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The rapid growth of the Sith Order continued to strain diplomatic tensions of local governments - throwing insults in eachothers faces as defensive pacts break down and organized responses continue to fail. Planets like Delrakkin, Kal’Shebbol, Adarlon, and more have simply surrendered themselves to the whims of the encroaching Dark Tide, bandying further arguments from more distant neighbors at their willingness to surrender without a fight. In turn, this only encouraged further dissolution of their meager military alliances.
Surging forward, all but the most stalwart of planets were unable to build an adequate defense - even with the assistance of major military powers like the Mandalorian Enclave. This in turn spurred a rising sentiment in the Imperium to ignore sovereign borders and independent laws, as the only true Law they recognized was that of the Sith’s. More recently, this has led to numerous issues in one of the only truly established leagues in the region - The RTL.
Sith, bold as they’ve grown, have moved into the region in all but the most administrative capacity - as military fleets jump to worlds like Sullust for trade, raiding, and enslavement. More still have begun to test other fleets in the region, raising piracy in the region significantly. The Warlords move with ever greater greed, and it was only a matter of time before an incident occurred.
In 877 ABY, a Sith fleet entered the Rimward Trade League with the goal of raiding its worlds of strategic resources. The first of these to be assaulted was Tantra, large swaths of Banfra Resin pulled from its stores and shipped off for domestic use with the Imperium. While destruction was minimal, the assault was too quick for a tangible response - but that didn’t stop the RTL from building a defense.
Calling upon their trade partners for military support, and calling its own privateers to service, the Sith Fleet was caught in its approach to Denab. Pulled from hyperspace by a gravitational field, the Sith fleet was ambushed by the combined forces of the Trade League to stop the Sith’s unjust raids - and hopefully strike a deep wound in their fleets.
The Orthis Fleet was ripped from hyperspace travel with a dangerous stillness, shaking it to its core as the fleet tried to get its bearings. Before it could, the combined strike force sent to stop them fired - breaking the front ships in only a moment. In the matter of seconds, hundreds of Sith loyal lives were lost - but the rest rallied in turn. Starfighters were deployed, bomber squadrons let loose, and the fight began with a wild stir as Darth Orthis tried desperately to get his fleet ready for retreat.
Objective I: Hayabusa
The starfighters of both fleets were launched with a practiced accuracy marking their experience in war - to protect, serve, and expand their individual nations. Now they were pitted against each other in the void of space, dancing between ships as they closed in to volley strike one another. Faced with this, only more starfighters were deployed - making them the key to this battle.
Dogfights ensue with a great earnesty, and the Sith seek to depart - ensure they can not escape with their spoils, make them learn a lesson in blood. Destroy them where they stand and make sure they never return.
Objective II: Boarding Action
While the starfighters run their maneuvers, ships have begun to fail. The first volley had irreparably damaged the front corvettes - forcing entire crews to abandon ship. While most would have returned to their own vessels, the Sith had a pride about them that could not be denied - and instead coordinated their fleeing crews into boarding action. Jumping onto a Trade League ship, the Sith have moved to capture and utilize it as a means of returning to Sith space - now with the pride of a ship.
Take the ship from the League, return it to the Imperium with the pride of conquest, and show them the Sith are not so easily cowed.
The ship shook, toppling Von-Kri as the stabilizers failed. All over, the enemy ships swarmed the corvette - and it had only a few minutes left. In preparation of this, the Captain of the vessel had carefully guided the ship into a collision course with an enemy frigate. Inertial dampeners might help the initial slam of one vessel into another, but it still wouldn't feel good.
Quietly, Von held tight to a stabilizing bar deployed in emergencies for gravity loss. He was hyper ventilating, trying to calm himself in preparation for it, the overhead counting reminding him how many seconds until the ship crashed into the other. Five, four, three...
His mind went blank as he clenched his teeth, just as the ship slammed into the other. Entangled by steel and frames, the two carefully sealed the sudden vacuum breach with energy shields - leaving both fully connected. It took a few moments for people to start standing and moving again, but they quickly began to overtake Von as he struggled to stand.
Even then, he eventually did, carefully moving to jump over onto the other ship. Many had already pushed forward judging by the bodies and blaster scorches on the wall - so he ignited his blade and coughed harshly into his wrist. This was not panning out to be a good day.
Equipment | In Bio
Location | Objective II
Tag | Open
The term "Pirate" sounded so unladylike, but hey desperate times called for desperate measures right? Besides, there could be interesting stuff on this ship, hopefully more interesting than the last.
It dawned on Adeline as she messed with a computer that this reminded her of something... Right, back when Jackal was in control. Things like this were easy for that woman, though now she and her were the same person in many ways. Thankfully she retained the memories and skills of her past self, knowing right where to plug in her good ole malware AI right in. It only took a short time for Howl_Runner to break in, allowing the Sangnir to watch cameras and manage security in some places...
Oh come on, you know opening that door and sending that guy into space was funny! You know you would do it as well you little sinner...
Things on the security feed seemed to be going well for her fellow Sith, she casually opened doors for them as they burrowed deeper into this ship. Though this only went so far, she would need a better and more central position in order to tamper with everything.
She takes out a white handkerchief, soon staining it red as she cleaned the mess around her mouth.
The door had remained closed and locked, silence had filled the gore ridden room and hall...
"Ambush successful," the words echoed through the corridors of the corvette as Roth checked the visor of his helmet. The words echoed through his brain, even over the sound of klaxons blaring through the corridors and the repetitive call of All Hands-General Quarters. All hands- General Quarters. Man battle stations. Hostile craft engaged.
