantly incapable at the sudden attack.

"Swing us around, present the nose and direct power to forward shields. Spin up the velocity cannons and light turbo's. Keep us at range and evasive maneuvers. Keep sending ion shots across the Agrilat bows though!" She howled with joy as Vella stared at the woman.

The Nebulon-B would swing the nose in towards the aggressor, the majority of it's weapons pointed their direction as hypervelocity cannons began to chuck solid state rounds at the Thule. The light turbolasers would streak across the space between, trying to pinpoint weak spots as the Throne shifted it's course back and forth while keeping the nose pointed in.

----The Three Agrilat-series Ships making for the Thule----​

The three freighters would make a hard line towards the vessel that had made a silent offer to assistance, slowly weaving as more ion fire was directed their way. The shots were dangerously close, and made the crew worry just how much Cull had told the gunners about keeping them firmly outside the crosshairs.

Still to far out to enact their plan, the rodian captain tried to send a message toward the Thule.

"Many thanks! We'll share something for the trouble when you knock em out! So long as we live through this." He buzzed happily though still nervous over the line.

​

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
CHAPTER 'IRON CRUSADE'
THE EMPIRE
ARMOR | SHIELD | LIGHTSABER
Ares Atrius

P R A I S E
​

They'd damned him to a life a subjugant. The false fathers of his homeworld had sold its fate to darkness. But Waymar was a far more fortunate son than those who were content to submit themselves to the dark and depraved of the Sith. He betrayed his once master for a higher calling...Empire.

Dromuund Kaas was one of many venues within which the Sith sought to break down its students, he remembered the time he'd spent here all but figuratively chained to the whipping post, beaten, tortured and savaged in the hopes that he would be made into the very same monster as those around him.

Korridan, Galidraan and vast swathes of the Sith Empire proper had seen themselves purged and defaced of that dark influence. To Dathrohan, Kaas was the last fragment of old, ailing trauma and pain that existed still within the Galaxy. The last door to force shut and the last sanctum of depravity to scrape clean from the Galaxy.

But sentiment would always play victim to pragmatism. It didn't matter what ties, what depth this mission might've had to Waymar. All that mattered was- Kaas was a hive of darkness.

Dathrohan, his retinue of Knight-Errants and his section of troopers emerged from the darkened jungles to savage these ruins. He ignited his argent blade as the battle heads up display came alight in his helmet and he surged down in the shadow of an ancient Sith Lord, his visage cast in steel.

He had a trace, an inkling on the trail of the one who sentenced him to damnation, his once 'master'. He was here- in the swelling remains of a dead Empire.

He would find him- and kill him.

He brought his shield into his left, cybernetic arm before slamming it down into the chest of a Remnant trooper, barely the vigilant appearance that once appeared strident in holonews clips and propaganda posters. They were a withered entity propped up by withered men sentenced to damnation from a near-decade of strife.

Their suffering would end soon enough.

 

[Baron Reinhardt Ström]

OBJECTIVE: I - Once More Into the Breach
TAG: Ingrid L'lerim, Pietro Demici , The Mongrel Shai Maji Open
LOCATION: Imperial Forward Operating Base, Northern Outskirts of City

<< Overseer, this is L'lerim! How are the preparations going today? >>

Reinhardt disregarded the Empress's correction, as he had done countless times prior. To him, she was 'her majesty', not simply his liege. He was raised within a rigid hierarchy of nobility and regnal privilege, she would simply need to get used to the fact he was set in his ways. The line disconnected, with a report following it almost instantly: "My lord, we are detecting numerous Maw dropships descending upon the city, with pockets of allied forces already being engaged."

"What about our forces? Have they encountered resistance yet?"

"Partisans primarily sire, engaging in guerilla tactics against our armored columns. Nothing our forces haven't been able to handle though."

The Baron peered over the console of the junior officer manning the radar station, checking the readouts of the craft descending upon the city and offloading the first of the Maw forces. After gaining the full measure of the situation, Ström turned to the comms station and ordered: "Order weapons free for all anti-aircraft emplacements, bring down the Maw dropships with extreme prejudice.”

Not but a moment after the Baron issued his order, another tactical officer spoke up: ”Sire, Enclave forces have been detected entering the engagement area.” This update threatened to bring a grimace upon the features of the Overseer, but he checked it with his razor-honed discipline as he amended: ”The utmost of trigger discipline is to be enforced. Any man who fires unprovoked upon Enclave forces without my direct approval will face summary execution. Is that understood?” A silence prevailed in the command center, with the sounds of console blips and radio static being the only noise to be heard for several moments before an obligatory ‘Yes Sir’ was uttered in response to the Baron’s order. Within moments of the order being given, intense volleys of anti-air fire from viper emplacements spread out throughout the northern deployment area raked the clusters of Maw dropships moving in on the city, with warning signals and ‘no fly zones’ being broadcast to ‘allied’ forces in the area (even on Enclave frequencies), so as to take every precaution to avoid friendly fire.

Within the city, columns of Sarissa-pattern battle tanks, supported by Xiphos-pattern IFVs and Lykos-pattern support vehicles ambled through the city streets, supported by mixed companies of standard and ‘ghost’ variant ultranauts moving in concert. Firefights erupted in pockets throughout the city, but by and large the main force made quick work in making way to Princess Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

Meanwhile, along the forest edge leading up to the city, the Empire’s reserve forces began engaging encroaching Maw forces in skirmishing maneuvers, with recon vehicles providing key positional intel to the FOB. At Baron Ström’s leave, several fixed artillery positions opened fire upon the forest-bound Maw forces, air-burst fragmentation rounds unleashing a cascade of shrapnel and explosive bursts upon the waves of enemy forces advancing on their position.

”Order the 4th and 7th Bataillions to dig in as a rear guard, with the 3rd armored division to serve as their support. We hold our ground!” The Baron demanded, his will steeling the resolve of those around him as his face adopted a mask of determination. This was among the first of the Empire’s recent operations in concert with the powers of the galaxy - he would not fail his Empress. Not now.

The city would break before either he or his men did.

He would see to that.

​

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

NIV TREGESSAR
Drommund Kaas
Allierten: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Orys Draste | Dunno who else is here, arrived late
Enemies: I assume at least Marlon Sularen
UNTERNEHMEN Kronenzertrümmerer
THEME

​

Drommund Kaas. There was a certain irony here. The last festering vestige of the collapsing Sith Empire. It was for Carlyle Rausgeber, an unanticipated time of self-reflection. He in a deep part of himself, felt like a pillager. A barbarian here to snatch away at what was once Sith core domain. And that cut with him in some deep part of his conscience. Was he much like the Ssi-Ruuvi who broke and plundered the lands of the First Order? Was he nothing more than a mindless scavenger? Not to let the philosophy blind him, Carlyle knew he definitely loathed the Sith. Not hated, much like many of his subordinates within the broader Navy. But loathed.

