Skirmish The Red Sons [SJC/Warlords of the Sith - Roche Raid]

[Zassat Rond]

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Aboard the Tuk'ata Class Battleship The Reliquary ​

Hyperspace, En Route to Roche

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The chanting of the Sith Battle Priests of the Red Sons Sith Battle Chapter echoed across the dull grey plating of the Meditation Sphere Chamber. Though their speech the harsh language of the old tongue of the Sith Pure-Bloods, their voices were soft, penitent, and darkly comforting. The stood, draped in red robes with hoods drawn and adorned with red armor decorated with Sith Talismans, ahead of mustered Chapter Battalions of the Red Sons. Korribanian Incense drifted in aromatic wafts of dark smoke from incense burners hung from black steel staffs. Their chiming chains counted the beats of the chants and punctuated the verses of old speech that made the Dark Side churn within the chamber – summoning the Dark Side to bless the Battle Chapter Troopers and invigorate the Sith Talismans they all wore on their armor’s breastplates.​

The Red Sons, bio-engineered Sith Pure-Blood Clones of their Lord Chapter Commander, Zassat Rond, quietly let the Dark Side wash over them. They rested in knelt poses with their heads bowed down. Though all Sith Pure-Bloods were born with the ability to manipulate the Force, especially that of the Dark Side, the clones of the Red Sons were engineered to be only receivers of its powers. Their true prowess breed and engineered to be warfare and tactical command. They were of hulking stature and musculature like the genetic progenitor Zassat, who knelt ahead of the entire Battle Chapter. His helmet besides his body, exposing his bald head and austerely chiselled features.​

“Darkness be with you, sons of Korriban,” the leading Sith Battle Priest said, ending his chanting in a final affirmation.​

“Darkness be with us,” the Red Sons replied in a united reply.​

Zassat stood, just as he rose to full height, his clones began their rise. Carrying his helmet up, he fastened it back on and locked it into place with the neck plate of his armor. The Red Sons donned their helmets and approached their Chapter Commander. A crimson steel plated BB Unit, S1Q5 model, rolled by his side. It slid its cylinder head back and from its single large eye port spat a hologram map of the Roche Asteroid, several key locations had been highlighted by blinking windows of rotating data. Zassat pressed his large finger through the ghostly asteroids disturbing their images as she pointed to their planned location of attack – an old Sith Imperial Station once a military station of the old Sith Empires of the Empress Ashin Varanin and that of Darth Revan millennia before her.​

“Our target is this station and its preserved data banks which the Silver Jedi have been steadily salvaging for their profane uses,” Said Zassat, “We shall liberate that burden from them. With extreme prejudice.”​

“We, the Red Sons shall be the vanguard for this attack,” Zassat nodded to the S1Q5 who in turn changed the image to a order of battle read out, “Our forces shall be accompanied by the Battle Chapters being coordinated by the Embers Battle Chapter (Ilitherna ). And the command of this Battleship under Admiral Hideki Satou . Beyond this our forces are augmented by the Sith Knight detachments under the command of each Chapter Commander and his Chapter Captains.”​

In the other Imperial orders of the Sith – troopers were nothing but minions to the Sith Lords and Knights. Fleshy shields that carried weapons, to be sent to die for the glory of no one but their Lord. The New Imperial Order and Irveric Tavlar had shown Darth Voyance the folly of such dismissive doctrine. In the Warlords, soldiers led soldiers, they were Knights of a different kind – champions of their own ambition which lent itself to the ambition and victory of the Warlords. As such soldiers had the command of military operations with Sith Knights, Battle Priests and Spawn Masters acting as augmented special detachments who helped the troopers fight against Force Users and other special enemies. This was the crux of the Sith Battle Chapters – to foster soldiers of opportunity and greed and avarice, soldiers that fought for themselves and as such grew the power of the Warlords who patronized their rise.​

The meeting over the Red Sons left to descend to the Tuk’ata Battleship The Reliquary’s main hangar. There the other Battle Chapters had gathered with their Sith detachments – Battle Priests buffing talismans and infusing Dark Side links to their troopers as Knights checked their chivalric weapons of war, lightsabers and armor. Zassat and his Red Sons approached their gunships and nearby was one of the Chapter Captains of the Embers – the brutally precise warrior Ilitherna .​

“Hail, Captain Ilitherna,” said Zassat raising his massive fist in a greeting salute, “Is your Chapter Battalion ready?”

