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

Mercy

Ronhar Tane · Feb 6, 2026

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: TIMBER!!
BROSI

Ronhar could feel himself visibly tensing up as he stared down

Darth Carnifex .

If his HNDA-Mk I was at all working on the Sith, it wasn't having any visible effects as Carnifex seemingly created what appeared to be a number bolts of red plasma from thin air, aiming them directly at Ronhar's body. He didn't fire them at Ronhar, of course, as he was probably savoring this moment, enjoying the torment and suffering that Ronhar was currently experiencing. How truly Sith-like of him, to "play" with his food instead of eating it, and how utterly predictable as well. Ronhar was counting on the Sith Lord to take his time in dealing with him, as the longer that he took, the more distracted he would be and the less he would be able to focus on the forces advancing toward the World Tree.

Yet if Carnifex seemed at all perturbed by Ronhar, he didn't show it, and from the chatter that was echoing throughout Ronhar's comms, the lighting hadn't ceased completely, though it had been greatly reduced for the moment. Ronhar began to circle around to his right, only daring to take the briefest of glances at the fight between

Reina Daival and the surviving members of Reclaimer Squad.

It was going about as well as Ronhar had expected, which is to say not well at all. The Sith had unleashed some form of sonic scream at his men, and had nearly hit Ronhar in the process, before she went in for the kill, swiftly dispatching three of the four combatants trying to take her down. Ronhar was truly shocked and relieved that his Storm Commando had managed to knock her off the ritual platform, though he himself had been nearly knocked off the World Tree in the process. Still, that meant one less opponent to deal with, though the Storm Commando was still dangling from the branch that he had managed to wrap his Whipcord Launcher around, saving himself from immediate death but now making it more difficult to come back and assist Ronhar.

Ronhar decided to call out to him, demanding he come over and help him fight Carnifex.

"Forget about the girl! We need to deal with the Sith!"

If the Storm Commando had heard Ronhar, he didn't respond, seemingly fixated on destroying his opponent. At least he had the sense not to dive in after her, and was instead fumbling around with a Rhydonium Grenade that he just couldn't seem to get out from his vest.

Fumbling around perhaps a bit too much, it would turn out.

With all of the extra weight hanging off the end of the branch, it couldn't support the Storm Commando and his armor, and with a sickening snap, both branch and soldier plunged downward into the water below.

That meant that Ronhar was on his own.

As he continued to slowly circle around, he decided to try and put a bit of cover between himself and Carnifex, looking to seek refuge behind one of the statues that was surrounding the ritual site. Only, as Ronhar neared closer to the first statue, he realized something was wrong. That's when it dawned on him, a sudden realization that made it him sick to his stomach, and everything clicked in his augmented brain.

Those weren't statues, they were people!

They had been so still that Ronhar had mistaken them for inanimate objects, but upon closer inspection, they were very much real, living, breathing beings. The fact that they hadn't attacked Ronhar but were still here meant that they were important to the Dark Lord, perhaps connected somehow to the lightning that Carnifex had unleashed against his forces. A plan was slowly forming in Ronhar's mind. He would need a lot of skill and a little luck to pull it off, but it was the only way he'd be able to save the lives of his remaining men. Swallowing hard, Ronhar decided to taunt Carnifex once more:

"Animal? That's rather rude, even coming from a Sith. In fact, the only animal that I see here is you, you piece of Bantha-!"

Before Ronhar finished his statement, he lunged forward...but not toward Carnifex. Instead, he charged the nearest remaining Sith supporter with Burnblade in hand, fully intent on chopping the man in two. As he did so, he pulled his BG-D 6 "Outlaw" from its holster and fired a pair of shotgun slugs directly at the Sith supporter to his left. As tempted as Ronhar was to use his Acid Rifle, he was worried that Carnifex might redirect any streams of acid that Ronhar fired back at him, due to the distance between them and the relatively low velocity of the weapon's payload. What he did instead was have his Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton aim the Acid Rifle directly down at the Ritual Circle itself, spraying the ground with stream after stream of acid. Ronhar wasn't sure if killing the supporters or destroying the circle would be able to stop Carnifex entirely, but he had to try, least he allow his army to face complete and utter annihilation!

As Ronhar pressed his attack, a single TIE/ew flew passed the ritual site, though it had not come to support Ronhar or engage Carnifex. It was instead gathering data on Sith troop locations, which it was passing along to Imperial forces operating on the planet. In particular, the data sent by the TIE/ew was soon received by a pair of nearby TIE Walkers, who began firing their AFT-14.4000B FLAK Turrets at

Mercy and the winged beast she was flying on, trying to assist

Joseph Torson and his forces any way that they could.

TAGS:

Darth Carnifex

Reina Daival

Mercy

Joseph Torson

FN-999 (restored) · Feb 6, 2026

Units: 7th Imperial Army, 24th “Dart" and 31st “Silgo" Regiments
Allies: Imperial Confederation |

Ronhar Tane & co.
Enemies: Sith |

Nerralyn Raaf |

Sophia of House Marr | Open

The Sithspawn swarm showed no signs of stopping.

Even as Imperial walkers tore into them from above, entire groups of monsters falling with each blast from their laser cannons, even more vile creations took their place. They struck from both the land and the air, coming in all different sizes and shapes. Tiny beetle-like beasts emerged seemingly out of nowhere, quickly smothering troopers and small vehicles to deliver a particularly brutal death by a million blows. Meanwhile, larger beasts of claws and teeth and venom tore through camouflaged armor as if it was paper, gleefully feasting on the dead before returning to torment the living.

At the same time, the red lightning continued to fall upon the Imperial lines unabated. Almost every soldier in the 7th Army outside the protection of the shield generators that had been spared the wrath of the Sithspawn had been thoroughly electrocuted, leaving only charred bodies and fractured armor behind. Worse yet, the forest itself had begun to strike back with a vengeance, trees spared by the Imperial bombardment uprooting themselves to ally with the Sith against the invasion force.

That was when it struck FN-999. The reason why his initial strategy, based on his experiences on Mon Calamari and Csilla, had failed, was due to the fact that Brosi’s similarity to the two was entirely superficial. Unlike the fairly ordinary jungles on the islands of Dac, the Sith had complete control of the forest, exemplified by their ability to summon the trees themselves to fight the Imperials. Additionally, FN-999 now realized that the Maw beasts who destroyed Csilla had been successfully resisted for a time not only because he had overseen the construction of effective trenches, but because many of the Maw’s warbeasts were warm-blooded and consequently likely unaccustomed to the frigid climate of Csilla. By contrast, the temperate climate and abundance of natural resources in Brosi made it the ideal hunting ground for all sorts of highly active beasts tainted by Sith sorcery.

Short of subjecting the entire planet to a glacial freeze, there was only one viable solution.

The destruction of all living things on Brosi.

Nerralyn Raaf said:
To the general in command, to the men around him and under his command, a voice would be carried through the wind and rain, slipping into his mind, their minds, her voice... "If you throw down your arms, you will not come to harm. They will not touch you. You will be allowed to leave this world alive for your homes. Those who refuse will die. This is your only warning."

A tremor of fear ran through FN-999’s body at the intrusion, but it did not last long before being smothered by rage on behalf of those under his command, the valiant troopers he refused to let down.

[Do not listen to the ravings of this madwoman.] declared FN-999, still speaking through the command tank’s comms. [The Sith do not intend to spare any of us, not when they live off of violence. They want surrender because they need us alive to create more Sithspawn from our bodies. How else do you think the more humanlike beasts are created? Do not let them turn you into a monster. Keep on fighting.]

The general’s reply seemed to work well enough, the line holding even as the number of beasts slamming into Imperial defenses only kept on multiplying. Yet he knew even without being inside the AT-SGs holding back the worst of the assault that something had to give soon. Once the shields collapsed, there would be nothing keeping the entire Sith army from descending upon the Imperials from all sides.

Fortunately, there were ways to prevent such an outcome.

[SG-7 and SG-8, lower your shields i-]

The comms cut out to static. Seconds later, a few sparks flew out from the transmitter. Clearly, it wasn’t just on the receiving end - all comms were down. Furthermore, because of the timing of the comms shutdown, FN-999 had just made a grave error. He had intended for the two AT-SGs closest to the World Tree to lower their shields 30 seconds after issuing the order to allow Imperial forces inside the coverage of the other shields to create a multi-direction kill zone for Sithspawn entering the gap. Instead, the walker pilots would assume shields were to be lowered immediately, opening up the Imperial center to Sith forces entirely unprepared.

