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

[Revna Marr]

Objective One
Gear: Armor, Lightsaber
SO Allies: Srina Talon // Gerwald Lechner // Madrona A’Mia // Mercy // Darth Carnifex // Darth Prazutis // Taeli Raaf // Darth Caedes
Direct Enemy Tag: The Lord of Hunger
Heads Up: All TIC Forces on Objective One (please read spoiler at bottom of post!)
​

Revna tilted her head to one side as the creature before her seemed to disagree with her statement - that none of “them” did anything of their own volition. She understood him to mean the Sith as a whole - not just her, but his comment nonetheless made her smile almost mockingly. The more he spoke, the more he revealed that he just simply didn’t know her.

There was truth to his statement, though. There were Sith in the Order that didn’t do anything out of their own volition, even if they believed otherwise. Someone held their leash, whether those Sith believed it or not. Revna did not count herself amongst those, however…because like her Master, she was not “normal” compared to the rest of them. She and her Master and their Order were outliers, underdogs, outcasts even. A minority, to be sure.

"You are hindered...you are so...small."

Amusement danced in her eyes again at the insult; other Sith might have taken personal offense to his words, and reacted accordingly. Once upon a time, she might have given into her fury at such an insult against her too. Spat at this creature and told him to kark off. But caution and restraint borne from violent and harsh lessons had taught her wisdom and insight. The more this creature spoke, the more he revealed of himself and his arrogance. Such beings thought themselves above the rest because of whatever power they had achieved or brought into themselves, and it clouded one’s mind and thinking. In this, he made assumptions of Revna…and in that…he made mistakes. He underestimated her, and she would allow him to continue to do so. It was a play, a ploy, that Revna had used time and time again. She lived and moved in such a way to make others look over her, disregard her, or think she was ‘less than’. It gave her the opportunity to slip her way into a position where she wanted to be in, to manipulate how she wished. To find opportunity where there otherwise wouldn't have been.

It was no different here. She had yet to decide if this ‘Lord of Hunger’ was to be a foe, or perhaps a tool she could use for her own benefit. But the more he pushed his own rhetoric, the more he seemed to be making the decision for her.

Still - there was always a bit of value, even in things that others might consider meaningless.

Revna remained silent before the Lord of Hunger, allowing him to continue his words, cataloguing everything he said without so much as a twitch of an eye. He was accurate in that she had so much untapped potential, for she did. She did not yet know the limits of her own power, or that of the Void that resided within her. It felt bottomless, truthfully - an abyss that she could dive into and never find the bottom…and that was what scared her the most. She was not stupid - she knew the price of falling so completely into the darkness that there was no way back. It was not a risk she was willing to take.

Not right now, anyway.

"You carry the strength of Hunger within you, but it is just so...small...at least as it is now, you are thus not even remotely close to what you could be if you were to fully tap into the potential you hold. As for Caedes... he's a brilliant sorcerer... his knowledge and practical skills simply would go to waste in the hands of those who'd hold him back. Holding back is such a pointless thing wouldn't you agree?"

She felt the snap, the ripple of it through the Force. It was as if some barrier gave way that surrounded him, and as if to punctuate his words about holding back, or rather - not doing so - his dreadful aura filled the glade they were in. It was terrible in strength for sure, there was no denying that. She could feel the raw pull of his essence, of his own hunger...but Revna stood fast, unflinchingly. She was not going to give him anything that could be used against her. She had faced Sith of great and terrible power before, each with their own "flavor" so to speak. It gave her the courage to stand where others might have caved.

In a very subtle display of her own growth that she had done over the years, she walled herself off from him - an invisible barrier that cut him off from her. If it worked against the Dark Lords of the Sith, it would work against him. He would get nothing from her, unless she wanted him to have it.

“The wise know when to restrain themselves, and when not to. A smart Sith should never cast aside wisdom, for it allows one to rise where others fall. For all that you have done or been through and have become…it would appear that this is a lesson you have yet to learn.” Revna replied back in a rebuttal to his statements, a veiled insult, traded back to him for the insults leveled against her, but done in an almost calm manner, without the frothing of rage or indignation. It was in stark contrast to the utter violence that was unfolding above and all around the two of them - as if it didn’t bother her in the slightest, or she wasn’t affected by it.

In response to her question about why he had come to Brosi this time, again, the Lord of Hunger tilted his head as one of his hands moved upwards. Within it, she saw the coalescing of some black type of substance, gathering about his hand before tendrils of it snapped into the corpses that had sprung up with growth - covering them in a sort of darkness that even seemed to eat the light around it. Revna observed with the same steadfastness, but there was something else stirring beyond her…beyond even the Lord of Hunger himself.

A ripple of warning in the Force, a soul crushing feeling of icy foreboding that told her that something awful was about to transpire. Quite suddenly, she felt thrust upon an invisible event horizon - and within her mind all she saw was a vision of fire…

In a blink, her eyes cleared and she was staring back at the creature before her, but her guard had shifted. Wariness crawled over her spine that had nothing to do with him or whatever perverted sorcery he was doing in the moment.

His words fell upon her ears, slipping in like a poison. He said something to her about an offer, something to elevate her above the rest of them. Suggesting that he was the one who could do this for her. And unchain her from the constraints of the Force. It went against everything she personally believed, and her eyes narrowed at him. She wanted to speak her mind in that moment, say her piece, unveil the truth - but the warning in the Force was screaming now, scraping against the edges of her awareness like shards of glass against a raw, open wound. Beneath her, she felt Brosi shudder - and agony trickled through her awareness. Somewhere, beyond her, she thought she could hear A'Mia wail, and her breath caught in her throat.

Something terrible had just happened…not once, but twice. Somewhere, out there...byond the canopy of the forest that loomed up around her and the Lord of Hunger. The skies above their heads churned with Darkness and fire and annihilation…

His hand turned towards her, blackened tendrils snaking out, energy that bled from his own power and essence. He told her that he didn’t really care about her choice in the matter - was hers to make after all. He wanted to see her growth - and she turned more fully towards him for a moment. She took in everything he said and she wanted to laugh.

"... but bear your fangs against me right here, right now, and you will die as so many others, never to have reached what you could truly achieve."

“You know…I’ve heard that before. And yet I still live.” Revna said coldly. She started to say something else, when a voice cut clearly into her mind.

​

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

​

A’Mia’s warning cast into Revna’s mind was cut short, as were Revna's rebuttal. In the next moment, she felt undiluted rage flood into her from her tether with Srina - and with it came a vision of fire once more, and an understanding of what had just transpired. Whole swaths of Brosi were burning, laid to waste by weapons of mass destruction - and more missiles were inbound.

​

<<Make. Them. Suffer.>>​

​

In a blink, Revna made her decision. As interested as she was in this creature’s offer - ever hungry in pursuit of more knowledge, more understanding, more more more - she had a position to hold, a place to defend. She wasn’t here to chat with the Lord of Hunger or make a bargain with him here and now…she was here to fight a war against her enemy.

It didn't matter in the moment if he was acting against them, for his own interests, or that he had seemingly come offer her something that he thought she couldn't, or wouldn't, refuse - unfortunately for him - he was in her way.

The barrier she had held up to keep herself in check, holding herself back, fell away. A proverbial black hole opened up where she stood. It would appear that she had grown immensely since the last time they had crossed paths. Either that, or the Lord of Hunger truly did not comprehend just how deep the well of power within her went. She hadn’t even tapped that far into it…yet.

The fire in Revna’s eyes vanished as the Void took hold of her. Just as it had before on the fated Death Star III, black shadowy tendrils seemed to erupt from her, and elevated her above the ground, above the canopy. They rooted themselves into the very ground of Brosi itself and, as wounded as Psilofyr was, it recognized the Hunger within her and a connection was made. Death, energy, power…all of it flowed through the network itself, flowed through the tendrils as if they were veins. A planet’s Hunger, connected to the Void Hunger. It filled her to the brim, and then overflowed her in a heartbeat. Her vision shifted, to see through her new Eyes. Below her, she could feel the Lord of Hunger pulsating, no doubt he would try to do as he threatened he would do.

He will try to cut me down, try to feed from me, consume me. Deny him.