---

​

Tags: Karra Tor Caltin Vanagor​

 

[Hideki Satou]

"The Masamune will always be your home, as will the Yokai. But for now be my eyes and ears. Go along with my master's plan."

Those were his Oyabun's orders to him before he was given as temporary tribute to Darth Voyance's fleet. Admiral Hideki Satou stood on the bridge of the Sith Battleship Reliquary, his eyes watching the bridge as they prepared for the raid. A single ship raid could accomplish much, especially one like the Sith Battleship he commanded now, but he wondered if they were underestimated the Silver Jedi. His gaze shifted to the blue lines of hyperspace and he felta calming sensation wash over him.

"Lieutenant," he called, looking towards the helm. It was a question, not a statement, its meaning easily understood by the well-trained crew of the vessel. Where did these Warlords attain such loyal and well-trained ship crews? Where did they get the credits for the ships themselves and where were they built? He was an Admiral in the navy but it was a rank given to him by his Oyabun which marked him as an outsider leaving him out of the loop with a lot of the fleet's movements and routes.

"We're dropping out of hyperspace in five Admiral," the helm officer replied, his and already gripping the hyperspace lever and easing it back. By the count of five the blue corridor of light began reverting to the inky black of space, starlines reverting to stars of far-off systems. Systems, he had no doubt, that the Sith Warlords wished to conquer.

"Launch fighters," he said quietly. He hated the Sith fighters. To be honest he hated all droid fighters. Despite advances in droid brain tech they still lacked the imagination of organic pilots and their formations were always easy to spot for a trained eye making them easy to counter. But for now, it was all the Sith could offer him. Hideki held his chin in thought as the battle display lit up with the station, the Sith fighter squadrons, and the SJO's defenses.

In the distance a trio of the fighters descended on an SJO research vessel and pelted it with laser cannon fire, its first burst tearing through the engine housing and the second blowing its bridge. On the tactical, there was one less vessel represented. There were no civilians in Sith combat.

Ilitherna Zassat Rond Karra Tor Caltin Vanagor

 

[Ilitherna]

// Hideki Satou | Zassat Rond | Karra Tor | Caltin Vanagor \\​

The Galaxy had grown fat on Peace. That ideal that the Jedi shouted to the High Heavens, the ideal that the Galactic Alliance lived and died for, the shout of Defiance that rang across the entire New Imperial Order, and the promise that the Sith Empire made with it’s blaring propaganda. Peace was a common man’s gift, it was a choice in this universe. The governments of the Core and Outer Rim remained secure enough to promise that their citizenry would never see a fighter roaring overhead, a destroyer blotting out the sun, or a flurry of blaster bolts turning their homes into the scenes of carnage of desecration that so often played in the background of Ilitherna’s dreams. The Galaxy had grown weak on Peace, the idea that everyone would go to bed peacefully every night, the idea that ideologies and religion could promise a better end once your soul finally drifted off to the Netherworld.

Peace wasn’t a lie, peace was something so many lived in each and every day. It was something that the common man wielded like a weapon in their everyday lives, something that you woke up with, not thinking about it. As you went about your day in the factory, the field, or whatever profession it was that the dregs of the Free Worlds claimed. It was a calming sensation.

