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.

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Brosi (Ground)
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SO ALLIES: Gerwald Lechner | Madrona A’Mia | Mercy | Darth Caedes Revna Marr Taeli Raaf Darth Prazutis | Nerralyn Raaf | Horus Rhyne | Sophia of House Marr | Spencer Varanin | "Templar" Lysander von Ascania
TIC ENEMY: Joseph Torson

____________________________________________________

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

It felt like her husband.

It felt like Darth Empyrean had somehow entered this world with Kala'anda, and despite the impossibility, there was part of her that wanted to believe it. He had been absent from her for so long that there were moments when she wondered if he had forgotten her. It was selfish and small to think about him now, in this moment, when Brosi was screaming.

When Psilofyr was burning.

It didn't take her more than a heartbeat to realize the truth, and her expression melted into something horrifying. Her youngest daughter was playing games with artifacts that she was not equipped to handle and had disobeyed a direct order to stay on Jutrand. The Staff of Ascension was not a toy and contained something so precious that Srina herself had refrained from bringing it into battle. It would have helped immensely on Coruscant…But…

She would not risk, perhaps the last piece, of Maliphant's soul. ​

Her silence would chill Lunaria Talon far more than yelling ever could. Matteo Guo-Yian would know how his Master felt, wrapped around Luna, enabling her. If she could feel one of them…She could feel both. Foolish—Foolish children.

It was too late now.

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.

An explosion overhead made her eyes turn toward the sky, and she witnessed her battle companion tank and absorb another nuclear device that had been launched from orbit. The sound was deafening, even still, but seconds later, the Titan was falling in a dive toward the Imperials that had survived the ground splitting open beneath their feet. While it was true that she had opened the door between herself and Mercy, the Empress hadn't expected to feel the Dark Side echo power back to her. It was a loop—Feeding, giving.

The energy was raw and incandescent, unrefined, but it surged through that link with a vengeance.

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.

"Small Lady" (Babygirl…Because Srina will surrender to the TIC right now if someone makes her say it, on god.) landed hard nearby, intent on crushing the enemy, and it caused the shots meant for Vaelcryx to go wild. Srina moved back into her drake who gave a low and wounded whine that rumbled in her chest. Srina laid a hand against her neck once more while Echani eyes scanned the tree line…Her armor was going insane. So many pings, so many warnings about radiation. "Don't die for me…Go. You've done enough."

The drake wanted to fight, but Srina began to press some of the power from Mercy into the beast to accelerate the healing process. Enough so that it could leave.

Return to the World Tree.

"Go!"

The enemy thought they had...Contained, her. She could feel it as they moved with practiced formations and overlapping fields of view. They were careful now, though, with Mercy bearing down on them, it gave little choice. The two drakes would terrorize (perhaps, burn to a crisp) the troopers that had intended to shoot them before taking off, with Small Lady bringing up the rear to cover Vaelcryx from any stray shots.

In a way…The Imperial Confederation would get its wish.

She was grounded.

They believed she was dangerous, but manageable.

Metallic eyes looked for the nearest target, and she moved toward the fight, but the power from Mercy was...Burning her. It was radiant, but lethal. The closer she got to the Titan of a woman, the stronger it was, and radiation flooded her veins. It hurt, but her teeth ground together, jaw clenched, refusing to scream or give in to nausea. There was no drama to it, no stagger, just searing agony beneath the skin.

It felt like every nerve had been dipped in flame, and her vision washed white at the edges. The nanites in her armor shrieked warnings that she ignored. Her body was not meant for this…But Mercy's blood was already in her system. Not just the substance, but the spells, the witchcraft that apparently lent her accelerated healing. It had been there ever since Coruscant…

The pain spiked. And then…Repair. Slow, relentless, repair. Every step forward caused her tissue to break down, but she didn't have to wait long for her body to start healing. It made her even more menacing, nigh demonic, when she stepped through a smoking illusion of herself. They were hidden, these Imperials, but could they withstand the radiation that Mercy was giving off so easily? She snarled, not from anger, but exasperation.