Loathing their machinations. Their petty grasps for power. How they so often clasped and stood over the conquests and victories of men like him, and seemed to laud themselves as some premium specimen. Some better species. Clearly, Darth Carnifex, and whatever remaining leadership of the flailing Empire was not that. But it was not only that which made Carlyle seethe. He looked upon the armadas descending toward Drommund Kaas with a certain, fear. Was this perhaps the fate that awaited his beloved Prefsbelt IV? All he had laboured to construct there, all he had organised. He could feel that leash ever tightening. Be it the ISB, the Assembly. Or perhaps most terrifying of all, Rurik Fel himself. Another Carnifex. Another Emperor ascendant who stood upon Carlyle's shoulders.

As his blue eyes darted over the system, Rausgeber felt himself tighten his posture. It was unseemly at a time like this not to prepare himself for the oncoming engagement. He owed that to his crews. Turning his head nonchalantly as possible to the starboard crew pit. "Engage the KreigsGeist." He commanded coldly. There was suddenly a flurry of activity, baying to his every word. "Have our commands maintain some decorum. They are not to fire on any vessels, unless engaged, or ordered otherwise." Rausgeber barked to the communications crew, "Broadcast message two seventy four." A pre-recorded message of Rausgeber, dispatched to all nearby vessels. The message itself was curt. Clear. The New Imperial Order was here to bring this system to heel, and would not fire unless fired upon. Although that invitation eminently did not extend to the Maw hordes assembled above Kaas. Carlyle turned heel, cape fluttering in his wake as he crossed down the command bridge, to his nominal commanding position. The holographic display. "Patch us into ground forces command," Rausgeber thundered. "I want us moving into a position where we can provide for the Emperor and other assets."

Base Delta Zero it was. "Yes milord." Brigadier General Freidrich Jod of the 3rd Stossjaeger Brigade "The Fist" snapped back. "Reports we've intercepted show that the army assembled against the Sith Remnant is something to be marvelled at." The General continued, "It appears a coalition, adhoc as it may be has assembled here. Ashlan Crusade, the Alliance, and Jedi." Carlyle scoffed, and a wry smirk appeared on his features. Curious. "Seems the Bastion Accord, beyond the Emperor's wishes has reconvened." Jod allowed a smile himself, before immediately returning to his nominal grimace. "As it sits sir, we have Lord-General Barren of the Galidraani force. I'll be sure to send communications his way."

The Admiral Regent gave a small nod. "Well then, I think the plan is settled. We move to prime bombardment range." Rausgeber began, "Provide Lord-General Barren his support. And then we'll..." He scowled at the Maw fleet, "I suppose we'll have to deal with these." A task he was not exactly enthused for. "Once we move into bombardment position, they will likely attempt an offensive," Carlyle mused to his war council of assembled officers, "Perhaps, we'll send Commodore Draste squadron out to probe their defences. Gauge if it's a full throated evacuation, or if they're here to disrupt us." He then glared as his staff officers, "Make it happen."

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Tags: Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
Objective: Kill, Maim, Burn!
Allies: BotM
Enemies: Everyone Else
Links: Weapons | Chosen

The banter, it was the same with so many others, especially Ingrid. Zachariel had similar conversations with many a foe, each believing themselves a bastion against evil, and what would halt the inevitable. It truly made him laugh each time, they could fight all they wanted, but one cannot stop the inevitable, or halt gods such as the Avatars. Delay them, perhaps. Slow fate, possibly. But never stop them, never change fate itself. It didn't matter who they were, what they fought for, or why they existed, none could stop it.

Laughing at Eina's words, Zachariel simply observed Eina. She was the same as Ingrid, if bigger and with wings. Her defiance was the same, and it amused the warlord to no end. As she spoke once more, Zachariel finally responded, mirth evident in his voice.
"Oh Little Ingrid, they are fed every day, feasting upon bloodshed the galaxy over. The inevitable will happen, defiance is futile and you you simply help feed them."

As she leaps forward, she moved too quickly for the Chosen to get a bead on her, and instead their blaster fire passed by her harmlessly. Her landing and subsequent attack pushed them back, though not as much as she may have liked. Despite everything, these Chosen were still imitations of Zachariel, and bore heavy armor in turn. Not as strong or dense as his, but close enough. However, where he hardly moved, they were pushed a meter back before coming to a halt, and raising their weapons once more. A simple command from Zachariel had them shift targets however, focusing on other defenders.

Zachariel's focus never wavered though, focus solely on Eina and her actions. Though, her next words did bring forth a peel of laughter, more mocking in tone now, rather than true mirth. There was annoyance in that laughter though, as Zachariel knew there was more to the Avatars than to Bogan. The Bogan was simply everything related to the Dark Side, while the Avatars were part of the Dark Side, they were more of the Netherworld than anything. Distinctions must be made, lest both sides simply devolve into light or dark, rather than what they truly were.

This annoyance hindered Zachariel, even as Eina struck. Her first strike he didn't block, instead he battered it aside without skill or control. This left another scratch across his armor's pauldron, even as he backed up, guard up and annoyance flaring. This annoyance died down however, as he saw and avoided or blocked Eina's attacks. He had seen such attacks before, but from another, from Ingrid. Barking out another laugh, Zachariel shifted comfortably into the defense, voice piping up to mock Eina once more.
"Dear child, you barely understand the forces you fight for, much less those you oppose. I can see it in your every strike, you are your mother, but lack her experience and skill." He continues to laugh, even as he blocks more blows, but doesn't strike back. "It would seem you're close to her, no?"

He suddenly spins around the next attack, closing the gap but still only blocking or dodging. A sneer is evident on his face, even as he continues to speak.
"How do you think she would react when I bring your head to her? We had a lovely meeting planned soon, and I require a gift."

Suddenly, Zachariel strikes out at Eina, blades flashing as he attacks. He wishes to disorient and confuse her, all to bring her low. What better way to do so than speak of the woman she so closely resembles. Dark laughter resonates out from Zachariel, only amplified by his armor.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

​

Location: Ruins of the Prophets
Objectives: Retrieval of artifacts, confront the hunters
Allies: Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Wyatt Morga Julius Sedaire Coren Starchaser Romi Jade

Equipment: In signature
Forces: 12 Ravenscar Adepts (four teams of three), some NFU archaeologists and scientists

She was examining some carved symbols in what seemed to be the remains of a tablet when she felt the pinpricks of light among the darkness of Dromund Kaas. Tilting her head in curiosity, she followed the currents of the Force back to their source of the eddies of light and determination. She recognized three of them, and it brought a smile to her face. The fourth she was less familiar with by sense in the Force. For Wyatt, Coren, and Romi, they would feel an ever so slight touch, nothing more than what a thin veil sliding over their shoulders would feel like, but they would the general idea.

She knew they were there.

"I do believe we have company," she murmured. "Doctor, keep searching. The Adepts and I will keep our interlopers at bay." The archaeologist with her nodded and moved off to inform the team, with a more pronounced speed in his motions and voice. Taeli turned and started making her way to a larger cleared out area of the ruins, and silently, the Ravenscar Adepts not on perimeter duty attended her.