There was a short contest of wills, hers against the Void as it always wanted to seek control over her - but she was steadfast this time. Above, Revna could sense and feel the encroaching missile headed for her allies, for the Tree itself - and she wondered if perhaps there was something she could do about it. A way that she could make use of it, for herself. For her allies.

And to her surprise...the Void responded back to her thought with a suggestion planted into her own mind, one she knew all too well.

Sacrifice.

A portion of her soul, given to the Void, consumed and lost forever, in order to embrace the power which it could offer to her, an ability she had yet to discover.

A give and a take - the very essence of the Dark Side itself. She weighed it, and made the agreement. She felt a piece of her own essence vanish into nothingness…leaving behind a cold and hollow place that echoed with nothing but the thrum of Hunger, where a piece of her once was. A crawling sensation of dread trickled up her spine at what she had just done, but there was no time to think about it or regret it now. What was done...was done.

In a blink, there was a blinding flash of light - and then it seemed to cave in on itself in the next instant, winking out. The energy that should have been unleashed in the explosion was siphoned by the Void and now it surged through those tendrils and right into her. It filled her to the brim and beyond, in an instant. She was not made to withhold this much energy - no physical being ever could.

She needed to release it elsewhere, now.

In a mocking gesture to mimic the black miasma of the Lord of Hunger, Revna turned wispy blackened hands towards him and any other Imperials forces beyond their location - and redirected the energy of the missile right back at him and any others unfortunate enough to be caught in its pathway of utter destruction.

ANY PC IMPERIALS NEAR TO THE LORD OF HUNGER'S LOCATION MAY BE IMPACTED BY THIS​

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[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This | WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Howling Death
ALLIES:: Srina Talon | Madrona A’Mia | Mercy | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Taeli Raaf | Darth Prazutis
ENEMIES:: Taregh Garon​

The storm had stopped feeling like weather.

Srina Talon did not draw gently. She took what she needed and turned it outward at once, and the sky answered her with intent. Rain still fell hard, but it no longer fell at random. It pressed. Lightning no longer wandered across the clouds. It struck where it chose.

Gerwald felt the pull along his spine and across his ribs as she drew from him. He steadied himself and let it happen. He did not try to guide the storm or claim it. Darth Carnifex already held the sky with a will far heavier than his own, and this storm had never been meant to soothe or cleanse. It was meant to break things.

Then the missiles came.

He felt them before he saw them, hot streaks of violence that made the forest recoil as one living thing. One tore across the storm line with a sound that scraped at the nerves. Another followed close behind, their wakes tangling in the air. He did not need to look up to know where they were headed. Psilofyr shuddered beneath his feet.

The warning was already gone into the storm toward Srina Talon.

The first impact struck through the roots like a hammer blow.

The ground lurched hard enough to jar his armor and knock breath from his chest. Pain followed a heartbeat later. It was sharp and intimate, carried through the mycelial network like a scream down a nerve. Somewhere within Psilofyr’s vast body, Madrona A’Mia took the wound as if it had torn into her flesh. The forest’s anger tightened around that pain and turned inward, focused and dangerous.

Radiation warnings followed a moment later.

His armor adjusted without panic. His filters compensated. The rain tasted wrong through the mask, metallic and bitter, and the planet’s outrage deepened into something closer to hunger.

Another strike landed elsewhere.

This one did not simply tear the ground apart. It ruptured something ritual-bound and ancient, and the backlash tore loose without restraint. Wild Sith magick surged outward from the shattered altar and slammed into Gerwald’s instincts with such force that the wolf inside him surged awake, teeth bared, muscles coiling for violence.

He did not fight it.

For a breath, he felt the urge to surrender completely, to answer destruction with destruction until the shaking stopped. The wolf wanted to charge the nearest heartbeat and tear until the world made sense again. Gerwald did not deny that urge. He narrowed it and let it sharpen.

Overhead, a drake screamed.

The sacrifice flared through the Force as something massive hurled itself between another missile and the World Tree. The explosion that followed was wrong, softened, robbed of its full violence. It still shook the canopy and stripped bark loose in wet sheets, but it did not carve the wound it had been meant to carve.

Grief came immediately after.

Madrona A’Mia’s lament rolled through Brosi, not as sound but as sensation. Trees shuddered as if they had learned how to mourn. Insects surged along the edges of the battlefield. Spark bugs lifted toward failing machines with relentless hunger.

Then the Force twisted again.

Revna Marr opened herself to something vast and cold, and for a heartbeat the energy of another missile simply ceased to exist. The violence that should have scarred the land reappeared elsewhere, redirected and screaming away from the World Tree.

Gerwald felt it and let it pass.

That was not his fight.

Taregh was.

The next surge came from the Well and it finished what the storm had started.

The wolf broke free.

Bone shifted beneath armor that flowed instead of resisted. Plates separated and reknit along new angles as mass redistributed itself with brutal speed. His frame folded forward, spine lengthening, shoulders widening, weight slamming down into four points of contact with the soaked earth. Greaves reshaped along powerful hind limbs. The chest plate tightened across a broader ribcage. The helm split and reformed as jaws pushed forward, breath tearing out of him in hot, wet bursts.

Blodmåne slipped from his grasp and vanished into the mud behind him, forgotten without ceremony.

The ground felt different like this.

He felt the roots before they moved. The beast felt where the soil would give and where it would hold. The storm pressed down on his back and instead of weighing him, it drove him forward. Rage burned through him. The sensation was bright and feral, fed by grief, radiation, and the raw wound carved into Brosi’s skin.

The Inquisitor’s scent anchored him.

Armor oil. Stimulants. Burned ground. The sharp chemical bite of a body pushed past its limits by injected fury. The scream had not been fear. It had been ignition.

The wolf answered it.

He did not charge headlong, dropping low and slipped sideways into the rain, moving where sight broke down and sound became useless. Smoke and steam swallowed his outline. Roots shifted behind him and erased the space he had occupied. For a heartbeat there was nothing but rain and the pounding of blood.

Then he struck.

He came in fast and low from the left, weight driving through his shoulders as he lunged for the Inquisitor’s damaged side.

Not the head.

Not the blade.

Jaws snapped toward the seam where shoulder met torso, where armor had already been stressed and the ground beneath refused to stay loyal. Claws tore for purchase as he drove in with the intent to drag, to pull the fight down into mud and roots where size became a liability.

The forest surged with him.

Roots tightened and released in a violent rhythm. Insects swarmed harder around exposed metal. Rain collapsed the world into motion and sound. The storm above did not soften. Lightning tore through the sky once again.

Gerwald stayed in close, circling trying to force movement and force reaction. Every step churned water and soil into chaos. Brosi did not calm beneath them.

It hunted with him.

And the wolf did not let go.

 

[Taregh Garon]

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

---

They'd separated again. Somehow. Taregh's eyesight blurred as stims filled his veins and clouded his mind.

Say what you want about the battle raging across Brosi. Missiles exploding overhead and deeper in the forest, the sound of drakes as they fell from the sky. None of it registered. There was only here and now, what was directly in front of him and all around him.

The Stims were like fire in his veins. Pain and discomfort faded into the back of his mind, drown out by the sound the downpour pelting against his armor and the of his own screams. Taregh didn't even realize he was screaming.

He'd buckled forward briefly, lightsaber deactivating but still held in his right hand.

When he rose it was it only to his knees as he turned his head, looking for Gerwald Lechner and he would not have to look long.

The Wolf came out of the mist, entering the Inquisitors reeling senses in an instant and lunged at him.

Unsurprisingly Taregh went down, thrown onto his back by the sudden impact while jaws snapped shut over the weak point in his armor.

Flesh was torn, bones shattered and blood ran free.

Taregh did not make a sound.

The Stims injected into him did more than push him beyond the point of what he should be physically capable of they deadened the pain, burnt out his nerves so that while he might register a wound he felt nothing.

Dragged down into the rain and the mud Taregh would make for easy prey against the wolf, except----

---it was not size that he counted on any more.

The Inquisitor could match a Wookie for strength, the strengthen underlay incorporated into his armor doubled if not tripled his natural strength and the stims pumping through him made him capable of feats no man should be capable of.

No mention of the force yet, it did not play a role in how prodigious his might was.