“COMMS ARE DOWN!” shouted the general from atop his command tank, hoping other troopers nearby would hear. “ASSIGN MESSENGERS TO COMMUNICATE FURTHER ORDERS!"

FN-999 didn’t bother sending a messenger to modify the orders for the two AT-SGs, as he doubted they could rush over to the walkers and climb their way up its cables before they lowered their shields according to the general’s incomplete order. Surely enough, barely a few seconds after the comms went down, AT-SGs numbered 7 and 8 lowered their wavering shields, opening a wide gap in Imperial defenses that the Sithspawn hastily rushed towards.

Inside the now incomplete circle of Imperial shields were what remained of the 7th Army’s two regiments: several thousand stormtroopers with a few hundred flamethrowers between them, two dozen AAT Railguns, six AT-AAWs, and four AT-TLs, excluding the ten AT-SGs occupied with maintaining a perimeter around the rest of the 7th’s forces. Since the primary weapons of the AAT Railguns and AT-TLs were much less effective at close range, their crews rapidly switched over to their secondary laser cannons and machine guns, their original objective of long-range artillery bombardment forgotten entirely.

Almost immediately after the two AT-SGs facing the World Tree lowered their shields, shadowy figures appeared within Imperial lines, bisecting bodies with red lightsabers before vanishing into the shadows from which they came. They seemed to target squad leaders and specialists, further degrading the Imperial response to the premature opening of the shield generators. Worse yet, improvised Imperial messengers began to fall in droves, their heads or necks pierced by arrows with unnerving accuracy and power. Dissent grew within the 7th, stormtroopers abandoning their messenger duties out of fear of being targeted by the archers whose arrows seemed to pierce straight through masses of men.

Elsewhere, the same horrid winged creatures that had destroyed the last few TIE Crushers descended upon the Imperials with almost total impunity, shrugging off small-arms fire with little effort while emitting various lethal gases. An ever-expanding index of large monsters clawed and scythed through the stormtroopers with impunity, an entire generation of the finest men and women the Imperial Confederation had to offer destroyed in a matter of minutes.

There would be no saving the 7th Army’s offensive. The best they could do is withdraw before facing total destruction. Yet with comms down and Imperial messengers in disarray, what sort of retreat could be organized?

FN-999 was left with two miserable options.

Oversee a total rout, or be killed to the last man.

One meant survival, at least for FN-999 and a small portion of the 7th Army. But he knew all too well what sort of reputation would be left behind. Both the general and his surviving men would be pariahs, accused of utter cowardice by forfeiting the mission and abandoning the approximately fifteen thousand dead on a Sith planet. At best, FN-999 would face a court-marshal. At worst, his own Imperials would pull off what two generations of Jedi, Sith, Mandalorians, the Galactic Alliance, and monsters of all stripes had failed to do: execution.

The other option meant the total destruction of an entire half of the Imperial Seventh Army with nothing to show as a result. It would go down on official records as a honorable end, but what good was honor when without it the deaths of twenty five thousand Imperials could be avoided? Did the stormtroopers who remained standing amidst the Sith onslaught not deserve to withdraw from a situation far beyond their depth and apply its lessons to succeed in future battles? If the Seventh Army simply stood their ground, all their knowledge of Sithspawn would die with them.

Ultimately, the lives of the approximately ten thousand Imperials still standing were far more important than his own. Besides, the Seventh Army was not the only Imperial ground force on Brosi. Captain @Ronhar Tane’s Maphoreem forces were formidable and could almost certainly succeed where the 7th had not.

“RETREAT!!!!"

The order could barely be heard over the noises of gunfire, roars, and screams both human and inhuman. However, the order did not need to be universally heard. Once the first few squads began to break formation and rush back towards the transports they had arrived in, others naturally followed. Every man and woman in the 7th Army was scared to some extent, but their fear of punishment had kept them in place. With an official retreat order being issued, there was no longer any punishment to fear, and Imperials broke formation en masse. Thousands upon thousands of stormtroopers turned tail and ran, looking back only to fire hasty shots back at their pursuers. Exiting the shielded perimeter of the AT-SGs, the Imperial survivors ran the gauntlet of Sith lightning, which seemed to descend with renewed fury upon the exposed troopers.

As stormtroopers fled to safety all around him, FN-999 stayed put at the helm of the command tank. Finally, he rose up from the turret hatch and stepped outside the tank, walking towards rather than away from the advancing Sith.

“General, what the frakk you doing??” shouted the tank’s gunner, peeking out through the turret hatch.

“Covering your retreat from behind.” replied FN-999. “Go flee with the others!"

A look of understanding passed between the pair. The gunner gave a brief salute before closing the hatch, the tank lurching backwards as it joined in the retreat.

Ahead of him was a scene of utter devastation. Waves of stormtroopers rushed by, their armor cracked and bloodied. Some nursed severed limbs or deep cuts that bled green, while still others, mutilated beyond recognition, were carried away in stretchers. Tanks and walkers lay wasted as smoking heaps of durasteel, their hulls warped in the shape of inhuman claws and bulging torsos. In the distance, the sounds of animal roars and screeching grew ever closer.

Standing before this scene, FN-999 was absolutely terrified. Had he been entirely alone against the Sith horde, he would have bolted in the opposite direction minutes earlier. However, standing amongst thousands of his beleaguered comrades, the general had something truly compelling to fight for. He was fighting for the lives of ten thousand honest, good soldiers devoted more than anyone else to upholding the virtues of the Imperial Confederation. He was fighting in honor of the fifteen thousand troopers who had fallen in the struggle against pure evil personified in the Sith. He was fighting for the legacy of the New Imperial Order, personified in the mission of the Imperial Confederation.

So although his body trembled and his voice shook, FN-999 stood tall before the Sith horde. This would not be a suicide mission. FN-999, alongside the majority of his remaining 7th Army, would live to see another day. For them, even his phobia of Sith could be endured.

All he had to do was withstand the galaxy’s most dangerous exposure therapy.

Total 7th Army rout

Gerwald Lechner · Feb 6, 2026

WEARING: This | WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Howling Death
ALLIES::

Darth Prazutis
ENEMIES::

Taregh Garon

The blast did not announce itself. It arrived as pressure. Shockwaves came suddenly and crushing, like the world inhaling and forgetting how to let the breath go. The rain flattened for a heartbeat and the forest bowed beneath it, while even the storm overhead seemed to recoil before it surged back into motion.

Gerwald took the impact square in the chest.

The force tore his footing away and hurled him backward through water and churned soil. Armor rang as he struck and skidded across the ground, roots scraping along his greaves as they recoiled from the violence that had passed through them. Howling Death was ripped from his hands in the same instant, the haft torn free by the shockwave and flung end over end into the rain-dark undergrowth. It vanished between smoke and roots before he could track where it landed.

The Dread Wolf rolled onto one knee and stayed there for a breath.

He was not stunned, but he was forced to recalibrate as the world settled around him in pieces. Sound returned first, then weight, then pain, distant but present, a reminder that he was still standing in the middle of a battlefield that refused to remain stable.

That blast had not been his doing.

The distinction came easily. The force behind it carried a weight that dwarfed anything he had fed into the storm. It had not been shaped or coaxed, and it had not answered instinct or opportunity.

Darth Carnifex had acted, and the battlefield had bent around the decision.

Gerwald pushed himself upright as the rain resumed its full violence.

He felt the consequences ripple outward through Brosi’s skin. The ground groaned beneath his boots as roots withdrew and tightened again, reconsidering their grip on the world. Somewhere beyond the curtain of rain and smoke, something vast had shifted, and the pressure in the Force did not disperse. It deepened.

Then he felt the second wound open.

The sensation reached him like a scar being torn wide, distant in space but close enough to memory that it bypassed reason and went straight to the gut. The air thickened. The forest recoiled. The storm shuddered as if something beneath it had leaned upward and pressed.

Another Noćna Mora had been loosed.

Rage surged before he could stop it. It was sharp and personal, dragged up from a place he rarely allowed himself to touch.

Darth Prazutis had done it again. He had reached for the same weapon and bound it to the world without hesitation. Gerwald felt revulsion first, clean and immediate, followed by a colder and unwelcome relief that the thing was not being turned on those who fought beside him.

