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RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PART 2
SENATE DISTRICT, GALACTIC CITY, CORUSCANT HOUR ONE....
'Tal, Barran. Consolidate our forces- do not let these marauders take the initiative in this assault. Take whatever measures it takes to halt these vermin at every turn. Should the need arise...I will declare Tarkin protocol here and purge the sickness from this place.'
Hearing the new Imperator speaking in this way, though the situation did in fact look quite hopeless at face value, Lord Erskine couldn't help but feel more tempted and hopeful than ever, whilst also finding himself utterly shocked that a Fel would suggest declaring Tarkin Protocol if their circumstances were to become dire enough to facilitate it's implication. Even with blasters, disruptors, sabres and blades causing a rising cacophony of insanity around them, this implication was massive, as Lord Erskine couldn't recall a time when Irveric Tavlar ever said such things openly or in private among his Felist peers, and it was said so calmly from within the war's latest crucible itself. Rurik Fel was very quickly beginning to grow on the Woad-born General, perhaps proving to be yet another Imperator who could keep him from abandoning all hope when it seemed to dwindle dangerously around them, and on this premise, Barran couldn't help but agree with Fel's initial solution to their seemingly-dire situation. The masked conqueror could tell this appealed greatly to the Woad-born chieftain, but would the Northern-Galidraani aristocrat feel the same way? Erskine could only turn around to his Lord-Protector for approval....
'Hoo-boy, I - uh.....'
There was something magic in the air that night, and even as the gloom continued to swell the shadows of the dimly-lit, distruptor-flashing riot of ultraviolence, the Stormchaser couldn't help but feel young again in that moment, like Lord Erskine himself was just a young Lord-Captain in the GSF's mechanised contingent again, feeling that spring in his step like he'd never felt before. The Senate District would surely find itself completely besieged on all sides before long, this the Woad knew for a fact, and in accepting this mission, he also knew for a fact that they were waving goodbye to their only window of escape-opportunity, but this wouldn't deter the Stormchaser from proving himself in the eyes of his new Imperator; everything was fated to fall into place as the perfect sequence of events, and in all the frenetic, bloody madness around them, Lord Erskine was almost praying that Lord Willan was of a similar mind.
<"Erskine, I don't know what's happening over there, but if things aren't hot yet, they're going to be soon. If your ride out is already FUBAR, try and get your people to my ship. There'll be younglings coming too—if they haven't arrived yet, hold down the fort and send a party to try and escort them there, and you all can burn sky with Kiss out of here. I'll find my own exit strategy.">
'Sar'andor, this is Barran. I sure as hell hope that ship has turrets on it, could come in handy by the way!'
Looking back once more to his Lord-Protector for his final word, Barran's next move would be dictated purely on Tal's sense of self-preservation, but would Lord Willan pine for glory as his Woad-born subordinate was, in that moment? The Stormchaser's eyes would make contact with those of the Lord-Protector, urging him without words to stay and fight to solidify his eternal glory as a true great among Galidraani leaders.
RAGING AGAINST DARKNESS: THE LORD-PROTECTOR'S ESCAPE - PART 3
LORD GOWRIE'S COTTAGE, CAMP RIORDAN, TUATHA, GALIDRAAN III TWO DAYS BEFORE MAWSWORN ATTACK....
'Almost looks like it isn't real, doesn't it? Still getting used to these surroundings again, never thought I'd need to in all fairness, but - it is what it is. Like a lot o' things in this day an' age.'
Sitting with hipflasks in hand, the battered, bruised and bloodied duellists would rest after their gruelling swordfight, caring little for the injuries sustained, especially knowing that every wound or bruise inflicted on each other would be treated and healed within hours of bacta-patch and ice-pack applications. Both wisely taking the chance to catch a breath and to drink together before duties whisked them apart again, it was clear to see that they were either satisfied or acquiescent with the end result of the duel itself, yet gladdened of the closure most of all; looking down on the picturesque village of Riordan Glen, the civilian-surroundings of Camp Riordan itself had proven to be the ideal fighting arena for the occasion, both spurred on by the rolling hillsides (along with every field and hedgerow) for their inspiration. The bout itself had dragged on for a good thirty minutes or so, giving the duo plenty reasons besides their obvious, aforementioned ilk to rest their legs, arms and all the rest of it for a while, but it hadn't sapped their friendship in any way, shape or form, not when these defining duels would spur them to achieve greatness beyond their Goidelic means.
'Just like these Iron Ring deployments they've got my lot endeavouring, but we still need that gap closed proper as well. We're being flung in with penal legions on places like Lorrd an' the likes, so its no surprise to me that the Woad-Macushla won't be deployed anywhere near it. I hear you have no love of the concept either, or was that just a rumour?'
'Well, I don't mind - but only for as long as they're kept well away from our segment of the NIO's static-line anyway.', the Lord-Commander of the Blue-Hearts responded, raising an eyebrow in silent judging of the concept also, but making a reasonable point of not delving any further into that part of the New Imperial war-effort. Some would see this behaviour in Lord Erskine throughout his career and view it as a fault, but for those who knew better, it would be quite obvious that the Stormchasers views on utilising the likes of Halketh's zombies were little more than gladness that such resources were there for him at the time; using the playing-pieces he was allocated at any given time, every time, and utilising them as each play was made around their movements in the struggles. Not that Barran was ever given any time to muse on the morality of every developing situation as they flared up, the seemingly-unstoppable Woad could only make use of his advantages as any warrior would under similar circumstances of severe warfighting duress, such circumstances that the Tuath had been thrown into more than enough to know this for himself as well, though Lord Erskine knew it would serve best to be understanding about Lord Aron's frustrations on the Wildcats' recent deployments to the Iron Ring.
'An' as far as I can see it, the Wildcats could get tastier objectives if they were a little quicker in the completion of those they're dealing with now. Prestige is fine, but clean track records are much nicer to look at - so keep yours clean, an' let me take the defeats and tough-decisions in stride so you don't have to.... Wildcat Battalion will be needed in the near future, an' we need yees at yer best.'
Coruscant. The Queen of the Core , Capital of the Galactic Alliance and the very Planet where it all began , the very Planet in which saw Sularen began his long-decades long journey. A Journey which had led to this moment. From Serving Cedric Grayson with the intent of securing control over the territories of the former Corellian Confederation to joining the Brotherhood of the Maw with the intent of ruling the Core and punishing those who had deceived him. His Journey had been one filled with deception , betrayals and backstabbing which transformed Sularen from a Humble Corellian Bureaucrat serving a Light-Side Government to a Ruthless , Relentless and Vengeful Overlord within the Final Dawn seeking to decimate dozens of Worlds and get his ultimate revenge against every single living soul who had deceived him. Now atleast , the Grand Overseer had returned to the Core and he was not alone for he had the Maw on his side. Solipsis had promised him the Core Worlds and Sularen had helped expand the Final Dawn into force to be reckoned with transforming it from a small group of Neo-Imperialists to a somewhat powerful sub-group with a reputation on par to that of the Knights of Ren or the New Sith Order. They were the Underdogs of the Maw , yet they were crucial in powering it's War Machine.