Life without torment, without hate, fear and remorse was something that Ilitherna couldn’t allow the Galaxy to live without. They would die and burn at her hands it means that she could give them the gift of a blazing spark of fear for the first time in their lives. Real fear, immediate fear. Not the fear of your loved ones drifting away from disease, or the fear of your father marching off to war on some long forgotten front, not the type of fear that you can store in the back of your mind and let slip away. But real fear, the fear that stomps through the safe spaces constructed out of the love and memories of your youth, the fear that puts a blaster to your head and the only thing that has saved you is the fact that the trigger hasn’t fallen home yet, the fear that shocks the heart, the fear that the murderer craves and the peaceful fear.

The fear of death, for the joy of life.

The fear that just this once, there is no saving you. No magical end to your story, no happily ever after, just a smoking hole bored into your head from the Servants of the True Gods of the Galaxy.

This was the gift that Chapter Captain Ilitherna had promised to the Galaxy, and she intended to do right by that promise.

The 13th Ember Battalion was nothing unique in the grand scheme of things, they wore, by and large, the same standard red gammaplast that one would expect Sithtroopers to carry. They all spoke in the same, well-accented and scholarly bred voice of ur-Kittât, and they were regimented to fulfill the rule of the Warlords wherever they saw fit. However, there were marks that made them stand out.

Each and every 13th Ember Soldier had marks scrawled into their armor, at random, tally marks. Kills. Without fail. Even the greenest among them held his or her own scars, their fellows they had slaughtered in training, to mark their superiority and will to power over even their peers. And unlike a vast majority of the Sith Warlords Regular Army, that regarded the Sith are a mere extension of their will, another section of the Army, the 13th Embers revered them. Prayers and kneeling, seeing them as Deities in the Flesh, blessed by the Force and gifted to the Galaxy to purge it of peace and weakness. However, this also translated to an overwhelming love, and appreciation for the Sith. Regarding them a folk-gods, friends to the common sentient.

“Hail, Captain Ilitherna,” said Zassat raising his massive fist in a greeting salute, “Is your Chapter Battalion ready?”

Ilitherna turned to greet the Pureblood, raising her own fist to return the salute.

“Of course, Lord Commander. The 13th Embers have been dying to spill blood in the name of the Dark Saint. The preparatory duels and brawls that they’ve engaged in have caused more fatalities than normal. They’re worked into a frenzy, but I can assure, once they are on the field, there will be none of that. Calculated slaughter, soul by soul. I can promise you that.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

REDEMPTION IS NEVER OUT OF REACH...​

Location: Roche​

Equipment: Conservator(Lightsaber), Vanguard(Backup Lightsaber)​

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes​

Starship: Starlight Sentinel​

Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"​

Desbre Gensan , Milya Vondar (If they wish to be involved, up to them)​

Tag: Karra Tor Zassat Rond Hideki Satou Ilitherna​

​

He could not do anything about the ships that were dropping out of hyperspace, they were enormous, and as capable and accomplished a pilot as he is, there was no way. Caltin could not even do anything about the fighters that were launching, sure he could outfly many of them in “The Starlight Sentinel” but there was an issue with the sunlight engine and it was being repaired in the station’s hangar bay. So that left him to round up station security and forces and prepare to work with them to repel any impending invasion.

They all were soldiers, but it was still frightening for many of them, as most were either in their first deployment or early in their careers. This was nothing wrong in their case, it happens, but if they did not stand up now, they would probably never get the chance to do so again. This was an important moment in all of their lives, and that was something Caltin could help them with. Getting their attention by hanging off of the side of a bulkhead, he addressed the crowd of young soldiers.

We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many many long hours of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war, by space, land, and air, with all our might and with all the strength that our ideals and the Force can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalog of sentient crime. That is our policy.

For the service, you have done in this great struggle in which we are engaged I present you sincere thanks for myself and the Silver Concord. I almost always feel inclined, when I happen to say anything to soldiers, to impress upon them in a few brief remarks on the importance of success in this contest. It is not merely for today, but for all time to come that we should perpetuate for our children’s children this great and free existence, which we have enjoyed all our lives. I beg you to remember this, not merely for my sake, but for yours . . . This notion, this ideal is worth fighting for, to secure such an inestimable jewel.