He did not let either feeling linger.

Movement cut through the rain ahead of him.

Taregh was still there, still advancing, still pressing forward as if the storm, the ground, and the forest were inconveniences rather than warnings.

Gerwald reached back on instinct and found only empty air.

The axe was gone.

He did not look for it.

The Lord Commander’s hand went instead to his belt, fingers closing around the familiar hilt at his side. Blodmåne came free in a smooth motion, its ignition answering the rain with a low, predatory hum. The crimson blade cut a clean line through the downpour, steam flashing briefly where water met plasma.

The difference settled into him immediately.

The lightsaber stayed close to his center and moved with him rather than against the shifting ground. Where Howling Death demanded commitment, Blodmåne allowed adaptation, and that mattered now.

Overhead, shadows crossed the storm.

Drakes moved through the cloud cover in wide arcs, slipping in and out of sight between lightning and rain. Gerwald caught glimpses of them without lifting his focus, aware of

Srina Talon and

Mercy holding the sky above. The storm did not fracture around their presence. It held.

Missiles screamed though his line of sight. Gerwald reached out to his Empress and her battle companion.

<< "Missiles inbound. Headed for Psylofir!” >>

The forest answered again.

Roots shifted underfoot, not grasping blindly but reshaping the terrain into something that punished certainty. Insects rose in swarms near the treeline, their droning swelling as Imperial machinery began to fail and sputter. Smoke clung low where rain could not quite scour it away.

Gerwald lowered his profile and moved.

He did not step back into the open. He moved sideways into rain and smoke where distance lost clarity and depth became unreliable. He let the storm break his outline and allowed insects and drifting haze to soften his shape. Roots brushed his greaves as he passed and then settled again, as if the forest itself had lost track of him for a breath.

That was enough.

The Dread Wolf changed direction without warning.

He surged forward out of concealment, boots finding purchase just long enough to drive momentum into the strike. Blodmåne rose from low to high in a tight arc aimed toward Taregh’s left side, cutting toward the space between shoulder and helm where armor had already been stressed and rain made footing uncertain. The blade did not chase or overextend, but pressed into the moment and trusted the disorder already at work.

Gerwald stayed close as he moved, ready to adapt if the Inquisitor met him head on or slipped away into the rain. The forest shifted again around them, roots tightening and releasing in small, treacherous increments that denied stillness to anyone who tried to claim it.

The storm continued to bear down from above.

Greater powers clashed elsewhere. Monsters were loose, and the world screamed in places he could not see.

Here, in rain and roots and narrowing space, the Dread Wolf became the hunter.

Taregh Garon · Feb 6, 2026

Brosi
Equipment: Greatsaber | Inquisition's Fist | Menasor Armor
Allies: Imperials
Enemies: Sith |

Gerwald Lechner

By the time Taregh had regained his footing

Gerwald Lechner had disappeared.

Assaulted by the torrential downpour that was the byproduct of Sith Magic and the uneven terrain that accompanied it the Inquisitor was slow to his feet.

Up above there were signs of battle. Drakes in the sky, bright lances of laser fire, missiles that scorched across the atmosphere amidst atmospheric fighter duels. Yet all this seemed distant to Taregh.

He was alone in a hostile environment, assaulted by the elements. The Forest itself was fighting against him.

He advanced, stepping over the soft earth and through puddles that were deeper than they looked. The Ground, uneven and shifting beneath his feet made it difficult to maintain his balance at times ensuring that his footing continued to be a weakness to be exploited. It was harder to harness ones strength on uneven ground too.

The Purge Troopers? They were forgotten for now.

Ironically it was only the force that hadn't abandoned the Inquisitor.

Amidst the smoke and rain it was not Gerald's silhouette that gave him away but the crimson of his lightsaber. That deep resonating color associated with the active plasma blade of the weapon ensured Taregh would notice it in his peripheral.

Turning Taregh would have met Gerald's forward surge were in not for his uneven footing. Instead the Inquisitor resorted to waving his lightsaber defensively and tucking his left arm close to his side, over the rib to tighten the angle of his swing meant to catch his foes lightsaber on the outside as it arced around in a blow meant to pass over his shoulder in a move meant to decapitate. It was not perfect but it would suffice and Taregh used the prodigious strength he commanded to maintain a lock of their sabers.

Nonetheless leverage and footing would have been Gerald's, the earth would shift and already slick with rain betrayed Taregh.

He'd lose footing again. This time he didn't fall onto his back, he slipped only enough to come crashing down onto his left knee ensuring that Gerwald would have the leverage in their saber lock if he chose to maintain it.

The Inquisitor, no less enormous down on one knee would find himself looking at the Lord Commander from behind the visor of his helm...

"It seems even the earth itself conspires against me."

...his voice was a crackle over comms, bitter but no less wreathed with a dark sort of mirth. Taregh was serious more often then not but he had a sense of humor, especially when it came to ironies such as these.

On the HUD located inside his helm a holographic prompted flashed in one corner of his vision. It flashed, awaiting activation and the Inquisitor granted it. A moment later Taregh felt a sharp pain across his spine and in the back of his skull as miniature syringes filled with stimulants injected themselves into him.

He began to scream.

Darth Carnifex · Feb 6, 2026

The Dark Lord watched His apprentice tumble off the edge and fall into the deep waters below, followed not long after by the Imperial that fell with her. After that, all of the lightning emanating from His fingertips slowly abated, leaving broad streaks of colorless void where they'd passed. He turned back to watch the sole remaining Imperial slowly edge his way in a half-circle around the Dark Lord, keeping as much reasonable distance between himself and Carnifex as he could.

As if distance was a barrier, an obstacle.

Nothing so limiting could hold the Dark Lord back, He was so far beyond such mortal constraints. Nonetheless, He watched the man with cold, unfeeling eyes. Even when he insulted Him, even when he raised his weapons against the inert sorcerers, even as those same ones died where they knelt. Not one thing could change the merciless, predator look upon the Dark Lord's face; like one who had finally cornered a rodent, and was just waiting to pounce and shred.

But it was when the Imperial started spraying acid on the ritual circle that brought the most emotion to the Dark Lord's face ever since the battle started. The edges of His mouth curled into a sly grin, and He began to laugh; chuckling in the back of His throat.

"You ought not tamper with what you do not comprehend, galère." He could have explained how Sith Magic required a master to truly wield, and how disrupting the leylines of such complicated spellwork would only spell doom for whoever was foolish enough to do so. But He didn't, the Dark Lord didn't care to waste the energy necessary for such an explanation. He would allow the Imperial to discover what might happen should he continue to pursue such reckless action.

Ultimately, it wasn't the circle he should be concerned about.

It was the sorcerers he'd just slain.

Rising up from their bodies in swirling black mist came forth spectral apparitions. The vengeful spirits of such Sith sorcerers, slain before their purpose had been fulfilled, were a haunting and dangerous sight. Bound to pursue their killer even after death, they would stop at nothing to destroy that which had deprived them of life. Long, misshapen swords sprung forth into their hands, each one wreathed in a deathly aura like blackened flame.

The Dark Lord, meanwhile, had turned His sights onto His next work. Reaching out with the Force, He seized the bodies of the slain Imperials on the platform and forced them off and into the water below. As they fell, their armor was stripped away piece by piece, their naked bodies hitting the water's surface with a deep resounding thud. The dark waters began to swirl violently, churning round and round as the newly added bodies were torn apart; the water streaked with dark red.

Darth Carnifex wove a new spellcraft, one entirely centered on His apprentice hidden beneath the surface. New power flooded her body, filling her up with a shadowy malignance that was His alone to bestow. The Dark Side flowed freely from the water, radiating out as a disturbance in the Force felt 'round the galaxy.

All the while, the forces assembled at Carnifex's camp had begun to disperse since the initial attack on the platform. With the now verified rout of the Imperial 7th Army, the reserves that Carnifex held back were now being put into action. Graug and Blackblade began to surge out, carried by winged gunships and landers from the tree's upper boroughs. They would marshal out to reinforce the Sith lines where needed, coordinating with already deployed formations on the ground and in the air.

