Rebellion The Ninn Kaggath | Rebellion of Ninn | WotS vs TSE

[Kal]

Objective III: BYOO, the Blue Crest.​

Wearing: Lean Ersansyr Male, Blue-Green Hair, Protective Attire (Blue Crest).​

Assets: [4] Silent Knights, blue plus-size hardhats and Blue Crest vests.​

Tags: Lief | Sargon Vynea | Vhondryl Gallaer | Cotan Sar'andor | Krayzen Dratos | Anyone I missed; will slim down later.​

The mood among the volunteers could be described as a mixture of determination and apprehension; they had known they were getting into a rough situation but it was something different entirely to be standing in the middle of it, to see such seemingly limitless carnage.​

Kal had seen worse, however, far worse. The Sith on both sides were brutal, but they lacked the primal hatred of the Graug.​

Listening attentively as Asha made her speech, Kal would have given her an enthusiastic applause had the mood not been so solemn. His understanding of the mortal mind was far from perfect, but that did not mean he was completely incapable of reading the mood. They would see much death today, might even face mortal danger themselves at the hands of either side - the Sith were not necessarily known for being reasonable.​

"I can help find and recover the wounded." Eying the battlefield with a critical eye, he quickly began making use of his more mystical senses. To a native of the Netherworld, death was a natural, constant thing - many of those on the precipice gave off a... whiff of home.​

[Open for Interactions]​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Very well."​

​

The ground rippled outward from beneath Carnifex's feet, undulating like waves breaking upon a shore. None of it appeared to affect Vora Kaar or Carnifex, only affecting the ground beneath their feet as the range by which the environment was affected continued to spill further and further away from the epicenter. Likewise, buildings caught in this undulating field began to warble and shake from side to side as the molecules which held the construction material together began to lose their bonding. ​

​

Every building collapsed like water in a radius of about a hundred yards out from both Carnifex and Vora Kaar, alongside anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the field as Carnifex wove it. A wave of unnatural light radiated out from where Carnifex stood, transmuting the rippling soil and stone into black marble segregated by a red hexagonal grid pattern that repeated endlessly. This transmogrification would continue until everything affected by the energy field was transformed in this manner, leaving behind a perfectly level arena where they had once been part of a township.​

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The sky crackled with lightning, dark clouds forming above their heads and spreading out to cover the entire sky beyond the horizon of their immediate view. The weather changed drastically as well, hurricane-force winds ripping across the land accompanied by rampant lightning strikes and cacophonous thunderclaps.​

​

Carnifex then recalled his sword to his side, the mighty weapon floating just off to his right about a meter off the ground with its tip angled downward. The runes engraved on the flat of the blade pulsated with energy, the faint echoes of screams radiating out in a pervasive whisper.​

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He then reached to his side with his right hand, fingers wrapping around the hilt of a lightsaber before pulling it free of its magnetic mooring. With lightsaber in hand, Carnifex activated its crimson blade which snarled into life with a crackling hiss.​

​

Carnifex then just watched Vora Kaar silently, expression never wavering from stoic indifference.​

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Waiting for the challenger to make his move.​

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Vora Kaar ​

 

[Krayzen Dratos]

Tag: Lief
With my eyes glowing, I looked at Kal and Sargon Vynea . The former had volunteered to go where the latter had asked someone to go. I believed it made sense for myself to go. The smell of death did not bother me. For better or for worse, it was all to familiar in my life. And in my mind, given my experience, it made sense for me to go.

"I can join him as well. I can recover some of the wounded, although I cannot be able to heal them."

Well, in a sense, it was a lie. I could, but as with any attempts of using the force to heal someone, it could come at great cost to me, which would affect my ability to move through the battlefield. I didn't believe I needed to use it until the very last of moments, when someone truly needed it. That hadn't been the case yet.

And hopefully, it never would be.

 

[Vora Kaar]

​

Ripping people apart with eyes alone, Rending a soul from that of beings, and manipulating the very fabric of matter of the surrounding area to become an arena for which these two Lords would face one another? It was no hard task to see why this man thought of himself as the second coming of a God among the Sith species and religious aspects. A power for which he could control and alter the environment around them with ease? Draining the foe of their very essence? While it was a power some had, it was still formidable to Vora as he partook in this show of unembellished force. The black dome of the helmet simply looked around as the sword was ripped from the stasis field Vora had the blade within. Confirming that the blade would respond only to the Dark Lord.

The simple words of "Very Well" were spoken out towards the Dark Sovereign. It was not difficult to see how nonchalant this Great One took the challenge. As if he had been challenged many times before. While it may have been against Jedi, or other Forces, Vora may have one thing that this Tyrant did not see through. Even during the creation of such "arena," the Sovereign sauntered onward towards his foe.

An act that showed barely respect towards the Lord, the Cross-guard Forcesaber was twirled with its deep thrum before coming to a halt before the man's helm. Illumination of the faceplate reflected the crackling light as Vora could barely contain his rage. Building deeper within the force. Both hands holding the grip as though he were acting a valiant Knight of old.

One more step after the other. A careful closing of the distance to the taller man. Standing well over Vora's height, it didn't phase him. Size means nothing in the force. While there may be an advantage in some cases, there were many avenues in which one could level this field. Just as Darth Carnifex had done to the very ground beneath their feet. Feet moving to stand shoulder width apart, The blade was brought down to his side. White knuckle grip upon the hilt. Almost shaking as training in many forms of Lightsaber combat, as well as that of the Monolith. A stalwart and impressive structure that never moved.