The Maw Irregular Fleet comprised of large Battlecarriers , 28 Ships Strong with the strength of an entire Sector Group emerged from Hyperspace above the so-called Queen of the Core , ready to challenge the might of the Galactic Alliance. Until now every engagement that the Maw Irregular Fleet had partaken in was nothing but rehearsal , today they would unleash their true might upon those who had long defied their Grand Overseer , the man who had transformed this fleet into one of the Maw's greatest Naval Task Forces and one feared throughout the Galactic Alliance as a force to be reckoned with. On the Bridge of the Lead ship of this Powerful Fleet , known to many as the Predator , Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen sat comfortably on his Command Chair amazed at the massive battle that raged ahead. It seemed that the Brotherhood's many enemies had already arrived and that the Grand Overseer surprisingly was late. But that did not concerned Sularen , for his priorities laid in decimating the Alliance Fleet above Coruscant and scorching the surface below.
Sularen then stood up and walked towards the windows of the Bridge before slightly turning to his Bridge Officers , with an evil grin and fueled with hate and anger , Sularen addressed his men in a cold tone. "Patch me in through the enemy Fleet and alert all friendlies of our arrival.". The Officers nodded and soon enough a link had been secured with the enemy fleet. "This is Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen of the Final Dawn to the Combined Fleet of the Bastion Accords. The Full might of the Maw has been unleashed upon the Core. Withdraw from this System while you can and you will be spared , resist us and you will be annihilated along with this precious world you have vowed to defend. The Maw cannot be defeated for we are an unstoppable force of Chaos , one that will decimate the Galaxy and purify it from your sins. This is your First and only Warning. War. Death. Rebirth.". Then the Grand Overseer proceeded to return to his Command Chair and spoke once more. "Have the Fleet link up with the rest of the Mawite Fleet. Today , we will shatter the Heart of the Core once and for all"
The air in the room went ice cold, small pockets of frosty breath escaped the lips of the helpless bystanders and even the inside of the Dark Jedi's mask filled with bitter cold. That could only mean one thing. "How disappointing..." rang in his mind, forcing Cadere to twitch his head as if to shake the croaky voice out of it. The sound of a glass shattering drew the Kiffar's attention away for a split second, a small blur shot passed his head and landed in between him and the bystanders.
His eyes widened behind the red visor as he threw his arms out, projecting an invisible shield of the Force's energy as the spherical grenade imploded. The shield managed to protect him from the initial blast, but its shockwave still managed to knock Cadere through the already broken glass and out onto the street. Landing on his back with a pained grunt, the Dark Jedi rolled backward before coming to a halt on his knees. Orange flames danced within the reflection of his mask as the agonising screams of those inside filled his ears.
Cadere turned his head toward his Master, looking up at the stoic Sith Lord as he callously took the lives of those who couldn't fight for themselves. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed the air around his palms, every part within him was screaming - knowing this wasn't right, but the other... knew he had to do whatever it took to get stronger. However, his internal war was swiftly ended when he felt his airways constrict. Gasping for air, Cadere reached for his throat but as quick as it left, air returned again but what came next wasn't any better.
The front of his torso was hit with an itangible force, throwing his entire body into an already crumbling compact building. Pieces of the building's wall collapsed on top of Cadere, luckily, he raised his arms and managed to stop the rubble from crushing him through the command of the Force. Now enraged, the pieces he held swiftly shot into Insatious' direction as he shot up to his feet ready to attack and kill his Master. He took a step toward Insatious before stopping, a rush of hatred and fury passed through him, only it wasn't his. What followed was the sudden sense of danger blaring in the back of his neck.
Instincts took over as the Dark Jedi whipped his head in the direction of the troops accompanying Insatious, ensuingly, their formation was split apart by a sonic blast. Cadere's red visor glared at a figure (Aerith Krayt
) in the air, flying to higher ground on a nearby building. Eyes still locked on the armored individual, his right forearm partially raised as the Force extended through him, gripping a moderate sized piece of rubble and levitating it into the air. As quickly as it came, the rock pierced through the air and directly toward the armored assailant.
Meanwhile, Cadere was completely unaware of the thermal detonator that had been sent their way...
Location: Senate Building
Enemies - Not all identified at the moment
Weapons - A blaster
It started softly the whispers of did you see, is that them? Followed by the screams of panic and terror, the sounds echoed off the hall walls of the city until it carried everywhere and there was no escape from it.
Faith stood up her office shook, "What was that?" Without thinking of anything she moved to a window to look out. It took time to register in her mind what could be happening this time. Another internal attack? A rush from those upset over decisions recently made within the Senate. Before she could figure it out the Alderaan Knights were in her office. "We have to go" She looked was Ike Gale
with them she knew he had several other things to attend to today.
She could walk out, or run out. "We need to make sure anyone injured is found and cared for. We need to deploy our medical personnel." She had been meaning to build up in trained personnel but every time something else jumped up.
Becca pushed her way past the Knights, "Let me through MOVE!" She shoved the mountain of a man in front of her, "They say it's the Brotherhood."
It was one of the fears they had many months ago seeing the openings that they could come through to the heart of Core.
"Understand, we still need to get the medical corps out....evacuation where they can." Her heart skipped a beat as she tried not to let fear grip her.
Faith stood silent for a moment.. the last time darkness came to Coruscant her brother had died. Please please protect us she prayed to whatever higher power could be listening, "Ok...let's get out of the office. We are sitting wolf cats in here."
Faith opened the small drawer on her desk and removed the blaster Draco had given her for that just in case moment, who knew she would ever really need it. Let's hope the days at the range paid off.
Faith surrounded by the Knights began to navigate to get out.
Bodies began to cover the ground. As though over ripened fruit falling from a tree shuddering in the wind that would rip its roots from the ground with which it secured itself. Energy sang into the force. Lives snuffed out as anger, fear, and misery ran its course through those engaged in the fighting.
Howls and screams filled the air. The jedi temple an erupting cauldron of emotion and energy that clashed as titans against fate. The crimson woman cared little for the goals of those that had drawn her attention.
The Dark Voice a means to an end, just as she was to it.
Doen below the fighting, below the attention of the seige and believing themselves tucked away. A group of pureblood Sith lingered in an abandoned warehouse. The fighting raged overhead as a figure stood surrounded by barely clothed slaves.