When Gerwald bit deep he needn't fight to drag Taregh down. The Inquisitors only move was to swing his his left arm over, clamp it around the Wolf and pull him closer and ontop on his as he fell. It would be impossibly uncomfortable and impossibly powerful too. Certainly Gerwald could bite him harder, rip a chunk of flesh out of him but drowned in chemicals that diminished any sense of anguish Taregh would not have known until the battle was long done. Claws scraping and tearing over his armor might find purchase but against ballistic shielding and bonded plating they would need to work to chew through anything.

As for Taregh all he did was squeeze, hugging his arm around Gerwald and letting the wolf bite deeper into a side the would spout crimson. Every moment would increase the pressure of Gerwald too, a forearm that could literally bend durasteel at this point driving itself against his back and willing the wolfs spine to break. If it refused to yield the sheer pressure promised to steal air from the beasts lungs eventually.

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Scream was thunderous. Not from pain but from a mind numb to it and driven to the point of near homicidal mania. Red began clouding his vision.

There was the ligtsaber, deactivated and still clutched in Taregh's right hand too. He hooked with it, driving it towards the armpit crevice of the wolfs nearest forelimb where he knew all armor was weak to accommodate movement. Once he'd shoved it deep he ignited the lightsaber, the crackling plasma blade coming to life in such a way that it could cleanly rip through a limb and tear it free from the body.

 

[Kito]

//: Lysander von Ascania //:

The Force rippled with the lust of combat. Kito could feel it; the warrior was aware of her presence despite her hiding. The bodies of his comrades lay undisturbed for now. Her eyes flickered to the pair that was still near her; they were the bait.

And the bait was working. Kito's eyes lit up as she looked towards the descending figure into the lower grove. He had seen what she had done and seemingly decided to investigate. Exactly what she wanted, she could feel the pounding in her chest as the anticipation of the fight excited her. The others weren't a challenge, but this one — he was their leader, and as such, he had failed.

Closer he descended, closer he got to her, closer to his death he came. Kito's fingers twitched, itching to draw the blessed odachi — another mark, another step towards being free of this penance. Blood pounded in her ears as she watched him draw near.

Patience, a lesson the Jedi taught. Patience was what would win her the fight, but patience was instantly lost on the girl. The desire for the end, the thrill of combat, took hold. Slowly, Kito took a step forward, her breath exhaled as flames licked the air. It was time; she wouldn't let him strike first — she would bring the fight to him.

As he came down, she moved up.

The Force fueling her muscles as the fire burned with the odachi drawn. Hot white flame, arched from the blessed blade and the Force, covered the girl as she channeled, dropping in a fit of flame. She charged upward towards him to try and catch his descent, the blade sweeping wide across his body as fire threatened to burn his armor and flesh.

No words, she didn't need any. Fire would purify, and this Sith would just be another mark on her blade.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

Allies: //: Srina Talon //: Gerwald Lechner //: Mercy //: "Templar" //: Revna Marr //: @Madrona A'Mia //: Darth Carnifex //: Reina Daival //: Eira Dyn //: Lirka Ka //: Sophia of House Marr //: Nerralyn Raaf //: Lunaria Talon //: Matteo Guo-Yian //:
ENEMIES: //: The Lord of Hunger //: //: FN-999 (restored) //: Kaine Hamilton //:
​

---

So much echoed in the Force.

Spencer listened, voices crying out for salvation, for patience and power. All of them want something, but never want to give. Brosi had become a desirable gem, something that many wanted, but only one held. Her brow furrowed, feeling the pain from the Tree Mother, she bore the wounds of her child as its life swayed in the balance.

She understood that pain. Spencer had seen her children fight each other, love each other, and in the end, their deaths were brought upon by each other.

Painful, but it was life. Eyes carefully moved as the war around her muffled. She felt out of place, just a silent observer in all of it. It was her role… wasn't it? To not meddle, to let things play out as the Force willed.

Explosions echoed too close for comfort. She waved her arm, bringing life to parts of the Grove to protect her and the Templar who had begun her patrol at the perimeter. Roots hardened as they rose, protectively for itself and the pair. After the attack, they would slowly mend themselves, their molecular structure enhanced, pushed onward by the Force.

All seemed for the moment at a lull...

But then, her favored Child… one that had only brought joy to her. The ideal one, which she had hoped all of them would take after speaking.

The woman's pain bled through. She, too, was a mother, a better mother.

One that cared to meddle. One that chose to meddle… one that would guide even the most stubborn child to their promise. It was why she sent her youngest to her. Spencer knew that she couldn't do anything with the child; she was beyond her means of understanding — emotional, needy, more potent than anything she or Ashin had seen.

They had conceived something they would ultimately ruin.

Srina wouldn't, Srina would cultivate and bring prosperity.

Spencer didn't need any more thought or a call for action. Instead, she stepped forward, her mind still linked with the wandering relic. The woman was her eyes for the moment. The Force-born rolled her shoulders back, muscles loosened, remembering the ways of the old. Her lips parted in a heated exhale, and the storm conjured by the Dark Lord himself began to churn. It had a new master—one that had terrorized the galaxy decades ago.

Clouds moved, spiraling into tightly spun tornadoes. They ripped through the sky roaring as if the Force itself demanded sacrifice.

Another deep breath as the lightning that was red suddenly turned a deep obsidian black — the storms mirroring those that had terrorized Coruscant. Thick bolts coursed through the sky as the smell of burnt air crackled and fell upon those around them. The incoming ships that decided to stain Brosi's sky with their hideous design soon became the targets for the storm's wraith. ( Kaine Hamilton ) While the lighting hunted, wide gaping funnels opened up as more of the launched nuclear missiles came closer to them.

She was a mother, and she wouldn't let another mother's child continue to endure the pain it was in. These imperials were insects, annoying, bothersome gnats that sought attention.

They would get attention…

In the recesses of Templar's mind, a voice would echo.

Be my eyes, My Sarma.

As her words finished, a dark spiral would open in front of the woman. Its bellowing winds would urge her forward. The moment she stepped in, she would be thrust upon another part of the battlefield…

And behind her…

The missiles that sought to attack the Grove Mother's most beloved.

Their trajectory targets the source of their origin, aiming to disable and destroy. ( The Lord of Hunger )

 

[Amni Kazda]

Battle Armor
Kitty

About time the Sith Lord spoke even if it sounded harsh and stiff sounding more like a Droid whose voice modulator was amplified than a person. The Sith Lord probably thought she sounded intimidating. Amni thought she sounded ridiculous like a child acting tough while playing a Hologame. Although Amni managed to connect her dark orb on the Stih Lord, no discernable was made on her armor. So not only it could take a blow from Amni's blade but magic attacks could barely make a dent on it. There has to be some way that Amni could affect this Sith Lord.

"You can actually talk?" Amni smirked. "Wish you didn't. I've heard more intimidating speeches by drunken Gungans than the likes of you."

She received a Force Push for her troubles, Amni gave a grunt of pain feeling as if she struck by a giant asteroid. Her body was sent hurling towards the wall the voice in her head starting to become louder. "LET ME OUT!" It screamed. "THE CORPSE EMPEROR HAS CREATED ME TO ASSIST YOU!"

"The Emperor....." As her body continued to be flung across the room, Amni waved her hand summoning a portal behind her. "Is dead and I did not ask him to place a fracking monster inside of me!"

Amni went inside of the portal before she reappeared in front of the Sith Lord. "Get out of my head!" rage filled Ammi's mind her brain started to contort and temples on the side of her head started to throb. "Need to concentrate......" Amni raised her hand and Kitty reappeared in her hand.

"Try this for size!" Amni's blade started to glow a white hue and she swung her blade 4 times unleashing 4 projectiles heading towards Elra. She needed to keep her distance and start probing the Sith Lord. Everyone has a weakness despite what the Sith Lord claimed.

Eira Dyn

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

​

Direct Ally Tag: [SO]: Nerralyn Raaf + Horus Rhyne
Distant Ally Tag: [SO]: Taeli Raaf [| Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | Madrona A’Mia | Mercy | Darth Prazutis | Srina Talon [ | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Spencer Varanin | Eira Dyn | "Templar" | Lirka Ka | Reina Daival
Enemy Tag: [TIC ] - FN-999 (restored)
Location: Brosi [Just Outside Fireball Radius]
NPC's: Ravenscars | Geists | Vheh'Ramikad (All targeting FN-999 (restored) troops.)
Objective: Objective I

| Robes | - | Red Lightsaber | - | Cool Whip | - | Enviro-Shield Generator |
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"...If this is your last stand, you should really stand somewhere else..."
___________​

Sophia hadn’t expected it to work that well.

