Invasion The Other Side of Peace | GA Invasion of TSE's Ziost/Tiss'sharl

[Spirit of Patience]

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THE OTHER SIDE OF PEACE
The Third Imperial Civil War: The Stygian Campaign

OOC THREAD
// START: January 15 - END: January 29 // ​

THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE	THE SITH EMPIRE
Adhira Chandra Ryv Loske Treicolt Dracken Pryce Ripley Kühn Auteme Bernard of Arca Takui Aerarii Tithe ​	Darth Prazutis Taeli Raaf Madelyn Lowe Telis Taharin-Zambrano Cara Dorniarn Joycelyn Zambrano Arctus Silmar​

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“The evils done to these planets by the Sith will be purged and order will be restored.” - Chancellor Chandra

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Victory in the battles at Korriban and Felucia galvanized the sentiments of Alliance leaders. Armed with the knowledge that their strength is more than equal to the task, they made the decision to continue their efforts in Sith space. Thus was born the Stygian Campaign, a new front in the Third Imperial Civil War.

The Galactic Alliance’s fleets remain steadfast and have fortified their position. While a few squadrons received orders to monitor the conquered worlds, a majority of Alliance forces were directed to move North into enemy territory alongside fresh reinforcements.

With newfound confidence, The Galactic Alliance moves on Ziost in their campaign against the homeworlds of ancient darkness. Alliance Defence Forces and Jedi alike embark to conquer Ziost. Meanwhile, envoys travel to Tiss’Sharl to steal away its economic power from the Sith. The Alliance must capitalize on this momentum like a sword of light to cut through an evil that has been allowed to linger for far too long.

The Empire’s days are numbered, and The Alliance is ticking them away.

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// ZIOST //

OPERATION STONEFIST​

With a foothold established on two nearby worlds, The Alliance turns its attention to new hosts of darkness. The Alliance's Defense Force mobilizes to take Ziost. A world that doesn't know day and is perpetually cold is the battleground for The Alliance's forces. Their objective is the siege and taking of Ziost's capital, New Adasta.

Teams are prepared for urban, close-quarter battles in its streets as they make their way to the Command Centre. Preliminary SIA intel delivered the coordinates of Ziost's Orbital Defense Command Center. This pivotal target must be breached to ensure Alliance reinforcements can make it to the surface.


“Alright, eyes up here –– this is a joint op. The New Jedi Order, 104th Batallion and 7th Mechanized Regiment are going in full force to the capitol. Yeah, keep grinning.

We’ll have the Prosecutor anchored above the City. In squads, we’ll be funnelled down in gunships to the surface at various military points throughout the City. Here, here, and here, and then advance towards the complex.

Let’s make noise, and let’s make ‘em hurt.”- General, Maynard Treicolt and Major, Tycho Dune

OPERATION CLEANSING FIRE​

At the witching hour, Ziost’s evil must be cleansed, neutralized or purged in its entirety. The New Jedi Order’s attention falls to the hearts of Sith darkness spread out across the land. In the deep of the night, the light will shine brightest.

Several hundred kilometres from the planet’s capital, the Jedi crusade is simultaneous with the convergence on New Adasta. They seek to bring ruin to the Citadels, the Temples, all symbols of the dark side's claim to the world.

"Ziost isn't like Korriban -- it's closer to the Sith Empire's true modus operandi. It's not chaos or raging anger and hate; it's oppression, a crushing weight on your shoulders that makes you believe that nothing will ever change. "We are the change. Being under the Empire's thumb is one thing, but the corruption of the entire world is another. It's been years since Ziost was free, and years more since it's seen Light. Cleanse the darkness from this world; empty the Sith temples.

Be careful. Be safe.

May the Force be with you." - Shield of the Jedi, Auteme Denko-Durren

// TISS'SHARL //

OPERATION CHOKEHOLD​

While under Sith rule since the early days of the Sith Empire, the Tiss'sharl remain loyal to their League, comprising of the five most profitable businesses on the world. Recently, the powers have shifted, bringing new blood into the organization. The Alliance sees the opportunity to present before the league to gain favour of those in command. However, the Sith meet them head-on, eager to remind the Tiss’sharl where their loyalties should lie. With five new representatives with virtually no foreign ties, business oligarchs and diplomats from both sides vie for control, while assassins stand at the ready to vacate seats that threaten to vote for the opposing bloc.

“If there's one thing the history of the Tiss'sharl has taught us, it's that their greed will not be contained. No yoke, Sith or otherwise, can satiate their lust for credits. Whether through violent takeover or peaceful acquisition, their greed, uh, finds a way.” - Vice-Chancellor, Aerarii Tithe

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SET PIECES

Tiss'Shar League​

New Adasta​

Adasta'kun​

Academy of Sith Arts​

Orbital Defence Command Centre​

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​

 

[Ryv]

S W O R D _ O F _ T H E _ J E D I
GALACTIC ALLIANCE
NEW JEDI ORDER
Strike Team Skywalker
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | SPEEDER

The Stygian Campaign: Episode II
​

Approaching Ziost...

​

"Let's make this quick, people," Ryv called out to the gathered Jedi located aboard the Prosecutor. "C'mon, gather round."

He watched them shift their attention from whatever task claimed it. Dozens of dropships lined the open hangar behind them. Soldiers loaded several speeders into each one, outfitted to carry an equal number of Jedi as well. This wasn't the first time their Order would be trying this trick. Hell, it probably wouldn't be the last.

"If you've done this before, you know how dangerous it is. Charging headlong into the fight on a speeder bike is about as crazy as it gets. Try not to think about that. Tycho and Maynard are relying on us to give 'em an opening into the city. That's all that matters. If you don't think this is for you, that's fine, let me know now, and we'll find a place for you in the assault. Otherwise, load up into the dropships. Remember who you've got at your side. They'll be your lifeline. Once we've punched a hole through the city's outer defenses, do not stop moving. It's only gonna get worse inside the city. Speed is our greatest advantage. Use it to the full-effect, more likely to come home that way."

Ryv took a moment to look over his gathered Jedi. This was his family he asked to march into the Stygian Gate beside him. No faceless soldiers, no bucket helmets. All of them, Jedi. His Jedi.

"May the Force be with you."

Peeking through the crowd for someone in specific, he moved through the throng of bodies towards his towering Padawan, Aelys. Though only an inch or two shorter than the lanky thyrsian, Ryv enjoyed playing it up. He reached up and set both hands atop Aelys' shoulders. He said nothing at first. Content to just look over his first apprentice with a broad smile.

"I wish I could give you some advice that'll make all this easier. All I can tell you is how to survive," Ryv released his Padawan and stepped back. "You've always been a survivor, kid. It's baked into who you are; I can see it in your eyes. These fights are different from what you're used to, but you know what? No matter what happens, don't forget your training, alright? Can you promise me that?"

Normally, he wouldn't think to run through the pre-game warmup with Aelys. The kid had as intimate a relationship with warfare as his master. But Aelys wasn't on Thyrsus anymore. Ziost embodied everything wrong with the force. The dark side corrupted the planet, turning it into a haven for the roaches who long-infested the Sith world. This trial would challenge his apprentice in ways no other battle could. It would break those ill-prepared few who tricked themselves into believing they were ready for such a monumental task. Fortunately, Ryv considered his student ready. More so than the kiffar had ever been.

"Don't put your weapon down. Don't turn your back on the enemy either. Trust your allies by your side, and protect them with your life. They'll do the same," Ryv stopped midway through his last-minute stammering. He breathed deep to calm his nerves and looked Aelys in the eyes. "You've got everything it takes to shine. More than I ever will, Aelys. Be the beacon I know you can be, and we'll all get through this just fine."

Operation: Stonefist
Kickstart My Heart
​

Explosions thundered throughout the skies. Anti-air weaponry made entry living hell for the Jedi and their many allies. Dropships rocked wildly from nearby explosions, sending those without their sky-legs toppling over onto the ground. Ryv leaned over towards one unlucky Jedi Knight, hand extended. She took it and climbed back to her feet, a nod offered in thanks to the Sword of the Jedi. He turned away, gaze drawn to the cockpit just ahead of them. Though the view wasn't amazing from where he sat, the kiffar could make out both enemy and friendly ships passing just ahead of them. Not for the first time in his life, he was thankful for the many starfighter pilots who stood for the Alliance. Without them, the New Jedi Order would be sitting ducks out in the open like this.

"We're approaching the dropzone! Eyes open, people!" the pilot called from the cockpit.

"You heard the man!" Ryv said immediately after. "Strap into those speeders. There won't be a second pass, so don't screw this up!"

He took one last look at the group of Jedi gathered into his dropship. They would follow his lead, as they always did. Better then, he led by example. Ryv shifted his speeder into position at the top of the ramp and waited patiently. While others within the dropship exuded the typical level of fear or anxiety that came before any great battle, the kiffar remained calm. For years, he knew the cruel touch of fear. It followed him from Kintan all the way to the New Imperial Order's assault on Bastion. It wasn't that he was fearless. He just knew how to look past it. Courage carried him into each battle. A level of bravery held not for himself but for those who relied on him to be strong.

"Alright, Jedi, you have the green light! Go, go, go!"

A literal green light flashed overhead, bathing the hull's interior in a verdant glow up until the ramp fell away ahead of Ryv. He twisted back on the clutch, kicked the stand out of place, and shot forward faster than even he expected. His stomach dropped the moment the dropship's ramp disappeared behind him. Starfighters careened past him, locked in brutal dogfights as far as he could see. Massive star destroyers blotted out swathes of the sky. More fighters descended towards the planet, dropship right behind him. Speeders fell away from lowered ramps, lightsabers of blue and green held aloft within many a Jedi's hands.