She could feel Taeli Raaf beginning to aid Madrona A’Mia and knew that the Void within Revna Marr had come alive. Gerwald Lechner was far from her, wild, and struggling with something that made the beast louder than the man. She could sense the boots of Darth Carnifex 's troops beating against the earth while they marched on. The Nocna Mora that Darth Prazutis had summoned. The darkness that moved in Reina Daival whilst she evolved. She could taste the eldritch power of Spencer Varanin in the air while she opened literal wormholes.

She could even feel Sithspawn dying en masse and the lives of Imperial Soldiers slipping down the drain from a kilometer away...But somehow…

These men thought that a little rain and burned-out trees kept them off her radar?

Srina stopped.

They could shoot at her, yell, scream, and threaten…But she would never be cowed by a blaster, and she wasn't some acolyte fresh from the Academy. They sent one gunship. One. They could have sent a hundred, a thousand, and it wouldn't have made a difference. Anyone could pull a trigger. Anyone, could put on armor. But could they do this?

The reached up with one hand, fingers spreading, as if to take hold of something tangible…

…And pulled.

She didn't reach for the lightning. No, that would have been too simple. The Sith Empress reached into the heavens and dragged down the storm itself. The charged violence of the cloud deck collapsed toward the charred area in a sudden, unnatural drop, and the air screamed as it ionized. Rain flattened into the sharpest of needles, and static snapped across armor, across the ground, and across exposed metal. Sensors spiked. Targeting reticles would suffer, perhaps, even stutter and die. The former jungle would light up with a harsh, strobing crimson.

The sovereign remained silent while bolts of electricity crawled along the ground like skittering creatures, running along dead roots and fallen trunks, arcing across pooled, irradiated water, before branching out toward the Imperial Troopers in hungry, branching webs. The clearing became a literal cage of light and sound with thunder cracking so close it felt like bone breaking….And Srina, moved with it.

She was grounded, she was, without Vaelcryx…But why should that matter to her? The dragon that mattered the most, Mercy , was right there with her. She could feel her joyful rage dancing about behind her eyes and knew that this was exactly the type of fight the warrior lived for. Messy, close quarters, where she could feel her enemies shatter.

Why would she look for an escape?

Her hand came down and she pulled the core of the storm into her center, compressing it, so that every near miss from an attack or a blaster resulted in punishment. Wind shears or lightning would snap out, too close to comfort, furious, and unrelenting.

Why the hell would she run?

She was not the one trapped with them. They, were trapped with her.

Spoiler: Equpiment

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

 

[T'zarna Khab]

Location: Behind Enemy Lines, Brosi
Objective: Eliminate Sith Command Staff
Tags: Lirka Ka

A shrill insectoid scream cut through the din of battle, loud enough to be audible over the swooping TIEs overhead. T'zarna could feel herself losing her grip on consciousness. Her ability to maintain Force Rage was slipping away, as was her ability to fight back. If her body faltered, then she'd surely die here. T'zarna had resolved that if she was to die, the Once-Sephi would be joining her in oblivion.

There were no quips, no witty banter, she merely buzzed with fury as her right hand found purchase on her own wound. At this range, there was little she could do with her lightsaber, and her strength was fading. With no recourse but to rely on her own connection to The Force, the inquisitor focused her rage into pure red energy, lightning that would course through her own body.

With Lirka's fist deep inside her flesh, there was little point in trying to fight clean. Her idea was to shock herself, turning her body into a living circuit. It would be a great risk, and the pain would be even greater. However, it could also save her from being ripped apart from within.

In the seconds that T'zarna made her gambit, Ronhar Tane 's Gunships began their dive, their targets locked and concussion missiles primed. Their orders were to drop the powerful ordinance on the remaining Sith positions. Over a dozen missiles were loosed from their weapons bays, hitting the ground with thunderous impacts. It was an explosion of such that it may have been classified as a minor seismic event!

The weapons were made to put holes in capital ships, and thus had considerable explosive power, and T'zarna witnessed one impact not too far from where she was embattled with Lirka. All she could sense was her body hitting the ground, and the smell of cauterized flesh.

She's kept herself alive, for just a little longer if nothing else. Now to see if it was worth the effort...