"Taleisi, Harel, Pyret, take overwatch positions," she ordered. In rush of sudden wings, the three named Adepts changed and took off to take concealed positions. She took a seat on a piece of rubble and her remaining Adepts took up casual positions around and near her.

For the Jedi on the cliffs, if they were observant, they would see three ravens watching them from a branch of a nearby tree. And a fourth would perch in a higher branch.

 

[Kalie Alverez]

AGENT: KALIE ALVEREZ
OBJECTIVES I - ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH: OBSERVE AND GATHER ACTIONABLE INTEL ON Don Belkora 's ASSOCIATION WITH COMPNOR.
PRIMARY ENEMY: Rika Hiro
OTHER ENEMY TAGS: Don Belkora Jordi Massad Kazimir Tragovic

​

The lone X-wing descended into orbit, in distant pursuit of the COMPNOR vessel. Kalie was intentional to try to not draw any unwanted attention to herself. The last thing she wanted was to be discovered. Unlike many of her counterparts, getting into a head-to-head fight was not her strong suit. While she could hold her own in many circumstances, her strength was in disguise… in misdirection… in sabotage.

Kalie observed that the vessel was descending and preparing to land, and so she pulled on the yoke and guided her craft toward an empty rooftop that was some distance from the enemy craft.

She shouldn't be here…

She wasn't suppose to be here…

But she had been tracking COMPNOR for years now… ever sense she had encountered them back on Arkania. It had almost become a passion project of hers, and while most of her assignments these days involved the political spheres, she could not curb her curiosity when she discovered that Don Belkora was visiting Dromund Kaas. While she had no real proof, she had grown suspicious of the man in her dealings within the Senate and other political and business spheres. It seemed odd to her that he would come here… and to come here now…. She wondered if she might be able to confirm some of her suspicions related to his true loyalties and agendas.

She had happened to be on the command deck of Isla Draellix-Kobitana 's capital ship, subtly observing the Grand Admiral in action as Kalie... not Tiresh. It was something that she had wanted to do ever since she had developed a strong magnetic connection with the woman… to see her in action as the Grand Admiral. With the Alliance between the Ashlan Crusade and the Galactic Alliance, and with her pull within the SIA, she had been allowed to accompany the Grand Admiral on this excursion as her true self… Kalie Alverez… SIA agent. She had been given some space on the deck to monitor frequencies and channels under the guise that the SIA had an important target on the surface that needed to be monitored… Little did Kalie realize how true that would be. As soon as she had received the live intel that Don Belkora was heading planet side, and when she was able to pick up on the trace of their vessel, she had quietly excused herself from the command deck in order to pursue the man… to see what he was up to.

An unsanctioned mission. No backup. No Calvary. Just her and her stupid kriffing curiosity.

The X-wing set down gently on the roof. She cut the engines and climbed out of the cockpit, bounding quietly over to the edge of the roof as she pulled out her binoculars and scanned the surrounding buildings for any signs of her target.

Nothing.

She pulled out her data pad, which was tracking their ships signature. Looks like it had set down just a few clicks form her location. She opted to wait for the moment, anticipating their movements to be headed towards the palace which seemed like the only viable nearby target. They would likely be emerging from around the corner of the buildings below her in a few short moments…

She crouched down, awaiting their arrival. She did not intend to engage… instead she hoped to simply observe… and hopefully… confirm her suspicions, and catch the man red handed with real, actionable intel that she could send to the top.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Hallowed Ground
Dromund Kaas | Dark Force Temple | Defended Hallowed Ground
Through Hell's Gate
The Ground Shakes
The Forgotten One Waits
​

The Two Jedi halted their advance at the Sith of Darth Kentarch. As the moments passed, the Sith could sense them more clearly in the force. One was strong, very strong. Perhaps she was a new challenge that needed to be overcome. He could even sense her two lightsaber blades, made with Hurrikaine crystals. Only Jedi of exceptional talent were said to be able to craft such a weapon. The other presence in the force, bright yet not a strong as the other. Likely a padawan or apprentice. There was something else to her that Kentarch could not describe, or put his finger on.

Kentarch exhaled and channeled the darkside energies from the nexus, allowing his strength in the force to grow. He expected a sudden charge from the pair of Jedi, but none came. Instead, one managed to climb a tree, and not soon after threw several throwing stars at the Sith. Kentarch lowered his blade and outstretched his left hand at the incoming shurikens. The four throwing stars came to a sudden stop, inches in front of the Sith. Kentarch lowered his left hand and the shurikens fell to the ground harmlessly. His gaze did not shift, and he still stared down the pair from just outside the temple. If the Jedi had hoped to distract him or break his concentration, she had failed to do so.

"You do not belong here Jedi." Kentarch finally spoke, his voice brass and ominous. There was likely only futility in his words. "This is a place of Death and Darkness. You will find nothing here."

The black cloak figure took two steps forward, moving away from the temple and towards the hedge line where the two Jedi still tried to hide. "Enough of this. I can see your figures and hear your voices." His voice rang out loudly so the two could hear him. His red lightsaber, powered by a Lignan crystal, was still in a lowered position.

Kentarch focused on the pair, summoning the vast depths of the dark side nexus to cast a spell. From the Sith Lord and the temple itself negative energy discharged out from the Sith in the form of Waves of Darkness. An aura, cast upon the vicinity around the Valery Noble and Ishida Ashina . The world around them seemingly grew darker, the lightning from Dromund Kaas's sky grew louder. From the temple and the forests around the Jedi there were whispers, like madness, that tried to pierce into their minds. Here at the temple the power's strength and intensity were only greater. Soon agony and pain would follow.

 

[Halketh]

PEACE OF MIND
H A L K E T H
// Ezra Dune \\

// Sometime after The Fall of Coruscant
// Unknown Regions, Space

Consciousness, unconsciousness, it all felt so distant, these foreign concepts of tangibility and thought fluttered across his weary psyche in his broken slumber, though his body remained as unmoving and unresponsive as ever. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, his subconscious screaming from within to rouse him to lucidity did so fruitlessly, or so it seemed. It had all grown so tiresome, so meaningless, to him. He did not care if it was hostile hands which had pulled him from the wreckage of the Temple on Coruscant, or if it was those of his comrades. There was little to gain for either party, as much was obvious to anyone who knew anything about him. Even laid low, his madness was too chaotic to sort proper information from him, and his temperament too unpredictable to allow him to recover by more traditional means.

And yet, despite this, he returned from his place between sleeping and awake, only to be confronted by the overwhelming pain of his crush injuries. His armor had spared him the worst of it, yet he was but a man beneath that cold visage of still and apathy, and his body could be broken all the same. A deep, rasping groan announced his unmerciful return to lucidity, and with it, came the swelling sickness of his Presence in full defensive force. “Fuck…” he uttered into the nothingness he could glean, struggling to even flex the broken fingers by his sides, “where…” Try as he might to see, his Sight was impeded by his wounds, and he was left asking questions of the void. Through this veil, however, a familiar Presence gleamed, one that set him on edge immediately with recognition. He struggled to move even more, then. “W-why…”

“You’re awake…”

He would not be bothered with that question, disregarding it to tend to himself in kind. Sleek augmented fingers smoothed the ebony robes upon his frame. His back had been turned to him, only when the searing heat of claws massaging the grooves of his mind had he recognized that perhaps this was his first official moment awake. Ezra turned to him, a glint in those enigmatic eyes, the corners of his lips curled into a small smirk. “Are you not happy to see me?” He all but scoffed, shaking his head softly while heavy steps brought him closer to the medical pod within his ship.