Ryv took up Resolve, his faithful blade, and loyal companion. He ignited the gleaming saber and lifted it high above his head.

The ground approached at high enough speeds to make any man uncomfortable. Ryv focused elsewhere, his gaze locked on an approaching starfighter. It loosed a stream of fire at the collection of speeders, intent on blasting them from the air long before they could reach the ground. He took a second to gauge the distance to the fields below, realized he couldn't make it in time, and changed tactics altogether. One hand ripped away the restraints attaching him to the speeder, while the other yanked hard on the bike's handle. He stood and launched himself up and over the starfighter. His saber flashed out, carving through one wing as he passed overhead. It veered off course immediately, a trail of smoke left in its wake.

Unable to take hold of the fighter, the Jedi Knight could do nothing but sore past it, beginning his free fall to the surface. His speeder bike shot off in another direction entirely, well out of reach. With no other options, Ryv spread both his arms and legs and fought to control his descent. The scathing winds, heavy with the acrid stench of smoke and fire, assailed him throughout his fall. It burned his eyes and throat, making it near impossible to see through the layer of tears streaking down his cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away.

"Ryv!" the voice of Ryv's handler cut through the roaring winds. "Ryv, can you read me?!"

"I can hear you, Sparrow!" Ryv shouted over the omnipresent howl. "I'm in a bit of trouble! I may have lost my speeder, and the ground ain't looking too comfortable right about now!"

"What?! Dammit, you crazy bastard! No one can get you; the assault just started!"

The Jedi Knight cursed his luck. "I'll figure something out."

Most of his plans evolved into figuring something out. Even when he sat down and debriefed everyone on what should happen, Ryv knew something would go south. There were too many variables to account for when it came to a battlefield of this magnitude. Fortunately, he'd developed a knack for improvisation in the face of danger. Another approaching starfighter looked like the best available option. He shifted in the air and thrust both hands back, launching a wave of telekinetic energy out behind him. He tucked his arms against his sides and straightened to the best of his ability. His speed picked up as he rocketed towards the distant point not far below him.

Only a hundred feet out from the ship, Ryv pressed forward with both hands; another telekinetic push was sent forth to stop his descent briefly. His body snapped forward uncomfortably. He grunted, body alight with pain, and fell straight down just as the fighter swooped beneath him. His cybernetic hand shot out to take hold of the ship's wing. It locked in place on the thin-framed cylinder connecting its fin-like end to the hull of the starfighter. Ryv tucked his chin and held on for dear life as it dragged him elsewhere through the sky.

​

Allies | GA | NJO | Maynard Treicolt | Krau Rook | Leon Gallo | Teica Giraan | Caldon Tenneth | Jax Thio | Marcus Rail | Okkeus Dainlei | Aaran Tafo | Open
Enemies | TSE

[/div]

 

[Auteme]

Was this what she was becoming? When had this become the norm?

As she gave her short briefing she was reminded of how out of place she still felt. Her words were almost dodging the subject of their true reality. On a military ship, assigning 'troops' to cleanse the Sith temples. Planning to head into an active war zone. The Jedi, warriors, heading into battle. She knew the good intentions they were bringing. She was filled with hope in the idea that they would be able to free Ziost after years upon years of the dead world being ignored or subjugated.

She was an idealist; naïve as ever, as some might accuse her. But all her idealism couldn't stop people from being hurt, from dying. Even in the cold resolve of the Twilight Company commandos she knew that no one wanted to die. In every battle she believed herself to be doing good; healing the wounded and saving lives where she could, but was the truth worse? When she walked out into that sickening otherworld, was she only propagating the thing she wished to stop?

Deep breath. She glanced to Lucien, to the other Jedi, to the brave men and women who were with her in that little shuttle.

"Thank you," she said.

Lucien Dooku Kisaku Oroken | Darth Carnifex | Gala Geert Aelys Reiner Talmanes ​

The shuttle slid into the makeshift landing zone. Fire from every sort of weapon rang out in the citadel; deafening to Auteme, yet she held on tight until the shuttle had come to a complete halt. The landing ramp fell and the remaining marines and Jedi poured out, rushing towards the citadel's looming front gate. They were some terrible battering ram that disturbed the citadel's 'peace'. The floodgates were opened and into the building they poured; each breaking off in search of enemies or artifacts.

Auteme followed her instincts in search of the darkness here. The citadel was a symbol of the Sith's dominance over the planet; freeing it of the clouding influence that plagued Ziost's people. Of the Jedi gathered, she had the most skill in Force Light -- while the rest drew the Sith and their soldiers, Auteme, Lucien, and Kisaku headed to the citadel's heart.

It weighed heavy on her mind that her student, her only true 'apprentice', was accompanying her today. Yet, he was older than she'd been when she'd seen her first battle -- and far more skilled in combat. How could she deny him? This was part of being a Jedi. To see danger, feel fear, keep going to do what was right.

What was right. And who was she to say? Who was she to make this the norm? Who was she to bring him into battle? But she couldn't decide. She didn't know if she was failing already, but she kept moving nonetheless. She couldn't look back at him. Not yet. Not now. She'd just focus on keeping him and Lucien safe.

"This way," she said, pulling them away from the group and continuing down one of the grand corridors. The Empire's architecture was brutal and decadent as ever; even touching the walls made her worry that she might cut herself. But they weren't winding corridors or labyrinthine halls. She could sense they were getting closer, closer to-

The darkness seemed to take shape as they approached a pair of grand double doors. It didn't strike her until they began to open. No, it wasn't the darkness of the citadel they found -- it was him.

"We- we need to get out of here."

 

[Adhira Chandra]

Adhira leaned heavily on one of the soft-backed chairs that surrounded the holoprojection table which served as the meeting place for the High Command of the Alliance. Projected before her in bright blue, the strategic battle simulations for their assault on Ziost swirled and shifted. Her dark eyes drifted from side to side, following the assault on the capital city, the Alliance's plan to secure control of the planet. The holoprojection clipped and shuttered before replaying the sped up prediction for the outcome of the battle. Her shoulders heaved.​

In the last several months, Adhira had gone from presiding over a period of unprecedented peace in the galaxy to zealously leading a crusade into the heart of the Sith Empire. The weight on her shoulders had weighed heavily on her heart. Every time she authorized another attack, she also signed the death warrant of some brave soldier - someone's son or daughter. She prayed it would all be worth it.​

"Chancellor? Chancellor Chandra-" She shook her head, shrugging the uncomfortable thoughts aside as she focused her attention on the stiff-lipped Lasat General who was addressing her. The old woman attempted to master her expression to appear attentive. Whether or not she'd convinced them was debatable, but at least the entire room had played along. "Are we ready to proceed to the Jedi incursion?" The Lasat waved a clawed hand at the screen as the hologram shifted to show a smaller strike team's path to cleanse the frozen world of the Sith.​

"Proceed, General- Master Jedi," she nodded respectfully to the young Jedi Knight who was acting as the Jedi liaison to High Command. He bowed his head and approached. She really did listen this time - mostly - as the Jedi explained the simultaneous attack his people would make on the dark constructs far from the capital battle. "Uh- Go back." The Jedi looked puzzled for a moment, stopping in the middle of his explanation and rewinding the scenario a few seconds. "No, the capital.. the assault on the capital," she corrected sternly, waving the Jedi away from the table and using the terminal to force the simulation back to the capital.​

"What are the expected casualties?"​

"In a perfect world?-"​

"Fething perfect world? Bah. I want you to tell me what the karking expected casualties will be, now answer my damn question..." the general fell silent and looked around for assistance. When he found no support, his shoulders tensed. "Depending on the strength of the resisting force? Could be anywhere between a few hundred and... tens of thousands on the high end," the air went out of her lungs.​

"What is the confidence level?" She turned to look at a strategy droid who stood by for consultation. When the sensors registered that it had been asked a question, its eyes lit up and it rumbled forward to analyze the simulation. "Chancellor, my current estimate for Galactic Alliance victory is... 85%."​

"EIGHTY-FIVE!?" The Chancellor began at a yell but lowered her tone into a threatening hiss. "You want me to risk ten thousand lives on eight-five percent!?" She closed the distance between them and glared up at the Lasat, watching closely as the sudden shock made his pupils dilate. Her skirts swayed violently at her heels as she rounded on the strategy droid. "How long will it take to resimulate the battle?"​

"93 hours, Chancellor, but the odds of successfully formulating a plan that outweighs the Sith's preparedness for war - are nil."​

"Ma'am, we have to attack now, they already know we are coming -- and our chances of success on Korriban were much lower."​

The room of generals, droids, and politicians stared expectantly at her and she suddenly felt much less imposing. They wanted an answer from her. "The assault must go ahead on schedule," she wrung her hands, "but I want hourly updates for the first leg of the invasion, understood?" The military officials snapped to attention and the politicians nodded respectfully as she stormed toward the room's entrance and threw open the doors.​

"Tell Tithe, this little scheme of his on Tiss'Sharl better work," she spat at one of her aides as she stalked in the direction of the docking bay.​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
STRIKE TEAM 'SKYWALKER'
Armor [ 104th Skin ] | Concord Brawn | Lightsaber

RIGHT IN TWO
​

That stone grey visage stared into his own once more. The Wolf. Within the gauntlets of duraplast he slowly hefted it over his head again. The fiery speech contained within the briefing before the Wolf Pack shortly before let him forget everything else, the peril that existed in facets of his life once deemed unshakable now faltered at the seams.

But soon, he’d be in the fires of war again. Whatever he took with him, it didn’t matter.

Only what he was going to take from them.

