Invasion The Second Coming | TIC Invasion of TSO-Held Thandon Super Hex | Objective One

[Amni Kazda]

Battle Armor
Kitty

It didn't take long for Amni to arrive to the tree. It took five portal jumps to get from the Imperial Dropship to her objective. After two years on ice, Amni was still not fully entuned with her abilities. Such a shame that she missed the rise of the Imperial Confederacy. "Let's hope it actually lasts," Amni muttered to herself walking towards this so-called World Tree. She knew that the now dead Emperor from the Empire of the Lost: Velran Kilran took an interest in these trees. From what Amni understood, the Sith summoning these World Trees had deep connections to the Force and they were using this as a way to amplify their power.

Amni never cared much about the Sith, though she found Velran a madman, the Sith were somehow crazier. Utilizing this tree for what? To absorb all life on the planet? In a way, the Imperials will be seen as liberators by the Brosian people. It would be nice to be seen as a hero for once in her life though Amni doubted that these people would be grateful. While destroying a tree and watching the Sith rage over watching all of their hard work crumbling to the ground was satisfying, what Amni really wanted was to fight a Sith. She needed to shake the rust off and test herself against more challenging opponents. When Amni operated as the Emperor's Shadow, she faced Jedi, Sith, and all matters of powerful people.

Now after being lifted from Cryosleep, Amni was thrusted in this new Galaxy, a new faction, and new Imperial leaders whom Amni found particularly passive. All they do is talk and compromise, it was about time they took the fight to the Sith. As Amni continued to walk, her head pulsated with a dull pain, her brain felt like it was repeatedly punched. "No!" Amni placed her hand on her head. "Get out of my mind fracking beast!"

The pain immediately went away as Amni took a deep breath. That was another reason to fight Sith, to keep that monster from taking over her again.

Eira Dyn

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 1 - Protect the tree
Armour Mode: WAR
Equipment: Marwolaeth Ddu, Lethal Pursuers, Vibrosword, Blaster Pistol
Opposition: Amni Kazda

They were fools.

That was all that Eira could think about. The idea that the Imperial Confederacy thought they could attempt to strike at Brosi a second time after their failed attempt. It was laughable. At least in Eira's mind, it was laughable. She did not see what these imperials could do differently against the Sith Order to turn the battle. Especially since she felt stronger, deadlier than she had been last time. Before, Eira had been chasing a hacker in a building. They were attempting to steal information from the Sith Order.

Now, Eira was donned in the War variant of Marwolaeth Ddu, her personal armour. Hatred burning ever deeper in Eira as the armour concentrated her abilities in the Dark Side. It was the first time that Eira was really testing the abilities of her armour's capabilities. Initially everything felt too intense, a level of power in the Force that Eira had not been prepared for. Eira was still exploring what she was capable naturally, finding her limits and besting them over time. Something that Eira spent the time exploring with Quinn through training but also in her own time as well. So, she was far stronger than she had been during her previous trip on Brosi.

But this armour turned things to another level.

Breathing in deeply, Eira spent the time adjusting to the feel of the armour on her body but also how the intensity of the Force felt around her and insider her now. Eira watched as Sith Order forces gathered at the base of the tree, seeing how they mobilised and set the defences for the incoming invasion. It was interesting, fascinating really, for Eira to see how forces coordinated in the Sith. Eira shifted away from the crowded forces, Eira was keen to be at the front and felt determined to demonstrate how far she had come, how strong she truly could be. The danger that all everyone see that she will be.

Seeing the Imperial forces descend from space, Eira thought about where her Master was right now. The other members of DeathDrop. Up there fighting to ensure that these imperials fell. Eira needed to be doing the same hard work in protecting the tree. She could not rush off and chase the deadliest fights. That would be far too reckless in this mission and Eira needed to be more grounded. Even if she felt the crackling of electricity coursing through her body. The energy and anticipation of a fight dwelling in the back of her mind. Eira needed to focus on making sure that every imperial force that tried to make any forward attack regretted that decision. Whether by death or having to flee her wrath.