Taking a moment to let that sink in, he did not want to make light of the situation, or its gravity, but to enable the others around him to understand just how important all of it was. This was a battle that they may not win, but they would enable others to get to safety, and by the will of the Force may enable them to evacuate themselves as well.

You will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to our people and existence, ‘Had this day been wanting, the galaxy had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining.'

Shall we allow our audacious enemies to violate with impunity the territory of the Concord? Will you permit the army to succeed which has carried terror into your families? You will not. Prepare then, then, to meet him. Tear from his brows the laurels he has won. Teach the galaxy that a malediction attends those that violate the sanctity of our people and that we will not resort to their level of destruction, but we will not allow it to occur either. The result of our efforts will be unclouded glory and a wave of durable peace.

​

Maybe what he said will inspire them, maybe it will do little more than give them a false sense of security, only time will tell but right now the words he spoke seemed to at least calm the group down and they began checking their weapons. This was good as while Caltin was indeed ready for the fight, there was no way he would be able to handle or repel an invasion the possible size that this could bring on his own. He was good but not that good.

...YOU JUST HAVE TO REACH FOR IT.

​

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

Aboard The Reliquary

"You are strong, brother" Apkari lowered a hand to his fallen comrade. Blood streamed from the beaten Pureblood's nose, as well as dripping off the stock of Apkari's rifle.

"We are strong, Apkari. The Red Sons cannot be stopped." the fallen soldier took Apkari's hand and pulled himself up, wiping the blood from his face with the glove of his other hand.

"You put up quite the fight, we best not be late." Apkari jested with his brother as they turned and made their way from the sparring rooms to the Meditation Chamber. As they moved through the ship, more and more of their brothers joined them. Identical Sith of pure blood, cloned from the superior genes of their commander so that they could serve and die in the name of the Sith.

They arrived en masse for the prayers that were to be said for them. In unison the Red Sons knelt before the priests. The incense in the air soothed them, bringing back hazy memories of places they had never been, things they had never experienced. The genetic memory of a thousand generations lived in their blood, which would soon be spilled on the territory of the Jedi.

The words the Battle Priests spoke imbued them with power, with resolve. It was the final words of their prayer that meant the most.

"Darkness be with us." the clones repeated the final message of their preacher. What followed was the long, silent descent to the hangar bay, where for a time the clones could ponder the words of the priests. It was meditation for most, as they repeated mantras in their heads, focused on their rhythmic marching, or gave their own silent prayer to the dark side of the force.

As they boarded the gunships preparing to take them on to the asteroids of Roche, they began to converse with one another. They spoke of glory, of their superiority to the common soldier, and of course, how they would like to die. They were elite warriors who knew all there was about killing, but it was just as important to know of death in the glorious service of the Sith...

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

Sakadi almost ran through the long corridor of the station's upper levels, alarms blaring and coating the corridor in flashing red lights. She could see the raiders' massive battleship through the large transparisteel windows on her left. She was here on behalf of the Silver Assembly, invited by the Verpine Governor Srkii of Roche. Seeing what was about to ensue, Sakadi was somewhat happy to learn that the governor had been delayed on his way toward the station. It had given her enough time to warn him, along with the Silver Fleet residing in a nearby sector. They would be here soon, all that they had to do was keep the raiders occupied for a while. They could do that… right?

Her hand instinctively reached for the hilt clipped to her belt. There were only a handful of Jedi who had accompanied her to the station. Nevertheless, she was glad to have them here. She probed the station for the presence of Caltin Vanagor . While she didn't consider him a friend, hell, they had barely ever spoken before, she did trust her fellow Master with her life. They had been assigned to the same missions a few times before, and she knew how reliable the battle-hardened self-proclaimed 'big guy' was. Yes, she was glad to have him here.