Across from him stood who would be the Jedi he was expected to raise up under his wing, teach the ways of this New Jedi Order and send off down the path he once tread.

The crew cabin of the gunship was silent, a glimpse of a beaming crimson light illuminating the cramped space foreshadowed the horrid symphony of death they’d soon be enveloped within on Ziost proper.

He stepped toward the Mandalorian, the gaze of the Wolf matching with the T-visor of the wayward son.

A hand reached out and touched the Mandalorian’s pauldron. As if a physical reassurance where few words could offer it in the approach of the sensory envelopment which would demand every fiber of Krau’s being.

Regardless, Maynard was a man who liked his thoughts known.

<”Nothing I can tell you, to prepare you for any of this.”> He admitted carefully.

<”Not sure how you’re feeling right now, but as soon as the first bolts go by your head, you’ll a lot better.”> He admitted.

<”No one expects you to be a hero...or anything else. All I want...all I need from you, is to survive. And I know if anything, you’re just that. A survivor.”>

Krau knew little about the man that now bore the title of his Master. Those things that the man hung about his neck like teeth on a hunter’s necklace. General of the Galactic Alliance Defense Force, commander of both the Wolfpack and Saber Squadron, son of Concord Dawn and Knight of the New Jedi Order. Though, these never seemed to be pushed first from Maynard. They were background noise, buzzing about his personality without much care from the man himself proper. At least, that was to Krau’s understanding of him. A few sparring sessions, formal introductions, but the Jedi knew very little of the human. Knew very little of the man that was to direct his future and purpose in the world.

What did Maynard know of Krau?

Between the burning of the gunship arching through realspace, the rattling of betaplast armor from the GA Marines, and the waves of energy that flowed into the young Mandalorian like waves from the ocean ever since they entered the system, this thought prodded at his mind. He was unsure of how the process went, or even if it was honestly all that important at the end of the day. His eyes kept locked at the floor, glaring through that T-visor as he attempted to settle his stomach.

He wasn’t meant for war. His people had married themselves in it far too often for what he would like.

Then came the touch on that second-skin, flesh on beskar, earning the Mandos attention as he looked up to meet the visor of Maynard. He gave advice, and the Mandalorian listened, for what it was worth.

<”How I’m feeling?”> The tone sounded more generally curious than imperative, voice huddled down like his personality. The term survivor hanging in the Jedi’s mind like a guillotine blade.

How could he describe to male Jedi human, whose identity was all neat and packaged together, how he was feeling about returning to his ancestral home.

Did he have any right to call it that?

<”I thought my first visit to Ziost would be part educational, part diplomatic. The people here are rugged but not blunt, it’s the Empire… Empires that have malformed them like this.”>

He seemed a tinge optimistic or perhaps merely...expecting better of the foundations of sentient nature. Maynard was the same once...but he died in the blood and rain on Concord Down.

The man before him now was far less hopeful.

<”Not how any of this has come to work...Not sure there’s much of any compromising to be done with the Sith.”> Maynard admits.

<”Only war to be made.”>

War to be made.

There were plenty Krau was certain would agree with that mindset. Plenty of senators and politicians, plenty of warriors and soldiers of fortune, and plenty of Jedi and Sith alike. He did not intend to spark some philosophical discussion with Maynard, he was certain he would have plenty of time for that in the future, plenty of time for that while sharpening their teeth on tomes long forgotten in the depths of the Jedi Temple.

This may just be his own way of educating the Padawan.

Krau couldn’t properly tell.

<”War to be made. In the name of the Galactic Alliance, in the name of democracy? My people have died for worse ideologies. Peace, Master. I hope we can find some among the blood.”>

Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but let his sights drop once again.

<”In the name of nothing at all. Look around you...they’re just duraplast now...second you need them, they’ll be there for you. That’s why you fight. And after all...remember who we’re fighting, The Sith. They see peace as a lie. If we’re ever going to have ours...there’s no seeing it with them.”> Maynard decreed.

<”Oya.”> Krau murmured, almost prayerlike in its delivery.

<”Oya.”> Maynard replied in kinda, bringing his helmet to the temple of Krau’s own before smacking the side of the Beskar visage.

It was time to make war.

SAINTS IN HELL​

Flak, shrapnel, blaster bolts all beat against the belly of the Gunship. One of many Maynard and his Wolf Pack were distributed across in this invasion force. This closed fist looking to ram it down onto faultering bulwark that was the Empire's waning control of Sith space. The heart of their dominion.

<"Into the thick of it huh?"> One of the Wolfpack sounded off to Maynard, offering a glance in the direction of the Jedi General.

<"Would you want it any other way?"> The Jedi of Concord Dawn piped up in inquiry to his subordinate, the glaring crimson of the troop bay enveloping his vision.

<"Fuck no..."> He replied.

<"Good."> Maynard said before he made way to his swoop bike, the very same fur grey patterns of the Wolfpack splayed over the duraplast armor mirrored on the metallic hull of the vehicle.

He slowly moved to mount the bike, glancing across the rest of the troop bay to see his troopers mirroring the maneuver. He grasped ahold of the handles, charging the engine with a metallic roar of the mount, the Gunship pilot sounding off over the ship commo.

<"Two thousand meters to LZ, thirty seconds to drop."> He said and with it, the rest of the swoop bikes roared to life.

<"Noted..."> And the shutters of the troop bay doors slid open to reveal the hellfire that awaited them on this dead world. A foreboding vision, if they were able to stop and breathe in the air to observe for themselves. But there was no time, no focus to cede now, only that dogged anticipation for the battle ahead.

<"Opening troop bay doors..."> And the metallic hiss accompanied the pry of the gunship's jaws, fully welcoming them to the rage they were soon to submerge into.

<"Wolf Pack!">

<"It's time to hunt!">

<OYA!">​

The troop bay lights turned green and in that moment a charge of ordinance formidable enough to rupture the gunship struck, throwing it from its course.

But there was no time to reassess or look back.

The repulsorlifts of the speeder broke the fall and a clean pull of his weapon from his belt drew the saber to his hand with a switch of the ignition powering the cobalt blade to life.

Time to make war.​

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Ryv | Krau Rook | Aelys | Tycho Dune | Marcus Rail | Leon Gallo | Caldon Tenneth | OPEN
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// Faintly, I'll go //:
:// POST I | NEW ADASTA //:
:// ALLIES: GA | Allyson Locke //:
:// ENEMIES: TSE | OPEN //:
:// EQUIPMENT: ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | HOLOLINK | SLICER GEAR //:​

Two days before...​

<Strike Team Vos,> The director’s silhouette was distant and encrypted, but the cool, crisp delivery of the following message irrefutably belonged to M. <Striketeam Skywalker, alongside The 104th and 7th will be taking the city and causing enough of a distraction for you to do your work. Leverage their boisterousness to your advantage, and remain unseen. You’re to make your way to the coordinates patched through from this message. The only objective you have, by whatever means, is getting that command center disabled and offline. Once you do, our fleet is on the outskirts ready for reinforcements. Please remember, I fully expect a proper download before the dismantling. Information before utter destruction.>

Ripley grimaced as the hologram disappeared. It was the message she had been dreading. For well over a week, she had been camped out with the Corellian. Squatting in a boarded-up warehouse somewhere in the slums of New Adasta, the pair only ventured out when needed. Her anxiety had grown by the day as she awaited further orders. Between the risk of being found, and knowing her fellows would be in the line of danger to give them the opening they needed, she could hardly even sleep. Most nights were spent pacing the length on the dingy floors, anticipating what was to come.

​

The footsteps of synchronized marching echoed off the metal walls. Ripley could feel their presence; hundreds of troops, racing to meet Alliance forces at the wall. Her chest heaved as she watched their silhouettes move past the windows that were cloudy with soot. She wondered which of them would be responsible for the losses that were sure to be reported when this was all over.​

Her gaze found the Correllian as she threw the last of her gear into the satchel. Despite the time they had spent together, the woman was still somehow elusive, never saying much. From what Ripley had learned from M, Allyson couldn't be trusted. Yet she recognized something in the woman- something that was in herself, as well. It softened the otherwise harsh way Ripley viewed her.​

"Looks like that's our cue," Ripley's voice was hushed. "I'm ready when you are."​

In truth, the zeltron didn't feel ready at all. She so badly wished to simply be home again, for all of them to be home again, away from the dangers. Yet as bad as she wanted it, it wasn't realistic- they were Jedi, and duty came first. Rising from her crouching position, she found her way to the small fire pit where cinders were still smoldering. A kick sent dust flying over the top of them, snuffing out the light. Ripley raised an eyebrow. The dying embers seemed almost symbolic of what the near future held.

.

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: League Chambers, Tiss'sharl
OBJECTIVE: Operation Clever Girl Chokehold
ALLIES: Brama Tagge | Gat Tambor | The Executive | Enlil | Otto Shule | Marlon Sularen | GA & NIO
ENEMIES: Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Ingrid L'lerim | Alli Vern | TSE
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Visions of Gold | Limited Liability | Attire
POST: I

Aerarii Tithe, then-CEO of Arbitrage Capital,
meets with a Tiss’shar client on Aargau
(approx. 840ABY, colourised).
​

Whether the frozen treasuries of Mygeeto and Scipio, the stuffy boardrooms of Muunilinst, the senate halls of Coruscant, or the grand banks of Aargau, greed always, uh, finds a way.

Tiss’sharl and its business-minded therapods were some of the first to experience the aggressive expansionism of the Sith Empire. In taking the world the Sith slaughter any among the ruling class who harboured seditious thoughts, replacing them with those loyal to the Dark Lord and his followers. The great corporations of Tiss’sharl were forced to swear fealty to the invaders.