As the first wave of TIC soldiers came her way, Eira didn't reach for her blades, she just allowed the Force Lightning crackle at her fingertips as she moved forward. Launching forward powerful blasts of Force Lightning, Eira growled darkly behind her mask. Taking in the joys of blasting soldiers over and over again with lightning till she knew their lives had passed. The power that was erupting from her body was addictive and all Eira could do was crave more, crave to inflict more death and destruction to those who dared to cross her path.

Her crimson eyes scoured for where the next target might be.

 

[Lirka Ka]

ALLIES - TSO
ENEMIES- TIC, Direct: @T’zarna Khab

If you killed long enough, murder became an autonomous thing. Lirka had crossed that threshold decades ago - her advance was a savage and bloody thing, for as autonomous the slashes of her blade were. They lacked nothing in sadistic cruelty - kill long enough, and the thrill became dull. Lirka left broken bodies in her wake, shattered spirits. The tale of Lirka Ka was one to be shared through the mouths of veterans with bodies shattered between the precise hacking of the Once-Sephi’s mighty machine, crackling with the roar of Electro-Plasma filament or the cruder assault of her metal bulk.

She was a predator within the jungle’s vines. But predators so oft became prey. Lirka was a creature of the darkness, a horrid monstrosity that scuttled and scraped her way through the Order’s most wretched places. Certainly, she was not a hard beast to track in this swirl of Dark Side energies, for Lirka Ka was the odd void within it all. That vacant place where the Force did not flow. Only the nothingness of a creature where the dank and the drab had been her stomping grounds as she had cut her teeth upon her return to the wider Galaxy and rose to the ranks she sat upon today.

Lirka’s mind was a rush, perception flying faster than what should be natural. Neutron Pixie was her vice of choice, those potent stimulants coursing through her veins melding with her combat-stims to keep the Once-Sephi’s foul form on the edge of breaking down.

When the snap-hiss of the lightsaber came, with a whirr of mechanized servos the Once-Sephi twirled to face her stalker. She had half expected to find one of her fellows pouncing upon her in this moment of chaos, to see the newest of Dark Councillors laid low to steal what she had built. She was pleasantly surprised to see the form of @T’zarna Khab instead - what oddities had their foe brought to bear this time?

With the whining of Songsteel slashing up through the air Lirka’s raised her blade to meet the Inquisitor’s attack. A rumbling coming from the Councillor’s marred helm as she chuckled that dry, humorless, chuckle.

“And so, the snake reveals itself.”

Lirka had bulk in abundance, and she used it readily. Pushing now after her quick block, she wanted to toss the attacker back some. A brief moment of distance before pandemonium.

​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Brosi (Somewhere along the base of the World Tree)
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SO ALLIES: Madrona A’Mia [/USER] | Taeli Raaf | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | Reina Daival | Mercy | Darth Caedes | Lysander von Ascania | Spencer Varanin | Darth Prazutis | Eira Dyn
TIC ENEMY: TBA

____________________________________________________

"Let them come."

It was the same thing that she had heard repeatedly, though it surprised her that Mercy would hold the same philosophy. It was not in Srina’s nature to allow an imminent threat to make the first move. It was the main reason she had joined the Covenant on Coruscant in the first place. The Faithless had come for her children. The Faithless had dared to touch the Blackwall in an effort to destroy it, and now, more of their wretched cousins had returned from the ashes to desecrate Brosi once more.

The pale woman remained still while Mercy bounded toward her drake with the exuberance of a child. It was a strange thing to observe, her laughter, ringing in the low boughs of Psilofyr with such merriment that it felt out of place. Her wintry expression softened. They were on the precipice of war, and it was the last thing she’d expected to hear. She looked away when the Warlord looked toward her, erasing emotion, as if it had never been. “You’re a terrible student…”

Willful and cocky, argumentative. But…She envied the ease that the red-haired woman held, the way she met the world head-on, fists-first, questions later. It was simple—a luxury that Srina hadn’t had in decades. “So, you’ll have to forgive the repetition…It will happen again.”

That laugh again. So out of place…So earnest.

The Covenant would be horrified.