The marching orders that she had given to the units Nerralyn Raaf had bestowed upon them had felt pretty basic, but sometimes, simple worked. The space around them was still something of a fever dream with red lightning ripping at the sky. Sithspawn boiled up through gaps in the ground, and the forest moved, striking back, and throughout all the chaos, she definitely noticed that Imperial battle lines were starting to unravel.

The raven-haired woman vaulted over a downed tree-trunk as blaster fire stitched the ground behind them, but she stayed fairly close to Horus Rhyne throughout. They moved in tandem, and he was only ever a half-step away, close to her flank, because that was how they worked best. Close. The Ravenscars melted in and out of the shadows up ahead, and Geists flickered through the wreckage that the Sithspawn left like very, very bad dreams. The Vheh’Ramikad held the rear, exactly as she’d told them to.

This ensured that nothing got past them to attack the World Tree.

“They’re falling apart…”

Her breathing was tight but controlled, and crimson eyes tracked retreating Imps with some measure of incredulousness. Hadn’t they initiated this war? Who came to do bloody battle without anticipating defenses, without assuming that the nation they were coming after wouldn’t try to put them on the ground? Sith dealt in absolutes. It was common knowledge. Nothing on Brosi had been orchestrated at a half measure. “Actually, kark, they’re really falling apart…”

That felt wrong, and Sophia suspected some misdirect, but…It was just a suspicion.

Not for the first time, she wondered if the Sith Order had been lured in just so that the Imperial Scum could sneak in and glass them. It would have been difficult to do when taking the Blackwall into consideration, but it could be done. There was a flash of movement not far off that caught her eye, if only because it was less panicked and frenzied. The posture was different and…They were leading.

Not flipping chit like a two-bit merc on a bender.

… FN-999 (restored) …

She didn’t know his name yet, didn’t care, but she recognized command when she saw it. Even now, as the 7th ran away, tails tucked between their legs, he was holding something together. Sophia turned toward Horus and cast him a rather saucy wink, and one hand fell to her hip. Her chin jutted toward the trooper, walking sideways, to avoid one of the spirit guardians who was making a meal out of…well…Her eyes averted. She’d rather not see that much of an outside that should be on the inside unless she absolutely had to. “Dibs on that guy!”, cheeky, as if she were unaware of what was happening all around them. Her anger drove her, revenge, the need to open a can of whoop ass faster than the other guy.

The air burned with chem stink that clawed at her lungs, even through filters, and somewhere behind them, something large howled when it died. She couldn’t think about that, and they couldn’t stop. It was a hunt now…Her voice cut across the maelstrom while her tone shifted from wit to durasteel. “All units…”

“Tighten the net. Buddy boy out there is trying for some kind of grand statement…Don’t let him have it. This is the end of the line.”

She wouldn’t let him have that dignity, at least, not cleanly.

Sophia might have thrown herself into the fray properly…But she didn’t see the world breaking ordinance coming. She didn’t see the blast. The Sith Witch felt it instead, as pressure, a wrongness in the air that made the Force recoil. And then the sudden absolute violence that erased sound and thought alike. One heartbeat, she was running, locked to F-999‘s retreating position, and the next…The next?

Horus was there.

Arms formed a protective cage around her, hard and unyielding, body hauled against his chest armor, and all while existence seemed hell-bent on ending itself. The gravitational shockwave hit like a god’s backhand, flattening the canopy, where it left anything green behind at all. Sophia’s breath was punched out of her as Horus made the space…relatively…safe by bending the edges of annihilation away from them.

"I have you..." Brosi seemed to be reacting to the assault. Resilient, bending rather than breaking, but the flora and fauna getting more and more angry as the Imperials attempted to destroy that which lived and thrived.

The words barely reached her, but the truth of them did. She clutched at his armor and her fingers dug into the crevices while the aftermath settled. Parts of the forest were just missing…”…What was that? What the kark was that?”

And it was then that a deep wail, suffering, began to echo.

Sophia didn’t know that it was Madrona A’Mia , but her hands remained fisted in his armor, and she didn’t let go. Trees burned. Creatures screamed. The radiation levels were making annoying pings in her gear that made her frown, before a long, slow groan pulled through her. Horus had pulled her close to protect her without thinking…”We need to hurry up and end this.”

She was not unaware that Horus was mostly protecting her from the fallout and the fire, but that didn’t mean it was without consequence. Her armor provided warning after warning, and she sighed, frowning, from behind her re-breather mask. “I want you to be able to have children one day…”, she quipped, using humor to dissolve the tension she felt. “—And…”

“You won’t love me if a foot starts growing out of my forehead.”

Rain still fell from a sky that was black as pitch.

Everything was a mess.

If they kept fighting like this, what would be the point?

There wouldn’t be much left of Brosi to save… Her arms wrapped around Horus for a moment, probably stupid, but whatever it was that just hit the surface was enough to level a few city blocks, and it had come out of nowhere. Something was lingering in the air, a furious call for suffering, and Sophia felt almost compelled to obey…

“C’mon…If that trooper survived…He’s mine. I owe the Confederation pain.”

Sophia pulled away from Horus with a certain amount of reluctance and started moving debris out of their way with her red-hued magic. Trees, pieces of old buildings, remains…It was all thrown away from them in an effort to expose the last of the 7th Army and the single brave trooper who led them. Her voice was light, almost sing-song, but there was nothing kind about it. Searching, for FN-999 (restored) .

“Come out, come out wherever you are…”

 

[Rorsch]

Brosi
Objective: I - Timber!!
Allies: TIC
Hostiles: TSO
Equipment:

Spoiler

Kaldrweave Black Imperial Uniform
NZ LHEA Mk. II/EOTL Armor (Dyed Dark Grey)
NZ Modular Blaster-02E (Single Load Rocket Launcher Variant)
Inquisition Slugthrower DN-1 (Carries about 4+1 magazine's worth of bullets)
Baskethandle Lightfoil

Forces:

Spoiler: 27th Armored Column

Quaritch-1
Quaritch-2
Quaritch-3

13/15 AT-SWs - three groups of 5

• Sturm-1
• Sturm-3
• Sturm-3

10/12 AT-AWs - three groups of 4

• Vult-1
• Vult-2
• Vult-3

97x ZMDIII-KXU Droids
61x Heavy Weapons Stormtroopers (Armor, Weapon: X)

The Armored Column

The Imperials were unloading everything they had into the Devourer. The deafening thunderclaps of artillery shells being launched were followed by the whistling wisps of smoke headed by cryoban missiles. Each hit dealt damage, but with each shell and missile delivered, its claws raked and tore troopers and droids apart.

It was a massacre. The Imperials were holding... barely.

"Colonel! Look!" One of the spotters in Quaritch-2 shouted.

"What!" The grizzled clone shouted back. She could hardly hear herself think over the sound of a Sith who managed to speak louder than the thickness of the tank's armor. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

She watched as the portal expanded and fluctuated as a second Devourer stepped through, this one bigger than the last. Conqueror could feel the color draining from her face, and for the first time in her military career, she froze, he vision twisting. Doubts, fear, and an overwhelming sense of defeat washed over her. It didn't matter that these were the result of Sith influence; they all bubbled to the front of her psyche, stopping her from giving out orders. It wasn't until a static voice broke through the numerous squad leaders yelling for orders that she started to snap back to reality.

<<Colonel. Both of my gunners are dead. I'm bleeding out. If I'm going to die, I'm taking that thing with me. Oorah!>>

Slowly regaining some semblance of composure, Conqueror watched as a severely busted assault walker ran as fast as it could towards the first devourer, lowering itself to slam cockpit-first into it. Then a flash of light burnt her retinas as the pilot detonated the walker's HAPU.