He had tortured himself for this moment, scoured the galaxy with nothing but breadcrumbs and the steady vibrations of the ring that had melted into his hand. This was the moment he’d longed for, had waited for with bated breath to look at the face of the man who left him with nothing more than cryptic words etched into the shriveled napkin upon his nightstand. He was not angry to be in his presence, no, not any longer…now all he wanted was answers and to be connected to him once again. “Hmm…I should be asking you why…why you sent me away…” Ezra held his breath, leaning closer to the side of the pod to see that face, those scars, the crimson shield with its golden inlay. His organic fingers traced along his forearm, giving him a squeeze much tighter than he should have, nails nearly piercing the frail exposed skin. “Take your time…”

Inside the pod, the Dark Lord grimaced, his teeth baring with the venomous words sputtered in address to him. He turned his head away, recoiling from the proximity, and once more, did his weakened arms try to raise and free him of the restraints keeping his body secure where it lay. He said nothing for the time, mustering up the fire within that could drive his power and free him. Yet, call as he might to it, he found himself unable to summon it fully. The air hissed, growing malevolent with an inexplicable breeze, a herald of his malcontent. Broken ribs deprived him of the air he sought, a captive audience he was, the realization struck him then, a prisoner at the mercy of the man he had wronged more than any other in the galaxy. Ezra had never done anything but care for him with the others had turned their backs on him, he had never done anything but love him, and teach him what those words truly meant- how they were so hollow without action to support them. And it was that notion which had driven the Dark Lord to urge him away, out of love. Or so he thought.

Ezra’s presence in his proximity tore a hole through his chest, that old wound reopened hungrily to spill his secrets and life freely into the air, tainting it with the same heartbreak that had united them originally. His pain was palpable, tasted in the sterile air, and it bubbled at his seams, nearly threatening to overwhelm and burst forth until he was but a weeping wretch lain unto his death bed. He would not. He would not. Convinced and twisted by the manipulations of those around him, the voices within his head did nothing but scream that the man was lying to him and always had been. The two serpents, defensively caught in a room together and forced to confront what it was that had driven them from their collective nest.

He would not give the man the satisfaction of an answer, rather, he retreated within himself to deprive the epicanthix of the sole victory he sought- answers. And he succeeded for a time until the vicious nails bit into his bruised skin and drew him right back to reality. The quivering hand belonging to that arm spasmed, its frayed nerves unable to process the touch properly, and without the ability to jerk his arm away, he was left to endure. “If this is your vindication,” Caelitus growled bitterly, “you’ve much to learn. Torment me while I’m weakened and you’ll gain nothing you seek but more misery.”

Ezra could not help but quirk a brow at his remark, the irony of every single word that poured from that venomous spout. “Tormenting you while you are in this weakened state will only grant me misery? And you think I seek vindication?” His hands released, tapping upon the bruised flesh lightly mirroring the clicking sound of his tongue. “You have a lot of nerve Halketh,” He murmured, crossing mismatch limbs over his broad chest. He shook his head, he couldn’t be disappointed for this was exactly what he’d expected of the warlord. “Your silence tormented me for years and I, well I was such a miserable fool to believe of this love you claimed to have for me was true.” Ezra looked up at the HUD beside the bed, checking on his vitals before peering down at the man. “If I had sought vindication, my love…I would have killed you already. I’m not fond of talking prey…you should know this of me by now.” He tapped his own chin, pulling himself closer to Halketh’s face, “And what else do you have in store for me that you haven’t already done, hmm?”

Stubbornness had turned the fallen warlord’s face away from the man and kept it there, indignant in his situation despite the lack of control. Ezra was right, as usual. If he had wanted to torture him, he would have done so already, and yet, the miraluka couldn’t shake the feeling that’s precisely what all of this was. Maybe not for Ezra, not anymore, but for him? It was misery. Every day he had awoken on the rare nights of slumber, he had suffered. Every morning, each night. The coldness of his bed, the emptiness of the halls, the ache in his chest, all of it was torture. And this reunion, well, it should have relieved all of that. It should have made it all worth it. Somehow, it didn’t. It only rubbed grating salt into the old wound and bled him deeper, forcing him into a defensive position with the only man in the galaxy he truly did owe answers to. Killing him, in truth, would have been mercy. His bruised brow furrowed beneath the lay of his tattered blindfold, creasing upon itself with his consideration. There was nothing more he wanted to do than throw his arms around the epicanthix’s neck and weep with joy, but on the same token, he suspected a knife to the guts would be his fate if he somehow drew the strength to achieve even that much. Those words scored him like a branding iron, splintering open his resolve and tightening the vice around his heart, cinching him further out of shape until it was all he could do to breathe shakily.

“I-” his scarred lips parted, though hesitation held him back. It was not pride nor ego which forbade him from speaking, from owning his actions, no, it was the paranoia. But where lies paranoia, so too dwelled his sincerity. “I’m sorry, Ezra.” He sighed, barely a whisper, finding it much more difficult to breathe suddenly. “You’ve always deserved better than what I’ve given you. You did when we met, and you still do to this day.” he iterated the familiar words in earnest, “I have nothing to give you but that-” his head turned in Ezra’s direction, though the deep line across his brow did not fade, “-I don’t know what else you want me to say. I don’t know what to give you beyond the truth. I sent you away because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I knew the New Imperials would come and I knew they would rip down everything I loved if it meant getting to me. I couldn’t risk you, not like that. I couldn’t watch you suffer. I couldn’t know that I was the reason for such torture, and it’s… pointless.” He released a grand, rasping sigh.

His head thudded back against his pillows, the hands stuck by his sides curling into fists. “I knew you were strong enough to endure on your own, and I knew I was too weak to see you torn from my side.”

Halketh’s words pinned needles into that decaying excuse for an organ he’d worn down because of him. He had given so much, unbound himself of who he once was and he felt the miraluka had done the same. They had shared secrets with one another and allowed themselves the freedom to be vulnerable without fear. Yet he could not help that his words were nothing more than rehearsed vitriol to satiate the questions that had plagued him all those years.

Anger, that word could never express the feelings the engineer had, it was not enough. Sadness couldn’t make him budge either, but indifference…that is what he realized he truly had. “Oh what a powerful man you are…and yet you couldn’t have said those words to my face when all of this had started.” The epicanthix finally pulled away from him, marching towards the window to lock his gaze upon the darkness he had found comfort in.