"There is little shame in staying behind. If you are not ready yet. Coruscant was hard on you, even if you refuse to let anyone see it." You don’t have to show me… I know. "I will use my strength to defend this place just as I used it to conquer Coruscant. Why not rest?"

“I’ve rested long enough.”

The words fell from her lips like rain, cooled, until the drops pricked the skin when it fell. There was no fury in her rebuke, but it was obvious that she rejected the notion of being anywhere but with her people. What did bother her to some degree was the fact that the tragically unobservant Mercy had noticed something was amiss. Yellow-gold eyes lifted when a familiar presence touched her senses, surprising, but not unwelcome.

“You know as well as I do…This is where I belong.”

"Asking the child to respect something is like asking her to wear a dress…" Spencer wrinkled her nose in the same fashion as Quinn often would when she knew she was teasing.

"Impossible."

Srina’s head tilted when she looked back at Mercy , perhaps, placing her hulking form in a gown in her mind’s eye. Humor rose in her chest against her will, dry, but present all the same. “Nothing is impossible…”, the counter was light, though, her head inclined respectfully toward Spencer Varanin . It wasn’t quite a bow, but it was as close to it as Srina would get. Those who knew her would recognize the significance.

The white-haired Echani bowed for no one.

She could see the question in her former Queen’s eyes, in her expression, but it was something Srina did not know how to answer. They held a conversation in seconds, in silence, without any use of the Force at all…Because it was their nature. It was an expression of exhaustion and annoyance coupled with a singular truth she had been avoiding. She had never needed more power. Never looked for it…But now?

I was not enough.

That would never happen again.

The conversation would have to be cut short because, in that moment, the storm she predicted seemed to be coming down. Her eyes closed, and she reached through the Force to see more than what should have been possible. Psilofyr amplified her sight, her senses, and a heavy sigh pulled from her lungs. The Confederation had arrived, lacking subtlety, with mass planetary landings and battalions that all seemed to be advancing on the World Tree.

The roots near her boots shifted, apprehensive, and she could feel understanding dawn on the World Tree as if someone had turned on a light switch. Intruders were coming to destroy it. Her head tilted to the side when she noticed something else, and metaphysical fingers crawled toward one that the Empress recognized twice over.

She saw him.​

“It seems that our old friend has returned.”

Friend was not spoken in a way that denoted warmth, but, almost as a word of curse. He was always scheming beneath the guise of aiding whatever nation he served, when truly, his only loyalty belonged to ambition. The Lord of Hunger had tried to impose his will during the development of Psilofyr and it made sense that he would try and do so again. It wasn’t even a moment more when she felt something strange in the World Tree…

Hunger.

She remembered the last battle more as a sensation than a scene. Force twisted into consumption, the taste of despair, while weaving sentience into something that didn’t naturally have it. Each one of her companions had given Psilofyr a gift. She had offered sorrow and memory so that it could learn and grow.

Revna Marr had given an offering that was not so gentle.

Srina’s eyes narrowed slightly as she tracked the way this Sith Lord’s awareness moved. Spreading, prying, and searching. Psilofyr might feel something scraping across his outer network, the lesser roots, the “easy” pathways, like a hand clumsily rifling through pockets.

The World Tree did not feel amused with any of this.

So much of him was walked on, broken, burned, and ripped from the ground.

Her focus snapped back and she reached for Revna Marr in that space of silence. Psilofyr was born with hunger. If the Confederate Sith Lord provoked it…The seedling was a seedling no more. It would undoubtedly bite back.

<<We have an uninvited guest.>>

Revna would hear her and in a flash of insight…Would know exactly whom she referred to.

The pale woman turned and walked toward her drake and the great beast roared before dropping it low enough that she could touch the black scales along its jaw. Srina didn’t hesitate when she glanced back at Spencer Varanin and Mercy , though, she knew that the latter wouldn’t be far behind. “…They are here, destroying what is mine.”

Her eternally beautiful expression morphed into something fearsome, switch gears, while taking one solid leap to land lightly on the back of Vaelcryx.

“Time to die.”