The words were familiar and gave him a sense of comfort. There was a familiarity to them. A rhythm and a purpose that set his bootsteps echoing across the durasteel deck. He shoved through crewmen on their way to their stations. The rank bars on his shoulders were clear, but nobody was paying close attention to those.
Roth didn't blame them. But he soon strode onto the hangar deck of the small carrier, ducking between deck techs and officers as they coiled up fuel lines and oxygen systems.
"Colonel on deck!" A voice called and Roth waved them off.
"Fighter status?" He called across the roar of engines that set the air thrumming and the deck shaking beneath his feet.
"Hostiles launched, but the ambush caught the lead ships," the call came back from his ground chief.
"Very good," Roth replied, hanging from the ladder with one hand and one foot. "It's good to be back."
"Good to have you back, Roth," the crew chief, a grizzled Imyni with a headband around his feathers, said. "About damned time they pulled you off training duty and put you back where you belong."
"Let's see if they made the right choice," Roth said with a laugh as he dropped into the fighter's cockpit. The smell of grease and metal filled his nostrils. "See if I've still got it."
The Imyni snorted through his beak. "Sure you do, Roth. What's that your family always said?"
"I've got rocket fuel for blood and a heart on fire," Roth replied, shaking his head as he tightened the buckles on the helmet and sealted the visor in place.
"That's the spirit," the Imyni stepped away from the ladder and grabbed the fuel line. "Clear the deck! Standby for launch!"
"Wild Knights, this is Knightmare," Roth said through the channel. "Sitrep and check-in. Tower, Knight One ready for launch."
"Roger that, Knight One. You are cleared for launch. Make a hole for the rest of them." The voice crackled through the comm and Roth gave a wry smile.
"There's no buildings here like there were on Thyferra, Tower. It won't be that easy here."
"Just means you can use all your tricks without worrying about gravity, Knight One." There was confidence in that voice, a new one at that. The ship's captain, someone Roth remembered from the GADF days.
"Aye, aye, Captain," Roth replied, shaking his head and then giving a thumbs up to the crew chief, followed by a quick jerk up. The Imyni nodded and ducked under the ship, detaching the last cables and hauling the ladder away from the side of the ship. Roth took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, flicking the repulsors.
The fighter shook beneath him, vibrating through his bones. Roth waited a moment, listening, and then nudged the power up a notch. The ship rose off the deck, and the thrill of excitement flooded his veins. The smell of fighter fuel filled the cockpit. The scopes ran green and a series of green dots flickered to life across the command console. "All systems green."
"Knight One, launch-" the voice over the intercom, muffled by the cockpit, said. Roth turned to his crew chief and saluted, throwing a wink and a grin for good measure, and then nudged the thrusters. They flared to life behind him and sent the vessel forward. It pressed him lightly against his seat, and he felt the familiar sensation of the flight suit adjusting to the g-forces. The hangar opened ahead of him and he could see the dark of space.
There was a familiarity, a comfort, to its vastness and scope, even its cold sterility. The atmosphere dropped away as he slipped through the hangar's shield, followed by a shift in gravity.
He was home. He could feel it now. The rattle in the fighter as he pushed the throttle forward, weaving through the formation, rising high on the vertical axis to take a look at the formation. Corvettes, mostly. The carrier and the interdictor at the back, with the Tantara at the front, flanked by the two Starhammers on both sides in a wedge-like formation.
The initial hit had levelled the playing field, but it was a game of time. Stars streaked past as he he arced the fighter up and above.
"Tower, reporting a collision- hostile and friendly. Energy shields have sealed them together. Looks like one of the bulk freighters."
"Roger that, Knight One. We'll dispatch S&R."
"Better send some Jedi to be safe." Roth replied, watching the streaks of light indicating thruster engines and missiles. "Eyes on enemy fighters. Moving to engage."
"A-firm," the reply came back. "Rest of the Wild Knights and the other squadrons will be right behind you."
That was good. They would have to work together on this. The privateers had been summoned, as had the defense forces from all neighboring systems, and he'd heard Denab had even made a quick contract with a local armada-for-hire, someone new on the scene. He knew that messages would have gone out to the Galactic Foreign Legion and Sullustan Home Guard.
Whoever had planned this raid had been vastly overconfident. It would be a matter of timing. Could they escape beyond the reach of the interdictor frigate before their ships were disabled? Could the heavier ships arrive before the larger raiding fleet pummelled the small task force to pieces?
Roth tapped idly on the controls and closed his eyes, letting his mind envelop the fighter around him. He and it were one—reliant on each other. Working to make the other better. The ship may not have technically been alive, at least according to any scientific, Jedi, or Sith philosophy he had ever heard of, and the Jensaarai indeed considered him eccentric. But he knew better. There was something special about the harmony between mind and machine, sinew and wiring, blood and hydraulics.
His eyes snapped open.
"Pilots, let's get in there and stick some torps so far up their Sith backsides they'll choke," Roth said at last on the League channel. "We kicked Sith shebs all across the galaxy before, and let's show them we plan to do it again. The New Imperial Order thought we were just a bunch of merchants; then we leaked their black site data to the galaxy. Now the Sith are thinking they can roll right in on us. Time to show them the same lesson."
There was a time, where he would lift his nose in protest to things like this. Who would need such enemy vessels? The Sith can create far more impressive things with the use of the Force, create creatures that in Space, would be nearly indestructible. Even now, it was possible to find a Exogorth and fling it at the enemy with the Force, use of thousands of Mynocks to eat through the hulls of starships...but instead, of all the fun ways to destroy the enemy...they were capturing a vessel.