She was silent behind the mask scratched out into the visage of a docile rabbit. An ear shorn off the item in the fighting she had taken part in to secure her tenuous position among those that gathered in this storm. They had seen her as little more than an obstical in their path to glory. The chant of War, Death, Rebirth on the lips of those that her hand had cut down.
Their life force had been drained in those fleeting moments between the swinging of blades and their anger had flown wild as a banner in a gale. But she had stood against it as a breeze might throw ones hair. Her figure imposing if only because of her height, she towered over those souls that had been allotted for her use.
The broken souls danced around her in eager anxiety to please. To earn their next ration and snatch it greedily from her crimson hand. Not scared by the claws that threatened their grasping hands should they fail in some manner.
She had to admire the Maw for their ability to break the mind and soul of a being so thoroughly. The gathered wretches around her drawing near to tearing each other apart for the willingness to serve as she let her hand glide along the dark edge of the troughs they had drug into the building. It was a rundown thing. Forgotten to time maybe. Or abandoned to criminals. It mattered not what the old place had been once used for.
It would serve her purpose here nicely as she gazed at the cranes overhead.
"I require materials. You know what I seek. Go fetch it. Double rations for the first to bring me proper goods." She hissed to them, their eyes glinting in the dark of the limited light granted by the emergency power in the old warehouse. There was a collective gasp of joy as she waved a hand toward the exits. They cackled and grinned madly in the low light, her influence stripping them of the good sense of fear for those above as she turned to look at them.
"Fetch. Before you all make the first offering." She snapped, eyes glinting with malice as the horde of slaves scrambled away and up. The silence that was left in their wake was only broken by her kin. Crimson skinned beings that were enraged and slighted by the attack on their home.
A small crate was brought in, the hulking mass of her physical kin bringing the furnace to heat the yet unmade weapons of opportunity. The sorcerers murmured quietly amongst themselves at working with the beings they viewed as lesser above them. She silenced the whispering and murmurs with a sharp snap of her fingers, the handful of her kin present turning to face her.
"The process begins. Fire the forge, sing your magics. We begin."
The entrance of the temple was crumbling, bodies scattered across its entrance steps of jedi, sith, and others that had been caught up in the flurry. Battles raged yet still as from below a small army of slave bodies began to pick through the dead and dying.
Their frail forms bent and opening eyelids, some fighting amongst themselves over the bodies that lay there. They never sought to bring down the living, but they did linger at the edges of those ongoing battles. Their eyes sharply attentive to the warriors before them.
If no one impeded their work, the would ignore those still standing. Never offering a reason for their presence as they stashed loose items in their belts or forgot the bodies and headed back down below.
Even when threatened, they did little more than skitter away before coming back with a piece of large rubble overhead to silence the threat of those laying on the ground. They did not kill. They did not do anything more than pacify those they grabbed. Pairs began working to drag away half live beings of sith and jedi alike. Footsoldiers of both sides groaning or yelling for explanation or reason as the slaves hurriedly tried to drag them below.
They haphazardly tossed the beings down, scaling down after in quick succession. A dark presence was bubbling below if anyone had the chance to pay attention. As if some great cauldron had been set to a low boil as the slaves toiled away in the midst of heated combat, seemingly oblivious to the dangers around them. Some fell to stray blaster fire. A few surprised by the struggling beings that fought back.
Slaves have begun to appear in the midst of fighting and are attempting to snatch the bodies of those injured and dieing. They are not making bones about if they are sith or jedi. They ignore anyone that threatens them, seeming to be driven by something unseen.
The fizzle of crimson against his woeful saber brought nothing to his door, offering his jaded heart no glee he sought outright. The gallant Knight who plunged headlong into the fray to greet him first had done little to satisfy him. He had done as he always had, merely remaining unbothered in the face of the charge, and allowed his grim suit to serve its purpose. One swift strike forward had thrust his warbling blade through the heart of the oath sworn, and it was a mighty shove of his hand that had discarded the impaled mirialan to the blood-slicked floors beneath his boots. Blood splattered his masque in equal measure, trickling down the cosmetic sockets and gilded lids like mock tears in the discordance. The assault was going as he had foreseen, with many of the very ilk his own despised centralized here upon recall orders cast from the Council. It would be their downfall.
It was the perfect trap. Every lie, every half-truth, each and every machination up until this very night had willed it to be so. The ages of planning, the nights of manipulating, the toil of cloak-and-dagger had all led him to this moment when it was his shadow that washed across the Jedi and broke them with despair. In the streets, the very citizens they were sworn to protect were being slaughtered like animals- disemboweled, tortured, their innards dragged to their outers and fed to the hounds and savages amongst the less-gifted soldiers of his Brotherhood. And here, in these vaunted halls, lay the promise he had helped shape the New Sith with. Pride swelled in his hollow chest at the euphoria he was subjected to across his bleak canvas, its sprawling expanse filled in painted hues of crimson hatred until each shade bled together into an overwhelming wash of blood he could do naught but revel in.
Suffering enveloped the entrance hall, casting a miasmic Darkness within the House of Light that would not go ignored. Many the Jedi were, but they were grossly unprepared for the Sith's arrival. Surprise, as ever, had been their greatest element. Preternatural senses drove his saber hand up and hooked his elbow backward, guarding the mailed rear of his skull with a wheeling howl of his saber. Colors collided, the heat spitting plasmic spark between the interlocked blades. The Dark Lord merely turned his head as if to acknowledge the assailant with physical sight, and beneath his shroud, his brow furrowed. "A Jedi Shadow?" He pondered, his voice ringing with the harmony of a divine choir, "What a curiosity."
The miraluka twisted with deceitful deftness, swatting aside the follow-up jab of the blade protruding from the Jedi's staff, "Tell me, how does a Shadow come to protect a monument which defies everything she stands for?"
She kept on him, pressing her speed and reach to contort and twist the two into a macabre dance, one where she seized the lead to force disadvantage upon him given the sheer number of saber blades at play. Each twirling pirouette, every guttural thrust, the Dark Lord denied with a swing of his lonely blade bolstered by unnatural strength. He maneuvered about with her, this little partner of his, watching in silence as the Force flowed and ebbed throughout her body. She was predictable, even without his eyeless advantage. She was ill-experienced, unsure of herself entirely, driven by the primal desire to survive. She blinked around him, zipping in and out of physical perception, unaware of his nature.
Caelitus uttered his assessment with disdain: "Sloppy."
A crushgaunt snapped to, catching the woman's head within his grip- plucking her out of the veil of night she wove around herself. "Rightfully so." his head slowly turned upon her with the exertion of his strength, bolstered by the technology of his armor. Frightened, the woman gasped, struggling violently against him. Fingers clawed at the plates of his forearms. Heels spurred against his armored chest. The terror in her eyes went unnoticed, though the palpable fear she fed him sung her deathly song well enough. "Fear not, little shade," he imparted final words upon her, "never shall you fail your Order again."