The storm above swirled, not as vicious as it had been before, but nonetheless an ever-present and unrelenting force. Lightning struck less frequently, but no less accurately. Explosive amalgamations were rarer, but still occurred. Anything passing through the storm-cover was likewise bombarded by a deluge of electricity within the clouds themselves, such as several of the missiles launched from orbit towards the battlefield below. Two of which were directly struck by lightning and knocked off trajectory, instead spiraling down towards the retreating Imperial 7th Army.

Darth Carnifex watched all of this quietly, only turning away to regard the lone Imperial; who had survived against all odds.

"Brave little plaything you are, not like your friends down there. All of their little choices and personal oaths have led them to the same fate, butchered and eaten. I told my Graug that they could have their fill of your companions. They're messy eaters, they don't even properly kill their food before taking the first bite. In truth, I think they prefer it that way. Something about the screams and the terror of being eaten alive. Perhaps you can ask them after I've delivered you into their hands."

Reina Daival |

Srina Talon

Gerwald Lechner

FN-999 (restored) |

Revna Marr

Madrona A’Mia · Feb 6, 2026

Upon The Soil

Hoards and swarms saw to it that throngs of soldiers met their ends in gruesome fashion. Not even droid units were safe from massacre, as hungry Spark Bugs landed upon them in droves and fought to access the juiciest sources of power hidden within their chassis. In the mayhem, some ships were even downed.

These moments of victory, the punishing strikes dealt out by allies on behalf of Brosi's defense, each one made a difference against what felt like an endless stream of men, women, and resources that TIC was willing to sacrifice to the meat grinder of war.

Gerwald Lechner said:
Missiles screamed though his line of sight. Gerwald reached out to his Empress and her battle companion.

<< "Missiles inbound. Headed for Psylofir!” >>

Engrossed as she was, A'Mia might not have caught the warning but Psilofyr sent a sickly message of alarm through the vast mycelial mat interwoven through Brosi's soil. It was sharp and chemical, the botanical recognition of danger, and unmistakably signaling fear.

The neti, sat as she was in a pose so reminiscent of meditation were she not bleeding from dozens of seeping cuts and surrounded by raring conflict, gasped in terrible pain. Her hand came up to grip her own shoulder, arm suddenly hanging limp and grievously wounded. A'Mia knew it correlated with one of the tree's giant roots which had suffered a direct hit from one of those accursed missiles, the area of forest surrounding it lay in ruin.

Guard yourself, Revna! More of those vile things are—

The words never finished but the benefit of psychic communication such that the neti employed was in meaning deeper than words could convey. Revna knew to brace for impact and A'Mia conveyed the potential devastation of a direct hit, given that she'd felt Psilofyr suffer it.

Another missile landed elsewhere and was responsible for the interruption of her warning. The neti gasped and her nymph like face pulled into a visage of agony. Somewhere in the distance, an altar had been struck and its destruction combined with the shockwave of the bomb, sending a rippling wave of wild sorcery loose upon the surrounding land.

A'Mia's healing capabilities slowly engaged, her drooping arm steadily cracking back into place. Still, the damage just kept coming and soon she heaved with the weight of it all. Hands upon her temples, cross legged body rocking back and forth, the botanical woman reached deeper into her connection with the yet living land to try centering herself in its vastness.

Those remaining roots continued to lash out, ensnare and crush, some even began to drag the dead or dying from far off field medic tents. Walking trees hauled the dead indiscriminately to those remaining altars in order to replenish hoards lost, and again the very soil of Brosi heaved with activity. Regrowth and possibility burgeoned just beneath the surface, defiant of damage already wrought.

As Seen On High

Concurrently with happenings below, the watchful drake suddenly rocketed from the storm clouds he'd been using to obscure himself. The dutiful Sithspawn had spotted a third missile hurtling directly for the tree and pushed his powerful form to its limits to intercede the wretched thing, to throw himself between its promise of destruction and his newfound home.

Maw opening wide, the beast aligned himself perfectly to swallow the damned weapon whole. Though incredibly powerful and resilient, the Sithspawn wasn't equipped to eat such a thing unharmed. Time seemed to slow to a stop as the soaring beast was top-lit by a flash of nearby lightning.

¡BOOM!

Below, A'Mia screamed. Above, her drake's tattered corpse was blown into some of the highest branches of the world tree. His sacrifice having significantly softened the explosion.

Arms thrown wide, head dropping back so that her voice rose to intermingle with the cacophonous echoes of war, A'Mia let loose such a primal sound of pain that it carried through the air unnaturally.

Brosi itself seemed to quake with the neti's lament.

Rocked by the innumerable sensations of loss, utterly dazed by the upwelling of seemingly insurmountable pain she was experiencing, A'Mia sobbed.

Brosi was more than just her home, it was where her life's work had taken root. She'd spent countless hours walking the metaphysical landscape and living through the eyes of innumerable creatures. A'Mia had experienced this world in a way that mere words would fail to convey and it was being ripped from her more grotesquely than a heart pulled from a ribcage.

For the first time in over a century of life, the neti experienced the depth of true grief and cutting sting of having that which was precious to her being ripped away from existence. She wept streaking green-black trails from large eyes which squinted into the middle distance as her hands clutched at her own torso.

The neti's lament rang out across the various theaters of war, echoed by every tree still standing, and Brosi shook with her mourning.

Lirka Ka · Feb 6, 2026

ALLIES - TSO

ENEMIES - TIC, Direct:
			 
		T'zarna Khab

Peace was a Lie. There was but chaos.

The first line of her creed. The most paramount of all. Pandemonium, suffering, the sheer bestial insanity of civilizations brought to war and the cruelty of a Galaxy that was built upon the bedrock of sentient murdering sentient. It was exhilarating. It was all-encompassing. It was holy. It was the workings of the Primordial Darkness beyond and its infinite tests to weed the weak from the worthy.

It did not matter from whom it came.

Brosi was a graveyard that grew with every waking moment. Yet Lirka had no intent to join this great monument to death anytime soon. Even as she felt the massive boulder slam into ther back, the thing exploding upon her metal frame into a dust cloud of shattered stone and flung debris. With the uneven ground beneath them, the Once-Sephi stumbled for a moment.

And a moment was all it took in this deadly dance.

Still in the insanity of it all. Lirka still found time to sneer at her foe in something that danced between disgust and pity - as if looking into a mirror of a future that could have transpired for her own wretched existence. She listened to the crackle and sizzle of her blade beginning to be turned against its creator - and when she spoke, it was a plain thing. A warning, perhaps.

"The life of a slave, is a miserable thing."

She had been the hound before, walked beneath the shadows of giants and felt the scorn of all those who had looked upon her as little more than the weapon forged in the bowels of the Malsheem. She had seen many creatures like herself in the endless battlefields she had walked - yet now, with a mind enlightened by Darkness, how could she not look upon them with pity?

Then the blade, singing through the air pulled from the meat of the Inquisitor, found purchase. That blade of alien make, light for its heft bore through the already weakened plate upon Lirka's body. Electricity crackling, arcing from the metal it burned its way through till it sunk within the foulness hidden beneath all that black metal. The very moment the seal was broken, the smell of rotting chemical foulness shot into the air like a wave of repulsive filth. An attack upon the senses from the sizzle and crackling of a bubbling wound.

That should have been it. That should have been the decisive blow in the deadly dance of blades. But Lirka Ka was not like them. She had surpassed such wretched normality. For a moment ever so brief - silence. The chance to witness if the giant would fall. In that moment, the sheer chaos of it all began to bristle within Lirka's being.

Something began to ooze from the rent, a thick and viscous horribleness. A mucus made sludge of abyssal blackness that congealed at rapid rates as it bonded with itself. The gestalt of Lirka's being. The ichor of 
			 
		Darth Carnifex
 melded within her being from where she had gorged upon his flesh and took that piece of the Kainate lord into herself. The disgusting union of monsters, a marriage of flesh and blood. And in the gestalt, the void became a drop in the ocean. A glimmer of the force, soft and weak.

But it only took a glimmer to be smothered with sensation. And for that moment ever so brief Lirka felt it all. The agony, the terror, the fear. The horribleness of it all that was sweeter than any of the chemical pleasures that coursed within her. The terror of the routed Imperial 7th underneath 
			 
		FN-999 (restored)
 and the wailing agony of 
			 
		Madrona A’Mia
  that was like music to Lirka's twisted ears. Friend. Foe. The Primordial Darkness did not discriminate. The worthy would drink of suffering, and find the transient strength within.