The Dark Lord of Rebirth could have gone on for a while in his mind, until of course the collision just like the other two took. The vessel shook violently, colliding as he went forward for a moment. Some things apparently never change in tactics, the arcs of durasteel and structure twisting violently into a coherent shape. Giving a deep breath, the battle cry erupted with the Darth Reficite running forward, flicking his double-bladed lightsaber in a throw straight forward. Several were cut down quickly as he gave a strange twirl, before it even finished being thrown, it had returned back into his hands from Force Teleport.
Flicking the blades side to side rather quickly, deflecting blaster bolts and going through soldiers, it became a bit of a bloodbath. Experience while only a total of two hundred years, was still useful two to three thousand years after the fact. Flicking the lightsaber towards the side one last time, the hallway became clear as his vision started to cloud. Perhaps a few dozen was just killed? The Souls were pouring into his body as of that very moment, it was almost exhausting, still not used to such a sudden influx since his rebirth. The soldiers all around him pressed onward, Darth Reficite taking a few steps forward as the lightsaber of his was extinguished, his strength slowly fading for a moment as he became blinded by souls.
Looking to the side, his breathing became a bit ragged as he noticed the strange the Echani Hybrid known as Von-Kri
from near the back. Carefully, both hands came together on his own lightsaber. Keeping focus, several large red mists started to appear around Darth Reficite with his own vision starting to clear up but a good amount of fatigue starting to set in response.
"I am refusing right now...but the souls need an outlet soon. You know them better than I...who is worth their life to be returned? From here or beyond?"
It was indeed a strange question, he had only been let into the Sith Order but timing was now crucial...either a being will be brought into the living or the Force Phantoms will come to play.
Rhiza Dural sat in the back of the little stealth assault fighter and waited for landing aboard the friendly vessel, currently under seige from the Sith, the darksiders seemingly relegated to the role of pirates.
Rhiza had come west to join the Rimward Jedi after the collapse of the Ashlan Kaiseriech, wishing for a new start, but also because there was still too much baggage for her elsewhere in the galaxy. Due to her specific powers, she had been assigned the role of Jedi Spectre and relished this oppurtunity as the first to official hold that role. It would not be hugely different to her life as an Ashlan Juror where her skills as a Sith Slaver for moving unseen, tracking and capturing people had proven invaluable. At the front of the craft was their pilot and of course her unofficial padawan, Eleri, a Zeltron woman she had freed from slavery nearly four years ago and begun training after she had insisted on joining Rhiza on her journey.
The stealthy ship approached, cloaked and running dark to avoid any point defence that may be under Sith control and approached what looked to be a large hangar. The Hangar shields broke the stealth of Rhiza's fighter, but by this time they were already close enough to land.
As the fighter landed, the cockpit open and Eleri lept out, activating her blue lightsaber and immediately being forced onto the defensive by at least three boarders that wished to repel the newcomers. Rapid fire lasers blasted from behind a barricade. Eleri blocked shot after shot, attempting to make her way forward but she was pinned by this barrage from a guarded position. It was only when the white blade of Rhiza hummed into life behind them did the shooters realise the feint. Rhiza had left, invisible under her force stealth and allowed her learner to destract them whilst she crossed the room and left over the wall of crates and other metals. She landed behind them and with a few flicks of her wrist the four soldiers were eliminated.
Eleri walked across from her pinned position and spoke. "I don't like that game, your going to get me shot." she said to her teacher, raising an eyebrow in an accusing manner.
"Oh, but you're so good at it." Rhiza purred back to the Zeltron with a grin "Anyway the force would never rob the galaxy of one so beautiful"
Eleri sighed shook her head as Rhiza reached to her comm back to the League. <<I have breached loading Hangar six, limited resistance, landing further troops should be fine.>> she closed the comm and turned around just moments before the door in that direction opened and another pair of soldiers wearing the markings of the Sith walked darted in to take cover and open fire.
Nathan Bloodscrawl, newly a member of the league, had landed on Qi-Ko partly out of curiosity but also because he was looking for someone. Someone who had fled to this place and was living in one of the abandoned and ancient villages that dotted the landscape.
The planet was very strong with the Force. This much his own barely returning senses in that sort of thing told him as he walked its woodlands. He trusted his gut, hesitantly allowing the Force to guide his steps in the destination he needed to go.
He kept his fully sealed helmet on, as it obscured his features. He didn't know what kind of reception he would receive, but he wasn't going to make the first move until she did.
His walk carried him deeper into the woods, free of predators. The strength of the area ahead gave an electric tingle on the spine.
He eventually came across an old temple, upon which a small village had been woven into the surrounding orchards around it's base. A quaint location. Quiet. Lots of scenery. Lots of places to escape to.
He cautiously crept forward, not liking how many attack angles there were.
He heard the power up whine of a blaster.
"Turn around...slowly..." the woman's voice ordered.
Nathan turned around extra slowly, hands up. He stared at the voluptuous, bronze skinned woman with flowing chocolate hair that looked greatly like his own Master, Moya De Lifte in a long, gleaming black catsuit.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Looking for you."
"I won't go quietly. I'm not involved with Laertia Io anymore. I haven't been for over a decade."
"I'm not here to arrest you or kill you. I want to talk."
"Why?" the woman demanded.
"I want to know more about her. Before she fell."
"And why is that important to you?" the woman demanded, battling a growing sense of unease.