Spoiler: Actions

Terror, fear.
Explosion.
Without new orders, the armored column continues to fire on hostiles within the area.

~~~ X ~~~
​

Rorsch

The ground shook with each thunderous boom from his armored column, but Rorsch forced it from his mind and focused on three items: breath, footing, and distance. As he moved through the trees, ash caught on his armor; what was once pristine, though well-worn, looked as if it had been to the netherworld and back. Through it all, the smoke and heat shimmer he kept the Sith in view, still, waiting, framed by devastation as if it acknowledged his authority.

As Rorsch advanced, he crossed an invisible threshold. Dread settled on his shoulders like invisible hands; they were heavy with certainty. The certainty that he should turn back, that the outcome of his approach had already been decided, and that it did not include his survival. His stride shortened by half a centimeter as he pushed through.

But it only got worse.

That weight from before boiled into anxiety, then into hallucinations. He watched as trees bent down towards him in an effort to stop him, as the ash falling around him turned into hands grasping at him. The periphery of his vision filled with ghosts of motion, of shadows chasing him. HE couldn't afford to slow down. His breath roughened in the mask.

Noise, he thought to himself. It's only noise.

Then his quarry turned towards him, to address him directly.

"You came to fell a tree." He said, and Psilofyr's roots groaned as if the planet listened. "You dared take what does not belong to you." The portal deepened, more weight pressing forward. "So understand me now…" The helm turned, addressing the challenge itself. "You're the noise a boot makes when it finds something soft."

Rorsch heard the words loud and clear even through the cacophony of hallucinations and overwhelming dread. While he was usually a man who would not indulge his quarry in conversation, he felt he had to. "Your words.." He groaned, "...they could be said the same way to you. This planet never belonged to you, despite your banners and flags. Yo only claim it because that is what is required of you and your lofty ideals of Sith dominance."

While he was speaking, he didn't even notice that the Sith had crafted a darkened spear out of nothing, it wasn't until a single burst of clarity told him to duck. He did, but not before the spear made contact with his helmet. Within seconds, the HUD display went static before shutting off completely all while the visor grew thick with dust and fog. Rorsch quickly cast the helmet off, his goggles went with it leaving only his breathing mask, the thick humid air of a raging battle clung to his skin like a cold beverage on a hot day. He had escaped death once again, by mere centimeters. Despite everything in his body telling him to run, he pressed forward.

Then his mind filled with old failures. Names. Faces. Commands that had taken more lives than they were worth. He could feel his hands begin to tremble. He adjusted his grip. He remembered something that one of his instructors told him: 'Masters were not the men who felt nothing. They were the men who functioned anyway.'

He continued forward before his precognition flared to the point of an instant migraine. He saw himself standing in futures where he died badly. Burned, broken, erased without memory or ceremony. His body pleaded with its muscles to recoil, to run away, to preserve itself. Rorsch's breathing grew rougher as he hissed at his own body to keep moving.

He lifted his revolver, his hand shaking. Despite that, his presentation was flawless. Arm extended, his sight picture clean. Then in a single instance, his precognition cut through the hurricane of noise and offered him the perfect moment to shoot. The voidstone round cracked downrange towards the Sith. Rorsch followed, sending a second bullet towards his target.

The report hadn't finished echoing before the revolver was dropping from dominance. His offhand pushed forward, his lightfoil igniting with a duelist's hiss. This Sith's aura of dread tore at him; it made his vision swim, tried to reduce him to prey. But, in defiance, he continued to step forward. His footwork was precise, his shoulder aligned. He extended his blade, not in rage or in desperation, but in perfect fencing geometry; an efficient, murderous line meant to seize tempo and force the Sith to respond.

Spoiler: Actions

Rorsch closed the distance, fired two voidstone rounds at Darth Prazutis , then struck towards him with his lightfoil.

Tag:
Darth Prazutis​

 

["Templar"]

//: Allies: Spencer Varanin Srina Talon Gerwald Lechner Mercy Revna Marr Madrona A’Mia Darth Carnifex Lirka Ka Sophia of House Marr Nerralyn Raaf Lunaria Talon Matteo Guo-Yian | TSO //:
//: Enemies: The Lord of Hunger FN-999 (restored) Kaine Hamilton Ronhar Tane | TIC//:
//: The World Tree, Brosi //:
//: Attire //:
//: OBJECTIVE I - TIMBER! //:

Templar moved through the edge of the camp without urgency. Sith forces surged past her in a disciplined motion, breaking formation only to reform again as they advanced toward the intruders. Massive drakes thundered into the sky as some were already locked in aerial duels.

She paused in her steps from time to time. Watching…. Observing.

A curated storm unfurled across the battlefield. Chain-lightening cracked downward in branching arcs, slamming into advancing Troopers and armored walkers alike. Explosions blossomed where bodies and machines had stood moments before. Blaster fire screamed through the air as the bolts scattered wildly. Fires ignited across the forest’s floor.

Suddenly the wind shifted unnaturally. Pushing smoke and flame away from the World Tree. Two colossal drakes intercepted the lone gunship that broke through the chaos, angling itself toward the World Tree. Below, swarms of insects poured from the forest canopy. Engulfing the advancing Imperial units. Order dissolved into panic, lines broke and squads scattered.

What had once been an organized Imperial Confederation force, advancing in disciplined order, became fragmented. Templar’s helmet tilted up as her eyes caught something streaking in the sky. Missiles headed toward the World Tree, impacting nearby. The ground convulsed as roots erupted from the earth in towering walls. Rising just in time to shield the grove and herself.

A weapon of destruction detonated. Small in size, vast in consequence. The blast devoured everything in its radius. A white hot bloom that erased sound and space alike. Heat rolled outward in a crushing wave as the roots absorbed the punishment. Bark splitting, fibers burning—

Just as quickly the attack happened, the roots began to mend as if nothing happened. Cracks sealed, charring sloughed away as growth surged anew. Something stirred in Templar’s mind. A faint pressure… as if memory was knocking from the inside, demanding to be let through. A pull…

The living forest around the Relic recoiled in agony. Not through sound but a violent resonance carried through the planet life around. Every plant screamed in its own way. A chorus of distress rippling outward through the soil and air.

Templar’s helmet tilted slowly to the side. Being here was chaotic and annoying. Yet… her focus never wavered. She watched the Sith Lords collide with Imperial champions. Memorizing footwork and timing. The way energy bent around their movements. Her eyes would close briefly, feeling how the currents weaved through them. How power gathered… released… reformed. When she opened her eyes again, Templar continued watching, absorbing every detail.

There was something morbidly poetic about it all. The Relic hadn’t expected something interesting to arrive like this. The Sith… preservers of life. Nature itself rising against the tyranny of machines. Flesh and root against steel and fire.

And yet… something was wrong.

Her boots carried her toward where she felt the pull. Beyond the perimeter her ‘Master’ had instructed her to mind. Toward the destruction, toward the fire. Templar walked casually through the heat and smoke. Unhurried. The flames around her were smothered with each step. Soon the fire surrounded her. Stopping, her breath hitched as her vision narrowed. Something inside her snapped open. Memory surged forward. Heat pressed in as panic clawed at the edges of her mind. The Relic’s breathing turned erratic. Shallowed and uncontrolled.

A distant explosion, then another, dragged her back. Raising a hand, the surrounding fires collapsed inward. Smothered by an unseen pressure, embers died and smoke thinned.

Silence.

Looking around, what remained was charred foliage, blackened trunks, and ash-covered ground. Dead. All of it. Her thoughts began to drift again toward the memory—

Static crackled. Templar’s helmet snapped toward the sound. Radio chatter. A small three-man Imperial squad stood nearby with their weapons lowered in confusion. Their fire had vanished. And the Relic stood where it had been. Her armor was unfamiliar, not Sith and clearly not Imperial.

Irritation flared as blaster bolts snapped toward her. With one enhanced controlled step, Templar crossed the distance. Appearing in front of the central Trooper. Striking him square in the chest. The impact launched him backward, hitting the ground hard. The remaining two raised their rifles. Once more Templar moved. Another step, precise and economical. She slipped beneath the weapon of the Trooper on her left. Seizing the rifle with one hand and repositioning herself behind in a single fluid motion. Her other arm locked around the Troopers neck as she turned him into a shield.

Blaster fire erupted once more. Bolts tore through the armor. The Trooper across from her dropped with a heavy thud. Ash kicked up around the lifeless body. The one in her grasp went limp moments later. Templar released the Trooper, another thud as ash rose again.