And in that twilight where death should have come, Lirka exploded to life once more. Her mangled hand, clawed fingers like an array of knives surged forth to ram itself into the open wound she had hacked into the Inquisitor. She destroyed her body, a puppeteer cadaver forced to move without its strings as flesh tore and metal cried out as all of her mechanized fury was forced into digging herself into that weakened hole within the insectoid's carapace.

Let her would-be-assassin feel the agony of folly, and the dangers of pride. This meat that writhed and wiggled could be replaced, when all was said and done. But this moment? That glimmer of beautiful misery?

Well.

That was priceless.

​

Srina Talon · Feb 7, 2026

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Brosi (Flying to Ground)
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SO ALLIES:

Gerwald Lechner |

Nerralyn Raaf |

Horus Rhyne |

Sophia of House Marr |

Lysander von Ascania
TIC ENEMY:

Joseph Torson

____________________________________________________

Gerwald Lechner said:
<<Draw from me. Take what you need.>> The thought was steady. Once again Gerwald offered his energy to Srina as he had done so many times before. <<I will hold.>>

<<As you wish, my wolf.>>

Yellow-gold eyes watched coldly while the gunship spiraled down, breaking through the canopy, taking a good chunk of the terrain with it until it slid to a stop. Her expression remained impassive while the wings of Vaelcryx beat steadily, unflinching, when the terror-inducing roar of her mount cut through the storm. She watched as fire momentarily trailed along the ruined wing of the HAAT/I, witnessing leaves and branches, tearing at the unshielded hull plating as if Brosi itself wanted its share of the kill. Maybe it did.

Her gaze remained steady until the jungle swallowed them, but the pale woman did not waste time. She could feel the battle devolving into something nightmarish…But that was to be expected.

Mercy was still airborne, her drake cutting a wide, predatory arc through the sky where they were only visible when the lightning flashed. Wordless guidance brought Vaelcryx in close to the Warlor,d and her mind drifted toward the larger woman…

<<What were they hoping to accomplish with that?>>

She circled Mercy and…Her "small-woman" (Srina Talon will never say baby girl, cold day in hell) beast companion once, not for cover, but to spiral closer with hand extended. The Star-Arm took it, and a connection snapped into place that was far more immediate than it had been before. She did not draw deeply into herself and instead became a conduit, accepting the strength that

Gerwald Lechner and by proxy

Darth Carnifex offered and proliferated. The storm sang to her, ever sweet, while repeatedly terrorizing the ill-bred cousins of the Galactic Empire.

The presence of her Wolf and the Butcher King in the current let her braid power into the grip she had around Mercy's fingers, more than the temporary bursts that she had fed her on Coruscant. "Kill them for me…", she breathed, voice soft, regardless of the wind and rain. The ambient noise wouldn't stop Mercy from hearing her, understanding her, no matter their differences in command. Mercy was wild, Srina, solemn.

She would not refuse her.

The touch lasted seconds—

But improvised flak was already tearing the sky apart, slicing between them, and maser fire followed. So. They'd survived. It chewed through the forest and the rain faster than most could follow but Srina had been born for this type of conflict. Echani eyes were keen, missed nothing, and she deliberately flew higher to bring the missiles fired from

Joseph Torson into those that

Ronhar Tane had aimed at

Mercy …It wasn't an exact angle—But she pushed them together with the Force and they erupted in a violent display.

For a moment it would seem as if she'd been turned into pink mist but Vaelcryx burst suddenly through the black cloud and flame with smoke trailing after it, showing, that it had at least been singed. The drake gave another shriek while a follow up weapon's fire caused her to loop around Mercy's beast to avoid getting snatched out the sky, preparing to retaliate, when—

Gerwald Lechner said:
Missiles screamed though his line of sight. Gerwald reached out to his Empress and her battle companion.

<< "Missiles inbound. Headed for Psilofyr!" >>

The ordinance they were warned of ripped through the sky above them, and the very air buckled in its wake. It happened too fast, above the storm, so the static wouldn't interfere…There was no time. None. She was in mid-motion, trying to deal with being shot at on two fronts, and couldn't stop it without giving in to the enemy. The same gift of sight that had saved her before betrayed her, because she was able to see the orbital bombardment happen in horrifying slow motion. She could see it…

And could do nothing.

When the first Warp Star struck Psilofyr's root network, it felt like a metaphysical hammer to the spine. Srina froze in the saddle with breath ripping out of her chest as if something vast and living had recoiled within her. Pain that did not belong to her flooded through the Force, sharp and aching, while it oscillated through all of Brosi. Each tree was a tuning fork that amplified the tortured anguish of

Madrona A’Mia while the agony of Psilofyr lashed through her mind like a brand. It was blinding, it was hellish, it was unbearable—

It was then that fire from the downed gunship found Vaelcryx, and the drake roared in pain, and Srina forced it into a deep dive. They went beneath the cover of nature and landed not entirely gracefully, but it was enough that the Echani could get down from the drake to try and examine the damage. The wound to her beast-friend pulsed in her mind, like a deep, dark headache that was already burning her up while the World Tree suffered. The nanites in her suit warned her that radiation on the planet was rising, and her rebreather snapped on. They were far enough away from that fallout that it wouldn't necessarily hit them, but…

"I know…I know…", she spoke to Vaelcryx, but there would be no moment to soothe the large reptile because ANOTHER Warp Star hit.

This one was closer, and Vaelcryx wrapped her wings around the small woman without command. Armored membranes sealed instinctively together as the next explosion rolled through the forest and turned verdant green into ash. Heat washed over them, and the ground bucked, while somewhere nearby, an altar died, and the backlash rippled wild and uncontrolled through the land. It was another impact, another crater, where now…

There was nothing. Just…Nothing.

It was another wound carved into something that she had helped bring into being.

Her fingers curled along the scales of Vaelcryx while the drake endured, protecting her, when it was already injured. It's tough hide and scales could take it, but she wouldn't be able to fight in this war anymore. She wouldn't be able to fly…And a drake that couldn't fly was dead. Her head was full of so much that it felt like it might burst, touched with anger, disbelief, and so much more that it just bled together like fury-filled white noise.

The Imperial Confederation had done this deliberately, perhaps, even sacrificing their own people to disable the World Tree. They had chosen this.

They had chosen wrong.

Srina lifted her head slowly as Vaelcryx pulled back her wounded wings and crouched among the dry, brittle, and burned roots. Its great maw went down and nudged the broken bark as if it could understand, giving a soft whine, when the root didn't move. Psilofyr was playful…He always moved. He always wrapped around her wrist, her ankles, communicating in curious little bursts that the socially inept Empress immediately understood. Try as she might…

The sadness did not leave her.

It hardened, compacted, and compressed until it burned. Her voice went out through the storm, through the phylactery, through every Sith mind that was attuned enough to hear her. It was a whisper. Soft. Elegant…So light that it could have been mistaken for a sweet nothing. So airy that none would suspect she was planning to feed Brosi the bodies of the Imperial Scum who thought to desecrate this world just one, more, time.

<<Make them suffer.>>

Cold anger surged, and her attention turned back toward the fallen gunship. Toward

Joseph Torson and any survivors that might be scrambling through her jungle. Harming her children. If she got her hands on them, they would not be granted a clean death. This time…She would tear them apart. Piece by piece.

<<Make. Them. Suffer.>>

The softness was gone.

The earth beneath the feet of

Joseph Torson began to quake, shaking so hard that it would feel like another nuclear weapon had detonated. The bedrock cracked and split open around the gunship, forming a great yawning rupture that began to swallow it whole. What had been solid ground moments before became a churning maw of soil and stone teeth that seemed not only alive but vengeful. Angry.

Hungry.

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

Reina Daival · Feb 7, 2026

Direct Tag:

Darth Carnifex
Ally Tags:

Ronhar Tane
Objective:

Down she had fell, even with the aid of the Force, the impact had still taken the air out of her lungs, knocking her from her focus and the Battle Meditation that was going on high above. Fortunately for her, she could still breathe beneath the murky depths, though it all tasted wrong. Tainted. The darkness stored in the waves washing over her, as Reina's vision shifted and faded for a moment, her thoughts slowing to a rather gentle crawl.