Nathan slowly removed his helmet and she stood back in shock, dropping her blaster.
"That...that's impossible..." she whispered. "You're dead. My creator saw you die. You and your wife..."
Nathan sat in the cleared out, abandoned temple, eating the stew she had prepared. Nathan looked, all around Moya were little curios and such. But what drew his attention where the frames of Moya and the woman who was the spitting image of his wife Lysandra.
He noticed Moya petting a lone rabbit with brown fur. It looked old. Moya's resemblance to his master greatly disturbed him.
"We used to raise rabbits together, when she was still a traveling magician. She'd pull them out of hats...use them to do cute tricks..." Moya said, stroking the rabbits ears.
"When I left your daughter, I kept the rabbits. She let me. They couldn't go where she was going. She didn't want them to smell the blood on her."
She let the old rabbit crawl towards him as he sat on the bench eating his stew. It sniffed him, then scurried back to Moya.
"Cortosis here was her favorite. He's the only one left now. The others died naturally. Though maybe a little bit of heartbreak was involved." Moya admitted.
"What was she like?"
Moya sighed. "In her prime? For a moment...for one glorious moment...it seemed like she was on a path that would cement her as a great and powerful Jedi. But more than that, she was brave, and headstrong, and fought for what and who she believed in. She fought with absolute conviction. And to an extent, she may well have saved thousands...at the beginning. But that's all over now. Now it's her versus the Galaxy. Funny thing is, she just outlasted most of her enemies. chit's all fethed up. Only three major factions struggling now. And they're all more focused on killing each other than they are her, leaving her free to kill at her hearts content."
"I sent her with a caretaker...one made by your creator..." Nathan spoke quickly, trying to piece it all together.
"Near as I can tell, an explosion destroyed that caretaker's original body about three to four years after Julia was old enough to walk. She grew up alone. On Nar Shaddaa." Moya replied.
Nathan's grimace grew deeper. Then he perked up. "What do you mean, Original Body? She got a new one?"
"The explosion occured aboard the dynamic class freighter you sent her to this era in. Only the crystal housing the caretaker's mind remained. And then Laertia did something that, in hindsight, should have been a sign to me of what Laertia was willing to do. A Powerful Witch named Arianna Belasko, who was an old enemy of your daughter, attempted to twist Laertia to the Dark Side. completely."
"I know of this witch. She was a Brain Demon Cultist. One of the worst."
Indeed he knew. Countess Belasko had been one of his strongest allies financially speaking before he rejected her marriage proposal, citing that there was a core of crazy in her he had merely been doing his best to quietly ignore up to that point. She hadn't taken it well, hence him and that snake Zabka having to arrest her in a bloody raid on her palace at Naboo. The citizens were so outraged by her horrific crimes they burned Arianna's mortal self at the stake. Then the Brain Demon had rescued her soul from chaos and the rest was history.
"Go on. What did she do?"
"She used the crystal that contained the spirit of that caretaker and used it to take over the real Arianna's body, leading to an Arianna Belasko
that effectively answered to Laertia and my creator alone. The real Arianna's been burning in hell for over two decades." Moya answered.
"Why did you do nothing at all?" Nathan asked. "She trusted you. From what I learned, you were maybe her only genuine moral anchor and you completely screwed it up."
Moya blinked.
"Your daughter programmed me to act like her Mother because she was starved for affection. Had I not been, I might have been able to be more objective." Moya answered. "But that programming sticks. Even now, after all she has done, I cannot stop loving Laertia. Or rather, her memory."
Nathan finished his stew.
"You owe me..." he growled, putting the bowl aside. "You owe me for every screw-up and misstep you made with her. I'm in need of people to help me eradicate that wretched Cult. And you. Will. Help."
Moya stared at him.
"If I refuse?"
"There is no fate I could inflict on you that could possibly be worse than the one you've inflicted on yourself..." Nathan replied in a quiet but viciously cold and calloused tone. "If you don't help me, I'll do the worst thing I could possibly do and leave you here. Alone. Waiting for your last pet to die. How long before you decide to put that sonic pistol to your head after that? And even if you don't...even if you're strong enough to endure permanent lonliness...what will your life be worth? Now, are you going to help me, or are you every bit the incompetent coward I'm tempted to write you off as?"
Moya thought about it, a moment, petted Cortosis.
"I accept your terms..." Moya said. "Follow me...I have something that might help..."
Nathan followed Moya to an old storehouse in the temple.
"It was here when I took the place over." Moya explained, going over to a very ancient lock box past where she was storing her armors.
Nathan peered into the box. To his trained eye he saw four blue Lightsaber crystals.
"Two Jenraux. Two Eralam..." Nathan muttered, looking around. "And a whole bunch of saber parts..."
He glanced at her. "Leave the room. I need to work..." he said without regard for her feelings.
Moya silently left without protest and Nathan began working.
Moya tended to her now vast collection of potted plants for the next few hours while Nathan worked.
(Alien Isolation Item Constructed Sound Plays)
Eventually, Nathan came back out with a hilt of extended length. He flashed on two blue blades...
"R" Trigger to Swing, "L" Trigger to block. Tap L Trigger to parry strikes/blaster bolts
"We'll need resources to fight the Cult." Moya said arms folded.
"I'll handle that on my end. But you seem like a resourceful sort. You've stayed free this long...think of something. Pull your damn weight..." Nathan muttered dismissively, walking past her.
Moya nodded. "Come back in a few days."
"Sure. Whatever." he replied, skulking off.