The first Trooper staggered back on their feet. Charging at the Relic. Templar caught his arm, pulling him forward as she pivoted. Dropping her body low as she slid between his legs, using their momentum to launch them forward. Flipping him cleanly over her shoulder with minimal effort. The body slammed into the ground in front of her. Ash erupted around.

Templar tilted her helmet. Something green glowed faintly near the Trooper. A sprout. Its bioluminescent faintly pulsing. ‘Resilient.’, Small and alive… hidden beneath the ash. ‘Little life.’ Her gaze snapped back toward the groaning Trooper. The sense of amiss, the memory… the feeling— everything clicked.

She drew her knife and grabbed the Trooper’s gloved hand, sliced their palm. Grabbing the blooded hand and squeezing the hand shut, the Trooper groaned in pain as blood dripped down onto the sprout. The reaction was immediate. Thin vine tendrils bursted forth. Wrapping greedily on the Trooper’s and Templar's hand, absorbing the blood. It suddenly stopped. Hesitation turned to recognition. Not an enemy. The vines turned, releasing Templar’s hand. The plant responded violently, as it lunged toward the Trooper’s arm. Wrapping itself all around as the Trooper began to fight it off.

Sheathing the knife as she stood. The Trooper screamed, vines tightening with unnatural strength. Whoever survived from the two. Templar did not care. In her mind, a familiar voice echoed.

Be my eyes, My Sarma.

Her brow furrowed beneath the helmet. ‘Sarma…?’ Seconds later the air tore open. A dark spiral formed before her. Winds roaring, the portal ushering her forward. Templar’s helmet snapped upward as a violent tug seized her from behind. Looking over her shoulder, ‘Are those…’

Missiles.

The same ones from before. Closing in fast. Templar’s jaw clenched as broken words rasped through her vocoder. Irritation and disbelief bleeding into the sound.

"Yuuuhh—gaahh—tuu–Bb—Chhiii—"

Her words were cut off as she leapt into the spiral. Missiles following. Then the portal snapped shut behind.

 

[FN-999 (restored)]

Units: 7th Imperial Army, 24th “Dart" and 31st “Silgo" Regiments
Equipment: Flamethrower | Blaster | 2x Vibroblades
Allies: Imperial Confederation | Ronhar Tane & co.
Enemies: Sith | Sophia of House Marr | Srina Talon | Darth Carnifex | Horus Rhyne | Nerralyn Raaf | Open
Directly Engaging: Sophia of House Marr

DOSUNN
FORTY-NINE YEARS AGO

A young boy and a middle-aged man sat across from each other in a small concrete room.

“Are you scared?” asked the man.

“Yes.” replied the boy, his voice subdued.

“Why?” continued the man.
​

The boy took a moment to think. His large frame nearly blocked the small chair behind him from view as he fidgeted, considering the question posed by the man across from him. Then it came to him.

“I’m scared of my body.” responded the boy. “Am I going to become a man-eating giant?"

The man let out a low, deep chuckle in response, clearly amused by the boy’s imagination.

“No, you do not need to worry about that.” responded the man. “Your body will grow more than that of most kids around you, and that is normal. Your big body will make you stronger and tougher than anyone else."

“Really?” inquired the boy.

“Really.” responded the man. “Now, what else is it you fear?"

“My teacher tells us we’re going to be great soldiers.” continued the boy. “But what if I die? What if my friends die?"

“Don’t you worry.” replied the man, patting the boy on his shoulder. “You will not die. Not for a long time. I think most of your friends will live a long time too."

“But even if they do die, remember what your teacher taught you. There are some things that are bigger than people. Some causes that are bigger than people. If everyone refused to fight because they were afraid of dying, what do you think would happen here on Dosunn and in the other worlds the First Order has saved?"

“They would all… be taken over?” asked the boy.

“Exactly.” responded the man. “We need fighters who are not afraid of dying or having their friends die. Understand that their sacrifice is to protect stability and order across the galaxy. Without their sacrifice, everyone would live as you did when we first found you. Weak, starving, and helpless."

“Everyone?"

“Everyone."

“I don’t want that!” declared the boy. “I don’t want everyone to starve and be helpless! I’m not sacred anymore. I promise not to be scared! I’ll fight until I’m too old to!"

“Wonderful!” replied the man, showing emotion for the first time as he smiled approvingly at the boy. “I have one last lesson for you, and then you can go to dinner with your friends."

“Okay!"

“Here’s a secret for you. You don’t need to promise not to be scared. If you live your life without any fear, you will grow reckless and you might even stop following rules! That’s not good. So remember to keep just a little kernel of fear inside you. That way you will respect your teachers and your commanders. It will also help you stay alive! If in the future you face an enemy too strong to defeat by yourself, it will give you the energy you need to escape. But never just turn around and run away. If you need to escape, always go somewhere you can get reinforcements."

“But what if I don’t have any reinforcements?” asked the boy. “Or what if they are scared and run?"

“That would be terrible for them.” responded the man. “But if you find yourself alone, remember this."

“There is no cause better than the one you are fighting for."

BROSI
PRESENT DAY

The last Imperial stragglers fled behind FN-999, leaving him alone to face the horde.
​

Hundreds of sets of eyes and jaws stared him down, abominations of all sizes and shapes arriving for the feast. But the man in front of them did not behave like prey. He stared them down as if he were an apex predator, his eyes gazing with wisdom far beyond that of the creatures who stalked. Some of the lesser beasts balked, peeling off to chase down easier prey. FN-999 did not stop them. Even as they withdrew in defeat, the survivors of the 7th Army were more than capable of defeating these physically and mentally weaker creatures.

The others, stronger, more ferocious, and more starved than the rest, continued to stare down FN-999 from across the scorched battlefield. Yet none of them pounced or struck, seemingly biding their time as they attempted to judge the stormtrooper before them. With his men long gone and his comms still not functioning, he no longer needed to put on the charismatic front of a general. He crouched down like the fighter he had been in his youth and who he very much still was, his entire body poised to pounce.

"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."

For the second time, the voice of the Sith entered FN-999’s head uninvited.
​

A tremor of fear shook him out of his solemn stance, the beasts in the distance drawing closer as they sensed weakness. But as quickly as the panic had descended upon him, it was smothered, banished to a distant corner of his brain. FN-999 reminded himself that thousands of worlds and countless quadrillions of lives lay in the balance. If he relented here, the genocidal Sith reign of terror would continue unabated. The only chance the Confederation had of driving the Sith out of the Tingel Arm for good was a victory on Brosi.

There was truly no better reason to continue fighting.

FN-999 did not bother giving the Sith the dignity of a response. They did not deserve it. He already had their attention, he just needed to keep it on him for long enough for the remnants of the 7th Army to escape to fight another day. At the same time, other Imperials on the ground continued to put the pressure on the Sith defenders. In the distance, vast explosions shook the forest, originating not from Sith lightning but from missiles launched in orbit. It reassured FN-999 that the defeat of Imperial forces on one front was not a defeat for all.

While the Sith were distracted, he could use the oppor-

There was no warning before the shockwave slammed into him with the force of a hundred hammers.

He was sent flying, losing all sense of direction as his body was flung through the air. His torso slammed into the trunk of a tree, his armor the only thing that prevented his ribcage from breaking. In its place, the chestplate shattered, falling off FN-999’s torso in large chunks. A fraction of a second later, the shockwave collided with the same tree, sending it toppling backwards beneath him.

Kilometers behind their commander, the Seventh Army continued their retreat.
​

Dozens still fell to the advancing beasts, but the pressure on the survivors was lessening the closer they got to their transports. It also helped that many of the more dangerous beasts were focused on their commander, leaving only smaller or more injured creatures that even ordinary stormtroopers could gun down with enough time. As Imperial missiles bombarded the forest, the clearings the 7th had formed grew wider, expanding their escape route.

Everything was going well until two of the missiles landed directly atop the retreating army.

Hundreds of stormtroopers were incinerated in an instant, hundreds more collapsing with grievous burns. It was a small relief that many of the pursuing beasts were wiped out as well when barely a fifth of the two regiments of the 7th Army remained. Soon enough, a new wave of Sithspawn arrived to continue the chase, finishing off the injured with sadistic glee. Abandoning the wounded, the last roughly two thousand survivors scrambled the final few hundred meters towards the transports, vast landing ramps opening to accommodate them.