From behind the man clad in black, waves of black, corporeal smoke slowly seeped out from the armorweave. Dripping from his helmet and flowing downward at his feet. Darkened waves came forth from the man for a moment as Carnifex drew his own saber. A brilliant Crimson blade. Clearly much longer than a conventional weapon. A deep sigh flowed from the vocabulator of the helmet. Before the sudden launch.

It took only a couple quick steps to close the remaining distance. Almost bounding at the Proclaimed Sith'ari. A quiet rage pushed the man forward. A wide by powerful stroke coming off of Vora's right side. Followed quickly with a backhand cleave. A very simple opener for any kind of lightsaber fight. Even as any opening move could be, it was very likely an easy avoided, or blocked set of strikes. Even for a being that had a larger saber, it wouldn't be difficult. No doubt. What Vora wanted from the man, was not a quick one-two fight. Vora wanted to enjoy this. He wanted to wade in its pain, and power. He wanted to see what this Sith'ari was really willing to do.

Even as more of this black smoke billowed out from the man, starting to travel the ground and follow the man as if it had become one massive cloak of mist and hatred. The Dark Sovereign really wanted to see what all the man had to offer. Not just cheap tricks of the force, and a God-complex of a magnitude greater than his own. Even if just to bring the being down a couple notches, was enough to make the man smile.

Darth Carnifex

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Objective 2

Engaging: Jair Ordo

Khamul cut a swathe through the lines of the Sith Empire, fueling his inner rage with every kill. The hum of his lightsaber was the metronome that kept time in this orchestra of death, and he was the conductor of the ensemble. Enemy after enemy fell as he continued to push the lines, hellbent on finding victory on this day. As he cut down another enemy trooper, something caught his eye...

Mandalorians.

Khamul wasn't entirely surprised to see he people at this fight. After all, they had a long history of conflict with those who moved within the Force. It was a shame, really. Khamul always believed that his people were destined for greatness, but could not bring himself to adhere to their methods. He believed them to be short-sighted, and their goals feeble. He wanted them to be more. Perhaps he would one day be the one to see it done. Unfortunately, today was not that day.

He redirected the attention of some of his forces to the arrival of the new challengers, and began to move toward the oncoming Mandalorians. He drew on the Force as he approached the first to cross his path, lifting the Mandalorian in the air. It was then that he could see the insignia on the beskar...

"Ah, Death Watch."

He promptly crushed the throat of the man he held in the air, tossing the body aside as if it were nothing. And in this moment, they were indeed nothing. He may have shared blood with these Mandalorians, but anyone who stood in his way was no kin of his. Nothing would stand in the way of his goals. Sith, Jedi, Mandalorians... all would come to fear his name. He met the gaze of Jair Ordo as he moved closer to the Mandalorian transports. There was something different about this Mandalorian. Something... familiar. Then it hit him. The Force was surrounding this stranger, in a way uncommon to Mandalorians.

Things were beginning to get interesting.

 

[Romund Sro]

Objective #2
Tags: Rynn Vizsla

​

For Romund it would appear that when he finally reached where the person would be where they landed that they didn't seem to be there, as if they had just disappeared. Certainly odd to him. He could still feel the nagging feeling of an unfamiliar force signature. Nonetheless he watched overhead as a simple dropship came nearby. Once more this didn't look to be of any faction he knew of.

For the Sith that's when he witnessed a team of what seemed to be Mandalorian, almost all clad in blueish armor. He didn't really know much about Mandalorians personally. Hearing the name of their people tossed around a bit from time to time, and he knew that the NIO had there own organization of Mandolorians from his understanding. Thus Romund deduced that these must be those new fangled Imperial Mandolorians.

Taking in a sharp breath as soreness and pain shot through his body the Sith wouldn't be stopped as he made his way over to the supposed death squad of elite fighters. Kicking into a run with a jolt of achiness in each step Romund would let the pain guide him. Possibly clouding his judgment but allowing him to over come the upsetting feeling coursing through his body. Upholstering one of his lightsaber hilts and igniting it's bright, crimson blade.

Once he deemed himself close enough he called out to them. Clearly weary and probably a little crazed looking even. Stopping he aimed his saber to the intruders and called out. "Laydown your arms imperial dogs! The fight is over for you this day. As I'm sure you know there's bigger fish to fry now." He claimed, still mistaking them for NIO and suggesting that they weren't what he ought to deal with at the moment and that the TSE was a far bigger threat. His clear ignorance showing his underestimation of the Mandalorians

 

[Alina Tremiru]

OBJECTIVE 1: THE NINN KAGGATH​

Location: Charging Sith Imperial Landings​

Called Targets: Darth Voyance ​

Allies In Vicinity: Sith Empire​

Well, chit. Alina had a feeling she wouldn't be able to catch the Sith completely by surprise, but she had certainly hoped for it. Anything that would put her ahead of her foe would be worth it. At least it seemed she caught the Twi'lek at least off guard. She planted a foot to halt her advance and shift. The spear missed it's initial thrust, but she turned and brought the weapon around to follow the Sith Lord. She felt it before she saw it. The plucking of the strings that made up the Force.