Present:
He'd had a Starfighter, so naturally he'd been hired, snatched up really, for the operation. He'd refused to fly any fighter but his Aurek, as he had barely begun to relearn how to fly an old school vessel, never mind whatever crazy-ass tech this era dealt in.
Besides, he had grown attached to it.
The Aurek, with the name LYSANDRA-1 on its side, streaked through the stars alongside other allied pilots and mavericks that had been hired in various mismatched fighters.
His fighter, being somewhat faster than the ones employed by Roth Tillian
, opened up with a burst from his heavy laser cannons as the small rag tag bunch of other low level fodder hired made contact with the enemy. He gunned his engines at full speed, as to slow down would mean death at this point.
His cannons found the first victim they had ever tasted and blasted apart the Sith Fighter as hoards of them came in to contact. His Force Senses told him to roll and he did, evading a burst and pulling back to chase the one that had shot at him...
OBJECTIVE 1: HAYABUSA Allies: Rimward Trade League, Freesail Admiralty Foes:Sith Order Ship: Pearl of Manaan [Command Cruiser]
Laulesh's eyes were fixed forward as the stars around the Pearl of Manaan smeared and streaked into beams of incoherency only for the telltale signs of hyperspace travel to give way to the chaotic battlespace between the Rimward Trade League and Sith Order. Starfighters were abundant and lesser ships did battle with one another from across the void between. The Selkath motioned toward with his right hand as he lounged in the command chair within his cruiser "<Forward, half speed, launch starfighters.>" he ordered sternly in his native language.
From within the Command Cruiser claxons wailed and strobes flashed as the hangar was alive with activity as pilots entered their M3-A Scyk Fighters . The Pearl of Manaan only contained a singular squadron of fighters though with care perhaps the presence of them would push the favor towards the Rimward Trade League. As the first fighters left the hangar of the vessel Laulesh pressed a series of keys on the arm of his command chair which routed his message to the contract holders in the Rimward Trade League "<The Freesail Admiralty has entered the battlespace.>" he continued in his native language which would no doubt be translated in progress by the communication's systems "<My fighters have been launched. We will maneuver to your location.>"
Laulesh turned his attention briefly to some of his present crew "<Identify the motherships.>" his plan was inuitive and simple; ID the launch sites of the Sith Order's fighter craft and begin to formulate a plan to remove them from the fight so that they could no longer offer support.
The macabre scene, beautifully designed by those that came before me and the handful of soldiers unlucky enough to have drawn the shortest straws to accompany me into the fray, swooned and cradled my dead heart. Splashes of blood decorated the walls like a Pickman painting, the bodies twisted, and some with holes from blaster fire smoking ever so gently, laid strewn about as if some mad graverobber was too lazy to return the corpses back to their final resting place after plundering their prized possessions.
The stench of death caressed my sense of smell, almost turning me into a frenzied monster; but alas, I must refrain from feasting, for a very important task laid ahead. Our mission was one with great simplicity; capture prisoners for interrogations and if possible, unearth any important data that would or could be used to further damage the RTL in future endeavors. However, we needed to hurry, less we find more scenes like this than living souls.
Relocating to an unmolested adjoining corridor, I led the soldier boys quickly down the hall, stopping only to rummage with quickened precision any room we stumbled upon for any precious and damaging information; but our efforts were thwarted. And no living. It occurred to me that if we were to find the enemy, well, those still able to utilize their lungs, we needed to move deeper into the ship, meaning full engagement and shedding our skins of stealth. Leaving my staff behind was probably for the best. for it can be cumbersome and truthfully, outsides it's nifty and horrifying tricks; it could be a burden in situations like this. So, my bow and my hilt, yes, it's just a simple looking lightsaber hilt....for now.
Out of sight, Pyeth studied the Sith boarders from above. They had long split into several groups, no doubt with their missions to fulfil. The bridge and engineering would be a priority, as were the hangers. Below him, a group of Sith Commandos swept through the cargo bays, searching for anything that might be of use to their Masters. He listened closely to their radio chatter and idle banter, but soon they reached the exit point with the triage centre just beyond it.
If discovered, it would become another Polis Messa Massacre, which he could not allow. The time of the patient hunter was over, he gathered all he could learn from them and identified his primary target. With a push, he descended into the labyrinth of rusting iron his wings catching the air landing without a sound.
Divide.
The group entered a junction, above them a large crane holstering a container. A simple trap he set up earlier, a simple push ejected the pin causing it to drop. Unsurprisingly, the group were quick to react. The rearmost officer retreated, while either flank split into pairs breaking their formation into three groups.
Perfect. Picking his moment, he rushed to the lone Commando's position and grabbed his neck. There was a grunt as Pyeth pulled it back, forcing a damp cloth against his mouth and nostrils. Chloroform worked a treat.
"Report in." A voice echoed from the Commando's communicator.
He fell limp, arms dropping to either side and releasing the rifle to the floor. Pyeth caught it with the Force, reducing a loud thud to a gentle tap. He hastily searched the body for the communicator. "SK-1977 Report In." The helmet. He pulled it free and held it to his beak to respond. 'SK-1997 Reporting.'
"Roger. 360 security on the roof over."
'Roger. SK-1977 Oscar Mike. Out.'
Pyeth smirked, securing the intruder in one of the cargo containers and moving on to deal with the others.
...
Pyeth dragged two bodies through the door, resting the Sith Commandos against the wall. "Pyeth," The Chief Medical Officer greeted him, motioning to a nearby security officer to secure the prisoners. "Did they report our position?"