Once she had traced his presence to the …, Sakadi immediately reached out. "How bad is it?" She was referring to the station's security forces. They were all trained soldiers, but nobody was ever ready for something like this. If they were trembling with fear she understood, although this was really not the time to fear for one's life. There were still Jedi on this station. Instruments of the Force and beacons of hope who would defend it until their last breath.

"I've called for reinforcements, and I'm coming your way now." Sakadi continued. She was determined and ready. The Force was with her. It always was. This station would. Not. Fall.

Zassat Rond | Hideki Satou | Ilitherna | Apkari​

 

[Zassat Rond]

EN ROUTE TO TARGET STATION

Within the gunship, Zassat Rond, encased in his special pureblood clone armor, tapped the buttons on his vambrace. The buttons summoned a miniature feed of the space outside the gunship, which had disgorged itself from the bowels of the Reliquary as it plumetted from hyperspace. Viper Probe Droids, deployed early in the Reliquary's deployment fed images to Zassat's vambrace holoprojector and comm-link. The Silver Jedi had deployed fighters, what contingents were around to patrol the ruins of the old Golan III Model station. Prodding the hologram with his free hand he resized and spun the image across different angles. He pondered what systems on the long abandoned station were still operational. It was nothing more than an archeological site - as its use by Empress Ashin and the elder Sith Empires were of interest to the Jedi research teams come to probe relics of lost Sith domination. Beside him the other clones, born from his genetic sampling, had busied themselves with their routines of war.

His pondering were shattered when the gunship shook. Zassat rose slowly and removed the map from his projection, switching to a comms-channel with the pilot. "Report!" he growled. The Red Son Clone Pilot on the other end replied with strained breath and groans as the gunship shook once more and dipped in path shaking everyone inside. "Taking heavy fire Lord Commander!" said the Clone Pilot, continuing, "The station's defensive guns are still online in some parts. They are battering us." Zassat looked to his clone brothers and then back to his comm-link on his vambrace. "Evasive maneuvers and prepare for a hard landing. I want us in that station Pilot. Forget tactical entry." The gunship shook once more, rattling the Clone Battle Chapter troopers inside. "Roger that, Lord Commander," said the Clone Pilot. ​

​

Zassat cut the link and turned to his Red Sons, "Brace for impact. We're going in hard!"​

​

The gunship, now screened by escorting droid starfighters spewed from the Reliquary, moved to ram through a section of the old station's dilapidated structure. As a ruined station it had many gaping maws of tangled durasteel, old wounds from older battles. They provided excellent brute force entry points but such areas were devoid of any life support or functioning electrical systems - once in they'd have to zero-g maneuver and cut their way in. The gunship took glancing blows that scorched its crimson paint and hull. But, it found its entry. An old hangar blown into a cavernous alcove of wreckage and mangled metallic ribs. The gunship crashed onto the debris covered floor of the blasted hangar. It slid for some time before coming to a hard stop. Zassat stood up from where had braced himself and spoke some commands, "Set life support systems to vacuum, and prepare for zero-G action! Red Sons MOVE OUT!"​

Apkari Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Caltin Vanagor Ilitherna Hideki Satou​

 

[Starlin Rand]

Location: Aboard the Steward of Zeffo, near the edge of the space battle
Enemies: Hideki Satou (engaging with Sith droid fighters) | Apkari | Ilitherna | Zassat Rond
Allies: Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | Caltin Vanagor

Starlin just happened to be in the neighborhood when a distress signal from the SJ station on Roche reached him. It was garbled, but judging from the frantic tone, it sounded like they were in serious trouble. Being a reckless wannabe hero Jedi, he immediately decided to help, despite not knowing what he would be up against.