Her grip choked up on her Lightspear as the blast came. Then she cut it. Of the few things Alina could do, literally cutting the Force was one seemingly unique to her. At least, she'd yet to find someone else who could do it. And with it often came surprise. The blast ripped across the ground beside her and picking up debris from the already destructive battle around them. She didn't stay still. The moment the blast was dealt with she used the speed of her Matukai to dodge to the side. Get out of sightline before bursting forward to close the distance between them again.

She fully employed Juyo in her advance. Emotion fueled her body already through Matukai, and now she employed it with an overwhelming offensive. Or, at least, that's what she was trying to do. Her spear had reach, and she fully planned to use it, rapidly thrusting the blade out towards the Lord at random parts of her body. If she wanted to survive, she needed to keep Voyance on the defensive.

 

[Drako]

Objective: Ninn Kaggath
Allies around-ish: Darth Voyance , Sith Battle Chapter "Red Sons" (let me know if you want on or off the list)
Enemies around-ish: Alina Tremiru (let me know if you want on or off the list)
Engaging: NPC Assets
Equipment: Check Bio
Some Music

---

Red light flashed through the clouds of dust and the vapor of melting materials shining brightly off the phrik scales of the Uvak's barding and Drako's durasteel armor. Using the disorienting flashes and flickering shadows to his advantage the knight dove, power lance was leveled downward, at an unsuspecting and slowly descending landing craft. A horrendous noise of durasteel and other materials being sheared apart by vibrations made for a near deafening tone and as the Uvak mount pulled up and away from the starship the power lance's head burst into the engines. This caused a loud explosion and made the craft lose stabilization. Drako left it behind in his wake as it sunk quickly into the mirk.

"M'lord, Warlord Voyance has ordered the Chapter to destroy the turrets and set up a kill zone. We can take care of the zone if you can help us disable the turrets" Drako lifted his left arm to his helmet and replied "Her will be done then, Commander." Drako's left hand grasped the Uvak's reigns and tugged it towards their right. The winged reptile turned into a shallow dive as he searched for their targets. As the search continue Drako could once again see the surface below him, it was one of the most ferocious battles he had seen.

"There." Drako stared where Darth Voyance and her acrobatic lightsaber combat not too far from the massed Red Sons indicated he was close. Both Drako and the Uvak spotted an Imperial starfighter who's turrets were swiveling. Without needing instruction the Uvak switched course swiftly with a barrel roll turned into high glide around two dozen yards above the battle. Imperial Troopers and Sith Troopers clashed in brutal close quarters combat below, some being knocked to ground as the Uvak passed over them with a speed to rival a landspeeder.

Drako tightened his grip on the handle of the power lance as they rapidly approached the stricken starfighter using it's turrets as improvised artillery. With screech the Uvak preformed a blinding fast roll while tucking its wings so they both went into a slight dip, and with the reflexes of a trained Sith, Drako moved his lance upward - which would be downward towards the starfighter - so that the lance made a arcing slice through the width of the wing, turret, and cockpit. As the Uvak came out of the 360 degree roll and stretched out its wings. the power lance left its last scar on the starfighter the ship finally suffered a great many explosions as previously powered modules violently failed.

The power lance's head and many inches of the shaft were glowing red with friction induced heat, the red pennant was worse for wear but still proudly displayed the Warlord's sigil.

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

Objective II: IN THE STORM OF DURASTEEL
Allies: WotS
Enemies: TSE | UX-0626

​

Apkari had caught a glimpse of them as he entered the down ship behind his men. Their hunters. Not like the legionnaires, no. Distinct armour, and strangely... a distinct feel. The Red Sons were perhaps the only group of Pure-blooded Sith in the galaxy without a sensitivity to the force, so this was a gut feeling based on a soldier's instincts.

They made their way hastily through the twisted bowels of the ship, keeping a pace that would hopefully give them the edge over their hunters. A couple dozen soldiers against the horde. If they died, at least they would die valiantly.

When they reached the location of their trapped comrades, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The survivors had been watching their approach from inside the armoury where they were held up, and quickly ushered Apkari's squad in. Once it was confirmed everything was alright, he'd radio the remaining squads that still prowled the ship in search. If they yet lived.

Once inside, Apkari saw the grizzly scene. The survivors had held off the surviving Imperial Knights, but at no small cost. Apkari took a seat next to the acting sergeant, who was thrust upwards in the chain of command in this time of need, much like Apkari himself. The lights flickered over head, telling that the ship would soon draw its last breaths.

"Give it to me straight, Sergeant: Can your men move from this position? We have minutes until we're overrun."

"No Captain, there's no way our brothers can make it, just look around!"

The Sergeant was right. Blood pooled across the floor of the room. Soldiers groaned in agony from their lightsaber wounds.

"They are not dead yet, but they are dying, Brother. We could call the Blue Crest. They're non-combatants. I do not want to see our brothers die like this, without glory."

"Blue Crest..." he pondered, "no. Not an option. You would invite Jedi to lay their hands upon our brethren? I respect that even less than letting them bleed out!"

The room fell silent. The clones stared around at each other, and Apkari above all. He spoke from the heart, and their hearts were the same. But they all knew they couldn't just leave their wounded, those who could not stand against the Imperials. It seemed like they were at an impasse, much to Apkari's chagrin. He did not want to command a dying platoon. He wanted to command a living one, made of high spirits and men forged from fire.

He rose and looked around the room. He grabbed his helmet and lifted it off his head, so that all of them could see his face, the same as their own.