"No doctor, you are safe for the moment. Please continue with the evacuation of injured personnel. I might have momentarily deceived them, but they will soon realise their squad has gone missing; and will no doubt come in greater numbers."
"That's all we can hope for, thank you."
He nodded, "Doctor, I'm going back and want you to bolt the doors and open them for nobody. I will try and re-group with the other Jedi, and buy you more time."
Old didn't mean redundant. The X-Wing has survived centuries, as had many Empire Era starships. Their pedigree had been proven, time and again, and today would be no different.
The Reliant, for now, was the most advanced ship in the fleet, and her contribution to the coming battles should not be understated. However, she was also an unknown quality and revealing her to the Sith would have been a grave strategic blunder. No matter how much he would like to see the Star Destroyers innards scattered across the sector.
As reports came in of Sith boarding parties, the Admiral grimaced studying the tactical display. A crude depiction of the carnage that was unfolding around them. The Dauntless' momentarily buckled hard to port, her starboard shields flaring with blinding white light as kinetic torpedos slammed into her. The Captain ordered a damage report, but nothing serious.
Ahead of them, the Argon, a Class II Assault Frigate exchanged broadside after broadside its batteries running white hot with continuous use. At their flanks, a half dozen Hermes Corvettes provided cover fire for fighters and the larger capital ship at their core.
"Admiral. We have positive contact with the Pearl of Manaan. They're coordinating attacks on Sith carriers."
Ah. The Selkath had arrived. "Have we established contact?" He asked plainly, the Captain giving an affirmative nod.
"Very Good. Please patch them through."
"Admiral Laulesh. I'm Admiral Quauhatli of the Rimward Morbius Battlegroup. Remind me to thank you for your assistance." Quauhatli mused, "Be advised, we have just received reports of Sith warships attempting several boarding actions across the fleet. I've routed a squadron of Gladius gunships to further enhance your strike capability, use them well."
Von-Kri had been slowly moving through the halls, fighting where fighting needed but mostly minding himself to find a control room. His attention was, however, taken from this goal by the terrifying presence of a Sith Lord who seemed to shake with exhaustion. Von looked at him as he was asked a question, on who's life should be returned, and his words were a bit lost.
"I uh...", he said nervously.
"Have no clue what you're talking about.", he said, before slamming his hand into a nearby control panel for a door - which seemed to be locked. He could sense the distant presence of Adeline Noctua
- but with the door locked he gave up quickly.
"The Sith, I guess?", he said with a quirk of his brow before backing up and without a true response, dipped into a nearby hallway only to be forced to cut down two more League troopers. He quietly swore to himself how weird Sith got, and they seemed to lose their humanity as they grew more powerful, and then the coughing came in.
Disgusting, ragged coughs that brought him to his knees in the isolation of a hallways covered in scorch marks.
Darth Diem enjoyed the afternoon while visiting planet Tosste on a diplomatic mission, being a guest of the planets newly appointed minister for Advanced Development. For it was on this planet that parts of shield equipment were made, that would be used on Mustafar's scorching grounds.
And as the Governor of Binaros, Diem wanted to see could some of their tech help him in conquering the boiling seas of his planet.
The leisure stroll was interrupted by one of the Sith Naval officers, who excused himself, then asked for young Sith's attention.
"This better be good.." Diem said, while looking at the nervous officer.
"My Lord, we received a transmission, call for aid. Seems that fleet led by Darth Orthis got caught in an ambush, near Denab. We are close, so I felt need to report.." officer lowered his gaze to the ground.
Omon(Darth Diem) growled, while slowly moving from side to side, as thou weighing what he should do, his body being the scale.
"That imbecil goes too deep in too Trade Leagues space, and now I gotta potentially die for it!? Bogan damn them!" he pushed the officer from the way and start walking with hard and fast pace toward the villa of his host.
After apologies and promises of returning, Darth Diem issue a Full battle Readiness to the two Light Cruisers in the orbit, that were his escort here.
His capital ship, The Covetous was not here, neither was his planetary fleet. Just two Arquitens Class-Light Cruisers, belonging to Arrgata Sentro
, who send them as his escort. The LC Viserion and LC Sandor.
On them he did have his own personal Tie-X3 fighter (same as Interceptor, only better maneuvering due to the wings being able to part in half).
Not enough, at all. But it'll have to do.. angerly went through his head while he was shuttled on to LC Viserion.
Once on board he ordered them to lightspead just near the coordinates of the SOS transmission. Making sure they don't end up in the middle of the space battle, but on the safe distance.
While the ships prepared for the jump, Omon put on the Sith scaphander, equipped with life support system, gravity pressure boots, jet pack on both back, ankles and wrists in case of being stranded in space, rescue beacon that worked on Sith Empire frequency, blaster, few small proximity explosives on the belt.
He was in the elevator going down to the hanger, once the two ships entered lightspeed.
Location : Exiting Hanger of the Arquitens Light Cruiser / Piloting Tie-X3 Interceptor Objective : 1 Tags :Quauhtli SaculLaulesh
The image looked beautiful and terrible. Beauty of space warfare always had a deep impact of Omon, one of the reasons why he loved ships so much. Terrible part was that they were losing. As far as he could tell.
"Stay here in the rear, shields up. If any smaller fighter charge at you, hook him with tractor beam, them obliterate him. Do not fire on Cruisers and Capital ships until I give you a go ahead. We must first see what's going on, up close." the officer salute him, when he was finished, and he salute back, before disappearing in his cockpit, closing down the hatch behind.