His ship blasted out of hyperspace to find an entire fleet had arrived to attack the station. The heavens were alight with blaster fire and explosions as ships were damaged or destroyed. Gaping at the sight of the warships in astonishment, he opened up a channel to the station. "Hello? Er, this is Starlin Rand of the Steward of Zeffo. I got your distress call—"

A group of enemy fighters swarmed toward him. Cutting off his message, he initiated evasive maneuvers, darting away from the ships. His vessel was quick and nimble, and he at least knew how to escape a sticky situation, but he had no experience in high-intensity space combat like this. Well, maybe now was the time for him to get some experience under his belt.

Opening himself to the Force, he turned around and unleashed a barrage of fire upon the fighters. Several were hit, their ships exploding silently. Starlin didn't feel them die—these were droid fighters! In that case, they would be using predictable flight patterns, and he wouldn't have to live with his conscience afterwards.

Circling around, he continued to evade, giving his weapons a chance to cool before firing again. He couldn't stay out here for long, all by himself. Didn't the Jedi have other fighter pilots who could help cover him? Or was he alone? That wouldn't be good. He kept fighting for now, intent on survival, but if nobody came soon he'd have to get the hell out of there.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...
​

Location: Name here (Optional)​

Equipment: Conservator and Vanguard 2.0 (Lightsabers)​

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes​

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Dilorian in cargo bay)​

Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"​

Tag: @​

Enemies: Hideki Satou (engaging with Sith droid fighters) | Apkari | Ilitherna | Zassat Rond
Allies: Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | Starlin Rand

​

What were the Sith doing here? This was a small out of the way science station, what good would be showing up to attack it do them? This was pointless to dwell on as Caltin was standing in front of the magnetic field and saw a gunship coming in hard. She was escorted by what looked to be a small contingent of droid fighters and while the defenses of the station itself were lighting her up, she was coming in. If they were going to land, they were not going to do so easily.

Not if the big guy had anything to say about it.

Reaching out through the Force, Caltin grabbed a hold of one of the droid escorts and slung it… just enough towards the gunship. The intent was to knock the protected vessel off course. The result was successful, but not the result he wanted. The droid fighter sheared off the dorsal aileron, but it was still coming in. So he grabbed the nose of the shuttle, and “threw” it to his right. If that ship was coming in, it was going to be horribly out of control, a flat spin.

It will have to do.

~” Acknowledged. Get set with the evacuation, we’ll hold them off as long as we can.”~

Running back more towards the center of the landing bay, he had heard Sakadi inform him of incoming security, and there they were.

Get to cover positions. HERE THEY COME!

If the gunship made it inside, and if anyone survived, they would see a massive Jedi Master standing in a full brace combat position, lightsaber down to his right side pointed away.

Call your ride and leave. You are not getting past this point.

​

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

​

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

Allies: Zassat Rond | Hideki Satou | Ilitherna
Enemies: Caltin Vanagor | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala
Engaging: Caltin Vanagor

Blood pumped in every one of them as the shuttle came careening in. The shuttle was thrown off its straight trajectory by the force of Master Vanagor. The soldiers braced for the unpleasant impact as the shuttle spun, crashed, and slid along the hangar floor.

The Red Sons were on the move the moment it stopped for good. No moment of respite for the station's defenders. The shuttle door opened and blasters started to fire, but not Apkari's. His blaster hung at his side as he reach for the metal object attached to the back of his armour. The handle of the weapon extended with a simple pull, and the flick of a switch activated the glowing blue threads of plasma. Apkari held the laser axe high with pride.

His vision narrowed across the hangar to the Jedi. A worthy foe among blaster fodder. He gripped his axe firmly with both hands and began a bounding charge across the burning hangar. Intense hatred focused directly on the servant of the light, whom it was Apkari's very existence to wipe out.

"JEDI! You stand in the path of the righteous darkness no more!" his cry was far less of a challenge than it was a warning. The Jedi master had no choice to deal with the heavy oncoming swing of the headman's axe...