"Gather what weapons you can. Everyone gets one. I don't care if you can't walk, as long as you can hold a gun. Shoot from the damn floor if you have to, but shoot. We cannot get out of here without fighting the full might of our enemy."

Apkari clicked his commlink, and sent an order for the platoon to converge on the armory. Every Red Son on this ship was about to fight for his life...

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian
Voice Sample

Objective 1: Ninn Kaggath

Enemies: WotS

Allies: The Sith Empire; Alina Tremiru ; Others

Directly Engaging: None; Open to Interaction


The Shaper's gaze fell upon the distance, not the encroaching shuttles and landings of their prospective opponents, but upon the undulating, writhing form of Darth Carnifex within the Force. It reminded him, vaguely and reduced, of his Dark Moon project. Even so he could see, could sense, fine details in the actions of the once-Emperor. Like bits and pieces of a droid to be grafted to another at a later date, The Shaper made pain-staking note of his malevolent presence before, begrudgingly, turning his attention to the approach of the newest upstarts to grace the galaxy. He stood not wholly with his brethren, in fact, quite a bit off to himself. The cloak of his armored form billowing ever so slightly in the breeze, before he planted his blade Urfael in the ground of Ninn itself. His hands, now flush with pulsating green light that spilled between his fingers like thick, viscous fluids, were brought to clamp down upon the ancient hilt, and send a surge of malevolent power into the planet. The earth beneath The Shaper's feet beginning to churn and mold as the environment was altered, the earth transmuting to worked stone arranged in a very particular pattern, each line and indentation between them helping to form a complex ritual circle.

With this done and Urfael now alight with black flames that spilled, ran and ebbed through the cracks of the stone, The Shaper then cast his attention to the approaching adversaries. His senses drifting and prodding, pulling and searching, for a sorcerous presence. However each encroaching presence seemed wholly focused on another of his kin already, set with burning hatred in their hearts for war and bloodshed. For slaughter, power and reclamation of ideals as old as The Shaper himself. This he could not fault, it was their way after all to test the strong.

Kneeling in the midst of his fashioned circle The Shaper would relax his connection to the approaching forces, his rather vague connection left to hang in the air as his physical form began to utter dark, resonating syllables that spilled like ash from his mouth. His power and purpose primarily focused on adding the necessary fuel to the ritual to power and sustain it. Something that the various potent individuals he sensed would be able to sense clearly as day given their power. From what he could glean from their presences in The Force he at least expected someone's interest to be piqued, and while he did not expect any of them to come running, to flock to him for a chance at battle as seemed to be the case for the Once-Emperor, his presence was here all the same.

After deciding that enough energy had been suffused into the ritual The Shaper stood and drew Acharn from his back, telekinetically holding the spear beside him, and began to adjust the fitting of Mithralian around himself for the possibility his adversaries accepted his offer. It was a preparation, of a sort, that would prove to make things rather interesting. At least, more interesting than simply hurling large rocks at one another or invading the other's minds.

 

[Lief]

OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO​

The Blue Crest​

Tend To The Wounded...​

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​

"Recovery is more than enough," she assured Krayzen Dratos as he expressed an inability to actually tend to the wounded, "We have medics on hand to deal with first aid, triage, and treatment that can stabilize them until we can get them to an actual hospital. Getting to those who need our help is paramount, and your assistance is highly appreciated in that regard."​

​

This was why they had various roles, not everyone could be the healer but they needed individuals to find, to carry, to protect should things turn south. Nobody's part in this was small, or beneath another's, they needed each cog to function.​

​

"Stay safe, Padawan," she said toward her student, with an inclination of her head. She knew that of those gathered here today he was the one she needed to worry the least about, he could get himself out of trouble if it arose. But it was natural for a Master to feel protective about those under their tutelage.​

​

It was only when some of them had begun to break away, to board marked speeders and the like in order to traverse the landscape, that she turned and acknowledged Sargon's request. Once more she inclined her head, though it was a deeper bow of respect and acknowledgement.​

​

"I shall remain here and oversee the tents. I'm far more suited to healing than I am to fending off fire in the field. If Cotan wishes to remain here and help protect those we bring in, then so be it. What of you, Master?" It felt prudent to speak in more formal terms at present, and though she was a Master in her own right now he would always remain such to her. "Will you be venturing out with the field medics?"​

​

​

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Cotan Sar'andor Sargon Vynea Varloc Vhondryl Gallaer Kal @anyone I might be forgetting.​

 

[Darth Ananta]

Devil's At Your Door​

In all the ages that living memory could stretch back, there were men and women that walked the great stage of life propped up by the strings of their master - Vader, Scourge, Revan, and all the rest. The stoicism she was presented with spoke volumes over his own actual words, that he was single-minded in effort just as those that came before him had been. There was only dispassion in their hearts, an icy hate with reverence only to order, to obedience - to strength. His hand gripped tighter on his saber as she measured him with her eyes, her own bright like fresh kindling, and she frowned as he spoke.

There would be no entertainment in a fight such as this - no screams of religious zealotry, an absence in its totality of complexity in emotion, and not an ounce of disillusionment waiting to boil to the surface as the farce of a dark will was flaked away by a superior hunger.

"All things die."