He shook his head, pushing a digitized finger into the fabric of his arm while holding his tongue. The engineer glanced over his shoulder, feeling the dark aura that radiated around him caress his psyche - yet it had never devoured him like the others. He had understood its power then but this force was unlike anything he’d felt before, it was frightening. Ezra sucked in a stuttering breath, it seemed for the first time in years he was afraid to be around him and didn’t know if any of what’d said was true or mere deceptions. Perhaps his intent was to worm his way into his armor and wear it down into nothing. “I find it funny you know, that you couldn’t watch them torture me, hurt me, but you were fine with it being done by your own hand…” The epicanthix pulled himself away from the glinting lights outside the window, making his way to the bed where he would pull apart his restraints and set him free of his binds. “Won’t you finish what you started then?” Were his words truly sincere or was this just a ploy to get Ezra to release him from the bed?

Freedom from his restraints saw the miraluka arise like a corpse from the grave, his motions stiff and tired, measured by the strained breaths fueling them. He sat upright, his face contorting with a brief flash of his pain, and overturned his trembling hands, his head angling down toward them after. “I could not protect you from all of them,” he stated plainly, his voice hoarse, “but I could protect you from what it was I had to do. What it was I had to become.” Slowly, upon stiff, fractured vertebrae, his head turned to put his face in the epicanthix’s direction. “You feel it now, as though you’ve never felt it before, eating at you. The horrors I have committed are beyond number, without equal measure, and I did not wish for you to be tangled up in the consequences when they inevitably came for me.”

The Darkness welled from the Dark Lord, bleeding from his pores, it warped and twisted reality around him, masking his intentions beneath its inky veil. Beneath his broken flesh, bone realigned, snapping and breaking itself back into form, jagged wounds lurched, one half to the other, tendrils of regenerating flesh entangling themselves to stitch the seal back to completion, fusing it with unholy wickedness. His exposed chest shuddered, the flesh writhing unnaturally as the Dark Side flowed freely, replacing what was lost. He gasped, trembling violently as the fires boiled at him from within, the summons of his healing capabilities pushing his senses to the brink.

Carefully he turned himself about, all but dragging his legs to the edge of the bed where he slumped over, his typical rigidity completely lost to his injury and suffering, yet he held his head up enough to keep his features leveled in Ezra’s direction. “I know I hurt you more than I ever wanted to, and I… I am sorry for that. I was a coward, you’re right. I am not asking for your forgiveness, nor do I believe I deserve it. Whatever notion drove you to fish me from the ruins, I owe you my life for. I cannot thank you enough for that.” Those last words, in particular, rang as bittersweet notes, perhaps the fallen warlord would have preferred the alternative where he was left to die buried beneath the testament to his corruption. But at least then, he would have died under the burden of what it was he had sworn to destroy.

“I am thankful you are unharmed and alive, even after all these years your aura shines.” The coward mustered some courage then, just enough to reach with his wounded wings, and curl them around the man’s neck, drawing him into a weak embrace. Knife to the gut or not, it was the final act he had longed for after all these years, and if it was what killed him, he was resolved to die content.

“I had sensed it before…” His voice was a mere whisper, taken off guard by the frail embrace of the only true love he had ever felt. His vocals had stiffened, along with his back, stopping himself from melting into the embrace completely. Yet what he could not stop were the blades that whittled away the wall he had constructed around his memory. It was those early mornings, brushing away messy locks from his sleepy face or snow filled afternoons when he had heard the joyful sound of his laughter. It was the sweetness of his words that had melted away the titanium in which he encased himself. He wanted so much to believe that after those painful nights in Illum that he would have returned the man he met, to start anew where the heartbreaking chapter had left him but he was not as naive as his love had made him out to be.

“I knew there would be a time when you would choose the darkness over me…” That realization hurt more than his apology or explanation. He understood now that he was not being shielded away from the New Imperial dogs but from himself. If only he knew then, that the engineer would not back down. Ezra did not pull away as his memories and thoughts teetered back in forth within his mind. Instead, he pressed his face closer, taking in his scent and the gentle rumble of his voice. “I missed you so…Halk…” Gentle words halted when he pressed his lips onto his temple, kissing him twice without relinquishing his hold. Steadiness had overpowered fear now, had crushed any sound thought within his mind. He held onto Halketh tight, burning his fingers into the exposed flesh that had begun its process of mending. He would feel it then, would have seen if he had eyes to gaze upon his peripheral vision, but he would have felt the cold metal against his temple. The tip mirroring the temperature of snow from their now ruined home. “I just wish you had believed me then when I said…if I can’t have you…then no one can…”

The fallen man knew it was too good to last, it always had been, and always would be. He felt the surge of emotions wash through the epicanthix, felt the grief, the nostalgia, the love vying for power over the anger. The frustration. He felt it all, offered freely through the very air whispering between the two of them. The cold steel pressing against his temple contrasted the warmth of Ezra’s breath against the opposite, and Halketh released a soft sigh. The end had come once again, flirting with him, toying with him in its flighty dance. He had wished for this moment a thousand times over by now, each more desperate than the last, one blow to end his misery. One blow to right all the wrongs he had done.

His hands curled roughly around the back of Ezra’s coat, savoring the warmth of the embrace against the cold air. Against the bite of the Darkness enveloping them. Against the chilling voice of prophecy murmuring against his ear.

Death was not the end, he knew it better than most all did, and knew full well his end would not be so gentle and bittersweet when it did finally come. Perhaps that is what soured this moment, the tension, the drama. The grief. The heartbreak. This, this was not a gentle moment. This reunion was a war of wills that he had awoken up into on the back foot, and never had he any intention of winning it from the start. “I never doubted you, not for a moment,” he whispered his response back, tilting his head to draw from the lips and better situate the blaster’s barrel against the soft of his temple, “do it,” he uttered gently, “and live freely without my ghost haunting your dreams.”

BURY ME, ENDLESSLY
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
DARK LORD OF THE SITH
C A E L I T U S
// Ezra Dune \\

​

Thrust back into conflict, the Dark Lord of the Sith had returned to form, overrunning the jungles of the desolate planet with scores of undead left behind after the assault on Csaus- his new home. His boots had touched the earth, sinking deep into the ground where his power manifested, plunging its corruptive teeth into the very soil he stood upon. He could feel it, see it, the Dark Side Nexus, and all of its conductive energy writhed through the battle-driven winds, screaming for a master to command it. The Dark Side was powerful here, nearly as powerful as the deep places he had come to frequent, and he could do little but bask in its strength, unfurling his blackened wings to shade the entire battlefield beneath his ire. His coming was murmured upon the winds, the pestilence of his air washing through the desiccated jungles to rot the greenery into nothing, the vile necromancer hungrily devouring the living caught in his clutches to reap power for himself.

He swept between the scores of damned soldiers, his loyal legions ever-enduring, they crashed into the assaulting forces from the flank of the Temple upon his approach, burying them beneath a rioting swarm of writhing teeth and ripping claws. Bodies became ribbons, flesh the red carpet for his arrival, and in the midst of the carnage, he stood like a statue, a monument to his own insidious desires. The world churned and overturned around him, yet he stood fast, bathing in the chaos of his work. A gauntleted hand reached skyward, clawed digits unbound from his fist, summoning the wealth of Darkness from below to taint the skies above, scoring down the raging skies and bathing them in further vanta black that swallowed any daring stream of accursed light which attempted to penetrate them.