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN...
​

Location: Roche​

Equipment: Conservator and Vanguard 2.0 (Lightsabers)​

Comm-link, Rebreather, Custom Robes​

Starship: Starlight Sentinel, (Dilorian in cargo bay)​

Companion: Astromech R01R - "Roller", Pilot droid Mu51c - "Music"​

Tag: Zassat Rond | Hideki Satou | Ilitherna | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Apkari ​

​

Great, another zealot...​

​

Caltin's back was turned as Apkari bore down on him, the massive Jedi Master was ignoring no one but his focus was on other enemy forces attacking the station. The huge brute made it to within a couple of feet from the massive Jedi Master before the big guy managed to turn around, just barely missing the laser axe that would have split him in two. He could not dodge the shoulder block that would send him careening eight to ten feet backwards against a bulkhead and into some barrels.​

​

"Ow..."​

​

Getting up, checking his jaw for any breaks, Caltin's eyes were on the behemoth in the... wait... is that "Katarn Armor?" His glance was nothing more than a glance as his focus was again pulled away with a Sith Trooper slugging him with a sucker-punch. Swiveling face to face with the moron that just did that, Caltin could only glare at him as if to ask "Really?!" He didn't have much more time than that though as another got him in a bearhug from behind. The would-be pugilist hit him again in the stomach as another hit him in the face. The blows looked a LOT worse than they were, in fact, all they proved to do was annoy the frell out of him. ​

​

Oh... I have had enough of this...​

​

Breaking the hold, Caltin grabbed the closest one to him by the chin of the mask and threw him a good nine to ten feet, the next one would not be so lucky as he was pushed, with his own rifle was used as a blunt instrument against him across the helmet. The one behind him? His armor would be his weakness as, with the help of the Force, Caltin crushed it around the Sith. His attention back on the trooper who slammed into him in the first place, Caltin reached out through the Force and pulled Conservator to his hand. The monster in armor was cutting a swath through security and Rangers. This would not stand.​

​

Hey ugly... pick on someone your own size!​

​

Snap-Hiss​

... YET THE DAWN ALWAYS COMES.

​

 

[Syd Celsius]

Flying: Throwback SSF

Wearing: 451 Suit

Aiding: Starlin Rand

Syd Celsius had not stopped being his master just because of recent disasters.

The words of Jacen Nimdok still lingered in her mind like poison from a snake bite lingers in the body.

She had given him a few weeks on his own to come to terms with what happened, though she had stressed to him she was never but a Com-Link or Holomail away from contact. Her shaky position in the SJC and GA given her recent actions had led her into a sort of semi-hiding. Not vanishing completely but appearing here and there.

But she was always ready to help her student.

She had been on Naboo, moonlighting as the False Dark Adept Lyli Dragi , busily assassinating a man at long range for plotting a deadly attack on the SJC from within Confederacy Space. Lyli had thought she was being paid to murder him. In truth it was weed pruning.

No sooner had the Blaster Bolt from a smirking Lyli's rifle hit than the Syd within Lyli had sensed her student's distress. It had been enough for Lyli to instantly lose control, her artificial mind broken apart as casually as it was put together, her flesh and personality instantly reverting back to Syd's, who had immediately packed up and changed into her own equipment, hopping into her black Starfighter, her only concern helping her student.

Inside the cockpit, a recreation of a fighter from the ancient Jedi Civil War, the only thing marking out some form of individualism was a single photo of Laertia Io, who at the time it was taken still had the facial scarring. Syd blew the photo a kiss before firing up the engines and flying out of the Atmosphere going into hyperspace, following her instincts as she punched coordinates in.

Her instincts led her to Roche, an entire fleet of Sith engaging a station. Syd cursed her luck. She was supportive of the Elder Compact, but that didn't mean she was going to allow this.

She finally sensed Starlin and sped toward him, heart swelling with pride as she watched him engage Droid Fighters. She immediately opened up with her own burst from her starfighter, whose bolts absolutely shredded through the armor and shields of the other fighters. She was swarmed by multiple fighters, but her own's immense manuevering allowed her to stay out of reach of their bolts, weaving through them and firing in a counter-attack, which burst them open as they hit.