She spoke the words plainly as she matched his pace, moving towards him with a quick sprint, the fabric of the skirt of her armor rippling around her thighs. There was no circumstance where a fair fight of physical strength would see her as the victor, so it was up to her to make certain his greatest asset would become a liability. Lightning tore from the tips of her black-tipped nails, long like talons, and the stench of ozone burning filled her nostrils as the electrical surge bridged the gap far faster than she, or he, ever could have - aiming not for him, not directly anyhow, but rather for the blade he carried as he spun.

She had no intention on stopping him, nor did she presuppose that she might do much more than slow his downward arc as to keep his blade held in the air longer while she moved towards him - bending slightly at the knee, mid-step, as the short spray of lightning had reached him. Muscles tightened in her calves and ankles as the next step she took lifted her up with force-propelled speed, launching her above the arc at which her foe was striking her from, and matched the intervals of his body's rotation with her own.

And like a viper she struck.

A red saber came down at the back of his, seeking to use his own momentum - his strength - against him by adding to it with her own, however meager that might be. Color still bled from their world, encapsulating them in a world of monotony, but now the sounds of their surroundings - of plasma erupting up above, of shouts in the distance, explosions at their peaks - were slowly drowned out too.

"Even you."

Down a small hand reached, darkness gathering within it even as she spoke, from which bolts of pure hatred were flung like spears at the man's back.

Kainan

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

// Outer Rim Territories // Corporate Sector // Ninn System //
Engaging the Sith; Dispatching the Werda Verda.
Objective: Sow the Seeds of Discord; Slaughter Sith; Claim Vengeance.
Equipment: See Signature Link.
​

​

Storming down the dropship’s assault ramp, Rynn watched as the false fire-light of his visor ignite with the wash of sensory data. The battle was erupting all around him. Starfighters that swore allegiance to the Sith seemingly dominated the skies, with the odd Fang Fighter making an overhead pass. They traded fire as one Starfighter after another came within their sights - causing shields to flare or the pulsating sounds of missile-locks to echo within their respective and pressurized cockpits. The skies were rife with the kaleidoscope patterns of retina-searing laser bursts, the fiery aftermath of blossoming warheads, and the chem-trails of ignited afterburners. In a way, it was strangely beautiful.​

​

The same couldn’t be said for the battle unfolding on the planet’s surface. Much of the fighting was obscured, as partially ruined structures blocked countless lines of sight. But, the Rally Master’s sensors could hear how heavy the fighting was. There was a towering walker that stomped through the narrow confines of the city nearby; likely trading blows with a detachment of soldiers that took cover somewhere close. There were distant cracks of thunder as their plasmatic weapons were discharged with reckless abandon, seeking to gain the upper hand through sheer firepower alone. Because of his location and the abundance of cover within the urban environment, the Mandalorian was denied the bewitching sight of the Sith putting each other to the sword.​

​

But, as the man brought up his pistols, he was greeted by something unexpected.​

​

While he had been denied the beauteous spectacle of slaughter, the Fates sought to deliver him a consolation prize instead. Through means unknown, Rynn’s eyes gravitated towards an armoured figure who made their approach, brandishing a crimson sabre at their side. It was unmistakable who this figure was - at least their religious alignment - as they were undoubtedly a Sith Warrior. The confidence in their stride, the arrogance in their swagger; such details wouldn’t thrive in the figures of lesser acolytes. Whomever this was, they believed themselves to be powerful. The Rally Master grinned, then. He would enjoy knocking them down a peg or three.​

​

As the sabre-wielding figure approached, they halted their advance and pointed their weapon at the gathering of Mandalorians. The figure spoke then with a masculine tone, seeking to enrage the small cohort of armed Crusaders and commanded them to lay down their arms. While weaker-willed warriors might’ve acquiesced to this Sith’s demands, the Mandalorians tightened their grip around their weapons and took aim. Nearly a dozen weapons were pointed at the armed and armoured Sith, each holding the potential of finding a gap within his armour and possibly landing the killing blow. But, Rynn raised an open palm. While it would be a cold day in Hell before he took orders from a Sith, there was something that the man said which held a measure of truth. There was a bigger fish to fry.​

​

With his grin fading, the Rally Master silently ordered his fellow Crusaders to take to the skies and engage the enemy elsewhere. Their skills would’ve been better off taking the fight to the Sith rather than standing about idly - as he engaged the Sith Warrior. They nodded in near-unison as the orders were relayed and activated their Jetpacks, vanishing from the urban enclosure mere seconds later. Now, the two figures were alone. Rynn kept his visor fixated on the Warrior before him, drinking in his measure and committing the gaps in his armour to memory. After a moment’s silence passed, the Mandalorian activated his helmet’s annunciator and addressed his newfound opponent.​

​

:: The only Mutt I see here, :: Rynn began, gesturing with his levelled pistols. :: Is you. ::​

​

:: But, I’m in a generous mood today. It’s not every day that you get to see the Sith tear each other apart for some backwater Corporate Sector world. So, if you extinguish the blade and walk away… You might live to see another day. ::​

​

The Rally Master was lying. Yet, his honour demanded that he give the Warrior a chance to back down. Something that his people weren’t given when they were stabbed in the back and decimated. Rynn felt it would be almost poetic if the Warrior extinguished their blade, giving him the chance to shoot him in the back. But, there was a part of him that knew such an eventually wouldn’t come to pass. The Sith Warrior was likely too confident in their abilities and wouldn’t back down from a fight. This meant that their clash was inevitable, and to be true? Rynn didn’t want it any other way.​