They rushed inside the Von Strauss cruisers, embraced gingerly by their shields. At long last, the 7th Army’s survivors were safe. Behind them lay over twenty thousand corpses, over a third of the entire army annihilated in a matter of hours. Later, there would be deep lamentation and reflection over this loss. For now however, most were simply glad to be alive.

The landing ramps lurched shut, leaving only FN-999 behind.

​

Without his usual chest protection, FN-999 felt deathly vulnerable. Yet no claws or fangs struck at him, allowing him to catch his breath and rise to his feet. Despite having avoided any broken bones, FN-999’s chest was heavily bruised, each breath producing an aching pain within his core. Only his gray jumpsuit covered his torso now, offering little protection from the vicious monsters prowling the forest. Fortunately, the rest of his armor was mostly intact, and aside from a few minor bruises and temporary shock caused by the abrupt impact, he was perfectly healthy.

As the shock wore off, FN-999 realized that whatever had caused the explosion had not spared the Sithspawn either. Dozens of mutilated, inhuman bodies stood out amidst the flattened trunks where forest had once stood. There were undoubtedly more on their way, but it gave him a brief reprieve to arm himself for the inevitable confrontation.

The rifle he had previously holstered was twisted beyond repair thanks to his violent impact against the tree. He tossed it to the side, setting out for the inglorious process of looting corpses to equip himself. From one body he ripped off a mostly intact breastplate, fitting it roughly but firmly to where the previous one had once been. From another he picked up a G-11 and a standard, meter and a half long vibroblade. A third body yielded a second vibroblade as well as a flamethrower.

Just as he was picking up the flamethrower, he felt the loud thump of a tree trunk being dropped onto the ground. He turned to find other trunks and bits of debris being lifted up while surrounded by a red glow.

“Come out, come out wherever you are…”

It seemed as if FN-999 had finally warranted the attention of the Sith themselves, rather than the creatures they had created.

Another wave of fear rose up within him, and he reminded himself of the stakes at hand. If he let the witch get away, she could inflict unspeakable harm upon the Seventh Army as well as other Imperials on Brosi. And he had already allowed enough death under his watch.

FN-999 sheathed both the blaster and the vibroblades in his waist belt, taking the flamethrower in both hands as he walked in the direction of the voice. Ahead was a woman in black robed armor, walking forward with a deceptively calm stride.

Before yet another wave of fear could rise inside him, FN-999 forced his brain to focus on his battlefield instincts, falling back on the familiar process he had honed since his teens. The woman seemed to be a strong psychic, meaning that the entire forest could be her weapon given enough time. He would have to launch a constant and relentless offensive to minimize her ability to assault him with large objects.

Her armor, which covered her entire body except for her head, would likely require multiple heavy blows to penetrate. Therefore, her head had to be FN-999's prime target.

Based on her slender build, FN-999 was likely capable of physically overpowering her with ease, but he was well aware that the Force could augment a person’s strength to inhuman levels. In order to beat her in a physical fight, he would first need to confuse or disorient her enough to blur her connection to the Force.

Finally, it would likely help to taunt her beforehand in order to goad her into making a rushed attack. The Sith in particular, thriving on negative emotions, were in general far more susceptible to such taunts than the stoic Jedi.

FN-999 approached the witch, sizing her up as if he were a hunter in pursuit of particularly dangerous quarry. The charismatic, cautious general of four Empires gave way to something else, something far older and more vicious untethered by responsibility over others.

The Beast of Borosk stirred.

“Hello, beautiful.” he stated with mock reverence.

Spoiler: Summary of Orders

• 7th Army survivors board transport craft to withdraw from Brosi​

​

 

[Joseph Torson]

S E C O N D_C O M I N G
Objective I : Timber

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
BROSI, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

​

Spoiler: Gear

• Pseudosonic Beam Rifle [1]
• KXV-VBS-01A 'Streiter' Vibroblade [1]
• AAF-8 Scattergun [1]
• Rhydonium Grenades [5]
• Mk II Viral Bombs [3]
• Zsinj-pattern Commando Armor Mark I [w/Jetpack + Service Droid]

Spoiler: Accompanying Forces

• Imperial Assault Gunship [0/1]
• Red Right Hand Operatives [29/36]

Torson watched as the concentrated laser beam struck the flying beast and sent it crashing down into the jungle below, a smirk forming underneath his helmet as he watched the Sith Empress go down from afar. "Bandit down." he proclaimed. He had evened the playing field and now neither him nor Talon had access to air support which would force them into a final ground confrontation which would most certainly end in the capture of the Sith Empress. She was outnumbered and couldn't outrun his men as time was running out for her.

As he stood within the cockpit victorious, Torson proceeded to contact the rest of his troops with new instructions. "Alright men. Let's regroup and make our way towards the target." he ordered. However right as he finished giving his order he suddenly felt the ground shake beneath him as the four operatives near the gunship began to run away from it. It took only a second for Torson to realize what was happen as he felt the Gunship fall downwards.

Looking down, he saw that the bedrock beneath the gunship had split open and was beginning to consume the entire gunship like a hungry animal. Fortunately for Torson all he had to do was use his jetpack to propel himself out of the cockpit and into the air towards safer ground. As Torson made landfall he watched behind him as the entire gunship was consumed by the soil and permanently removed from the equation. However to the Special Forces operative that didn't matter. The Empress had been forced to the ground just like he and his men and whatever advantage she once held with her flying beast had been negated. All that was left as to find the Empress herself and put her in chains for good.

For the next couple of minutes Torson and his men would begin making their way through the dense jungle towards the general vicinity in which their target had made landfall. Fortunately for them the thick jungle provided them with enough cover to avoid attacks from the other flying beast while also concealing their movements, allowing for Torson and Red Right Hand to rapidly close in towards Srina Talon while she tended to her injured companion.

Soon enough they would spot the Sith Empress in a large clearing created from a massive explosion with the surrounding tress still on fire which continued to slowly spread across the jungle. "Form a perimeter around the clearing but stay out of view." Torson instructed to his men. He then pointed to the same group of four operatives that had helped him take down the Empress's flying beast. "You four with me." he further ordered before walking into the clearing in full view of the dismounted Empress.

As Torson began to walk towards the Empress and her injured flying beast, the other four operatives slowly followed him from behind, their hands gripped on their weapons as they approached their target. It was at that moment that Torson received a simple statement through the comms. "Perimeter formed, Captain." the operative on the other side said. Torson then stopped walking, standing a couple of meters away from the target and her beast before giving another order through the comms. "Take out the beast's eyes."

With the Red Right Hand having fully surrounded the clearing from their hidden positions amongst the burning trees, they would be able to cover every angle and every position within the clearing. There was no place for the Empress or her flying beast to hide from them as they delivered the Supreme Commander's judgement. Before long a pair of operatives armed with sniper rifles took aim and fired a single armor-piercing high velocity heavy particle beam each towards the eyes of Srina Talon's beast to permanently blind it and put it out of commission for good.

Tags [Targets] | Srina Talon | Mercy ​

 

[Horus Rhyne]

Direct Ally Tag: [SO]: Sophia of House Marr | Nerralyn Raaf

Distant Ally Tag: [SO]: Taeli Raaf | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | @Madrona A'Mia | Darth Prazutis | Srina Talon | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Spencer Varanin | Eira Dyn | "Templar" | Lirka Ka
Direct Enemy Tag: [TIC ] - FN-999 (restored)
Location: Brosi
Objective: I

”…What was that? What the kark was that?”

"I am not sure..." He swallowed and tasted blood on his tongue, his. That had taken something from him. Protecting them both. It was witnessed in their immediate surroundings.

Damage, a lot of it, where the shockwave had ripped through and left devastation.

"Don't think they care if they take Brosi intact or not..."

He snorted at her comment about a foot and ignored it. As if Horus wouldn't simply cut it off of her head, so it wouldn't get in the way of them trying to kiss each other. Truly a silly concept. But the other part of it... now that... did draw his attention. It was really not the moment, it was truly a horrible moment to have this talk.

“I want you to be able to have children one day…”

Before Sophia could wander away, he drew her back, disabling both their enviro-seals... using the Force to keep them protected. "Oh, well, then after this we should retreat to my estate." His lips murmured against hers. "So we can discuss that properly, my Lady..." Truly the worst moment to tease and promise a talk like this.