Bone fractured and crunched beneath his grasp, collapsing unnaturally beneath the force he squeezed with. It was an unmerciful end.
The Dark Lord turned his face away from the gruesome corpse in his hand, fixing that irreverent icon of his indifference toward the voice that spoke in defiance of destiny. Fingers uncurled one by one, dropping the broken body to the floor. He said nothing toward the Master, though the blood-soaked hand now by his side clenched into a fist to squelch what little remnants of a life he had just taken were left. It was not long after one Master gained his attention that another arose to invoke the same.
That was enough to earn a hidden smirk. "Oh, he was so terribly unsatisfying." Steadily, did the Dark Lord straighten his posture and angle his shoulders in their direction, adopting a neutral stance. "I do not believe I've had the pleasure," his condescension resonated from beyond lips unmoving, "who are you?"
He offered them no time to reply, rather, he shifted to immediate action.
Through The Force, the harrowing Lord blinked, reappearing just off to Zark's left flank, mid-swing, as the brain-splattered gauntlet of his freehand thrust toward Cotan, flinging a reality-defying javelin of pure Dark energy.
Defend The Alliance
Allies: Senators and nearby Jedi Enemies: Maw, Zinn Zinn Bink'sa
The pod shook with a violent eruption.
Stumbling over, the Senator grabbed onto the side railing, trying to regain his balance. Soon thereafter another shake rocked his pod, along with all of the others. The man looked up to see the alert sirens going off, meaning that everyone needed to seek shelter now. He watch in panic as the Senate hearing chamber turned to chaos. Guards of every type of species rushed in to protect their respected senators, while others made an escape without waiting. Two of his own guards entered onto his pod.
"Senator Ross, we need to evacuate you immediately. Maw forces have entered Coruscant, and it is no longer safe here."
He looked up in disbelief. How had the Maw arrived unannounced to Coruscant, and already started to engage us? Surely the Defense Force would have already began defending the assault. At least, he would like to hope so.
"And what is the status of the Jedi Temple?"
"The Maw have already broken through the Jedi's lines and are now engaged at the Temple. But sir, we must get you to safety."
Color had left the man's face. He senate had signed off of the Jedi's death. All of the New Jedi Order was on Coruscant, and they were going to be killed. Standing upright, the Senator reached for his lightsaber. Igniting the blue blade, the man began to walk out of the hearing room. Not saying a word to his guards, the man made his way towards one of the landing pads. His quickest exit and way to the Jedi would be hear.
Finding one of the doors to the landing pads, the Jedi opened the door with the force. The last thing he was expecting was to be treated with a crashed Maw ship with Maw soldiers pouring out of it. Raising his saber in defending position, he readied for attack.
"Guards, alert the Senate guard that there has been a breach. Hurry!"
With a quick nod his two men hurried off to alert the others. Jak, on the other hand, stayed right where he was at. It was time for some Maw blood to be shed.
"You are not welcome here Sith. Leave this planet while I am still giving you the chance. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to eliminate you all."
[ Fire and Blood ] <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
The woman had not yet arrived for the meeting when what she felt had happened. First her hunger arose when she felt the Dark Side energies, she felt the power of Darth Solipsis
; it wasn't hard to get to know him even remotely, she spent enough time with the man as she tried to spy on the Maw's real intent as the Messenger. This was followed by more, more Dark Side auras. MANIAC immediately signalled that an invasion fleet had arrived and besieged the city. He also shared more pictures with the woman.
Ingrid immediately instructed Shadow Company's soldiers to take HPI executives to safety and keep them safe. The soldiers obeyed without a word, only one person raised a word; the Shadow Company's second-in-command. He was once Ingrid's father's training officer and for a very long time the bodyguard of the L'lerim girls. The Empress also regarded him as a kind of uncle. She especially loved in the man that he would always contradict the woman if he felt that Ingrid was doing nonsense. He still wanted to protect her, as if the woman was just a three- to four-year-old child.
~ No, Joe, I'll go there. I need to know what they're planning! ~ message to the man on HPINet's private channel.
Last but not least, she already felt that Eina was here. She was her only "creation" she called her own child. It was not biological but spiritual, but it came from Adrian and her, and Little Vandiir also considered her as his sister. The Eternal Empress felt the dark side presence from the Temple. She didn't care if the Jedi were destroyed by them; in fact, it would have helped her own cause, but Maw’s methods were still not good, and she knew people would be massacred here as well, just because they could do it and kidnap civilians. This, in turn, was something the woman did not want.
She chose the fastest method to get there; hid her presence in the Force, though her necklace also served that purpose; Ingrid became invisible and then opened a tiny rift through which she went to Netherworld. Here she travelled for a much shorter distance, then opened another tiny rift and returned to Realspace near the Jedi Temple. It was time to invisibly map the area. Scout work like in the good old days…
Chaos rampaged through the streets, commanded as the greatest weapon at The Brotherhood's disposal. Inexplicable orgies of violence and scenes of horror were the marauders' specialties. Shocktroopers flooded the duracrete jungle, overwhelming the Alliance and Imperial forces alike which attempted to hastily raise defenses and set up command posts to better direct their forces. They had been horrendously unprepared for an assault at their very heart, the precious jewel where all of their fantastical ideals were born and spread like a virulent plague. It was a weakness to cling to something as temporary as a city, a planet even, in his disjointed vision. And weakness was not tolerated by the likes of his ilk.
Marauders, shocktroopers, sithspawn, and wicked armor had strangled the streets into an unrecognizable vista of carnage, where pink mist hung heavily in the air and the stench of fetid desperation blossomed. Cutting through it, the mechanical monstrosity of man and machine surged, joined by the numerous soldiers of his warband- the Bloodsworn. He was unsure where it was his Warlord roamed this night, though it hardly mattered to him now that he was on the battlefield properly. His scarred visage towered head and shoulders over his comrades, metallic augment and implementations glinted and flashed with the constant strobes of exchanged fire around him; the same sweet music he had come to appreciate.
He had rebuked the insistence he don heavier armor for this incursion, and rather than garb himself in the twisted plate of his fellows, he remained in the trustworthy robes he was most fond of, knowing full well the heavy metals of his altered body beneath would endure whatever punishment any foe he crossed could deal. And if it could not and his faith was broken, so be it. It was the will of his Avatar. Death was inconsequential, ultimately, his mortal soul would unite with the All Knowing, fueling the god's spirit to guide his followers onward to victory.
Even still, he was not so reckless as to command his lessers into a blind fray. No, this battle was one of grave import, and the New Imperials in particular were not to be underestimated.