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces Popper NPC Units Drake "Vaelcryx" Unknown

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Drawing the cup to His lips, the Dark Lord drank from the tea. The initial sip brought with it the bite of smoked bitterness, sharp and peppery. Warmth immediately spread throughout His mouth and sinuses, a sudden and abrasive intrusion to anyone who was not prepared, but He'd grown up drinking such a concoction. Bitterness was a common taste on Panatha, drawn from the ancient warriors who prized it for its honest character and the strength it took to endure it.

The body of the tea differed from the initial taste, deep and resinous from the cardamom, cloves, and pine sap imbued into the mixture. Fermented bark-herbs lent a savory note to the brew, subtly umami in taste. The aftertaste lingered with a dry heat mixed with faint sweetness, dark and subtly bitter like burnt sugar. Overall, the tea coated the tongue with an oily weight, while the tannins from the herbs and spices dried the mouth.

After savoring His drink for a moment, the Dark Lord returned His cup to the table. Her answer to His question was unsurprising, it was what He'd expected her to say. It was an apt analogy regardless.

"Such filth always filters to the surface during times of conflict. Weak and contemptuous, they chafe against that which is superior. Alone they pose no threat, but the weak thus amalgamated possess the potential to be more than just a potent irritant."

There was a rumble that shook along the ground, the tea in their cups sloshing about from the reverberations. Carnifex didn't seem to initially pay it any mind, instead taking His cup and drinking from it a second time. But, by the time He'd set it back down, the flap to the tent was thrust open by a long, gangly reptilian arm. What entered next would be something straight from a nightmare, a gaunt, looming horror of sheer unnatural height. Its arms hung absurdly low, almost brushing the ground, with far too many visible joints, fingers long and slightly curved as if always halfway to grasping.

It walked into the tent on long, willowy legs, each limb corded with lean, sinewy muscle that pulled tight against a narrow frame. When it came to standing still, the whole of its body pulsated with a faint, unsettling sway, like it could never bring itself to remain fully at rest. Its scaled and leathery skin was adorned with vestments akin to that worn by Sith priests, the most striking element the massive ceremonial collar clasped around its neck of banded muscle. Interlocking plates of dull gold, blackened bronze, and dark crimson enamel cascade across its elongated chest and collarbones, each plate etched with angular sigils and stylized religious motifs.

When it begins to speak, the first sensation is not sound, but pressure, a subtle tightening behind the eyes and along the spine. Its chest expands slowly, deliberately, and for a brief moment there is only a dry, rasping intake of breath that sounds more like stone grinding against stone than lungs drawing air.

The voice that follows is wrong.

It is deep, but not in a resonant or commanding way. Instead, it carries a layered harshness, as if several voices are speaking at once but slightly out of sync. There is a guttural base tone, low and scraping, overlaid by thinner, reedy vibrations that hiss through its flattened snout. Each word seems to drag itself free rather than be spoken, stretched and distorted by a throat never meant for gentle articulation. Consonants scrape. Vowels linger too long, warping into unpleasant, wavering drones.

"Kha-Stymphalian, the soft-bellies congregate against you. We offer up their tender flesh to you."

The Dark Lord looked to the large, gangrenous creature, who astonishingly did not wither in His presence. "Sound the liturgy, let the Horde disperse into battle. Proclaim that the Kha-Qaghan accepts your offering, and shall let the Children of Gratos partake in the feast."

Long strands of saliva visibly dropped down from the creature's open jaw, dripping down onto the floor in thick, globulous piles. It then spat forth a deluge of words in a language utterly unknown and alien to Reina before suddenly taking off and exiting back out of the tent, a great cacophonous roar following in its departure as thousands and thousands of other voices joined it.

Carnifex closed His eyes briefly and again sipped His tea. When He opened them again, they were fixed on Reina. "The Graug, the Hansnok-Hai especially, respond well to ritual affirmation. It is not so often that I give them leave to feast so wantonly. The Confederation has delivered quite the meal to our doorstep."

He then rose, and while not as tall as the creature that had just been here, He was infinitely more grand in presence. "Come, let us see what these insects have wrought against us."

Reina Daival | Darth Prazutis | Srina Talon
Mercy | Taeli Raaf | Gerwald Lechner
Madrona A’Mia | Revna Marr | Darth Caedes ​