"Padawan! Sensed you needed some help!" Syd said to Starlin after opening comms. "I'll cover you! Let's rip and tear!"

 

[Ilitherna]

// Hideki Satou | Zassat Rond | Karra Tor | Caltin Vanagor Sakadi Marathi Sinvala Starlin Rand Syd Celsius \\​

The twilight black gunship, outfitted with accenting streaks of red, tore through the atmosphere in near total silence. The members of the 13th Embers battle chapter lining the internals, broken into four rows of eight troopers each. The crimson-clad armor catching in the flickering lights that hung above their heads.

Ilitherna marching between the soldiers.

“We fight for the Dark Lady, the Saint herself. We fight, and die, in her name. Our blood is only worthy to be spilt in their cause, in their wars, in their crusades!”

At the sentence end, each of the 13th Chaptermen brought their rifles from the side of their legs, snapping the stock against the floor for a moment before swinging them up so the barrel points past their shoulders.

<”We serve in the Dark to extinguish the Light!”> They shouted, the revelry nearly rocking the gunship off course.

The location, sadly, was much more of a military target than Ilitherna would have prefered for her men. A space station came with a certain level of security, and of course she welcomed the chance for the 13th Embers to sharpen their teeth against actual trained soldiers, it had been far too long since she heard the panicked cries of a non-combatant as her deathsquads stormed through their home and claimed their lives. It had been far too long since they had a proper scorch-and-burn raid with the Embers. It had been far too long since the objective was simply destruction for destructions sake.

This would have to do.

She brought the combat-cap over her head and fashioned the straps around her chin. It wasn’t a full combat face mask, she found that combat missed some of the flourish and art if she viewed it through the film of a HUD.

She brought her carbine up. Slapped a new powercell into the weapon before looking over her men.

Station defenses rocked the gunship as it burned to the hanger.

A song, broken and screeching from a faulty recording, began to blare through the speakers of the gunship.

~Our Masters told us
Someday we would raze
Falling from the Heav’ns
Breaking distant worlds…~

The next verses never managed out as the gunship drifted to it’s side, taking a round to the engine as it spun out and crashed through the portal into the hanger. Eclipsing into the fullsail chaos of the attack as the mound slowly came to a rest. The doors sliding open and the entire squadron of the 13th Embers storming out of the gunship. Raising blasters, picking targets, and slinging rounds into the room.

They would have their revenge.

 

[Stilicho Drumarch]

Allies: Zassat Rond | Hideki Satou | Ilitherna
Enemies: Caltin Vanagor | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala
Engaging: Caltin Vanagor

The Jedi Master was sent back by the barrelling force of Apkari's charge. It was exhilarating to fight the very thing he was born to destroy. Apkari gave a cheer as his brother approached from behind and locked his arms around the huge human, after all: the bigger they are the harder they fall.

Apkari approached from the front with a heavy gait. As he got within a foot of the Jedi, ready to strike him across the face, the Jedi grasped the underside of Apkari's helmet. His head wrenched back, followed by a sharp pain. Within a split second he felt his body lift off the floor and he was plunged backwards into the wreckage of the shuttle.

As he stood to his feet, clutching the back of his neck, he saw the armour of his brother being crushed by the force, molding to his shape and killing him. Rage swelled even higher. So high it was like the crest of a wave about to crash into this dangerous Jedi.

He plucked his axe from the floor as he made another approach. Beaten, bloodied, but not so easily broken. His axe sliced seamlessly through the station guards who tried to swarm him, unaware that they were nothing but gnats to him. His focus would not be swayed away from Vanagor.

Hey ugly... pick on someone your own size!​

"Mrias is xela, Jedi," he uttered in Ur-Kittat. "Die in pain."