The Tiss’sharl League, the ruling body comprised of representatives from the five most profitable corporations on the world, found their ranks thinned and populated by those willing to abide by Sith rule. Their corporations were incorporated into the fledgling Sith Empire, though in later years the Muun worlds to the west of the Empire became the focus of economic activity.

But a fire burned deep within the Tiss’shar. While subjected to the Sith yoke, the cutthroat businessbeings never lost their lust for credits.

With the Galactic Alliance’s liberation of Felucia and their overthrow of Korriban, Tiss’sharl and its greed had been at the forefront of the economic elite of the Alliance and its allies. While the GADF bears down on the Sith world of Ziost, a delegation representing the galaxy’s most powerful corporations travels to Tiss'sharl with an offer the League cannot refuse - unimaginable wealth and prosperity.

Having the utmost respect for the laws of commerce, and to the chagrin of their occupiers, the Tiss’shar extended an invitation to the GA delegation to make their case.

---

The Vice Chancellor looked out the window over the jungle world as he waited outside the League Chambers. His work with the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan, and earlier in the private sector, had brought him many times to Tiss’sharl. The cunning locals, whose business acumen was seconded only by their skills as blood-lusting assassins, had often come close to being something which the business realms of the galaxy sorely lacked.

Worthy adversaries.

That had been his pitch to the Chancellor - while the sands of Ziost would soon run red with Sith blood, the Alliance had a rare opportunity to seize control of a Sith world through careful business dealings. The entourage he had assembled, comprising of the greatest business minds throughout the Alliance, looked certain to all but guarantee success. From this point closing the deal with the League should be but a formality - he expected to be back on Coruscant by morning.

The Aargauun wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead - he’d forgotten how much he hated jungle worlds. He’d found himself perspiring since the moment they had landed. The heavy humidity felt at points as though it was choking him, leaving him short of breath. He took a moment to compose himself - he could not show any weakness, no matter how minor, at the negotiating table.

A holoterminal in the corner of the room came to life, revealing the reptilian face. “Vice Chancellor, we are ready to start,” the Tiss’shar hissed.

Tithe offered a bow of his head as thanks. He took one last chance to adjust his attire. As the great Gat Tambor once said, war is simply economics by other means.

Just as his colleagues were doing on Ziost, so too did Aerarii Tithe march off to war.

 

[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: Boardrooms, Tiss'shari
Objective: To negotiate and obtain information.
Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
TSE and Allies: Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Alli Vern
GA and NIO: Aerarii Tithe | Brama Tagge | Gat Tambor | The Executive | Enlil | Otto Shule | Marlon Sularen

Background music:
Cross Borns – Az Út Végén (At The End of the Journey)​

Ingrid had arrived for the meeting a few days earlier. That is, at first her journey led to Telis Taharin-Zambrano . Hadn't been able to talk to the Sith Lord since Adrian died, the last time they actually spoke at the treaty, at the engagement. Now was the opportunity here and they could finally settle the previous disagreement someday. They both lost the man they loved, though that affected Ingrid more, as Adrian reciprocated her feelings. From this she did not lose her empathy for Telis either, the woman was sure that the man had also suffered. Also brought the dragon to him now, once she was here, tried to take care of everything at once.

Now was the chance to ask if Telis wanted to be the godfather of Adrian and Eyjolf; she felt that this was the least she could offer the other man. Told him exactly what had happened on the Dantooine, she didn’t feel Adrian, they had a problem with the Force-bond, but she had also suffered his injuries, but hadn’t found him until the moment of his death. That this is all her fault because promised to protect him but she didn’t, and it cost AMCO 's life. The Sith Lord's soul had shattered to pieces, she killed herself with her opponent on Byss, so went to Netherworld, but could only bring home a small piece of Adrian's soul, not the whole soul, she tore her own soul to be with her husband.

The kids, and also told him, she would never give up hope of resurrecting Adrian. Of course, also showed the swords and the amulet made of soul shards, and told him she had not yet found a way to combine the shattered soul pieces by getting the original Adrian back. Didn't want to keep secrets in front of Telis. And it must have been pretty clear to Telis how much Ingrid was broken, even if it couldn’t have appeared to an outside observer.

As for the meeting, she had no illusions that the GA and the NIO did not want to agree on anything and they wanted everything for themselves, but the woman tried her best to help the TSE, knowing exactly how much the potential defeat might cost. Arrived at the boardroom with Telis, having heard before that Alli Vern would be here too, which she was happy about.

~ I so want him to be here… ~ sent a telepathic message to Telis.

Didn't even try to hide her pain in the direction of the man, he was one of the few to whom she showed her feelings. By the time they arrived at the boardroom, she already had settled her feelings. As always, wore her military coat, a uniform underneath, without any rank insignia. As entered the room Ingrid looked through the people here, quite a few were already waiting here. Got to know the majority, Tithe, Tambor, Tagge or just Sularen. But there was also Enlil here, who negotiated with Loreena Arenais-Valhoun . If anyone thought the Eternal Empire was not watching or spying on Loreena, it was an idiot.

"Ma'am, gentlemen! Welcome!" Greeted the others in her usual cold, military voice, looking at Telis for a moment, the woman may have been the Empress at home, but this was the territory of the Sith Empire, it was Telis' job to lead and direct the negotiations.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

.........HOURS BEFORE THE DEPLOYMENT ABOVE ZIOST | Maynard Treicolt
DESERT ROSE

​

To encourage Maynard’s stillness, her fingertips pressed at the base of his neck while the razor’s sharp edge grazed up his throat to the chin tip.

With all of the trust that existed between them, dragging the sharp edge of a blade against such a vital area was hardly worth blinking at by now. It was just one of the more tangible representations of all that invisible faith in themselves and their power to make their dreams come true. To do the right thing for each other each time, whatever it was.

Was she doing that? Did she do the right thing each time? She tried to replicate his fervent protection over her, exerting opinions when it might do to save him from hurt, but the last two instances had been wrong. On Bastion, and again denying him the slaughter on Felucia.

She bit her lip, and her mind pulled from the task at hand to enter a level deeper in reflection. Whatever her transgression, he chose to forgive her. Now a few months after Life Day, she’d expected for them to be celebrating positive news, the first step in their lofty vista. But.. nothing.

The doctors couldn’t place the source of inhospitality — be it scarring or active body stress –– Each time, they delivered the news cautiously and full of respect for wounds earned through so-called heroism on behalf of democracy and freedom. Sacrifices. A notably unconducive life for actualizing their dreams of a family. One medical officer had suggested she take time off to relax and regulate if the Treicolts were serious about this — which made her all sorts of anxious. Take time off, and then when something happened (exactly what they wanted) that would be several other months away from the life she was used to, and then when the Triocolt finally arrived, a year at least and then what? Whatever natural stress she was living with skyrocketed when she spent too long thinking about not actually knowing any other life and how ill-prepared she was. What if it didn’t matter? What if this was a limitation of her genetics? Maybe this was the final threshold of her audacity to be so human.

Each time, he reminded her it wouldn’t matter. They’d make it work. Everything else had resolved at this point, somehow two imperfect people were managing perfectly fine.

"Got nothing to lose...it- It won't be easy...but none of this has been, difference is...we know this'll be worth it."

Maynard had been wonderfully supportive through the lack of news, as he always was — but regardless, it was still disappointing. And in the corners of their bond, the dismay was faint but present.

Present like the obstacle she’d not yet discovered. Unbeknownst to Loske, she was already the host of a parasite. A silent, but territorial one that suffocated attempts at new growth that wasn’t contributive to its activation.

Her distancing thoughts affected the steadiness of her hand. To prevent injury, she pulled the straight edge razor away from his jawline, moving instead to thumb a lingering smear of shaving cream and force herself back to the precious now.

“That’s better.” She purred, kissing the curve of his freshly smoothed jaw and smiled an expression that fell between the junction of awe and nostalgia. Reaching to dip the blade’s edge into the sink for a rinse, she towelled it and her hands off and set the grooming tool aside to admire her handiwork. The culmination of the Cold War, Braxant Run and the start of the Stygian campaigns had been worn in scars and a beard. With the hair gone, Loske could appreciate the changes in her husband’s appearance. It’s not that she wasn’t familiar with his face, but with a shave this drastic and so instant (relatively), she realized he was notably more rakish than boyish now. A hardened edge carved into the lines of his expression and those eyes; eyes that had seen so much and still managed to look ahead at the promised light.

But that light was fading, each passing day of a hopeless grasp to that dream grew weary. Still, it was difficult for the Jedi not to look at her with some semblance of peace. She was the living testament to what he’d endured, how far he’d tread the path he’d committed down. And how close he was to that final satisfaction.

“So long as you think so…” Maynard replied, swiping his fingers over his now hairless chin.

“Not that I’m out to make an impression on anyone else.” And it showed, the blemished skin beneath revealed the weight of the toil. Blaster burns, shrapnel and bladed lacerations all told the story of what they’d been through to now in spades.

When he spoke again, there was an intangible tension, a slight bitterness to his tone.

“And they’ve got you...and him interrogating her?” He asked. He'd seen the assignment go down unto her. It was...fitting, being as she was the reason Eldaah lived at all. And yet still, his hand in things left him weary. Everything seemed to be in defiance of his better judgement. He nearly ground his teeth to dust thinking about it all.

Whatever infliction of mercy that overtook her, he could only hope it was in isolation...and by her own accord. Not a result of whatever ties Bline had to her.

Loske sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, not ignorant to his intonation. It was the same one he’d used about Djorn on Felucia. It was one she was guilty of using toward the Imperial once-upon a time too. It was verging hostile.