The warband swept through the street under the covering fire of insidious snipers and throngs of undead soldiers, all who openly engaged in mortal combat around them. It was a moshpit in a torrential blood rain, brute savagery and twisted humanity trading death blows with refined excellence and military expertise. The contrast was stark, telling, and ultimately beautiful. Thrashing Moon Children and Perished collided with the stormtroopers and commandos in their fortified positions, overrunning and overwhelming them with brute force alone. A war of attrition it had become already.
"No doubt they will have established an elevated advantage," The Hand of Novit Omnia spoke in digitized monotone, his strange garbling tongue understood by the augmented soldiers in his retinue, "one we must destroy if we are to proceed as planned." The epicanthix adjusted the hold on the scattergun in his grip as he peered over the broken duracrete barricade he crouched low behind. "The skyline offers distinctive sightlines between the buildings, though such height does not allow them to see directly beneath." A basic observation, "We must choose our path and hold close to it; a diversionary tactic to gain their attention is necessary whilst the rest press on."
He twisted his focus back to his modest collective, steely grey eye darting between the mangled or obscured forms of his soldiers in assessment. Rapidly, he considered the possible worth of each member of his squad. What would be gained by trading their lives away. What benefits would remain at his disposal per each member, a numbers game it was to him, nothing more. "Grimehusk, you are chosen. The Hand guides you this day. Deploy smoke and proceed on the Northside of the structure directly ahead. Move swiftly and you will survive the gauntlet. Fail and you will die."
The helmeted soldier nodded, eager to prove his merit.
"Novit Omnia will grant us a boon, by proxy, I offer this to you. Take command of ten soldiers, move them with you. The faithless must rely on their technology to see in the Darkness, lenses, and sensors that must be fooled. Go, now."
The soldier vaulted over the barricade and into the fray, tapping his chosen on the shoulder as he went, claiming them for his task.
Ozma looked to those that remained. "Hug the foot of this tower, we will move around as Grimehusk and his chosen distract any snipers which may be watching. Our destination remains the same; we must reach the Senate Building."
Behind him a pillar of black smoke erupted in the street as Grimehusk deployed his cover, masking his impromptu squadron behind a veil. "Move!" Ozma leapt to action, surging over the corpses scattered across the street to press against the building, eliminating the sightline advantage of any who may have been posted there. He charged ahead, caring nothing for those of his who were still gunned down by the focused attention their movement garnered, and simply left the wounded behind.
The halls of the senate were never a place that Heinrich thought he would find himself. Though he had spent most of the days of the Imperium in captivity under the Sith, the ousting of the Grayson family had still left a sour taste in his mouth. Heinrich wasn't the only one; he could sense Gesieric's feelings as they entered the senate chamber. If it weren't for the mutual threat to the galaxy, he wondered if their alliance would hold. In the end, such thoughts were a waste of time, as there were more pressing matters to attend to.
The united front against the Maw had recently attempted an offensive upon their borders, hoping to beat back the tide of darkness. Unfortunately, like any well-rooted pest, they endured. Heinrich knew that it would only be a certain amount of time before the next battle began. For now, he kept his attention on the matter at hand. The New Jedi Order had been locked up in their temple, placed under a microscope while the senate decided what to do with them. Though Heinrich had know love for the political institution of this planet, he felt sympathy for his fellow Jedi. After all, it was they who often protected the Alliance within their darkest moments. Now, the senate had decided it would be proper to treat them as little more than caged animals. Heinrich knew not how him and the Ashlan delegation would be able to help, but he had to find a way...
These days, the galaxy needed all of the Jedi it could get.
He took his position behind the delegation, surveying the senate chamber as the rest of the delegates began to take their places. As the last of the delegates made their way into the room, Heinrich began to feel slightly off. A cold shiver crept up the back of his spine, causing him to instinctively allow his eyes to dart across the room. There was a disturbance in the Force, but he could not find the source...
Until the ship came crashing down.
"Hit the deck!"
He rushed for the Grand Admiral as Geiseric managed to detour the craft, causing it to crash into the floor below. The impact made Heinrch lose his balance, causing him to catch himself against a piller. Who could have been so bold? Then it hit him...
The Maw had come to Coruscant.
Heinrich shot a quick look to Geiseric, continuing to brace himself against the piller.
"We need to get everyone ou-"
Another cacophonous explosion rocked the room, and all went dark...
Part Two: Damage Report
Heinrich push the rubble off of him, coughing up dust from the fallen debris. As he regained his vision, Heinrich did his best to assess just what in the Nether happened. A second explosion had rocked the senate building, blowing a hole in the floor and sending him below. He must have fallen at least two floors, though it was difficult to tell through the smoke and dust.
Guess I'm lucky there's no broken bones...
Heinrich began to rise to his feet, when he felt a searing pain shoot across his side. A broken rib, he would think to himself.
Guess I was wrong...
He managed to get himself up, and with a prayer to Ashla, he found it within himself to push forward, despite the piercing agony in his side. There were techniques for this sort of thing; meditations to keep your mind off of he pain. In his years of captivity, he had learned to use them well. Despite the years of learning to cope with immense pain, his movement was slowed due to the wound.
As he managed to get his bearings, Heinrich attempted to send a transmission to the others.
<<This is Grand Marshal Faust to all Ashlan forces. What's our status?>>
<<Faust to Draellix, do you read me?>>
The commlink only gave him static.
The fall must have damaged it...
Before he could take a closer look, Heinrich began to hear blasterfire from down the hall, accompanied by the warcries of the Maw. It was unclear how many of the Mawsworn vanguard had made their way into the building at this point, but to Heinrich, it did not matter...
Right now, he had to get back to the others.
With lightsaber in hand, he rushed for the end of the hall, praying that it wasn't too late.
That was enough to earn a hidden smirk. "Oh, he was so terribly unsatisfying." Steadily, did the Dark Lord straighten his posture and angle his shoulders in their direction, adopting a neutral stance. "I do not believe I've had the pleasure," his condescension resonated from beyond lips unmoving, "who are you?"
Master San Tekka brought his blade up in a textbook block seeming to anticipate the Sith Lord's sudden materializing advance. Sabers clashed and sparks flew as they both tested the other's strength. White hot plasma illuminated his features while Halketh's visage was plunged into shadow by a crimson glow. Zark's expression remained impassive. Yet beneath this crude matter there was a growing beacon.
His mind reached out, linking those Jedi defending the Great Hall into a subconscious meld. Energy drawn from the Jedi Temple's spiritual wellspring radiated from his very being. In this way the two clashing figures were locked not just in a physical contest but a duel of wills as well. Hope versus despair. One of the Alliance's most powerful battleminds bent itself toward this purpose.
"Your overconfidence is your weakness," he smiled at the Sith, "All I hear are the last desperate gasps of a failed religion."