His disappearance had been lengthy, the Mercurial Saint vanishing from the field of play for a time unexplained, and yet the message was clear now; he had returned. And he had loosened Hell to ride with him.

The ritual deep within the looming Temple had begun in earnest, underway by the time he had arrived to reinforce the position, and already swathes of Crusaders and Imperials alike scratched at the Temple doors like hungry dogs wishing for a bite. From beyond to within the Dark Lord traversed in the blink of an eye, leaving the thousands of undead under his control to clash with the living outside. The maddening murmurs of prophecy had beckoned him forth, and so he ventured, ever wary of the fate which awaited him within the obsidian halls.

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[Traden Avarice]

II: CLASH OF LIGHT AND SHADOW
​

Location: Outskirts of the Dark Force Temple
Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, Lightsaber
Adversary: Orlov Ansonnir


As the voice unnaturally swirled and penetrated his mind from every direction, Traden gritted his teeth tightly in visible agitation, remembering all too well the the trauma he endured from the horrendous mental attacks of Rannan Kol . As if triggering something inside of him, the distorted and falsified image of his daughter being torn apart and laying on the ground lifeless flooded his mind again. Traden closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his mind and purging the image from his thoughts. He opened his eyes, glaring at the enemy that was now circling around him... like a predator awaiting to pounce on its prey.

“What is it with you bastards and your metal games.” He said in a low and gritty tone through his clenched teeth. As the hooded Fondorian beckoned him into combat, hinting at his imminent journey to the dark side, Traden beckoned his saber into his hand, igniting it instantly with a sharp sound, the brilliant blue light reflecting off a thousand drops of rain around him as well as the water below. Traden crooked his head to the side, letting a dark smirk spread across his face,

“Be careful what you wish for... Whether I kill you through the restraint of the light or through the passion of the dark... your fate will be the same regardless.”

Traden extended out the saber in front if him, entering into a readied and more aggressive stance, both hands now holding onto the hilt. The Harbinger was securely fastened to his side, ready to be deployed if the need arose. Traden expected for the Fondorian to ignite his own saber soon, which would likely begin the first phase of their physical confrontation.

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Objective III : Lightning strikes twice
Location: Dromund Kaas orbit
Equipment: uniform, custom-made blaster pistol, ceremonial sword, telescope

ALLIES | Galactic Alliance | Ashlan Crusade | New Imperial Order
ENEMIES | Sith Empire | Brotherhood of the Maw

Anaxes Navy Task Force 58 composition:​

Name​	Class​	Status​	Commanding Officer​
X101 Pride of Anaxes​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Albrecht F. Herlock​
X102 Audacious​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander Julius E. Mannerheim​
X103 Courageous​	X100-class escort frigate​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Commander James Halsey​
CV-2 Tonnant​	Tonnant-class fleet carrier​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Erika Richthofen​
Silencieux​	Stealth Corvette Silencieux​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Lieutenant Lucas Traumen​
AIV L'Effroyable​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Louis Fort-Drake​
AIV Le Téméraire​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Schwanhelt Bulge​
AIV Le Malin​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Arthur Leywin​
AIV L'indomptable​	Harrier-class heavy cruiser​	Fully crewed, operationnal​	Commander Philippe Montcalm​

Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew

Escort frigate X101 Pride of Anaxes
Commanding Officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock

"Sir, we're arriving in Dromund Kaas' orbit."

"Prepare for battle. This time we're going to strike the Sith Empire where it hurts the most."

Suddenly, a communication went through the ship : "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations!". Inside the frigate, the crew members were running to their assignment. The guns became alive, the starfighters were ready to launch and the damage control parties were ready to save the ship. Then the nine ships of the Task Force 58 went out of hyperspace, immediatly taking formation just like during their drills.

"Send a mesage to the Silencieux. Tell them to engage cloaking device and to find the ennemy flagships but not to engage them."

"Aye Sir. The message is sent."

Through the window of the bridge, Herlock saw the small ship disappear and it was as if the Silencieux had never been there. The stealth corvette took a direct course towards the ennemy fleet, looking for the flagships while sending encrypted messages to the Pride of Anaxes. The Tonnant went to Dromund Kaas' atmosphere, escorted by the AIV Le Téméraire and the Courageous. The last remaining ships on orbit were the Pride of Anaxes herself, the Audacious and the last three Harrier-class heavy cruisers L'Effroyable, Le Malin and L'Indomptable.

 

[Olly Piblarian]

​

LOCATION: ENTERING ATMO OVER DROMUND KAAS
MISSION: PROTECT TRANSPORTS
CALLSIGN: REVENANT TWO
EQUIPMENT: B-WING HEAVY ASSAULT STARFIGHTER

REVENANT SQUADRON: Tren Chaar Leon Gallo Mylo Thorne
ASHLAN CRUSADE: Isla Draellix-Kobitana
BRAVO/DAGGER/181: Kovacs Delilah Jones
BOTM: Tu'teggacha


"Chit…" Olly muttered to himself as his B-wing shook violently in the midst of the chaotic storm that was growing deadlier by the second. His hands gripped tightly to the controls, his eyes widened as he began to rely less on his sensors and flight instruments and more on visual confirmation. This was unlike any storm he had ever flown in before, that was for sure. He did his best to tighten up the formation, straining his neck to get a better look at the transports as well as Revenant One. He did not feel good about this… so much could go wrong…

His sensors were going bonkers… completely useless. He furrowed his eyebrows as he heard Tren Chaar begin to mention a possible bogey…

Suddenly the transport erupted directly in front of him. Tren went up and Olly thrust down, barely avoiding the explosion and flying debris, with some of it rattling against his shields. Olly's eyes were as wide as saucers. He had stopped breathing, being so focused on survival, with his eyes frantically observing everything that was happening around him.

"Evasive,"

Olly had lost visual of Chaar. He pulled upwards, trying to regain visual. Suddenly a barrage of blaster fire lit up around him as two enemy star fighters swooped downwards and sped right past him. "OH MY FRIKKING AAAAAAAHHH!!!" He exclaimed in pure panic as he cranked on the yoke, feeling the gravitational force as his body sunk deeper into his chair. He hit the countermeasures, releasing a stream of flak behind him.

Olly cranked his head to look behind him after the enemy fighters…. It looked like they were going after other fish at the moment. He turned back around, looking desperately for the rest of Flight One.

"Gotcha!" He said under his breath as the other B-wings finally came into view. He slammed the trusters and trudged closer, trying to get back into formation beside Revenant One.

"One Flight, on me."