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord looked down from His elevated position on the tree, down where the remaining armies of the Confederation had managed to push nearer to the World Tree. Smoke curled up from where Great Psilofyr's bark had been scorched and burned, the mega-organism's cries echoing through the Force as it suffered. It was not unlike the cries of a scared child who agonized through its first brush with pain, calling out to those who it considered kin to save it from the torment. One might have found it pitiable, if not heart-wrenching.

Carnifex felt neither.

Pain, after all, was the scalpel of creation.

With each sorcerer slain, and thus risen as a spectral force, their power flowed out of their body and into the Dark Lord. Most of it was His own, given in portions to each of the sorcerer to bolster their ability in the Dark Side. Now that power returned, though such slivers were negligible when compared to the wellspring that was the Dark Lord. Nonetheless, each sorcerer was slain in turn, the final one thrown towards the Dark Lord by the Imperial's efforts. The sorcerer only got within a meter of the Dark Lord before becoming engulfed in a great torrent of flame, burning away to ash before even coming within arm's length.

In the end, the lone Imperial was left battered, breathing heavily amidst a circle of corpses. His blade burned bright, slaked with the blood of the slain sorcerers and tinged with the residual energy of their incorporeal forms. He spoke a few words and then spun around to throw his emptied slugthrower pistol at Carnifex, with far greater speed and force someone of his caliber should have been able to achieve. No doubt a byproduct of his cybernetic augmentations.

Either way, Carnifex's hand snapped out and caught the weapon. He held it in His palm for a moment, eyes looking over the device from one end to the other. His other hand came up to cradle the weapon as well. Then, with the methodical precision of a skilled craftsman, Carnifex proceeded to dismantle the gun piece by piece. Just from looking at it and holding it in His hands, He was able to decipher how it was constructed and inversely how to dismantle it down to its constituent parts. It only took a few seconds, the Dark Lord's deft hands working quickly and quietly, before He dismissively cast the pieces aside.

After tossing the dismantled weapon aside, the Dark Lord regarded the Imperial with cold indifference. "Arrogance implies confidence in excess. You will not find me wanting in my conviction." Slowly, the Dark Lord drew His lightsaber from its holster at His side. It was a wicked instrument, forked near the emitter with a pair of sharp, stone-like protrusions. The blade, when coaxed forth, crackled and spit with unfathomable anger.

"It is no accident that your companions have been drawn in as they have. Your zeal has unmade you."

Even as the Dark Lord spoke these words aloud, the ground beneath the advancing Imperial forces began to rumble and shake. Where once they had only above and ahead to consider, now something huge and monstrous came for them from below. Great wyrms, horrendous beasts birthed in the foulest Dark Legion pits, burst forth, sending showers of dirt and stone cascading down all around them. Grotesquely armored with a mixture of natural chitin and sarassian armor plating, the were-wyrms rose many dozens of meters into the air before slamming down with great force. They then began to burrow back beneath the earth, to again ascend to devour and crush.

A chorus of bellowing roars filled the air soon after the wyrm's arrival, as terrible beasts began to languorously swim through the air from within the tree's mighty boroughs. Their shaggy, rubbery hide was coated in overlapping plates of sarassian iron, especially around their weaker dorsal half. Composite-beam laser turrets had been affixed to their giant frames, controlled by Baarann-Hai Graug in enclosed spherical mounts. These anti-Infantry weapons began to make passing sweeps over the enemy lines as the Aanhaku made slow, languid passes over the enemy formations.

They were supported by faster moving Shyrack Atmospheric Combat-Reconnaissance Craft, buzzing like mechanical insects with their rapidly beating magnorotors. They moved much faster and more nimbly than the Aanhaku, and principally engaged the remaining Imperial gunships still flying in the air.

Beyond the lines of the Imperial forces, ravaged from both beneath the earth and the sky above, packs of Graug Gladiators began to make their advance upon the enemy. Lightly armored, but far more agile than their bulk might suggest, these brutes carried armor-piercing axes and bone-splitting cleavers, and were set to smash into the enemy infantry like a tidal wave. Behind them came Graug Legionaries, the baseline soldier of the Dark Legion.

In their gnarled hands they carried large, heavy-set slugthrowers, each one firing explosive slugs that punched through armor, burying in deep, and then exploding with gruesome results. They braced their weapons against debris and one another, letting off volley after volley of bracketing fire as they approached.