“Doesn’t matter- .” He spoke up abruptly before he stood himself up from his seat, offering a faint exhale before he visibly ground his teeth against one another. Not only would he be expected to lead men and women to their nigh certain deaths again but he walked atop a faulty foundation.

He could sense the tremors already, of something crashing it all down. But he faded it in an attempt to obtain wanton ignorance again. A hand graced her cheek and his lips came to meet hers. Whatever pervaded him in his suspicions, that want, that love did not falter. He embraced that closeness for a moment...and another longer before he leaned his head back to take her into his view, his own gaze captured in hers as it always seemed to be.

“Time to go.”

“I know.” She sighed as if she could speak slow enough to draw the moment out indefinitely. “I love you.” Clutching him tightly, she folded into his hold. A caress that managed to mitigate the tireless concerns day after day. “I’ll be done soon enough to join you two wayward Mandalorians down there.” Reaching up to brush stray hair from lining his face, she gave another gentle kiss and smiled. “This won’t take so long that you and Krau get all the action.”

---

---

KNIGHT OF THE NEW JEDI ORDER
ZIOST | REDEEMER | ABOVE NEW ADASTA
ARMOUR | LIGHTSABER
SPINNING IN THE DESERT

​

Another blaster door hissed open when she pressed her credentials to the slot demanding them. She belonged aboard the Prosecutor, to be by the side of her brother and husband –– not making her way to the containment facilities where they had a portable interrogation going on. The others were probably on the surface by now, the Jedi breaking the initial wave with jousting (that had sounded so cool, and she rued not being a part of that onslaught).

Instead, she had to appreciate the irony of her place in the current situation. Djorn was supposed to have been the first Sith Empire arrest they made, back when Allyson had quasi-defected. Now, the SIA had brought him in to interrogate their first actual Sith prisoner. And Loske had a hand in acquiring both.

Eldaah being alive still bothered her, and she continuously fretted over that instinctual denial she’d barked out that put a stop to Maynard’s chance at revenge on Felucia. Reflecting on that moment sent an unconscious shiver through her. It had been so cold. He’d felt so much hate, anger, fury. Eldaah had felt so much..pride, satisfaction. It had all been wrong. But keeping the acolyte alive was a liability unless they managed to get something useful from her –– or leverage her appropriately. It’d already been revealed that she was an apprentice to one of The Empire’s triumvirate. That much was in the dossier the SIA had provided. That, and the reason they’d allowed an Imperial operative to take over the interrogation –– they had links back to Saaraishas together.

It made Loske uncomfortable. Even moreso because she didn’t realize this changeover had happened until Djorn explicitly requested her oversight. There were a lot of logistics required to transfer a Sith acolyte through space back into her rightful territory, and the confidence she held in the operation was tenuous at best.

If things didn’t turn out here, and Eldaah was truly a dead-end, Loske’d try and make sure it was Maynard who had the chance at her final undoing. Even if it was an inglorious delivery of some sort of lethal injection.

She paused outside the door to the containment room, hovering her credentials a few inches away from the reader so it couldn’t make out the details–– just to buy her a few seconds. Loske drew a breath in, held it, and let it out before the door separated for her entrance to the spartan facility.

“You get anything from her yet? Any hints about Ziost and what we can expect down there at least?

What do you want me here for, Djorn.”

ALLIES | NJO | GA | Djorn Bline
ENEMIES | TSE | Eldaah Aderyn

 

[Gala Geert]

THE STYGIAN CAMPAIGN

AGENT GLADIO
ZIOST | ADASTA'KUN
EQUIPMENT: COMBAT ARMOUR | FEVERWASP (2) | SOHEI | TIDEFALL
H U M A N

​

"You know, there are other reasons to fight than material wealth."

From Attahox, to Botor, to Vulpter, to Brentaal, to a handful of other insufferable planets, all the way to Ziost, she hadn’t found that other reason. Most desires could be quenched with basic vices –– and vices were acquired through credits. Credits were made through bloodshed. And she was good at bloodshed.

The more she thought about it, the more that random string of dialogue echoed her psyche, the more she concluded a droid was just a droid –– not a spiritual advisor –– and perhaps it had been the logical thing to say that moment.

Still, as she looked at the exposed faces of the Jedi. Fabled luminaries of hope, pinnacles of promise. Like the curves of their features were supposed to remind everyone of their purpose, their actions instill a sense

Their doe-eyes did nothing for the Mirialan.

She’d been working with Jedi since the days of the Imperium. She’d never liked them, and she’d never felt hope from them, nor promise. They were foolhardy infants –– no matter their actual galactic age –– with impressive weapons and no ties to the material world. No understanding of personal well being and the necessity to preserve your own life. She’d never seen any of them take a vacation, circulate through the clubs or bars she frequented. She supposed some of them were married, had some level of relationship, but those were the more militantly minded. They understood the end was a constant shadow. The others? Overgenerous monks that garnered too much trust from the minds of politicians. So much so, that they’d been the downfall of the last galactic insurrection of The Alliance. The reason they were forced to keep doing this all over again.

Overhead lights flashed on, bathing the shuttle’s containment in red.

<Midnight’s on the ground first.> Major Tom next to her announced, settling his helmet over his rakish face.

<How novel.> Another member of the squadron –– the sniper, Finon Nalle –– grumbled. He’d picked up the role after Anila’s untimely death on Yinchorr. He tried to fill the void, but her pretty face couldn’t be forgotten. He’d never forgive those Imperial dogs.

<Paving the path for the wizards.> Gala added, concealing her smirk and chin gesture in the direction of the pack they were paired with. She could have sworn one of them didn’t even have a weapon.

Most of the fortifications were concentrated around the capital city, leaving much of the worthless stretches of wasteland and evil armed with… more evil.

The air wasn’t thick enough to carry the sound of blaster fire.

<Picking up several life forms. This city hasn’t been evacuated. Civvies are all over the place.> Tyris na-Mevrain, the most technically able of the company, indicated. <We have Dusk squadron coming in from the east side. They've already levelled some damage to the citadel.>

Gala didn’t say anything, but she felt her throat tighten. Flashes of Brentaal’s chaotic consumption of civilians flashed before her eyes. The Jedi hadn’t been enough then. She had barely been enough. Nobody had been. Depending on what conquering looked like to each individual spectrum, this day could get bloodier. Or was it night? Hard to tell in a world that was constantly on the dark side of twilight.

The shuttle rocked on the descent, caught in the spiralling winds of the tundra planet. The LZ was just outside the city perimeter, and an indicator sounded that they were locked in the defenses targeting system. They had thirty-five seconds to get out of the ship before they were blown to smithereens.

Midnight lunged first, a meter or so from the ground. Each commando bracing themselves on impact and quickly taking their positions. Together, they raced down the crater’s side. The city was like something from a horrible dream, plumes of smoke rising from ornate spirals. Flames igniting in the distance from shattered workshops where volatile gasses vented as fire. Soft snow billowed from the top-most levels of the citadel as the released atmosphere sprayed out and froze.

Thirteen seconds.

Major Tom dropped to a knee, hoisting a weapon launcher over his shoulder while Finon pointed over his shoulder for targeting the defenses.

Nine seconds.

He pulled the trigger, and the defensive turret rolled out in an impressive billow of fire and debris.

They divided into teams. Gala activated her jetpack to catapult over the city walls, while the others took the other side. In sets of threes, the legionnaires would target the city guards to make way for the Jedi to do whatever cleansing they felt needed to be done.

Cop outs.

​

ALLIES | GA | MIDNIGHT COMPANY | Auteme | Aelys | Reiner Talmanes
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

PROSPERITY’S PROTECTOR | THERE IS NO CHAOS, THERE IS HARMONY
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | STRIKE TEAM OVERSIGHT | PROSPERITY ABOVE ZIOST
IT'S OK, YOU'RE OK

From his vantage point, he was loftily positioned in the atmosphere to influence from above to those outside the city’s reaches. Those under his charge had already deployed to the surface below, the harsh conditions reacting to their arrival with wicked welcome.

The Outer Rim’s harshness had left an imprint on him. The last time he’d ventured into this system, he’d been unbuilt and rebuilt by the empyrean’s architects. He’d felt suffering, grief, victory and pain. So much pain.

He needed to feel it, so they didn’t have to. He knew this. He was able to burden this. He was able to prepare, and in his mild preparation, he unwound himself to be remade however the galactic connector sought fit.

The Force recognized The Warden. It saw him. It did not welcome him. It did not reject him. It only saw, acknowledged, and continued with its search. It’s reaching.

He knew of its reaching. Such knowledge brought benefits. They’d reached an understanding last time, coordinating a networking lattice of space and time with nodes that spanned his existence, back to earliest memories and ahead to a hundred alternative futures. For him, and for all those that joined alongside him and lent him their trust.

Their contributions to his pattern, lattices, networks, depths and conundrums offered perspective beyond his own. Ripples relayed outward, intermingling with the natural reverberations of the cold, dark planet below. It felt tired. Exhaustion from fighting with itself, finding no balance here –– only darkness. If he were a younger man, a more vulnerable man, the sheer weight of the shadow would have him dragging his heels.

He gently pushed back on its crushing influence, levelling himself against it and generating a beacon of dwelling for those he was connected with. A pool of peace for them to dip into whenever they needed it, to drown out the darkness.

The Warden's baritone voice suffused through their ethereal links, bonding them with reinforcement: "May the Force be with you."