​

Thus, without any delay or chiding words, the Mandalorian opened fire. His pistols barked with plasmatic fury, spewing forth a string of unstable and coruscating bolts at his target. With the sabre-brandished, it was likely that the Sith would easily intercept the sudden barrage. But, while they would expect that such blasterfire would be returned to their point of origin, Rynn knew that a deadly surprise awaited the Sith Warrior. Those bolts would burst on contact, should they be intercepted by the brandished sabre, likely battering the armoured figure’s sphere of defence and bathing them in gouts of ionized plasma.​

​

It wasn’t much, but at least the Rally Master seized the initiative and made the first move. Now, all that remained was for the Warrior to answer in kind and for the unseen Assassin to make their move.​

~-~-*-~-~

| Ingrid L'lerim | Romund Sro |​

 

[Zinn Zinn Bink'sa]

Location: Twisted hunks of destroyed Ship debris
Allies: WOTS, Apkari
Enemies: TSE, UX-0626


Zinn Zinn kept wandering the battlefield, his vibroblade still lying limp at his side. The cries of those still dying never ceased, nor the fires that kept burning from the wreckage of twisted durasteel. Gungan was lost on the battlefield, the chaos still all around him. The stench of death and the dark sickly aura that was the dark side. Remained ever so vigilant. The Gungan was alone, not sure where to even trek. Besides project his own aura as if a bug zapper to moths seeking light. Now it seemed almost unlikely that the Gungan would find worthy prey. The Sith Empire was stretched thin from the Tingal arm, to the backdoor that the Warlords were pressing against.

"Ho Ho Ho... Seems like mesa can't even find worthy preys around here... Whats ups with thats!" He said in frustration as his wanderings didn't cease. Maneuvering through the twisted hunks of burning metal as careful as one could. Now the one thing that the crazed Gungan could do was link up with nearby Sith forces, and provide some support, even some relief if need be. One thing was certain. He was bored, bored of not finding any enemies, bored of wandering around aimlessly, kark it was lunchtime and he hadn't even stuffed his long tongue with some tasty morsels. At this point, he even contemplated eating corpses out of boredom.

After an unknown amount of time of walking, his commlink chirped with the voice of a Sith Trooper, or at least what the Gungan could describe as a Sith Trooper. In reality, he couldn't say for certain. But he kept following where the signal was coming from, only to find a twisted wreck of a Sith ship, the crew mostly dead besides a few squads of troopers.

Coming across what looked to be a Sith trooper, the Gungan stood back waving his hands upwards. "Mesa come to help yousa!" He said as first he tried to lift twisted hunks of metal with his arms, and when that failed to a miserable degree. He then tried with the Force, lifting only a little. Even with the Force the immense weight was something else entirely. Looking to the group after failing. "Well mesa still here ready to help! Whats the plan?" He asked looking to Apkari Surrounded by Sith pretenders, Imperials. Things couldn't get much worse when you added the Gungan into this delightful mix of events/

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Halfway to the spaceport, Ninn
Objective II.: IN THE STORM OF DURASTEEL
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Rynn Vizsla | Romund Sro

[ Just inside my head... ] ​

The armoured Sith man was looking for someone, at least the woman saw it that way. Ingrid had a feeling that she might be that one. After all, she had a pretty strong Force signature, thanks to her power, and it disappeared from one moment to the next. Life was not fair, and now the woman was following the Sith until the Mandalorian arrived and the three stayed in this place alone. That is, for the time being, two, because they did not know anything about the woman yet.

Despite her depression and bad mood and grief, she found the dialogue between the two men amusing, especially the part where the Mandalorian lied. If she hadn’t known the culture so well, she might even have believed the man really thought so. But she knew; and it was precisely because of this that she knew that this was contrary to their outlook on life. Unless the man thinks or knows that the Sith is an opponent who is unworthy to fight. Like the assassin who last tried to kill Ingrid, and the woman just left him to die in the Netherworld.

As far as she knew since then, Eskk had actually died there. It was easier than fighting, in a fight below her rank. And as for the Sith present, he was arrogant, at least in his words. The Mandalorian attacked at first, wondering for now whether the Sith was the sorcerer or warrior. It would have been ideal for Ingrid if the man was a melee, and when they were both in melee, she would attack both at the same time as the two men focused on each other.

That’s why she spends the next few seconds waiting, watching her two prospective opponents. Study them; in the meantime, also took the two vibroswords in her hands. And her next act depends on how the two men act. If they don’t engage in melee, the woman will still wait a bit. However!

If the battle becomes a melee, she will also intervene. In this case, she goes quite close and tries to attack both men at the same time. She tries to cut the Sith at the top of his chest and around his neck with one hand; and with her other hand, tries to cut the Mandalorian on the inside of his thigh, where perhaps his armour is less protective.

Of course, at the moment of the attack, her invisibility also disappeared, so the attack was already visible. However, her presence remained hidden due to her amulet. And since she didn’t want it to be immediately obvious that she was the Empress of the Eternal Empire, she took the style a little looser with her words.

"The Sith was looking for me, I don't like when the armoured pretty boys try to steal my opponents and targets!"