Breaking their grapple at last, Zark swung in a wide arc at Halketh.
"Sith always believed too much in symbols."
It was a feint. With his free hand, the Jedi Master reached out through the Force and crushed one of the few remaining undamaged pillars in the Great Hall. He did not have to communicate this plan to the others. Thanks to the meld he couldn't even be sure if it had been his idea. San Tekka warned the other Jedi to fall back. One or two more columns and the entrance would collapse under its own foundations.
Coruscant // Jedi Temple Separated from other Jedi, Temple Corridors
Actors: Kaito Kiyoshi
Bernard caught the downward swing with his off-hand and used the opening to thrust his lightsabre through the Sith's abdomen. The Sith's final breath left him as he was impaled against the wall. The body went limp and Bernard tossed him aside by pulling the hands he'd caught away.
Another lightsabre still hummed in the corridor. Its wielder quietly laughed, he'd done so since Bernard had confronted the two, varying in intensity with the flow of battle. As Bernard turned to him his chuckling began dripping freely, rising into a burst of full laughter, as though his comrade's death had been the most amusing sight in his life. Bernard didn't much care for it, there were more pressing matters to worry about.
The Temple shook, cacophonous crashes echoed through the hallways. They were subdued, distant, coming from somewhere closer to the Temple's great halls. Bernard had been caught in the attack a far way away from the main target. A speeder craft had broken through the walls of one of the training facilities, delivering the two Sith he now faced. He'd engaged them, each a worthy opponent in his own right, and had steered their fight out of the training hall and into the Temple's corridors, where it was more difficult for them to attack him two at a time.
The Sith took a step forward, the metal sole of his boots echoing against the marble floor. Bernard took it as his cue and lunged to close the distance between them. The Sith moved to do the same, but Bernard was ready. Reaching out with the Force, he cooled the area beneath the Sith's feet, freezing his boot to the floor in a flash.
The Sith was caught off guard when he tried to lift his leg for the next step. The sudden loss of momentum made the Sith exclaim a noise of surprise as his balance was thrown off enough to make him stumble for just one step. That moment of inattentiveness was enough to open his guard, allowing Bernard's lightsabre to thread the Sith's defence and find its mark.
Bernard's blade sank into the man's chest. The Sith's laughter died down, a silent, confused howl pulling his jaw wide. Bernard withdrew the blade, and the Sith followed in his brother's steps, falling limp, his lightsabre clattering to the floor. Without a second glance spared, Bernard jumped over the corpse and broke into a sprint. He didn't know what was going on, and that made him anxious.
Why were there Sith in the temple? How had they made it to Coruscant? Dagon's communique had reached him, but it was cryptic at best. He needed to link up with the others and coordinate an effective defence against whoever, whatever was attacking them.
The lights of battle summoned Revenant to the darkness above.
Then Chaar adjusted his crash webbing as his B-wing sped up through the Coruscant atmosphere. His squadron, back from the Unknown Regions to refit and refuel, were one of the dozens of squadrons scrambled by High Command to push back the enemy incursion. No one yet had time to understand how the Brotherhood of the Maw had snuck into the Coruscant system undetected, but one thing was known - they weren’t here to sign a peace accord.
The Umbaran watched the tactical holo struggle to keep up with the number of friendly and enemy contracts. The skies of Coruscant were typically packed with vessels, but today the civilian transports and cargo hauliers had fled, replaced with just as many Brotherhood ships. The Alliance defence fleet had established a cordon and was holding the line, supported by an impressive count of New Imperial ships. It was mighty convenient that the NIO had so many ships nearby, for what Chaar understood to be a diplomatic summit. He narrowed his eyes as he looked out at the vessels of the Iron Sun. It would be interesting to see the Imps try and talk their way out of this one.
But for the commander’s suspicions to be answered, he needed to see the day through.
“Tighten up,” he announced flatly over the Revenant Squadron comms. While they were no longer green, there was still quite a few rough edges he needed to sand down. The four B-wings with the heavy anti-capital ship payloads moved into the middle of the formation so the faster A-wings and X-wings could protect them. Their doctrine remained the same - deliver the heavy hitters to the enemy fleet so One Flight could take them out for the count.
The Brotherhood had come prepared. Hundreds of starfighters filled Chaar’s forward viewport, flying like gnats around the Super Star Destroyer-analogue Fatalis. The Maw Irregular Fleet had joined the fray, with their leader broadcasting demands to the Alliance and Imperials.
Text scrolled across Chaar’s display with a fire mission request from High Command. “We have a tasking - the Magnus,” he declared as he forwarded the target details to Revenant. The five-kilometre monstrosity was bristling with weapons and protected by heavy shields. Cracking its armour would be a big ask event for the B-wings. Intelligence believed that its captain, Admiral Aldo Garrick
, to be in control of the World Devastators descending toward Coruscant. Knocking the flagship out would buy the Alliance time to take out the weapons of mass destruction before they reached the surface.
“Two Flight, clear the surface turrets,” he ordered. “Three Flight, keep our backs clear.” He toggled his B-wings strike foils into the attack position and accelerated toward the Resurrection-class battlecruiser.
868 ABY, highway leading to the 500 Republica, Coruscant.
When Kelga'an and his troops came to the steps of 500 Republica, they would see a Clone trooper playing his Bes'bev flute in full armor. He played against his slumbering Terentatek friend "Skotah". When the trooper sighted the Imp special ops unit, he slowly got to his feet, stretched, and came over to who he assumed was Nukth Kelga'an
, the man he was supposed to be working with to protect the shivering Senators in their jammies. He would rather be helping the Jedi who were fighting hand over fist to keep the Sith out of their Temple but here he could have the most impact and maybe even get a few tips along the way. Either way, they would have to get out of this thing alive to make use of that money.
The Clone waited until the officer was done talking with his men before offering a hand in welcome. "Omen and my troop, glad to have you on board." The Trooper pointed to massive pillars and statues that had been toppled over to form a barricade in front of the towering skyscraper's main entrance. "That is the best cover you will have. I hide behind there till the last moment before opening fire. You are the last line of defense. If the Mongrel and his mortal demons get past you, then 100s of years of history are going to flushed down the toilet by madmen. I'll have my own surprise waiting for them unless you need me to stay and support you" And then he heard the pounding of boots down the road. The Maw was coming and soon. The Imp needed to choose very quickly what he wanted before the main force was upon them and killed in endless waves of lunatics and the red blades of the Sith.
Rattled by the constant shift of the vehicle's direction, he could only watch as the dark-clad figure liberated his crimson blade from Konrad's vambrace, slicing a few of the fins in its wake. He was a millisecond slower than the assailant, expecting this the red saber to find purchase in its next plunge. The thrust never came, only an odd tilt of the attacker's head. Huh? Any dwelling over the man's behavior fell short when the world suddenly turned upside down and launched him off his seat into an embarrassing death.