But maybe they'd be dead by the end of it.

In which case, Horus didn't want to leave anything unsaid.

They sped away after that. Hunting, chasing after the ring-leader, even as the Sithspawn were hungry and devoured the remaining soldiers. They... didn't have a glorious ending.

That was hard to, when your compatriot was being chewed on and begging to have their pain end.

“Come out, come out wherever you are…”

The charismatic, cautious general of four Empires gave way to something else, something far older and more vicious untethered by responsibility over others.

The Beast of Borosk stirred.

“Hello, beautiful.” he stated with mock reverence.

Horus stood next to Sophia and blinked at that.

"Oh, buddy, you have no idea who you are talking to." Horus said with a laugh. Then to Sophia. "Honey, you want to do the honors?" A wise man knew when not to get between his woman and her food.

 

[Mercy]

ALLIES: Taeli Raaf | @Madrona A'Mia | Gerwald Lechner | Darth Carnifex | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Lysander von Ascania
DIRECT ALLIES: Srina Talon
DIRECT ENEMIES: Joseph Torson | Ronhar Tane

She smashed straight into the gunship and the violence ripped through the imperial vehicle, taking it out of battle, even as some of the Imperials within managed to escape to the ground.

Mercy didn't pursue them, not immediately.

Instead she circled around, trying to calm down the battle-lust surging through her blood, because she knew better. It was always risky to lose yourself in the crimson fog. When she was younger she had made many mistakes that way. She was proven right only mere moments later, as Srina came closer towards her.

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.

"Kill them for me…", she breathed, voice soft, regardless of the wind and rain.

Their hands brushed in the air and now power surged through her arm into her. It was familiar, the sensation, after Coruscant. It was as if every fiber in her body was lit up all at once. Like she was a bomb just waiting to go off and truth to be told, Mercy loved it. Her eyes bleeding amber, red seeping into the orbs too.

Right on time.

Srina took care of the missiles and lasers being launched by Torson's men and Tane.

That left... a fast approaching danger. Mercy wouldn't have noticed it if she had been running on her baseline. No Force Sense. But with the Empress' power flowing through her, she felt like her mind had been ripped open. She could feel it all. Everything. It was almost too much, almost unbearable. Mercy could hear the sigh in Madrona A’Mia 's heart as it was rend apart by the damage to the tree.

Revna Marr 's struggle against her opponent, the way her muscles shifted and tensed.

Hungry.

The hunger coiling through Srina's veins as she attempted to force the ground to swallow Torson and his men and equipment.

It was glorious. It was so much she almost missed it, but then her head shifted and that one amber eye caught the nuclear missiles being launched in their direction.

She licked her lips.

"I am hungry too, darling..." Mercy's voice filtered into Srina's mind. "Let me feed us both..." The Warlord did not know how she did it, she doubted she'd ever be able to do it again, but her mind reached out. Stretched. Rushing into Srina's head like a pack of horses storming through a gate, nothing subtle or gentle about it.

And then she held that connection right as she threw herself off of her dragon, ordering it to assist Srina and her dragon, leaping towards that speeding missile.

She bear-hugged it with a force that crushed mountains.

Everything froze.

The explosion started, a shock-wave starting, before being arrested immediately. Mercy absorbed the explosion inside of her before it had the chance to get anywhere. Using the forced channel between herself and Srina to spread its power between them, giving them both a much needed boost in strength.

It was so much.

And still Mercy wanted more, craving more, as she flew through the air towards the ground.

Right... towards... Joseph Torson and his squad approaching Srina Talon . All Mercy did... was cackle her maddening laugh, entirely in her element. So happy she got to share this with someone that was becoming a vast friend so quickly. As she smashed into the ground amidst their ranks, to causing a larger quake with radiation and kinetic force.

Before long a pair of operatives armed with sniper rifles took aim and fired a single armor-piercing high velocity heavy particle beam each towards the eyes of Srina Talon's beast to permanently blind it and put it out of commission for good.

And while Mercy busied herself with them... her dragon landed right on top of those operatives tasked with killing the Empress' dragon. Babygirl had grown fond of Vaelcryx.

She wouldn't die on her watch.

Erupting fire and fury from her maw to roast anything threatening her newly-found friend and her.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Allies: Srina Talon Madrona A’Mia Gerwald Lechner Darth Carnifex Revna Marr Mercy Reina Daival
Directly Engaging: Ella Nova

Armor: Camlann | Equipment: Lightsaber | Shoto | Farrus Sphere containing a Misini Drake
​

So that was the game she wanted to play? A small laugh escaped the Sith as she considered the request and the payment. The Malsheem's location for a Creatura Reactor? Oh, no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Before she could reply, she tilted her head as she felt the psychic backlash from multiple angles across the planet. Grief surged through Psilofyr, grief and rage and confusion and pain... so much pain... tightly coiled and released and then tightly coiled and... the grief of a mother—the pain of their child.

She had been drawn too far away to see it or feel the immediate effects, but she could still feel it when the jungle was bombarded, when her fellow Sith began to sacrifice to stop or mitigate the destruction, to the uncoiling and rampant proliferation of unchecked sorcery, to whatever attack the Imperials had unleashed to try and break through the death that had awaited them. There was little times for games with Ella and the Master lurking in her shadow. She had more important business to attend to.

"You want me to give you the location of the Zambrano power base, my oldest allies in the galaxy, in return for a crystal fusion reactor?" she scoffed. "My dear, do you know why I haven't ever betrayed Kaine and Braxus in these long decades of working together? One, I enjoy working with them as they push me to greater heights, and I in turn, push them. It's a mutually beneficial relationship that no one has ever broken because no one has ever offered me anything that could match or surpass the value of that relationship, that allyship, that friendship. The answer," she would pick up her Monnok and take Ella's K'lor'slug with it, "is no."

She stood up, looking at the fallen Jedi for a moment longer. "Even your offer had been enough, it would have meant little. The Malsheem never stays in one place. Next time, come up with a better offer."

And her form would collapse back into mist, traveling through the Force back to the raven she left with the Neti whose world they were fighting to defend. In the ethereal, she could more acutely feel the pain and anger and grief pouring into the Force, darkening it, twisting it as only conflict ever could. She could feel the presence of a woman she held in high respect, doing what she could to punish the Imperials and soothe the World Tree. Spencer Varanin rarely made appearances, but when she did, worlds would quake at the power she could unleash. It had been one reason she had wanted to train Quinn all those years ago.

One of many.

She would emerge from the raven familiar in a swirl of dark purple smoke, her form solidifying and taking in the state of the Grove of the First Risen and the surrounding region. She could feel sickness and death clinging to the Force, clinging to Brosi, fires raged and cannons boomed as the Imperials continued their assault on Psilofyr. A'mia appeared to be in rough shape, tiny wounds across her body from the strain, and purple eyes would alight upon the ruined remains of the Misini Drake she had only just bonded with. Eyes would move to where Lunaria Talon and Matteo Guo-Yian were working on erecting a barrier around the Tree itself, struggling to harness the staff in the young woman's hands.

Well, she would see about assisting with those efforts in a roundabout way. She could unclip one of the Talismans of Concentration that were laced into the belt of her arm and toss it to the younger two, adding as a means of instruction, "Place that in the mouth of the staff and focus your spell through it. It will accelerate and strengthen your barrier."

Her attention returned to A'mia... "I'll help Lady Madrona."

She would sit down across from the Neti, unclasping a small crystal from a necklace around her neck. The crystal was shaped like a prism, containing a single drop of liquid that constantly shifted color and state. She would set that singular drop of the Cosmic Force, a tiny drop of what she and Carnifex had stolen from the Wellspring, between herself and the Neti, but slowly place a hand from the Neti on it and hers on top, gauntlets removed and illusions dismissed to reveal the spiraling gold and silver pattern etched into her skin.

"This may hurt for a moment, but it will help," she muttered softly to the grieving Mother of Brosi. A surge of Force energy would travel down, neither light or dark, but both at the same time. One, to heal the Neti of her small wounds and bolster her resolve, the other to fuel an immense, if temporary, power increase in the Neti and Psilofyr.