BATTLMELD: ACTIVE​

ALLIES | NJO | GA
STRIKE TEAM TANO: Mishel Kryze | Cotan Sar'andor | Coren Starchaser | Romi Jade
STRIKE TEAM WINDU: Takui | Creuat | Dagon Kaze | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Zark San Tekka
STRIKE TEAM RHYSODE: Auteme | Aelys | Reiner Talmanes | Gala Geert
ENEMIES | TSE | THE DARKSIDE

 

[Dagon Kaze]

CLEANSING FIRE
NEW JEDI ORDER
SORZUS ACADEMY OF SITH ARTS
TO ENGAGE: Aeric Kaze
H O L Y _ D I V ER

Prelude.

The dropship rattled wildly as the shrapnel of anti-air hit too close to home. An ominous veil of silence enveloped the ship, none daring to even breathe as if any little noise might invite the missiles fired inside. It was the most surreal experience of pure helplessness he had ever endured.

Trust the Force.

The soothing but determined voice of his Master Zoryu wrapped his mind and steeled his nerves. His own encounter on Korriban barely scratched the surface of what the rest of his fellow Jedi on the ground had undergone. Safely on the ship above the cursed planet aiding the efforts of Master Asmundr Varobalder , while his friends and acquaintances met the Dark Side head first.

No more. No more would he be gatekept as his fellows shed life and blood to end the Shadow's menace.

As darkness engulfed the galaxy unopposed, as governments dug their heads beneath the ground and other Jedi closed their eyes, a few dared to do; the few, the brave, led by the Sword of the Jedi Ryv .

He looked up from the ground, eyes emblazed with zeal. The boy from Ruusan who once arrived lost and burdened on Coruscant - now a young man with resolve. Whether it was the strong presence of Master Varobalder, or not, Dagon Kaze felt ready. Yet, a foreboding harbinger whispered at the back of his mind.

What you seek you will find, what you will find may not be what you seek.

Ashla warned.

He defied.

The Jedi's gaze fell upon his friend Takui - one of the bravest padawans he had known. His acts on Byss had been paramount in expelling the Eternal Empire's threat. He knew he could count on his friend to do what must be done.

Then, Dagon's eyes shifted to the familiar Chiss-Zeltron warrior. Her staggering height, nearly matching his, always made her stand out. Mrurh'en'lase | Hel was as enigmatic, as the cryptic messages from the Force he occasionally received, and often drew his natural curiosity. He'd heard about her mission to Bastion against the Sith but had never brought up the subject. He trusted she knew she could always rely on him if needed.

Even unspoken, their locked gazes conveyed his message.

A reassuring nod to her and he looked ahead at nothing but the abyss of darkness that lied below.

Now.
Academy of Sith Arts, Ziost

Dagon's nerves of steel shook under the sudden strain of the dark side as his feet touched the tainted earth of Ziost. He stood, for a moment, frozen with his leather jacket flapping violently from the shockwaves of explosions and ship engines behind him. Dozens of red sabers flashed in the near distance heralding death.

Snap-hiss.

Blue blades came to life besides him. Lined up, together. United. Ashla beckoned and they heeded the call. In her name, they would bring righteous deliverance.

Not one step back, the galaxy was behind them.

He swallowed heavily but raised his blade in defiance to the shadow.

And so the last mohicans of the Light charged forward.

Cries of retribution tore through the air and through the fabric of time and space.

They echoed from Kaas to Coruscant, from Kashyyyk to Naboo.

From here to eternity.

GA | ALLIES | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Takui | Creuat | @Zark | Asmundr Varobalder
TSE | ENEMIES

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Lightsaber | Suit
The Old Ones
Allies: Takui | Creuat | Dagon Kaze | Zark San Tekka | Asmundr Varobalder
Enemies: TSE

​

Drumming metal and buzzing gizmos of the dropship's internal workings and engines took the Hybrid from her silent remembrance of fire and demise. A blessing to escape the near-past or a curse to await the near-future? She wasn't too sure and drew the hood of her suit further down her face, just hiding her eyes in shadows, dimming her glowing red irises and sclera.

How much longer until the ship hits the ground?

How much longer do we have to endure anti-air fire and stray shrapnel pelting the hull?

Why must I even be here?

Bastion was not far gone in the events of the Galaxy, and already she was deployed once more, facing the Sith on Ziost as part of Strike Team Windu. How appropriate, she decided, that this particular strike team would be going to the academy on the world to eradicate the darkness at one of its roots. Eradicate spirits and students of the dark side with no mercy, no compunction, no regrets.

Only destroy and cleanse.

With the purity of a zealous light and a molten fist of - what Hel had begun to consider as - militant dogmatism in an old code that controlled half the universe.

Of course, she knew that it was a code that had a set of factual foundations of stability. How could it have ruled the Galaxy for eons upon epochs since the Jedi first came into being as the Jeedai, or something similar to that name? She was unsure how factual the books she had scavenged from across the Galaxy were in regards to what the Jedi used to be, but she knew for certain that it had been around for tens of thousands of years. Maybe even hundreds of thousands of years. Longer than the Sith Order.

"But longer than the Dark?"

The voice again. Yes, after seeing the true depths of the Dark Side on that broken world, the recesses of her mind - that damnable voice - had begun to wonder just how useful it was when the Dark came in such unfettered ways. Time and time again. Never vanishing. Never dying. Always killing and evolving. Perhaps older than the Light. Certainly older than the Light. What existed in the room before the fixture was added for the light to burst brightly?

Darkness.

"How else could the Dark have done the same as the Light? How else can it keep doing it?"

The voice was right, was it not? No. No. Nonononono. The Light is all there is. The Light protects.

Her red eyes suddenly looked up to the rest in the ship with her. Judging by their faces and positions of rest and waiting, not much time had passed since she had entered her internal monologue of doubt and feeble reassurance. A tired, weakened gaze examined each of them, wondering what their stories were.

Not the stories that were public knowledge for all to see and read and hear retold over and over again. But the true stories. The dirty details of loss and pain and character building. What made them...them. Each face was unique, but there was only one she truly settled on if for no other reason than that he was also looking at her.

Dagon Kaze . While only being a touch taller than herself, and only a bit heftier in terms of muscle mass, Dagon was still rather intimidating by Galactic standards of Jedi. The jawline that could shatter a transparisteel windshield also helped matters in that regard. Her vision suddenly became dark at the moment he nodded in some form of camaraderie she was unused to. Was it a blackout? A fainting spell?

No. No, it was worse. It was happening again. A vision of the future. Its distance unknown, but it was Dagon. She was sure of it. In the Academy. Fighting. Filled with despair.

And then she snapped back and all was well again until they landed mere seconds later.

​

The Dark Side was palpable as she took her first step off the ship before the Academy, the war raging high above in the sky and all around the planet's scarred surface. The Jedi had come to Ziost, but the Sith were waiting. And so was the voice - no - the evil cloud of miasmic power inside of Hel's gullet.

It cackled in dull electricity as the Padawan braced herself against the fermented scent of the Dark Side. Something here was empowering it - given a stronger presence, it began to push out and against her sternum with invisible hands and threatened to tear her esophagus. Why was this one place so affecting her with merely a step? Why was the thing inside her so strong now with as though they shared propinquity?

Was it even a true being? She was a staunch believer in the Living Force, on a skewed level. Instead of one being, she saw it as two. Two distinct beasts of creation and destruction. Two deities above all others. But this felt different. This felt personal. Like she was fighting herself.

"Remember Bastion...Remember the dread...the sun of briars and brambles...Vora Kaar...remember...death."

Was this merely herself, forming a blackthorn heart in a blood maze? She was unsure, fearfully so, and would have collapsed to her knees by the time she reached the line of the Strike Team had the activation of their lightsabers not drawn out her innate adoration for war. For a moment, gone was her fear and doubt. Gone was the voice.

The beautiful brightness of those elegant weapons near her caused the Hybrid to finally crack a wide grin and she quickly activated her own. There was no snap-hiss of her weapon, however. Only a shrill banshee's screech, as if the kyber itself was in pain, begging to be put back to sleep. The orange of her blade crackled and sizzled in the dank air, barely contained in its field, and the idle whistling scream of the kyber continued to sound out in the air.

And then they charged.

 

[UX-0626]

Location: New Adasta, Ziost
Objective: Break the Siege
Allies: TSE (@Open)
Enemies: GA (@Open)

The work of fortifying and defending the city of New Adasta had begun almost as soon as the Alliance had broken the Empire’s hold over Korriban. By the same token, the artificially-created soldiers of the Shadow Fleet’s Ground Assault Division were immediately called into action in order to defend Ziost against the Alliance incursion. The city was a wellspring of activity by the time UX-0626 landed, with civilians still in the process of being evacuated and massive defensive structures being erected to create kill zones, funnel areas, and pressure valves for Alliance Marines and armor formations. It was all built with the apparent objective of preventing the battle from devolving into a rat race of desperate house to house fighting, where the Marines and their heavy armor would seemingly hold the advantage.

Nevertheless, the battle for New Adasta seemed to slowly shift in that direction.

Fortified defenses and lines of Legionnaires met the Marines in their initial landings throughout the city. Having been assigned to engage the Marines from a distance while her brothers and sisters held the lines, UX-0626 took position in the buildings, utilizing her rifle to strike down the white-armored thugs with a cold ferocity. They were bodies from a distance, dehumanized in her mind owing to the commanding voice of her Master, his presence an persistent reminder of the indomitable power of his will and the salvation there was in serving his eclipsing mission. His influence over her thoughts was as powerful as it was insidious, but in seeing the Alliance laying siege to peaceful populations, with little else in the way of context beyond the indoctrination fed to her in the exowomb, it did not take much for 626 to see them as nothing more than bloodthirsty marauders, while conversely viewing herself as a soldier of a unifying and sacred cause.