He gave a go ahead for 5 Banchee TIE's to be propelled out from the two Light cruisers, then Diem was propelled last.
His X3 was extremely nimble, able to turn lower half of his wings for 180 degrees, made possible to turn without slowing down at all.
"B1 to B3 form a diamond formation around me! B4 and B5 follow us from 1kilometer away, and be ready to flank any fighters who engage us.
If bigger ships open fire toward us, stay calm, follow my lead of evasion.. make sure you rotate from right to left. Our speed combined with my Force reflexes will give us enough of advantage not to get hit easily."
He had to find out what is going on before anything else. He did notice several Cruisers or Heavy Cruisers, pounding the stranded fleet. While it also seemed that the Sith fleet is boarding them, undoubtedly to take control of them or disable them. Either way it was pretty messy situation.
Suddenly one of his Banshee TIE's open fire, hitting a nearby Trade League fighter.. "Ok.. damn it. We cant do much more, until big guns arrive to help us. We'll take out any fighters trying to destroy boarding parties. Also try to hit as many surface cannons as you can, on the Cruisers. But do NOT move far away from me, or you will be hit." he knew that without his reflexes Tie's would be shredded by the capitol ships.
He made a fast run over the big chunk of debris, just some 100 meters from one of the Cruisers.. when a group of M3-A Scyk Fighters zoomed not fat in front of him. He finally saw his targets.
"Ok boys, these are M3-A's.. their shield generators are not that strong, but they pack a very strong punch. On my mark, D1 fire 1 Proton Torpedo in the middle of them, D2 right after fire 1 Disruptor torpedo. Proton should disrupt at least several of their shields, and Disruptor will leave them immobile." he slowed down his fighter a bit, making sure he does not get caught in the blast "Fire!"
On his order one Proton torpedo burst in to the group of M3-A fighters, and second latter a Disruptor one. If caught in the blast at least several will be either destroyed or immobilized.
"Pull up! Make a 360 roll, then open fire at the M3's" he commanded, while his X3 wings lifted upwards, and make his Tie zoom up without slowing down.
"Where will you go?" "That doesn't concern you." "Please don't shut me out like you do everyone else, don't you see what you're doing?" "It doesn't matter anymore. None of it ever did."
These words and voices flowed through Xiveros' mind like water, he could remember them so easily yet the faces couldn't be seen; veiled by a darkness unknown to the demon, nothing but sound and emotion slowly wearing at his senses and core. Every day he persisted and carried on with the Sith, he never found himself closer to any truer explanation. Only time would be able to uncover the many questions Xiveros held clutched, time was all he had in this world.
A joke of the Force itself or some tangled web of secrets, who knew. Maybe one day he would.
Slow, deliberate footfalls echoed throughout a corridor as the armor clad truth seeker protected himself from oncoming blaster fire, his shield bracing the impact of each bolt as he pushed forward - his goal as of now was to clear out anyone he could find, to tear them asunder and crush their flesh into paste. While a simple task, the work itself was somehow beneath some Sith, almost as if their elevated existence championed them with delusions of grandeur. The Force held no favorites, there was always a reason.
As discussed with a particular Sith Lord from before, Xiveros explained that he was simply a tool. A physical and literal extension of the Force, however it left him unembraced.
Mace in hand, a skull was crushed inward; a cacophony of shouting and further blaster fire ensued, resulting in a haze of sanguine and broken bone. Scorch marks pocked the demon's armor, faint wisps of smoke lingered from the marks as he continued his sweep of the current location. Perhaps investigating a terminal would serve his sense of direction better. Further up ahead from where he stood, Xiveros could hear the thunderous rage of battle between Sith loyalists and whoever it was he himself was murdering.
Blood still dripped from his mace, questions still lingered on his brain.
One was thirst and the other hunger, one for blood and the other for knowledge.
"Freesail Admiralty and Admiral Sacul have checked in and engaged, Knight One," the Tower in the corvette spoke over the comm. "Freesail moving to secure the flank and ID where the fighters are launched from. ID is integrating into your IFF."
"Roger that," Roth replied, watching as the newest Wild Knight, Nathan, blasted ahead of him, engaging the fighters ahead.
"I've got your wing, Nathan," Roth said, adding a note to get that man a callsign and something new than an Aurek. But it had speed, at least.
Sensations in the Force caught his attention and he shifted his gaze out past the main area of the Force, letting his hands fly instinctively. His fighter ducked and wove between the lasers that cut through space.
Two small cruisers appeared out beyond the edge of the fight, from the general direction of Sith space.
"Tower, two Arquitens- Sith markings just reverted." He pulled back slightly on the throttle to keep the smaller ships in view. "Launching small fighter squadron."
"Roger that, Knight One," the reply came back, "Marked them on the battlenet."
"Fighter lead is Force sensitive, I repeat, hostile fighter-lead is Force sensitive," Roth said into the comm, eyes squinting as the squadron threw themselves at the Freesail fighters. "Fire evasion is too precise."
"Marking high-risk target, affirmative," the reply came. Roth leaned over and glanced at his tac-display, noting the fighter in the lead had an exclamation point on it, noting the special status of the pilot.
Plus, Roth could sense the movement in the Force from the pilot. "Nathan," Roth said, adjusting his comm channel and accelerating further. "They have reinforcements- two Arquitens and a Force-sensitive squadron leader. Feel up to trying to pick off their escort?"
The stars and planets streaked past the bridge of the Horizon’s Call for a time as the chattering of officers and technicians rattled on around beneath him in the recessed pits. His eyes hooded in shadow of his brow by the direct overhead light of the bridge and his expression grim.