The targeting computer updated. Olly armed two of his warheads… sweat dripping down his face, breathing heavily. "Copy that! Warheads armed!" He barked. He followed Revenant One in as they drew closer to the frigate. He would release the warheads as soon as Tren Chaar gave the word…

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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F I N A L_C O U N T D O W N

FINAL DAWN
DROMUND KAAS , OUTER RIM

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Dromund Kaas , the former Capital of the Sith Empire. It was here where they retreated after the Fall of Bastion becoming the main focus of the Galactic Alliance's ill-fated Stygian Campaign , which saw the Alliance attempt to isolate Sith Space from the rest of the Empire and although initial successes at Korriban and Felucia , the Alliance was pushed back at Ziost and forced to withdraw entirely with the emergence of the short-lived Sith Eternal at Korriban. Since then most of Sith Space had remained undisturbed , until the rise of the Ashlan Crusade and their encroachment on the territory as well as their attempt to "cleanse" Korriban a while back. Now they had struck Dromund Kaas assaulting the former Sith Throneworld with everything they had backed by their many allies : the Alliance , New Imperials , Eternal Empire and even the Mandalorian Enclave. And yet despite the assembling of this massive Intergalactic Coalition , the Maw thought it was a good idea to attack them to deal a decisive blow or atleast that's what they wanted , but Sularen knew better. He was at Csilla and Korriban. He watched as the Maw suffered heavy losses at the hands of superior enemy foes , and frankly he worried that Dromund Kaas might be a repetition of these engagements.

The Final Dawn had already suffered immense losses at Jedha , Adrathorpe and Epoch , and yet it still found itself thrusted forward into the frontlines risking whatever assets they had left. But nevertheless , the prospect of a decisive victory over such a large Galactic Coalition comprised of 5 Nations , 4 in which Sularen had a grudge against (Minus the Enclave) due to either his past with the faction as a whole (In the case of the Alliance and New Imperials) or elements of the Faction (Such as the ZU within the Eternal Empire and Cedric Grayson of the Ashlan Crusade). Therefore , the Grand Overseer although hesitant moved forth to deploy his Task Force Vader to Dromund Kaas with the intent of fulfilling the Maw's Plans for a Decisive Victory even though the cost might be high. Thus after a long trek into Hyperspace , ths FDS Immortal and the rest of Task Force Vader emerged from Hyperspace at Dromund Kaas ready to engage any hostiles they came across.

As the Fleet approached Dromund Kaas , Sularen immediately noticed the Fleets of Isla Draellix-Kobitana and Tu'teggacha along with another Fleet , that of Grand Admiral Caarlyle Rausgeber of the New Imperial Order who he had confronted over Niruana during his ill-fated attempt to extract Mawite Forces from the Surface which was blocked by Rausgeber's Blockade. Sularen remembered about the Grand Admiral's rant and how he had insulted him by calling him a "Second-Rate Commander". It had been a long time since the last time someone had defied and disrespected him in such a matter (The last time being his confrontation with the Alliance Senate approximately 5 years ago) and yet just like the others he had managed to get away with it. But now the Grand Overseer sought to set things straight , to annihilate Rausgeber's Fleet and make him understand that he was facing one of the Maw's Greatest Commanders. Thus without hesitation , Sularen ordered for his Fleet to move forth to engage Rausgeber's own Fleet which had moved into position to bombard the Planet.

Soon , some of the greatest commanders of the Brotherhood Maw and New Imperial Order would clash in a decisive engagement over Droumnd Kaas , the outcome of this confrontation having the potential of affecting the outcome of the overall Battle. The Battle over Dromund Kaas was well underway and only time and skill would determine who would win...

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Facing | Caarlyle Rausgeber
Nearby | Tu'teggacha | Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Tren Chaar | Leon Gallo | Mylo Thorne | Kovacs | Delilah Jones ​

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[Mairéad Solus]

Alternate Location: Abandoned Sith ruin near southern Pole
Objectives: search for information
Tags: Vulcan Krayt

Equipment:
Velmorite bladed lightsabers
Comm device
Blaster pistol
Rappelling line
FC-20 Speeder bike
Marzanna

Mairéad felt it, the anger and aggression rising in her masked assailant, she felt his aim shift and his muscle tighten as he instinctively braced himself for the recoil of his shots and the fingers in his gauntlet tightened around the trigger, unleashing bolts toward her heart. With a flash of her wrist, the thin crimson blade of one of her lightsabers ignited and swept across in front of her and intercepted the projectiles mid air. So this was how it was, she reached out her other hand, attempting to knock him off his feet with the force before running towards the tower. She had planned the misguided bucket head and would rather he just left her too it. But she would if she had to. "kark off Mando! This is my score, go hunt somewhere else"

As she ran, she continued to block any blaster bolts, feeling the sting in her arm as a grazing shot narrowly caught her, searing her skin. Before she tried to ascend the tower she would stop. Her free hand spun in the air around her, coalescing the air into a frosty shard of ice around a foot long and tipped with a point that narrowed to a near monomolecular sharpness. She waited to see I he pursued, he undoubtedly would and she launched the shard towards the manadalorian at a huge speed, the shard was enough to skewer a bantha, "Let's see how well made your armour is little man" she said to herself as a second shard formed in the air and flung itself towards her target.

 

[Stone Gra'tua]

Objective 1 : Hunt Sith
Location : Dromund Kaas, New Kaas City
Equipment : Signature/Profile
ALLIES | NIO | AC | TE DECEASED Erskine Barran Nukth Kelga'an Annor E-059 Hoken Stryte The Fool Pietro Demici Don Belkora Jerec Yularen Siv Dragr Mira Athrani Morrow Heinrich Faust Djorn Bline Thonn Rokkal Julian Qar Vulcan Krayt
ENEMIES | TSE | BotM | Keilara Kala'myr Rowena Percival Io @The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood |
Engaging : Erion Justeene

Broken tiles crackling and crumbling under his boots as he adjusted his posture, ensuring his footing on the wet roof was secure, Stone prepared to recieve the glowing blade attack from Darth Superious. Stone would never underestimate a Sith Lord, knowing full well how dangerous they could be, especially when they were one with the Dark Side of the Force. The attack came on fast, and he had to be fast to meet it. The Ubese's words came up in his HUD as the translation software did its work.

Stone's face and chest were the point of the attack, and rather than block, Stone steeled himself, and took the blow, the blade carving a glowing red trail from chest to head, straight up. Stone moved quickly, striking the lightsaber after it had struck him with the beskad in his right to knock it aside, ostensibly freeing up his left hand to deliver a hard punch to the stomach of his opponent. Instead of a punch, the Mandalorian pulled the blow and fired his wristrocket launcher into Erion's side at point blank range. "I'll be sure to get the name right on the after action report." he said, preparing to take advantage of any openings the rocket strike might give him.

Seconds passed like minutes as the adrenaline of the fight coursed through his system, the near tunnel-like focus on the combat blocking out all extranneous thought and everything going on around them, from the rain to the all out war taking hold of New Kaas City. Even thought of his Clan, Gra'tua, who by now would be converging on the Mawdalorians with the rest of the Enclave forces; were pushed from his battlemind. Stone had but one thought echoing again and again in his mind; End this.