Faces. Voices. They flew past Reina's mind as she laid amidst the river. Judging her. Shaming her for what she was doing. For who she was working with. Those she had cared for, those she had wanted to impress who would surely be disappointed in her actions. Colette. Everest. Valery. Klar. The River was twisting and morphing Reina's inner fears. Her anxieties. Her worries. They would want nothing to do with her anymore, after this battle. How would they know what Reina had done? That was a rational thought. One that wasn't fuelled by fear and frustration. A fear that only continued to eat away at her. The Jedi had discarded her. It would only be a matter until the Sith did so. It made more sense. Their way was Strength. Something Reina had always doubted she had.

That was when she felt it. A darker sensation flowing through her, mixed with the Life Force of those who had been slain. Those who she had killed. The Dark Side was flowing into Reina, plunging her amongst the murky and oily depths. The emotions she was feeling weren't her own. The Darkness hadn't been one that she had inside of her, yet one that had been given to her, as her eyes snapped open beneath the waves. Slowly but surely, the Ersansyr began to morph in the darkness. Changing into her more aquatic form, as scales, shark teeth and claws started to replace her more human-features...and yet that had not been the most extreme change, as her legs split off, multiplying one by one...

--------------------

The Storm Commando would come to, just out of the river. Smoke and cinders clouding his vision as he decided to try and hunt down his target. Yet that was when he began to hear It. A melody. One that seemed to come out clear as day, despite the flames and destruction that echoed through the sky

Hush now, sailor, still your breath,
Storm's not done with you just yet.
Hear the tide beneath the foam,
Every wave knows where you roam.

It was difficult for him to describe the voice, with a melody so beautiful yet it contained a deep sense of sadness and melancholy. It sounded as if it was a small sea shanty. Almost inviting him into the river...Though he was not weak of will, weak of mind. The Ersansyr's song would not gain control of him, even as he prepared to head into the waves.

Oars grow heavy, hands grow weak,
Salt on lips you long to speak.
Don't fight the pull, don't fight the call
The sea remembers after all.

He continued to make his way through the water, even as the song seemed to grow louder. At first, it had sounded as if it was coming from a specific
section of the river, yet now it felt as if it was starting to surround him. Every small bubble, every small disturbance of the river causing him to react.

Come down, come down, where the waters sleep,
Where the dark is warm and the silence deep.
Lay your fear in the rolling blue,
The tide will carry what's left of you.

Every so often, he felt as if something would brush past him in the murky depths. As he continued to stay stood on the shore, staring out into the abyss, the Commando could have sworn he saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from the darkness, an extreme sense of sadness washing over him every time he felt the gaze upon him...before he felt something wrap around his legs, with an immense strength suddenly dragging him beneath the waves. As a series of octopi like limbs wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

Lungs burn slow, then fade to calm,
Wrapped in current, held in palm.
No more screaming, no more pain
Just the song, and endless rain.
Come down, come down, hear the siren's plea,
Not a threat, just a promise made by me.
Let the storm pass overhead,
The sea will cradle the living and dead.

The song was in his head. No matter how much he tried to block it out, tried his hardest to think about something else, the Commando could only hear the song. He could breathe for now, thanks to his Breath Mask, but the commando could feel a pressure building up around him, be it the pressure of the river or the pressure of the arms wrapped around him, slowly but surely squeezing. Crunching and cracking echoing throughout his armour...

Breathe out…
The water knows your name.
Come down, come down, don't try to flee,
The tide has chosen, the tide is me.
Sink your blade, release your hold—
All debts are paid in the cold.

All debts were paid. For every tree they burned. For every inch of life taken from this planet, the Imperials would pay tenfold. Starting with this man right here, as Reina squeezed him as tightly as she could, using all of the Octopi-like limbs given to her, as she recited the final line of the shanty, letting her voice gently drift down to a gentle whisper, almost in his ear.

Hush now, sailor…
Drift.

At least he would die in the arms of another. One could describe it as a loving embrace. One could also describe it as an embrace filled with hatred. Who would know? All that Reina knew for sure was that she felt strong.

Kaine Hamilton · Feb 7, 2026

T H E_S E C O N D_C O M I N G

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
BROSI, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

VENGEANCE SQUADRON
Fleet Composition : Kharon-Class Sector Battlecarrier [1] Claymore-Class Heavy Carriers [3] Hephaestus-Class Fleet Repair Barge [1] Tacitus II-class Planetary Invasion Carriers [5] Von-Strauss-Class Cargo Ships [4]
Starfighter Compliment : TIE/ss Supremacies TIE/Stu 'Stürmer' TIE/sb Strike Bombers Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators

Admiral Hamilton gazed upon the blue swirl of hyperspace as he stood onboard the bridge of his flagship while his Naval Squadron approached Brosi. While he would have preferred to join Sularen and the other Fleet Commanders at Florrum to crush the Sith Order's Naval Forces, his task was far more important and extremely crucial to the Imperial Confederation's offensive against the Thandon Star Cluster. Having anticipated the Sith's overreliance on their Sithspawn and Force tricks, the Supreme Commander had sent Hamilton to Brosi with a modest fleet with the objective of delivering reinforcements to the Imperator Corps on the surface and providing air support to further hinder the Sith's defense of the planet.

With the Sith Naval forces already preoccupied with the main Imperial Fleet at Florrum, Hamilton expected to face minimal resistance in orbit which would enable his warships to slip into the upper atmosphere and begin carrying out their mission. With their support, the Imperator Corps on the ground would be able push further against the Sith and deliver a final crushing blow that would send them running from their so-called Holy Worlds and Hamilton would have been the one to ensure that such an outcome would occur.

"Exiting Hyperspace in 3...2...1!"

Above the world of Brosi as Sith and Imperial forces clashed on the surface a fleet of fourteen warships emerged from hyperspace. A mixture of Carriers and Transports designed to carry large amounts of Starfighters and Support Craft that would deliver enough firepower and manpower to break the Sith's defense of the world and ensure the Confederation's ultimate victory. "Patch me through to the ground commanders." the Admiral ordered. Before long a secured channel had been opened with all major ground commanders on the surface as the Admiral made his presence known to them.

"Attention all Imperial Ground Forces, this is Fleet Admiral Hamilton of the Imperial Navy. I have arrived with reinforcements, air support and capital ships for supportive orbital bombardments. If you require any assistance let me know and you shall get it." he proclaimed. "Now, let's end this battle once and for all." he further added before muting his comms. With his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze now focused on the planet below the Admiral gave one final order before his forces entered the battle. "Bring us down to the upper atmosphere. Let the Sith know that their time up."

Fleet Admiral Kaine Hamilton arrives at Brosi with a Squadron of Carriers and Transports to provide Reinforcements, Close Air Support and Orbital Bombardments for all Imperial Ground Units at Brosi

Tags [Friendlies] |

Amni Kazda |

Rorsch |

Mal Crus |

Rieva "Killshot" Alonn

Ella Nova · Feb 7, 2026

Brosi, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster, Corporate Sector, Sith Vassal State.
Tag:

Taeli Raaf

THE SECOND COMING, OBJECT I
' The Second Battle of Brosi '

[ MIND GRABBER ]

Taeli Raaf said:
Ella mentioned Master Ru and her lips curled up even more. She wondered if Ella knew what had become of her former Master, all those decades ago in the Republic...

Countless nights starring out into the ecumenopolis called Lianna City; or when she would look upon the skyscrapers found on Enarc's capital; or the vacant stare Her had worn in

Karl Von Strauss 's office during the ICD-Deschart debacle; or during the time that she had been brought to the Rainspire, by boat, to meet with

Aurelian Veruna regarding the Naturalization and Repatriation to stare upon her own reflection mid-transit; or the swirling, almost hypnotic lights of hyperspace as Ella traversed the void between worlds... Seeking a distraction from the momentary lapses of concentration upon her work... With a lingering question, among many, that she could not find out the answers too...

What had happened to Sochi Ru?

Taeli Raaf said:
"A game might be lovely... Put the glow stick away, dear. We don't want you hurting yourself before we even start this game."

I can understand why Ayra hates this person. That condescending tone of voice...

Taeli Raaf said:
"The first question becomes, if I have something you want, what exactly do you have that I would even want in exchange?"

At the turn of the new century, as one era of Chaos moved into another, the Rule of Two had been cunning as they embedded themselves among the Imperial remnants. A invitation to the Sojourn system (where Alicia Drey hosted the very first Convocation of Sojourn at the end of the One Sith Wars) had been made to hand-selected participants to attend an auction so that they could bid for paraphernalia, and technology, that was said to be the total private collection of Darth Ayra.