The obtuse, white-haired vixen had oversteered, and our unmatched in his greatness Demon's Head's condescending opinion of seatbelts came to light as he was flung off the vehicle with his head upside down. It was up to his sharpened reflexes to save him from his own hubris once more. The gauntlets desperately clawed and skidded across the leathery surface of his seat to no avail, the mag clamps were made to climb walls of steel, not this cheap faux leather. Where the lifetime of training as the perfect assassin failed, the seatbelt was, ironically, what saved him from a thousand-mile plunge to his death.
Hanging tight to this creation he so abhorred, his feet flailed beneath struggling to find a rhythm to the speeder's erratic movements and capture a burst of momentum to get back up into the fight, and maybe even throw Ishida off the vehicle she clearly had no ability to drive.
"This is not--" he pulled up then lost the gain when she steered away again, "--your village's cart you're driving!!" his yell was loud enough to hear and quite representative of his helpless situation as the other two continued their inverted scuffle. Whatever next fruitless commentary was to escape his furious lips, it never made past his throat as a short pop resounded from the hood of the speeder, and then the vehicle began to stutter. Vibrations rocked it relentlessly until they ceased at the sound of loud whistling noise, followed by a moment of uncanny silence, and then into a chaotic spiral downwards. The surviving lifts at the back slowed the spiral enough that neither would be throwing up their guts out, but the downward trajectory was unavoidable and the velocity only increased.
He could pay no more attention to Ishida's fate, Konrad had to find a way to survive. Spinning and spinning, the assassin could not pinpoint a single reachable target for his grappling hook until he gave up and fired it at the leg of their attacker. Should the rope go taut, there was no escape - he was going down with them. The solid ground of a plaza came fast and with it the end of the road - a pathetic finale to a tale expected to be a bestseller. In his final moments, Konrad's eyes burned in a flurry of hatred manifested in his last will to stir the assailant's cauldron in hell where they would meet again.
The end never came. Ruined by the cosmic talents of the Ashina heir. Even this plot of his, the Atrisian killjoy had to foil.
The unexpected twist of his tale came in the form of a faint blue sphere that formed beneath and scooped away the fatality of the impact. The rope he had fired at the black-robed warrior was long gone, ejected from its vambrace at the first touch of the ground as both bodies and vehicle skidded through the plaza. Konrad's form hit hard a fountain's wall and it threw him off his seatbelt savior into a painful tumble away.
His blade was an extension of his being, hatred made manifest as it traveled from one body to another in a fluid wave that crashed from saber to saber. Crimson heat momentarily flashed white hot against the cerulean and green hues, their surroundings were bathed in the luminescence of battle. The tidal wave of hatred unfurled, the oppressing darkness that had long been hidden finally released upon the last obstacles standing in his way to achieving total victory.
At last the Jedi would be no more. The great hunt that had begun at Jakku would bear fruit this day, and the day after.. and the day after until there was scant but a handful of broken Jedi to call upon the Force and their precious ‘Ashla’.
He felt the smooth cut as his blade ran through, severing the arm of Errik Nimdok
with a swift blow in fluid motion. He immediately fell upon another and in the midst of the intense struggle felt the pull of the empyrean upon his preternatural senses, yet he had not been the target but Saan'an Gaelor
. Sulfuric hate immediately snapped to Morteg
as his crimson fury ripped forth with a swing. The Jedi Master ducked under his blow with agile movement and precision. The blade if struck would have cleaved the small Jedi Master in two, a fact not lost on the Dark Lord’s opponent.
The Dark Lord raged with the fury of a burning inferno, his wrath building upon itself as the room so gripped in his terrible hold began to throttle and shake once more, groaning from the pressure of his anger unfurled. A ear piercing hiss echoed from his lips like a viper ready to strike.
He assaulted Kirie
and Coren Starchaser
, immediately backpedaling upon a sudden spike of pain and psychic backlash assaulting his nerve endings. He felt as though his body was shutting down, his eyes narrowly flickering to the image of Errik Nimdok
as he felt ever so briefly to one knee. The connection goes both ways, the body is just a vessel for the mind and he undergoing the agony of it all would use that to his benefit.
He would reach out into the empyrean and force upon the Jedi Master a memory walk. Something not only to bring the Jedi to suffering but to provide negative emotions, suffering for him to feed on for the duration of the conflict. The Dark Lord grit his teeth as he focused inward with all his might, commanding his physical shell to overcome and adapt knowing all to well there were worse pains he had endured. Feebly he rose, almost on que for the Jedi Master Morteg
to leap from his desk to him with a savage swing of his blade.
The Sith’ari’s eyes widened and in a moment of pure instinct he reached out, yet as his blade rose he was too slow, the force of his opponent’s blow too strong as it barreled the weapon out from the Dark Lord’s grasp. He responded in kind, his other hand letting loose crimson bolts of savage fury. Sith lightning rolled from his fingertips into the body of the green Jedi Master, he let his freehand follow joining in as the full destructive power of the Dark Side was unleashed upon him.
The Dark Lord’s momentary vengeance was interrupted by the sudden emergence of a barrier erected by Coren Starchaser
. The Elder sneered and extended his hand out to call upon his weapon. The yorik coral hilt returning to his grasp, activating once more with a snap-hiss. He held his weapon on guard in the stance of Soresu, his eyes ferociously dancing between his opponents when he felt it. Felt him.
“So you’ve come.”
He felt the approach of the Iron Imperator, Rurik Fel
. Even from across the entirety of the Senate Building, he needed more space. He needed to lure them into the Senate Chamber where he could dispatch each other them on his own terms.
KNIGHTFALL THE GREAT ERROR vol. I
Issue #15 - vol finale
An invisible tide crashed into their locked blades, splitting the two away before one overcame the other. Its power not enough to fling either like a ragdoll but enough to send both skidding back, the intense friction with the paved floor burning the soles of his feet. His eyes widened at the source of the telekinetic blast, then curved into frustration.
"You shouldn't be here!!" he barked, recalling what seemed to be a deja-vu of Lao-mon. Only this time Letifer didn't die, or rather fake his death. "Move baa--" his words trailed off as his eyes followed the rumbling sound of a pillar straining and cracking under a foreign grasp before it was launched at the Knight and Padawan. Eyes wide in stupor at the revelation manifesting in the form of a massive stone column coming down upon the two Jedi. A feline dive into a handspring and he wouldn't be splattered to batter but he doubted that feat extended to Jem.
As usual, her appearance made everything complicated. Plans could survive first contact with the enemy, but never with Jem Gaelor.