 

[Blade Ice]

Post: 1
Objective: Space Lord
Location: Kaas City, Histroical District
Equipment: Orange Lightsaber (Fire) | Blue Lightsaber (ICE) | x8 throwing daggers | Poison Dagger | x6 thermal detonators | x8 Smoke Grenades | Brown MidNight Duster with Hood
Allies: The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Rowena | Kyrel Ren | Zachariel Steelblood | Erion Justeene
Enemies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Pietro Demici | Baron Reinhardt Ström
Special Tags: DECEASED Erskine Barran

---

Droplets of rain landed on his head rolled down his face past his glowing orange eyes and into his scruffy facial hair. He watched as the broken streets of Kaas City began to burst forth with the flood of lives hell bent on ripping this city apart. It was strange on all sides and from every vantage point no one wanted the legacy of the Empire that once stood here to rise again. Yet all sides seemed to hate each other just enough not to want to work together towards the same goal. The cynical old Rebel sith had seen so many Empires rise and fall weather it be Sith, Galactic, or something else that he held no allegiance or nostalgia for this particular one.



The Warrior had come here hunting, from the shadows he had been watching and learning studying the ones he was hunting. The orange eyed devil was no assassin though he was a warrior, soldiers, just a grunt like the one he currently held up by neck. At Blade's feet on the broken was helmet of Imperial Soldier, and in his outstretched right arm grasped in his hand was the neck of the young soldier. Orange eyes turned from the streets and looked into the steel-colored eyes of the young soldier he could be much over thirty by the looks of him. "Tell me where the Barren is?" Blade's voice erupted forceful but ruff and gravelly.


The Soldiers eyes darted back and forth looking for a way out any line of escape for survival, but Blade grip was tight, and he didn't exert much effort lifting the man off the ground. The Soldier soon realized there was no escape all he could hope for was mercy. The Soldier could easily he tried but only whimpers of air came out so instead he lifted his arm and pointed in a direct down the street. Blade turned his head slightly and looked off in the direction and a word came to his mind pulled from the soldier's mind. "Historical district." He spoke looking back to the soldier who grunted as affirmation.


Blade then dropped the Soldier who fell to the ground on his knees next to Blade. The Soldier hacked and coughed gasping to take in air like he had never breathed it before. Blade stared off in the direction he was to head thinking of his next plan of action as the soldier spoke out to him. "Then what of me?" Blade's head once again turned and looked down at the pathetic man there on his knees. Blade almost felt bad for him he was so young and so much life ahead of him to the point Blade could barely remember being that young anymore.



"Please let me live? I have a son?" A frown came over Blade's face as the soldier said that. Asking or begging or mercy was unbecoming of one who choose war as their profession. As a warrior you accept death, you walked hand and hand with death expecting one day it would take you like it took so many of fellow warriors. You did not fear death nor did you embrace it but you accepted it as the inevitable and you would go down fighting. Blade's eyes orange glow dulled as he stared down at the soldier.


"I find those that beg to live, are the least deserving of life. Those that would use there family as a bargaining chip for that mercy are even more pathetic. You choose war, those that choose war know death eventually comes and they accept it. You chose to fight now you beg for life." Blade spoke the words coming out heavy almost regretful. He unattached one of his sabers from his belt and ignited it into an icy blue hue. The Soldiers face went pale as he realized his folly that had he accepted his death he might have been allowed to live. "If your son comes looking for the vengeance that will be rightfully owed him, I will tell him of his father's cowardice. Do you have any parting words?" Soldier thought hard for a moment and was about to shake his head no, as he realized he had no way of escaping his fate dying here on this sith shit hole planet.


"Why are you going after the General Barren, he is going to kill you if you even get close to him." Blade nodded as he raised the icey blue saber that popped and snapped as the raindrops hit it. "His house declared war on mine, and I can't let that stand. As for him killing me, many men and self-proclaimed gods have tried, yet I remain." With hat said Blade let his saber drop with brutality as the soldier's head was sever from the shoulders. The skull splashing in small puddle as the body slumped to the ground next to the empty helmet.


As the head floated in the puddle and towards a nearby gutter in the street the Rebel sith was making his was down the street disengaging his saber and reattaching to his belt. As he strolled away from the body toward the direction, he would his target he pulled a pack of death sticks from his coat pocket. With a single shake of the pack a single stick came to the top of the pack and Blade put it to his lips finishing pulling it from the pack. He put the pack back in his pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He pulled a single match from the book and struck it against his tatter long leather trench coat lighting it. He then lit the death stick putting the match book back in his pocket. As he moved into, the historical district war was breaking out all around him bringing a cocky smirk to the rebels face.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

RECORDS & ARCHIVAL CENTRE // DROMUND KAAS

Madelyn Lowe
Guarantor | Visions of Gold | Taxman’s Embrace | Limited Liability | Moff Uniform

A previously invisible seam formed in the otherwise unremarkable wall in a corridor beneath the archives, revealing a turbolift. The durasteel doors retracted to admit a Sith Imperial Moff who looked up and down the hall to ensure they were alone. The bureaucrat turned and waved a code cylinder over a nondescript control panel. With a hiss the wall slide back into place as if nothing had happened.

Aerarii Tithe had to give it to the Sith - their obsession with secret tunnels and escape routes did come in handy. The series of concealed turbolifts had whisked Sith Lords and senior officials throughout New Kaas City during the height of the Empire’s glory. Crossing a crowded public square was to run the risk of your rival seizing an opportunity to take your job from you, permanently.

But that had been a lifetime away. While the Moff uniform still fit, New Kaas City was a shadow of its former self. Taking the Sith capital had been the endgame of the Stygian Campaign, denied to the Alliance by the Empire’s early collapse. Today was an opportunity to bring closure to that chapter of his life, to visit a Sith-occupied world one last time.

And make an obscene amount of credits while he was there.

Keeping his uniform cap low over his face, Tithe wove between Imperial bureaucrats hurrying to destroy the Empire’s records. The main invasion force would be arriving shortly to raid the facility for actionable intel on the orders of IVI . The Chancellor’s interests were much more specific - records from his time as a senior official with the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan, in particular, the accounts held outside the borders. The Trade Association, a subsidiary of the Banking Clan, had held significant fortunes on neutral worlds, accounts that he suspected remained untouched.

A man could do a lot with a fortune of untraceable credits.

Tithe was making his way to the Trade Association vault when he spied a familiar face from the past. An old friend he’s not seen since the Alliance invasion of Felusia. An investment potentially worth more than the credits in the hidden Sith account.

“Hurry, we haven’t a moment to spare!” Tithe announced as he strode toward the group of archivists. “The datacubes on level four, they’re the priority now. The records on them, ohh boy, if they were to fall into the wrong hands... well, I’ll tell you this, I don’t dare imagine.” The archivists exchanged confused looks, unsure who this unfamiliar Moff was or what he was talking up. “Hurry along now, yes, go go go,” Tithe added, waving frantically with his hand. The bureaucrats, knowing it was unwise to displease their superior, hurried off.

Sometimes Tithe really missed the blind obedience of the Empire.

“My dear, I see that you’re keeping busy in, ah, retirement,” he said to Madelyn as he removed his uniform cap. “You know, we really must stop meeting like this. I’m aghast to know what people must think.”