Among the invitees had been Taeli Raaf herself, who had traded an Eligor Cloaking Device in exchange for a Sith Holocron during the bidding process, and who had later expressed an interest regarding a rare piece of technology called the Creatura Reactor which was said to have been an invention made by Ayra (before she had passed away due to an infection) that could allow a gifted alchemist to bind together or create new Lightsaber crystals in an obscure science called crystalogy.

The reactor (which had been bided for by

Danger Arceneau during the auction) was later sold to

Maldor Sancetti and then transferred by House Mecetti. It was then reacquired by Ayra's apprentice on Lianna as their conspiracy among the Imperials took root culminating in the attacks on the Dostra system (after the formation of Project Tion on Minntooine) and the Second Battle of Brosi.

Taeli Raaf said:
"I don't require intelligence on the Imperial Confederation if that's your opening offer. I'm quite happy with my own, thank you."

Taeli Raaf said:
"But you would know that, wouldn't you? No, you have something else in mind. The second question then becomes how do you propose we remain honest with each other if this becomes a game of questions and answers?"

Hissssss...

Ella thumbed down upon the ignition button of her Lightsaber, and as it's blue light was extinguished, she turned to face Taeli. Raising both hands to either side of her cowl Ella lowered the hood as she walked to the Dejarik board that had been set up by the nearby protocol unit. As their game commenced the red lightning above them grew in both size and palpability as did the nearby attack on Shoengen. The city was so far away from where both former Jedi, turned Sith, were about to play, and yet the noise was almost deafening. Indeed, battle is an awful sound.

"We can't," Ella replied to Taeli's question as she took the seat across from her. She kept her Lightsaber in the other hand. Trust was a commodity Taeli had long lost with her former friends and family. The Lady of Secrets knew this, of course. She had been the architect behind a betrayal that had led to the demise of the Old Republic. Would you trust someone who did that?

"What I want to know is the location of a space-station called the Malsheem," Ella stated. With her free hand she picked up K'lor'slug (pawn) and moved it two squares forward on the board signifying the first move of the game. "I will trade you the Creatura in exchange for this piece of information..."

Lunaria Talon · Feb 7, 2026

Ally Tag:

Darth Carnifex |

Sophia of House Marr |

Horus Rhyne |

Lysander von Ascania |

Nerralyn Raaf
Enemy Tag:

Rorsch |

Kaine Hamilton | Ella Nova
___________________________
_______

Psilofyr breathed around them.

Roots like cathedral arches curved overhead, and bits of bark with bioluminescent veins glowed faintly in the humid air. Lunaria watched as the sky was filled with black and red clouds, listened, while the sounds of war made chills run down her spine. They weren't supposed to be here. Her mother had specifically told her to stay home on Jutrand to hone her skills before launching into the next battlefield but…

What good was being a hidden princess if she couldn't hide properly?

Even from the Sith Empress?

During the last incursion…Brosi had protected them from zombie hordes and mean murder bots. It was time to repay the favor. She had explained her plan to

Matteo Guo-Yian who refused to let her come alone, even if he thought this was a very, very bad idea. She knew it was probably a mistake and that they were out of their depth, but knowing that hadn't kept her home. How could they be Sith and stand by while the Holy Worlds were being attacked again?

But how could they help when there were so many titans doing all they could already?

Resting across her back, carefully, reverently, was something she had "liberated" from the Palace on Jutrand. Kala'anda, the Staff of Ascension. Even dormant, it felt heavy in ways she couldn't explain. The alchemized bone drank in the light; the Kaiburr shard at its heart throbbed like a second pulse, out of sync with her own. The thing noticed the World Tree. She could feel it lean, listening, curious… hungry.

She swallowed and adjusted her grip.

It was her father's weapon.

Borrowed.

From

Darth Empyrean , technically. Without "specific" permission, considering he barely knew she existed. With his absence, it hadn't been hard to pilfer the item while visiting with

Darth Carnifex and her mother. She had every intention of returning it. Preferably, before he noticed.

Preferably, before her mother grounded her for the rest of her natural life.

The staff was far too much for her. She knew that. Anyone with sense would. It whispered at the edges of her awareness, a distant choir folded into a single, watchful intelligence. Not hostile. Not kind. Just… waiting. It recognized her because she was of the blood and thus could not discern that she was not the intended user. Both of her parents were keyed into it…She was keyed into it. "I don't know if I'll be able to handle it…But you need to make sure not to touch it. It'll kill you, Tea-Yo."

That warning came on the heels of the nuclear weapons dropping down that shook everything. The World Tree was large enough that it didn't directly hit where they were, but it nearly tossed the small Arkanian-Echani hybrid off her feet. Luminous silver eyes looked up at the tree with a sense of wonder and concern. She could hear such sorrow that her young mind couldn't translate it as anything other than a dagger to the heart. "Oh—", she breathed out, startled, and feeling fear trickle back in. But…She couldn't be afraid.

"I think it's time…Help me?"

Lunaria had found a few of the Dzunkissai, ritual priests, who served

Darth Carnifex , and her status as his student had let her lead them away from the main battle. They were under the assumption that the Dark Lord wanted them there. But…She hadn't asked anyone. She had just done things, on her own, with the full knowledge that Brosi was going to be a dangerous and deadly place. She turned back to Psilofyr, resting the butt of Kala'anda against the soil—not activating it, not drawing on it. Just breathing and waiting. The ground seemed to respond, roots tightening slightly, leaves shivering in a breeze that hadn't existed a second before.

It was hurting so badly.

Lunaria and Matteo were young, uncertain, and very aware of how small they were.

But they were adults now...They hadn't come to be protected this time.

They had come to protect.

Her head bowed as her hands wrapped around Kala'anda, and she felt it pull on her being in a way that made her dizzy. It was just like her father, overwhelming, and a touch cruel. The ritual priests began to help channel through her, and the edges of a barrier began to rise around the World Tree like a second skin. They were close enough to be covered beneath it, but it didn't extend very far…Just enough to protect the core.

"Kala'anda shûr vakh. Kragh'tor nash ul—Vesh'kara, zoth vahl."

Staff of Ascension, hear me. By blood and bound will—Rise and hold.

"Kala'anda shûr vakh. Kragh'tor nash ul—Vesh'kara, zoth vahl."

Rise and hold.

Kala'anda, the Staff of Ascension [Permissions] - Only being used for amplification.
Forceline Armor
Saber

They are attempting to raise a barrier to protect the World Tree from further devastation; however, it is not complete yet...

Ronhar Tane · Feb 7, 2026

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: TIMBER!!
BROSI

It seemed that Ronhar's plan was finally starting to work.

Though the lightening strikes were continuing to impact the troops that the Imperial Remnant had brought to Brosi, they were decreasing in frequency and intensity, giving Ronhar just the fainted amount of hope that his actions here might allow the Imperials to succeed where they had failed last time.

At least, that was before he had killed the sorcerers that were empowering

Darth Carnifex 's dark ritual.

They had offered him no resistance when he had cut them down, nor had they tried to dodge or even move out of the way of the projectiles fired from his BG-D 6 "Outlaw". Ronhar soon found out why.

From the dead bodies of those recently deceased sorcerers rose what Ronhar could only describe as "skeletal apparitions", bathed in a sickly green light and armed with wickedly sharp swords. Well shit, that was truly unexpected. The depravity of the Sith would never cease to amaze Ronhar, as beings who had no respect for the dead were beings who could no respect for the living either. Regardless, Ronhar would now have to deal with this dangerous threat one way or another.

But first, he had a pair of sorcerers left to kill!

Ronhar activated the NZ MAM MkII Jet Maneuvering Gear that was attached to his Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton as he charged the fifth sorcerer, stopping right in front of the man. He grabbed him by the collar, hoisted him over his shoulder and flung him off the ritual platform, using the enhanced strength granted to him by his cybernetics to throw the man far further than most could ever hope to. Again activating his NZ MAM MkII Jet Maneuvering Gear, Ronhar flew behind the sixth and final sorcerer, activated an ABC Scrambler, shoved it down the back of the sorcerer's ceremonial garb and kicked him directly toward

Darth Carnifex , firing a round of Smoke Grenades at the pair for good measure. That wouldn't be enough to kill either of them, of course, but if Ronhar was lucky, he might get Carnifex to prematurely detonate the bolts of plasma that he still had left hanging in the air. It was not lost on Ronhar that Carnifex had yet to shoot at him, as the Sith was probably waiting for Ronhar to drop his guard. He had to make sure that didn't happen.