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 3
Equipment: Kyrel's Necrochasiss, Kyrel's Armor, Vader's Bane Lightsaber
Allies: WOTS, Darth Solipsis Maestus
Enemies: TSE

Kyrel noticed the wary gaze of the Twi'lek Sith that had accompanied both him and Solipsis. Beyond the name, much was a mystery to Kyrel. He couldn't dig up anything else beyond that. It was as if he was an enigma. Not even the holy records of the Heathen Priests had much of anything to say. And while he had remained increasingly erratic since the Great Work within the Regions. Kyrel remained careful to guard his slowly burning ambitions and true intentions from the eyes of the old man. Yet he also feared that his intentions would be found out, either by him or perhaps a surprise like Twi'lek that he had seen once or twice.

His hunger was insatiable, endless. Reaching out through the Force, he could sense someone vague, and familiar. The presence of Carnifex... His mouth watered at the thought of ripping him to pieces. To show that even a god was no match for a being that refused to die. No matter if his body was destroyed. He would rise back, and what more. He felt the immense power come from the likes of the ritual. Or at least from what he presumed to be the start of said ritual. Where the darkness had called to Darkness. Looking out onto the horizon even with his enhanced vision had set it's sights upon what he wished to seek and destroy.

Clenching his fists, his teeth or what there was of teeth gritted. "Destroy, consume... Devour." The same mantra still echoed, this time only louder, and more intensity. If anything he would destroy all Sith, but now he was helping the Warlords, and if there wasn't anything more he hated. Was the likes of the Sith Empire. And now he could barely tolerate standing in place. Listening to the words of this fool. Arctus Silmar Own Ritual was stirring him to a frenzy. A frenzy that only sought to appease the beast that was wanting to destroy all in his path.

"As you command, but should we stand here? Or do we seek out our enemy and rip them apart. What's the plan of attack. These Sith.... The ones of which Carnifex created.... They all must die!!!" He almost said in a shout, as he felt various dark presences all around him. All beckoning for him to come and lash out upon them.

 

[UX-0626]

Location: Crashed Warlords Warship, Ninn
Objective: In the Storm of Durasteel
Allies: TSE
Enemies: WotS (Apkari Zinn Zinn Bink'sa )

What little was left of the New Imperial forces deployed within the body of the downed warship were caught in a sandwich between the Red Sons and the Shadow Fleet Ground Division soldiers on the opposite end. It would likely come as a temporary relief to the surviving Red Sons as the stormtroopers pinning them down were diverted to other areas to fight off the incoming Shadow Fleet soldiers, until all that remained was a small token force.

All the while, 626 had moved with her troop to engage the remaining stormtrooper contingent. The discordant harmonies of blaster fire, explosions, and various shouts echoed within the durasteel halls of the downed cruiser, the fighting made especially fierce owing to the fact that no New Imperial expected to be granted clemency upon surrender. As such, it was not long until both sides were bogged down in the firefight, neither side giving ground until grenades were used to flush out the stormtroopers from their positions. For her part, 626 immediately took advantage of the explosives, raining down fire on the stormtroopers as they maneuvered in various attempts to escape the blast radii, only to be struck down by her sniper fire. One, two, then, three stormtroopers were felled in short order, the pulse cannon heating up in her hands until she stopped firing, hissing as the heat was purged from the weapon. After the last of the stormtroopers were dispatched, the 626 linked back up with her triad and listened for the new orders.

“That’s the last of the NIMPs in this area. The clones shouldn’t be far now, they’ll be ready for us.” The troop leader, FX-1129 said. “Gear up and get ready. We’re moving in on my mark!”

The disciplined strand-cast soldiers worked quickly, the few wounded tended to and prepared for evacuation while the rest readied their equipment and swept the area for any remaining stragglers. Then, the order was given and the troop moved deeper into the cruiser. Before long, sensors registered enemy contacts held up within the armory. One of the triads took point, setting breaching charges around the entrance to the armory and readying sonic grenades for the entry.

Silent gestures were exchanged, then they stood back.

After the count of three, the breaching charges went off with a powerful, vibrating shockwave, followed by a wave of pre-charged sonic imploders thrown into the room.

The first two triads rushed into the armory, firing on the entrenched Red Sons positions as they did.

Spoiler: Loadout

• "Taral" Sith Trooper Armor - Designation: UX-0626
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Shatter Beam
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Nagnol Gas
  • Energy Shield
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Boots
    • X7-B "Checkmate" Holdout Disruptor
• “Extinguisher” Precision Pulse Cannon
• FAE/M-01 “Scherezade” Energized Vibroblade
• Impact Grenade (2)
• Sonic Imploder (2)

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Carnifex met Vora's onslaught with the same indifference he greeted everything that stood in his way. The hate which lurked beneath the veneer of nobility was cold and meticulous, as frigid as the cores of stars that had long since lost their brilliance and luster. It stood in stark opposition to the broiling seething hatred that Vora wore like a second skin, darkness cloaking his body so that he appeared nearly ethereal. Both drew strength from the same source, the Dark Side of the Force, but neither wielded such power in the exact same way.​

​

The crackling blade slashed towards the Lich-Lord, and his own weapon lazily rose to obstruct its path. Plasma clanged against plasma, sparks showering out from the point of impact. Though the blades were materialistically weightless, there existed a form of immaterial weight which the two Sith levied against one another. Each blade was intrinsically drawn to the other, a form of magnetism that completed a loop of power that was normally untethered to one another except when such energy crossed paths.​