“Captain, we are decelerating from hyperspace. Ten seconds until arrival.”The navigator spoke firmly and concisely .
“Sublight combat systems optimal. Countermeasures on standby.”Declared another somewhere to his left.
“Squadrons awaiting command.”Spoke a man to his right.
“Lancer one, Picket Auric, and Picket Besh following. Lancer Two, Picket Cresh, and Picket Cherek on standby.”Called another.
The voices rang out as the previous finished becoming a seamless cacophony of verbal information all for the ears of one, though no response came in return. The seated figure aloft on his isolated position rose a finger and then tapped it upon the framing around multiple keys of a control panel. Just then the Horizon’s Call lurched out of hyperspace as the battlefield exploded into view. So joined a Lancer-class frigate, Lancer One, and two corvettes; Picket Auric and Picket Besh. These smaller capital ships flanked the heavy cruiser.
“Captain, the Pearl of Manaan is currently engaging hostile targets. RTL and Sith forces in mutual engagement. Multiple allied and hostile smallcraft contacts engaging.”
The Captain rose from his seat smoothly as he straightened his ornate silk longcoat his head rose enough now that his silver eyes caught the light from above. His expression was that of pure focus and determination.“Ion drives forward half towards the Pearl of Manaan.”He began in a stern town as he began to walk, a sheathed sword gently patting at his silk. “Make ready all silos and batteries to fire upon my command.”
A response of “Aye, Captain.” from all around the room sounded as the Captain gave his orders. His steps came to an end upon the catwalk as he watched the battle unfold before him. His shoulders raised a nearly imperceptible amount before a gentle exhale from his nose set them back to rest.
A hologram ignited in front of the captain from a recessed holoprojector at the end of the catwalk. There stood two men at the ready clad in full starfighter equipment.“Today-”began the Captain, “-our adversaries are tyrants and self-proclaimed gods. See that their confidence is shaken, Lieutenants.”
“Aye, Captain.” The two responded in unison as the projector deactivated.
With that, the communications officer spread their message to all who would receive, friend or foe,“Horizon’s Call and her battle-group, under Flag Captain Drudroga, in service to the Freesail Admiralty, has arrived.”A brief pause.“Glory to the Admiralty.”Transmission end.
And who was this trying to enter the room? A quick check on the cameras showed a man she did in fact know, along with one she didn't... Adeline could feel the both of them right outside, almost made her stomach growl.
Who else was around? Ahh the lovely Darth Moskvin, she seemed to be moving around just fine.
Leaving the set of monitors behind, Adeline opened the door as Von-Kri was busy hacking up a lung... A strange fellow, one she wanted to cut open and examine. Now was not the time though, her mind and sense flick over to the unknown Lord. He stood over carnage, and with the smell of death there was also that incense of soul.
"Ah, Von-Kri! Greetings, last time I saw you it was on Jutrand!"
"Did you speak of these souls a moment ago? I have been on the cameras this whole time, every door on this side of the ship is open... Defenses are down as well."
A small bat-like creature crawls out from under the woman's dress, resting upon her shoulder for a moment before she whispers to it to go find Darth Moskvin
. With speed the little creature flaps off down the halls to search for its target, once found it lands upon the deathly woman's shoulder, making light squeaks at her. While these didn't translate to anything, it did let Moskvin know that Adeline was nearby and had sent this creature after her.
Nathan's heavy Laser Cannons were slow firing and it allowed his prey to escape by rolling quickly a few times. But Nathan began relying on the Force to time the bursts, and he eventually got his second kill.
"Roger, Knight 1." Nathan replied in response to Roth Tillian
, "Engaging Escort.
Nathan pulled ahead, hesitantly opening himself to the Force again to time his bursts as he fired on the escort, letting his gut guide him through a burst of return fire before pulling up on the controls to evade the attacks of two seperate fighters, his Force Sense having barely warned him.
But now two fighters were chasing him, and his scans started to go wonky. They were jamming him. He spun his fighter, only sensing danger as his warning systems were completely jammed. He jerked the controls starboard, opening himself more to his senses and fired on instinct, his shots barely catching one of the squadron fighters but sending it spiraling, which was followed by it exploding. He was still being fired on, and was forced to make wide weaves through shots from the fighter chasing him before swerving to port and arming a torpedo. He performed a high speed corkscrew, firing both the torpedo and his cannons at the other fighter, and the other fighter was unable to compensate in time, being exploded soon after.
Nathan dived after the next members of the squadron, firing to try and make them scatter as he set his sights on the enemy Force Pilot...
Captain Drake grinned while his scramble key hummed and the Trade League airlock began to cycle. Magboots activated when he touched down, but he was already braced for the vertigo. After a silent three count Atlas boarded the Sith infested ship flanked by a fireteam of grim-faced Kathol Marines. He switched on a glowlamp built into his enviro-suit's sealed helmet. Illumination flooded the compartment.
"Look cap'n," one of the marines kneeled to run a scan, "Blood."
"Karabast! Proceed with caution."
Following a brutal defeat in the Timbra Ott system what remained of the once proud Kathol Navy had been reduced to hit and run tactics including ambush strikes like this one far from home in allied territory. Once more in command of the nearby marauderHorizon, Drake was used to leading away missions while his first officer held off waves of Sith interceptors.
When they found the next traces of battle Atlas muttered a prayer to those who dwell beyond the veil. He drew his fleet issue Glie-44 blaster and advanced deeper into the contested ship.