Now, it was time to deal with the skeletons. With Carnifex occupied, if only for the briefest of moments, Ronhar activated his Jet Maneuvering Gear a third time, executing a flying sidekick into the nearest skeleton. It had no effect on the creature and Ronhar simply passed right through it as if it wasn't even there. Ronhar then discharged the remaining projectiles in his BG-D 6 "Outlaw" at the monsters, though those too seemingly had no effect on them. Re-holstering the weapon, Ronhar placed both of his hands on Burnblade as he charged forward, the creatures trying to surround him on all sides. The irony of the situation was not lost on Ronhar, who had sent four of his men against

Reina Daival , now, he was the one on the receiving end of the attack. Still, Ronhar had more than few tricks of his sleeve, again using his blade as if he was performing Form I combat against his foes. His blade danced from left to right, deftly parrying and riposting where possible, using the number of attackers to his advantage as he blocked the creatures from swarming him, forcing them to fight him one at a time.

It was tedious and dangerous work, and Ronhar suffered his fair share of damage: a cut and a scratch here, a stab wound and slice there, covering the commando from head to toes in wounds, or more accurately, cybernetic damage. Had Ronhar been a regular human being, the weight of his injuries would have surely incapacitated him, but thanks to his cybernetics, he was able to shut off the electrical impulses sending pain messages to his brain, though that meant he was no longer able to feel what was going on around him, forcing him to instead rely on instinct and the mechanical reactions of the equipment that had been installed onto him. More worrying, one of the skeleton's attacks had sliced the Automated Weapon Mounting Point that was holding his Acid Rifle off of its Exoskeleton frame, sending the weapon skittering across the platform far out of Ronhar's reach. He would have to fight on without it for the time being.

Still, Ronhar was slowly making progress, and one by one, he managed to defeat the skeletons, dispersing them into a cloud of mist as Burnblade cut through their bodies as if they were physically present in the real world.

"Brave little plaything you are, not like your friends down there. All of their little choices and personal oaths have led them to the same fate, butchered and eaten. I told my Graug that they could have their fill of your companions. They're messy eaters, they don't even properly kill their food before taking the first bite. In truth, I think they prefer it that way. Something about the screams and the terror of being eaten alive. Perhaps you can ask them after I've delivered you into their hands."

Ronhar didn't even turn to acknowledge Carnifex as he dispatched the final skeleton. Shaking and now breathing heavily, Ronhar instead decided to respond to him.

"Sure, you're pretty powerful, I'll give you that. But your power has made you arrogant, and your arrogance will be your undoing. Look around you, Sith. Your world is burning, your apprentice is dead and the Confederation is closing in on our position. Are you really so confident that you do not see what is happening around you? You must be blinder than a Mynock in a dark cave!"

With that, Ronhar suddenly spun around, and taking a play out of

Laphisto 's handbook, hurled his now empty BG-D 6 "Outlaw" directly toward Carnifex as hard as he could, the weapon flying at him far faster than would be physically possible for most. Again, Ronhar hoped that the gun would hit Carnifex's plasma bolts and trigger them prematurely, removing that specific threat from the battle. His HNDA-Mk I continued to blare at full volume, perhaps influencing the Sith's ability to use the force in just the slightest manner.

Below the ritual, the final surviving ARC Trooper of Reclaimer Squad, bruised, battered, bloodied, but still very much alive, slowly made his way across the branches of the World Tree. His head was pounding and his ears were ringing, and he was fairly certain he had at least several broken bones. He was probably going to die here, but he would be damned if he didn't kill

Reina Daival first! As he stumbled around, he came upon her by chance, strangling and crushing the life out of one of his allies. With shaking hands, he raised his SE-26p heavy blaster pistol, and without saying a word, began firing several blaster bolts directly at

Reina Daival .

Down even further below, the remnant's of Ronhar's army were, by the point, directly engaging the World Tree, hitting it with everything that they had: laser cannons, turbolasers, plasma cannons, artillery shells, flak cannons and even ion cannons. Though most of the forces sent by

Madrona A’Mia had been dealt with, warriors from

Darth Carnifex had come to engage the Imperial forces in their stead. By now, Ronhar's army had taken a 33% of their forces as being killed, wounded or missing, and once that number jumped to 40%, there was a very likely and real possibility that the entire army would collapse, much like

FN-999 (restored) 's army had. Clearly, they were going to need reinforcements, and a desperate plea was sent out to

FN-999 (restored) and

The Lord of Hunger , explaining the breakthrough that they had made and begging for any available combat assets to be sent their way.

One thing that the Imperial Remnant noticed in particular was that a fairly large section of the World Tree had somehow been burnt, the charred, blacked wood contrasting with the living, healthy wood that surrounded it. Figuring it was a week spot, Imperial Remnant forces began to focus their fire there, hoping to break enough holes into it that they could start lobbing incendiary shells directly inside the tree, and not just on the outside. A few of the remaining Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators even joined in, strafing that spot with mass-driver cannon and missile fire. The fires that the Imperial Remnant had started only continued to burn unchecked, and at this rate, they would begin consuming the World Tree itself, burning it until it was nothing but a pile of ash. Even now, as Ronhar continued his fight against

Darth Carnifex , he could feel the reverberations of the heavy weapon fire impacting the World Tree down below him!

TAGS:

Matteo Guo-Yian · Feb 7, 2026

Direct Ally Tag: [SO]:

Lunaria Talon

Distant Ally Tag: [SO]:

Gerwald Lechner |

Darth Carnifex | @Madrona A'Mia |

Eira Dyn |

Lirka Ka
Enemy Tag: [TIC ] -

Rorsch |

Kaine Hamilton | Ella Nova
Location: Brosi [In a "Tree"]
Objective: I

Brosi again.

The last time they hadn't been prepared for it. The onslaught overwhelming, the fire and fury all-consuming, it had been difficult to make sense of the battlefield and their place in it. No wonder they had to rely on his Master to help them in the end.

Srina Talon had practically saved them by drawing them into the roots and earth of the planet.

Without that... Matteo didn't want to think what might have happened.

And now they were back.

Lunaria Talon said:
"I don't know if I'll be able to handle it…But you need to make sure not to touch it. It'll kill you, Tea-Yo."

He looked at that staff as if it was a viper waiting to strike. It was wrong, deeply wrong and in truth Matteo wanted to wrench it out of her hands before it could do... something, anything.

But Matteo trusted Luna, if she believed she could handle it, then she could.

"I won't, I promise." Matteo lied, easily, his eyes on hers. If it went too far, if it meant between her life or his, he'd gladly yank it out of her hands and save her life. But he wouldn't say that. If he was the type to say that, she'd begin leaving him behind, rather than include him. Since she knew he'd support her through and through.

Matteo nodded as she asked for help.

From the creepy priests around them, but from him as well. He peered up at the tree as it trembled, teeth grinding at the aftershock in the Force. These Imperials were wicked.

Monstrous in a way that he had not imagined.

Apparently you didn't need the Dark Side to be evil.

He stepped up and his hands touched Luna's shoulders. First a light brush but then curling in as his eyes closed. Everything else dimmed. Instead there was only her, and him, and the priests surrounding them. And the pulsing beat of the staff in her hands. It was even more disgusting and evil with his eyes closed and the Force stretched out.

Wrong.

"I got you." Matteo said gently, both spoken as well as in her mind. He'd open himself up, ripping apart gates, before beginning to pour his strength into hers.

Joining together as the priests chanted their wicked chants.

His knees didn't tremble anymore, he stood resolute, as they began to draw the power and magic to erect a shield around the tree.

"We won't flee this time..."

He wouldn't be able to face his Master if they did. Matteo was her warrior, he'd always fight to make her proud. Always.

Horus Rhyne · Feb 7, 2026

Direct Ally Tag: [SO]:

Sophia of House Marr |

Nerralyn Raaf

Distant Ally Tag: [SO]:

Gerwald Lechner |

Darth Carnifex | @Madrona A'Mia |

Eira Dyn |