​

Vora followed through on his momentum, delivering a powerful backhand cleave towards Carnifex's body. Carnifex's blade moved almost autonomously, shifting to perfectly meet his opponent's weapon head-on and hold it steady. The Lich-Lord of the Sith was a veteran of a thousand battlefields and had honed his mastery over his weapon to heights that were rarely equaled or eclipsed. Not only that, but he had absorbed the experiences of warriors from across the galaxy in his newfound quest of insatiable hunger.​

​

Above all else, the Dark Side of the Force flowed freely through his body like water rushing through a channel. It did not dictate his actions, but rather it empowered every movement down to the last minute detail. His senses were beyond anything that the mortal mind of a commoner could comprehend, his perception expanded to encompass all of his surroundings. He could hear the sound of blood pumping through his opponent's veins, could smell the sweat that trickled across his skin, and most importantly of all, he could anticipate his every action before the synapses in his brain could translate unconscious thought into action.​

​

Yet he was still bound by the limitations of his physical body, as the messages from his own unconscious thoughts being transmitted to his limbs could only move so quickly within the span of less than a second.​

​

Thus, they were shackled in this duet. ​

​

Carnifex retaliated with a flurry of strikes, each one carrying the full weight of his strength behind them. Though he had studied every form known to the Sith and the Jedi, Carnifex preferred absolute aggression and unwavering ferocity. His hate was channeled through his arm and into the weapon in his hand, serving as a conduit for the Dark Side and an intimate extension of his very body. And as he slashed and pivoted and protected himself in this harrowing dance, his heart never beat faster than a smooth rhythmic pulse.​

​

To those who were knowledgeable of the Lich-Lord's strength and skill, it was obvious that he was holding himself back in this fight. Like Vora, Carnifex possessed sadistic tendencies which warranted the extension of this fight beyond its most efficient limits. Was it possible that Carnifex could have brought this fight to a swifter conclusion? Nothing in the galaxy was ever so clear-cut, but then again he did not intentionally wish to do so.​

​

This was sport to him.​

​

This was entertainment.​

​

It was one of the only things left to him that could, in the deepest recesses of the hollow being he had turned himself in to, bring him the tiniest crumb of joy. Death came easily to him, came naturally to him. He could purge an entire world of billions and not feel even the faintest quiver of emotion. But to face a being of sufficient skill in combat, face-to-face, close enough that he could possibly even smell the other man's breath?​

​

Such things were worth more than the most valuable gemstones.​

​

Vora Kaar ​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

The Pomojema
Deep Space
Darth Daiara

Ashin shook her head. "I don't know the future. I'm no prophet. I do have a good imagination. Here's what I picture."

Illusion wasn't her strong suit either. The rough galactic map that took form above them was a thing of static and sparks, controlled little webs of discharge like lightning flickering inside a thunderhead. The air grew heavy. It stank of ozone. The galaxy of lightning filled the gigantic chamber above their heads. The map took different configurations, territories marked in light and darkness and all the hues of lightning. The Warlords' territory was a sizzling red, for one.

"I imagine the New Order will overextend. Perhaps they'll clash with the Silver Jedi at Eshan or in the former Sith worlds. Perhaps those tensions will be the backdrop for wars against the Worm's faction on Korriban, or against the Warlords, or all of the above. You know far better than me that the New Order are uncompromising fascists just like most of their enemies. That forces them to push too long and too far, or risk crippling deflation once the war is ostensibly won. No matter how the next year or two shakes out, the New Order will struggle to justify its own existence. It'll lash out in hopes of rekindling old glories, but its long decline will already be in motion."

The map vanished, grounded out in the phrik walls.

"So I've joined the Warlords, not because I care about territory but because they're successfully chipping away at the New Order. The weaker and more fatigued our mutual enemies become, in any degree, the quicker their well-earned collapse."

​

 

[Sargon Vynea]

Location: Moving towards the front lines
Objective: Save lives, all lives

They were a mismatched group, and their first mission would already be a great challenge for them all. Some were veterans who'd seen war before, but for others it would be the first time seeing the carnage of war. This was no ordinary carnage either, it was Sith versus Sith, there would be no quarter given or asked here. Either side could turn on the peaceful aid mission at any moment, and worse yet it felt like some among the aid mission wanted them too.

He made plans for the future and changes for the group, but at the moment that was all useless future babble. The real problems would all be at the Sith fronts, and as much as their help was needed there he wasn't sure how many truly wanted to offer help to the Sith themselves. "Outreach group on me, we're headed to the front. Those who wish to do the most good can join us there. I won't hold it against any of you if you're uncomfortable helping Sith, but remember it's the dark side that's the dieses, not the people who fall into it's seduction. Let us be a light for them today, and perhaps tomorrow they'll have a single comforting memory to reveal the lies of the darkness that's over taken them."

Stepping into one of three transports that would head to the front with his hand picked team. A good amount of them were combat medics from various battles and wars throughout the galaxy, but there were still a few green idealistic members of the team. They all believed in one core thing though, all life was worth saving. That was they key to all of this wasn't it?

As the transports lifted off and shot over the planetary surface all he could hope was that belief didn't cost them their lives today. Opening himself up to the living force he felt the winds call him as he reached out to feel where they would be needed most. Glancing behind him he checked their numbers looking to see who had joined him to save Sith.

Cotan Sar'andor Lief Varloc Vhondryl Gallaer Krayton Vizsla Kal