And so, she would cut them down, without mercy or hesitation.

Training her sights on a squad of Alliance Marines who had taken defensive positions in order to cover their advancing comrades, 626 set her crosshairs over the skull of the soldier who appeared to be the commanding officer. A held breath, then she squeezed the trigger, sending off a bolt of highly-energized plasma that struck the man in the neck, felling him with a single shot as the other Marines moved to dive into cover. Almost immediately after she pulled the recharger, another shot followed, striking down a Marine who had peeked out from behind cover, the magenta bolt finding its mark on their skull in the process. The rest stayed firmly behind cover after that, but 626 did not relent, utilizing the target imaging system on her scope to illuminate their position even as her targets hid behind the relative safety of a ferrocrete barricade. And so, another shot followed, then another, the first wounding and the second killing a Marine situated behind the obstruction. Then, one of the Marines, presumably the last of the squad, shifted out of cover, aiming their rifle in her relative direction in a desperate attempt to lay down covering fire, which was promptly silenced before it could even begin, with a single shot to the chest.

A deep breath was released and 626 lowered her rifle, briefly scanning her eyes across the street before moving down the stairs to link back up with her division.

Spoiler: Gear and Equipment

• Armor
  • Taral-type Sith Trooper Armor
    • Undersuit
      • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
    • Utility
      • Neural Band
      • Taozin Skin Nodule
      • Revealer
    • Left Wrist
      • Whistling Birds
    • Right Wrist
      • Wrist Laser
    • Energy Shield (Replaces Integrated Deflector Mobility Shield)
      • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Small Arms
  • FAE/W-01 “Attendant” Sniper Rifle
  • SIF-7 ‘Minos’
    • Multi-Optic Holographic Sight
• Melee
  • Whimsy Knife
• Grenades and Explosives
  • Impact Grenade (3)

 

[Zark San Tekka]

SORZUS ACADEMY
Equipment: Jedi Armor, Comlink, Star Compass, Crossguard Saber, Glie-44
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Dagon Kaze Creuat Takui Mrurh'en'lase | Hel
Enemies: The Sith Empire

Dim awareness.

He was floating in a bacta tank. He could feel the soft tremor of engine vibrations. He wondered why he was not dead. Korriban had taken its toll on the Jedi Master. His physical wounds were slowly beginning to heal while suspended within the miracle drug. Outside the tank his surroundings more closely resembled the Halls of Healing on Coruscant than a starship's medical bay. He was just one casualty among many being treated on board the New Jedi Order star temple Prosperity. Time lost all meaning in a sensory deprived environment and sooner or later he fell asleep.

A strange yet familiar sight roused him. Coren Starchaser waving from outside. The corellian's face was almost pressed up against the glass. He tried to smile but he was still too weak to move. Darkness claimed him again. Something about this was all starting to feel familiar. He woke up and slowly remembered that he was no longer on board the Prosperity. This ship was called the Prosecutor and it was on its way to Ziost. Between the bacta tank and the administrations of Jedi healers his recovery had been swift but it was not yet complete.

"We took some blood samples while you were under. Our results were...interesting, to say the least. Why didn't you ever tell anyone about your family?"

"What about my family?"

He wasn't just descended from frontier colonists. He was a San Tekka.

It was not something Zark could afford to dwell on now. It took some effort to adorn himself in new age battle armor. Although they were still reluctant to bring him along in his condition Master San Tekka had pledged his saber to the New Jedi Order's cause. As long as he could stand and swing a blade he would not be denied. Familiar starbirds covered the ship reminding him no matter how much things had changed this was still the Galactic Alliance. That was something to hold onto at least.

Aboard his designated U-Wing the Jedi Master kept to himself maintaining a state of silent meditation. While still outside of Ziost Orbital Command's sensor range the Prosecutor launched stealth craft. Inertial dampeners struggled against atmospheric entry and the troop transport began to shudder. He could sense those under his command clinging to their resolve. It was not fear exactly. They were all trained Jedi. Combat nerves however were something that only came with experience.

"We are one with the Force," Zark reminded the others on his strike team over comlink, "Stay close to me if you can. I'll do my best to keep you alive."

Shuttle engines roared in protest when the pilot pulled out of their steep dive. It could hardly even be called a landing at all. Bay door hydraulics whined open and everyone on board piled out onto the surface of a hostile world. Master San Tekka waited long enough to offer a short salute to their crew with his lightsaber and followed shortly behind. He reached out with the Force and began to weave a barrier large enough to cover Strike Team Windu's advance with methodical precision.

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: G.A Negotiator Class Frigate - Peacemaker - Ziostian space]
[Teica Giraan reporting in]

“All hands to battle stations, I repeat, all hands man your battle stations!” Teica’s voice echoed across the Peacemaker’s decks

With a quick burst of light, the Negotiator-class Frigate appeared from the depths of a cold sea of black. Then, with more quick explosions of light, other Alliance starships began to emerge, slowly forming around a group of two Prosecutor assault ships. They made their way toward Ziost, ready to deploy a new wave of death and destruction.

“May we emerge victorious,” Teica whispered, then raised her voice to a commanding shout, “Ahead full!”

“Aye captain, sublight engines to full,” the helmsman waved a hand across his console.

The captain stood perfectly at ease in front of her command chair. Her eyes scanned the viewscreen’s image of the enemy formation ahead. Phase one complete, moving on to phase two, she noted. Teica went over the formation a second time, carefully pinpointing her target. There, she set her eyes on the center of the screen.

“Full power to turbolasers, put concussion missiles on standby. Lock on to the center of their formation.” she made her way to the viewscreen, stopping only a few feet away, “Alert the rest of the fleet that we’ll be concentrating fire on the cruiser dead ahead.”

Across the Peacemaker’s dorsal and ventral sides, turbolaser turrets swivelled along their ports and locked onto a cruiser at the center of the Ziostian formation. Pleasure battling you. Teica found her footing near the farthest end of the bridge, clicking her feet against the flooring two times. A calm exhale made its way forward. Ready to face the enemy's fire, her mouth formed into a faint smile.

“Fire turbolasers,” she ordered.

The Peacemaker let out a fierce salvo of turbolasers as it's pointed hull sliced through the void.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

ZIOST - SORZUS ACADEMY OF SITH ARTS
SAME AREA AS, BUT SEPARATE FROM, STRIKE TEAM WINDU ( Takui Creuat Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Dagon Kaze Zark San Tekka )
BAG OF TRICKS (packaged with nullification resin):

• Perspective Stone
• Jedi restraints
• Confessional talismans
• One of the Seven Husbands
• Glop grenades
• Stun blaster
• Zip ties

If and when the Jedi leadership found out what Quill had in mind, they would be...immensely cross. Exile cross, potentially. But this was a matter of conscience. And therefore, without telling a soul, Quill had come early.

He'd learned a simple and valuable truth over the years: spend a couple of days on any given world, get to know its feel, get in harmony with it as much as possible, and your sense-based abilities improved. You could find others more easily, and from farther away, and he needed every edge he could get to keep this world from overwhelming him. As violence blossomed, Quill got up from the bluff where he'd waited, Force presence concealed, for the past thirty-six hours. He shook crusted snow off his hood and shoulders, and looked down at the Sorzus Academy. Lightsabers were flaring to life out front.

The Sorzus Academy had a reputation, a serious one. It trained sorcerers and alchemists at a high level - a research institution, effectively. Were its students complicit in great sins and debased magics? Quite possibly.

That didn't mean they automatically deserved to be massacred if persuasion failed. And Quill had his doubts that persuasion would have its day.

Stiff and sore from the cold, the erstwhile Hermit of Hoth shouldered his battered backpack. He scratched frost out of his moustache as he made his way down toward the academy. He skirted the violence out front, sank a guard into pleasant tenacious dreams, and slipped in a side door he'd identified some time ago.

***​

The Sorzus Academy came across as professional, sterile, no particular smell of atrocity or filth. With a kyberite confessional talisman in hand instead of a weapon, Quill padded through the unfamiliar facility as quietly as he could.

He left footprints of melting snow. Unavoidable.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

It was impossible to not notice the commotion outside the quadruple-layer ceraglass window, especially when a stray laser bolt created a crack in the outer shell large enough to nearly crack the whole layer. But, among those gathered in the upper executive officers of the Sith Citadel, only the lowly scribe flinched when the impact occurred. The others marked the event with cold indifference or outright dismissal, their perceptions bent towards the man who stood with his back towards them.​

​

Having been absent from Sith politics for well over a year by now, Darth Carnifex still cut an impressive figure among those who stayed behind to manage his vast holdings. Holdings that were, as it turned out, slipping out of their fingers with each passing week. If it wasn't the renewed offensive on the border with the New Imperial Order, it was a push from the Galactic Alliance right into their heart. There was concern among them, he could sense it on the periphery of their minds.​

​

Fear, the mind-killer, had crept into their consciousnesses.​

​

"My Lord, the Jedi press the advantage. The tomb-world is in Chaos, unclaimed." Spoke one, a Sith Lord who had ridden the waves of change and progress much like Carnifex had, one of the old guards from the Empire that predated the One Sith's dominion in the Core Worlds. "If we do not press them back here, then our necks are exposed. The Caldera will be ravaged." The others shared the man's worries, he could sense their agreement through the Force.​

​

"What do you plan to do about this, Zambrano?" Carnifex gently turned his head to look back at the Sith Lord through the periphery of his left eye, not even affording him his full attention. "You were made Emperor by conclave, you were supposed to lead us to victory, to truly break our chains! But look at us now, you've abandoned the Empire to pursue your madness. The enemies howl at the gates, they'll destroy us all if we do not do something!"​