The column came down upon the two and in a desperate, instinctive defense, Dagon came to meet it with both hands enhanced with the Force. There was no stopping it. Not like this. All of the time he had spent honing the Force to enhance his physical aspects out of necessity - thrown to fight crime in the under levels, no proper training of the deeper, more empyrean side of the Force and no patience for Asmundr's lessons for it - was not going to help. And neither was the ingenuity that had been also borne out of those same reasons.
Dagon needed power. And he knew he had it. He had witnessed its vast potential only twice - once when he had tapped into the Dark Side over Ziost and once when he had succumbed to the Light to purge the malevolent and immortal spirit of his father corrupting his soul's essence. It was raw, untrained, untamed, volatile, and purposefully confined within. To reach for it meant an outcome he could not foresee and neither control.
And then his eyes began to burn in a haze of blue. It all happened in a heartbeat. As his bones strained under the weight of the titanic pillar and his flesh began to open, the empyrean rushed through his aid guided by the powerful presence of Zark San Tekka and all the Jedi linked to his meld. Where Sith found strength in culling the herd, Jedi found it in the unity of their purpose and service. The sudden surge of power froze in the column in place, his raven-haired form cramped up beneath it before he snapped up with a resounding roar and hurled the massive pillar into the columns holding the entry's roof breaking them apart.
Without the support, the whole masonry fell upon the entrance from which the Sith billowed in to stem their tide.
Insatious almost expected his Dark Apprentice to retaliate, after getting so humiliated by his Master that Insatious was about to let one of the lightsaber hilts fly into his hand for their dual. However, a suddenly sonic blast, scattering the Death Troopers as they immediately returned fire upon Aerith Krayt
while heading for some sort of cover. Igniting his blade, the Sith Lord easily redirected any shots that headed towards him without much problem. Insatious would have acted more aggressively towards the new opponent, if it hadn't been for his apprentice stepping up for the job, so as the teacher, Insatious didn't do much, other than protecting himself, watching what Cadere would do.
The sudden distraction of Aerith's hatred towards the Sith was such a powerful sensation that Insatious neglected the spike of danger screaming at the back of his head when the thermal grenade was thrown right into the middle of Insatious and Death Troopers. Right before Zoraya's eyes, she would see her thermal detonator get launched far into the air, directly at Aerith, following by a sudden reveal of 5 robed individuals who appeared out of nowhere surrounding the Sith Lord, all with a single crimson lightsaber ignited.
The robe was grey and brown with gold embroidered at the bottom of the sleeves and robe itself, along with white embroidered patterns running along the edges and bottom in the back of the robe. With their hood over their head, a skull-like mask resembling Insatious' own mask was hiding their faces, but the bright orange coloured eyes were blazing like fire.
Zoraya would soon have a barrage of blaster fire redirected right back at her and all of her allies as the clocked individuals continued to protect their master with great precision. While Cadere had been told of the clones joining the fight on Coruscant, he was kept out how and he would now see them in all their glory. Insatious turned his attention to the newly arrived insects that want to test his Hunger.
The moment the Sith Lord's gaze found Zoraya Ives-Ayres
, the woman's mind was flooded with horrific thoughts of absolutely fear as Insatious' devouring influence started to slithered its way into the woman's subconscious fighting for mental control. A whisper of dread washed over Zoraya as her mind was filled with almost eldritch voices repeating the same words of doubt continually. "You are nothing but an insignificant insect. I will feast upon your life and when I'm done with you, I will find all those you love and erase them from the face of the galaxy" repeated the voices in her head.
Her Imperial troopers quickly found out that the abomination of soldiers by Insatious was both better and reacted faster than they were capable of as if the Force itself was aiding them in some twisted way. Three of the Death Troopers even pulled their Electrohammer or Electrobatons as they charged the closest Imperial soldiers with a burst of speed only a force-sensitive could match. The worse part was that even as shots connected, damaging the monstrous soldiers, they didn't even react, as if the brain didn't react to the pain and damage.
"Son of a-" Jax muttered narrowly dodging an explosion did the Sith take out all communications in the Jedi Temple? They couldn't take it out that quick considering that the NJO had state of the art technology along with battle hardened and alert Jedi Guards and Brutes. It was possible that the abrupt attack was causing all communications scrambling to keep track on what's going on. At least that was something that Jax was hoping, if the Sith did cut off all comms then this battle would quickly become a slaughterhouse.
Just then Jax's comms picked up a message from..... Caltin? And he was saying to come for a family reunion? What did that mean? Was that his way showing humor during at time like this? It was a pretty odd choice of a joke if that was the case. As soon as he arrived, Jax placed his comms in his belt leapt into the air and activated his Lightsaber beginning to bulldoze any Trooper in his way. "Sorry I'm late to the party!" Jax yelled deflecting the blaster bolts around him.
GREAT BATTLE of CORUSCANT OBJECTIVE II | BASTION ACCORDS BESIEGE OPPOSING | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
A VERY OLD ALLY. 868 ABY, 500 Republica, Galactic City, Coruscant.
Kelga'an got a look to Sergeant Omen while he was putting the letter in his front bag. The junction just had been done and the Captain was happy to see some allies on the battlefield. He observed carefully the armor of the clone trooper and nodded quickly, calling Kappa Platoon's Lieutenant to him.
"Omen and my troop, glad to have you on board." the Alliance's Sergeant said. "Pleasure is shared, Sarge." Kelga'an answered, shaking his hand strongly. "And glad to see some allies on this damn planet." "That is the best cover you will have. I hide behind there till the last moment before opening fire. You are the last line of defense. If the Mongrel and his mortal demons get past you, then 100s of years of history are going to flushed down the toilet by madmen. I'll have my own surprise waiting for them unless you need me to stay and support you" "Oski, I can see the situation." Nukth nodded. He shew the Lieutenant and added: "Here's one of my officers, from Kappa Platoon. He and his men are the bests at strafing enemies behind a cover. Lieutenant, can we show your plans to us?"
"Sure, sir." replied the Banshee.
He took a holocommunicator and turned it on, displaying the current situation on the 500 Republica. He cleared his throat and started his speech.
"A'right. You may know it but we're on this side, few klicks from Maw's last outpost before the Five-Dub-O..." "Accordin' to our estimates, the Maw is not ready to attack us and we have something like half-an-hour before the next assault." Kelga'an added. "Right Cap'. So me and my mates are going to install machine guns on the cover to hold the positions and prepare this place for Maw's next attack."
Kelga'an agreed and allowed the Lieutenant to install his armament as he wanted. As the officer was disposing from his superior, the Captain heard the characteristic sound of Maw's boots on the permacrete. He could not ignore this song: he heard it too many times in the last years.
"Stang, I do not like this song... It's now worse than I thought. Omen, is there just ya and your squad here?"