​

Only silence greeted the man's scathing words, and Carnifex inclined his head back to staring out the window at the unfolding battle. This only served to incense the Sith Lord, who allowed his emotions to dictate his actions as he pointed accusingly at the mad tyrant's back. "You've failed the Sith, Zambrano, you've led us into ruin! This folly of yours has destroyed the Sith, there will be nothing left once the Jedi have had their fill! You are a disgra--"​

​

The man never finished his sentence, a benthic weight having latched around his throat. He gasped and clutched at his collar, attempting to tug off the imperceivable power which now throttled him. The others initially moved to aid him, but they too found themselves tightly bound in the clutches of unbreakable power; even the scribe who could only watch in horror. They choked and sputtered, their lives withering away as Carnifex now turned to face them. Without a word he strangled the life from each and every one of them, sparing none in his unfathomable cruelty. When the final Sith had breathed their last, Carnifex tossed their bodies to the sides of the room, upturned the table, and blasted away any loose debris with just the power of the Force.​

​

He then turned back to the window in silence.​

​

Waiting.​

​

Auteme | Lucien Dooku | Kisaku Oroken ​

 

[Enlil]

​

Tiss'sharl​

As chosen diplomatic envoy for the Imperium, the King entered with the Alliance delegation quietly and respectfully. The local delegation was neither blind nor stupid; for the New Imperials waged a war against the very existence of the Sith, and should they so choose, they could focus their enmity toward this world and ruin all future dreams of economic prosperity. It behooved them to seek a diplomatic approach. The Sith were not the ruling power on Tiss'sharl. Greed itself was King here.

Enlil took his seat alongside Tithe to the left, ceding the primary right hand position to Lady Tagge. This was foremost the Alliance’s extension of the olive branch: the NIO would have simply offered the sword. The more that they took from the Sith, the less that the enemy would flail in futility.

There was merit in a Galaxy that continued to trade, however. This world was a veritable superpower in the market. If it could be helped, Enlil did not want to simply burn it.

That option was not yet off the table, however.

​

He kept his hands folded in front of him neatly, his expression obscured by them in entirety. As the Sith entourage entered the room, for the first time, the King got a good look at his enemy. They had a certain regality to them that eschewed compassion and radiated indifference. Emotions sloughed off them, but they were twisted, filled to the brim with self-interest and fueled by ego.

In particular, the Lady L'lerim of the Eternal Empire represented herself directly. If not for her known collusion with the Sith, he would have expected her to send an envoy. He knew of her only from paperwork involving dealings with the New Empire, and a false, broken promise made by her predecessor to oppose the Sith Empress and her ilk.

He had spoken with Loreena Arenais-Valhoun about various affairs involving the Eternal state, but the details of that meeting were known only to the two of them. No one else was allowed near the meeting place, and he had taken measures to assure that it was secure.

Unless Loreena herself had disclosed the details of their talk to Ingrid, anything she suspected that she knew was baseless conjecture.

Nevertheless, an Empire across the Galaxy was of little import to him. Presently, the most important discussion was with Tiss'sharl, and helping them to see that their current overlords did not have the best interest of their enterprise at heart.

He glanced sidelong toward the Vice-Chancellor and blinked once, slowly. Ready to begin when you are.

LOCATION: League Chambers, Tiss'sharl
OBJECTIVE: Operation Chokehold
ALLIES: Aerarii Tithe | Brama Tagge | Gat Tambor | The Executive | Otto Shule | Marlon Sularen | GA & NIO
ENEMIES: Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Ingrid L'lerim | Alli Vern | TSE

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Coruscant weeks prior //:
//: SIA Headquarters //:
//: i brought this house down on myself //:

​

"The last job -- if you can call it that -- that pulled you behind Sith lines was an unscrupulous affair. That's no longer tolerated within the Agency. There are no jobs above mine. If someone offers you one, you either let me know, or you do not take it. Is this understood?" ​

The voice was stern and berating, a rare moment to hear any emotion from the new Director. It was a brief moment, but Allyson missed the old cyborg that ran the place before M. Still, the ship was tightening up now, and a part of the free spirited Corellian could appreciate it. No hesitation, Allyson nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." She knew that she was lucky to still be here, but she had been pardoned by the last Director. That pardon only came with the weight of Allyson's experience and knowledge of the SIA. The amount of knowledge the Corellian knew about the Shadows' inner workings and the Intelligence branch made her a high-risk security issue - the only way out of this was death. ​

Allyson didn't like to think of that matter. "While you managed to pull it off, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't doubt you." M's words cut more in-depth into the brunette as she stood and took the lecture that was a long time coming - one that wasn't given at the time of her careless mission that ended up in mostly a failure - the former Emperor was still very much alive. "None of my agents operate independently or in full isolation anymore. I want to keep an eye on you at all times. Assigning you a partner won't cut it." ​

Lips pressed tightly together, Allyson worked alone; she performed better alone. It was easier to get in and get out of places without having to worry about someone else. The Chiss' last words weighed heavily on the Spy; she knew that was about the cybernetic eye that was hidden now under a thin eyepatch. The wound and her body were still healing, but she hadn't grown accustomed to having a piece of tech in her, despite being a technomancer - the concept bothered her. Allyson rolled her shoulders back and nodded. Once more, M continued, "Your loyalty is something that is tested time and time and time again. And I intend to keep score each time." The final blow and Allyson exhaled and answered. "Understood, Ma'am. I won't fail the Alliance again." There was no arguing; Allyson had been loyal - but only she knew that. Not even those that had been close to her believed her, but the mission came above all else. What's happened, happened.​

//: Ziost, Warehouse near the Command Center //:
//: Team Vos //: Ripley Kühn //:
//: Enemies //: Other Space Kaiden //:

​

The memory faded as Allyson continued to stare out the window of the warehouse she and Agent Ripley had boarded themselves into. She went over the meeting several times in her head, figuring out where she really stood within the Agency. Still being given missions such as this gave her some hope that she had earned some respect back, but being babysat by another agent was a bit insulting. Either way, Allyson wouldn't worry too much about it. She had gotten used to working in tandem with another - mainly Zaavik, who, despite being her junior, still demanded to be treated as an equal. ​

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she felt a weird sense of pride in the knight. Turning her head, the briefing from M played, and Allyson nodded; the plan was simple enough, and with her hands already being deep in the Empire infrastructure, it wouldn't be too hard. "Yeah, sounds like it," She responded to Ripley. Standing, Allyson gathered the bots she had brought with them, the bag slung over her shoulders, and she adjusted the straps. Fingers trailed along with the fabric of the eyepatch she wore; there was no reason to have the eye exposed, especially with Ripley being with her all hours of the day and night. It didn't bother the Corellian, but she didn't know how to respond to the woman. They had friends in common, acquaintances, and did the same work - probably had the same interests. Yet, Allyson couldn't say anything beyond work-related jargon. ​

It didn't take an empath to read the anxiety dripping from Ripley; at times, Allyson had to close herself off to remain focused. They were different in that aspect. Allyson thrived in this environment; she looked forward to the next mission, the next deep dive into work, and another way to run from who she was. She was trying to be better, but hiding who she really was - kept her alive. ​

Allyson looked towards the smoldering cinders and opened her mouth, nothing came out, but she frowned and forced it. Ripley was important to someone that she had once cared about, despite everything that happened. Wandering over, Allyson tried again. "I want to say - things get easier the more you do it, but - don't let them. Better that you keep that desire to be home - to go home and have someone waiting for you." A small smile, trying to find a way to reassure the other woman. "You'll get home again. I promise," Allyson hesitated, unknowing how much Ripley had heard from others about her. "I got your back, even if -" Allyson cut herself off, and let the rest of what she was going to say float in her mind, something or someone told you not to have mine. "I don't leave anyone behind." The Corellian finished, nodding, Allyson was fully prepared to not make it off this planet. For all she knew, Ripley was sent here to assassinate her after her use was done. The easiest way to get rid of a problem was to mask it behind another; Allyson stepped ahead and put her back towards Ripley - a hand reached up and removed the cloth that covered the cybernetic eye. The tech came to life, running the quick sequence of diagnostics. ​

​

The eye quickly picked up on the signal of the two slicing spiders attached to Allyson's back; she would be able to guide them through their slicing through the mechu deru connection. The modifications that the SIA had done after Locke and Key delivered the custom mod showed that there were pieces of it that prevented her from fully controlling it to her desire. M had complete control of Allyson - if the Chiss ever so wanted it. The thought made the woman uneasy; Corellians by nature were living, breathing, free souls. Shaking it off, she pulled a syringe from her pack and shoved the needle into her hip. Instantly, the cool liquid entered her body as she could feel the haze of her allergies start to give way. Zeltrons, the one damn near-human species she was allergic to, and there were two in her life now. ​

"From my scouting earlier, we can cut through the sewer system to get to the command center. Unless you have a better route in mind?" Allyson looked over her shoulder towards her partner and smiled. The faint red glow of the cybernetic eye shined unnaturally behind the viridescent iris.​

Vitals of the Zeltron showed up on the HUD, and Allyson's test worked, which meant the eye was in peak performance. Excitement filled the Corellian; missions like this were her forte; she lived for them. Making her way down the opening floor of the warehouse, she waited for Ripley to follow or provide an alternate route. "Come on -" Pausing for a minute as she waited for Ripley, she tried to figure out a way that maybe they can try and get to know each other if she was wanting. Allyson hadn't suggested doing so when they were waiting for orders, mostly to avoid the awkward feelings of rejection. ​

"Got any questions?" Allyson chuckled unsure as to why she decided this was a good time as any to ask.​