High above, the Dark Lord advanced upon the Imperial. His movements so quick they were almost imperceptible until He was right on Him. In comparison, His strikes with His lightsaber were less nightmarish. He seemed to deliberately be holding Himself back, toying with His adversary rather than dispatching Him outright. Whatever reason was knowable only to the Dark Lord, who often kept such justification to Himself. To explain one's self to an animal was scarcely worth it, let alone entirely undignified. But many chalked it up to simple cruelty, a notion that the Dark Lord was in no hurry to disabuse.

Reina Daival | Ronhar Tane | Madrona A’Mia
FN-999 (restored) ​

 

[Reina Daival]

Direct Tag: Darth Carnifex
Ally Tags: Darth Prazutis Srina Talon Mercy Taeli Raaf Gerwald Lechner Madrona A’Mia Revna Marr Darth Caedes Ronhar Tane
Objective:

So much was swirling within her mind. Power rushing through her veins, making her see things she had never noticed before. Colours that she couldn't give names to. Sensations that defied all explanations. It was all rushing through her, as she felt the crunching and cracking beneath her embrace. The spark of life, the warmth of existence fading in said embrace, as she held the Commando close to her body, as her eyes were clenched shut.

Rest now. You did your best.

The words were pointless. He was long gone. But...that didn't mean Reina didn't care. She was not truly a Sith. She cared. She did not want to inflict more pain than necessary. The Imperials were her enemy today, yes. But enemies and friends changed so easily. Loyalties were weak. Exploitable. You must do what it took for you to live with yourself. Not to live in the eyes of others. Yet there were a handful of those that Reina wanted to live for. To make proud. Some of those, she already knew she would have sorely disappointed. Their faces had already been etched into her vision. Valery. Colette. Everest. Yet...she wondered if there would be others proud of her. Her sister. Her parents. Quinn. Even Him, to an extent. Though Reina doubted that the Dark Lord could feel pride in anyone.

That's when she felt it. A sharp sting through the Force, as she spun around in the blink of an eye, dragging the corpse of the Commando still in her embrace with her, letting it act as a shield to take in the blaster bolts. Her iridescent gaze locking in on the ARC Trooper. Battered. Beaten. Bruised. Bloody. Reina's fingers twitched at that, the urge to manipulate the blood rushing through her brain. It was simply just another version of water, was it not? She could drain him dry. Turn his life force against him. But that was not her way.

"...You look so tired."

Her voice seemed to echo as it escaped her lips, and she slowly made her way over towards the ARC Trooper, as in the flames and light behind her slowly made her come into focus. The mass of octopi arms where her legs should be dragging her through the water, over through the mud and towards the shore.

"Your comrade was tired. So very tired. You should just...rest."

Even as she tried to force her words into his head, the ARC trooper fired off various more bolts, until the grip vibrated. Of course Reina had no clue that was going on...Of course, she also didn't know that the ARC Trooper could overcharge the shot, letting it penetrate through the Storm Commando's armour, where the shot burnt out a chunk of Reina's octopi arm, causing them to flail around in pain. Yet even with that pain, Reina's voice didn't seem to change.

"See. All of this pain...frustration...It would all end...if you just...Go. To. Sleep."

The ARC Trooper found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, as Reina's voice continued to sneak its way into his head. Each repetition of those words making him feel more and more groggy, until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him...then more arms. Yet they didn't squeeze. Instead they held him close, tight enough that he couldn't adjust his arms.

"Go to sleep...Never to be hurt again..."

And with both her voice and the combination of the Force, Reina managed to put the trooper into a slumber...that he would not wake from. Yet instead of killing him here and there, she slid back into the river, beneath the waves, before releasing the trooper, letting him sink to the bottom of the river, to his eternal resting place.

Now with that said and done...It was time for her to start making the long way back up the tree.​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Outer Rim
Stygian Caldera
Brosi
Tags: Friends — Srina Talon | Gerwald Lechner | Mercy | Revna Marr | Darth Caedes |
Lirka Ka | Eira Dyn | Darth Carnifex | Reina Daival | Lysander von Ascania |

Foes — The Lord of Hunger | Ronhar Tane | Joseph Torson | FN-999 (restored) | TIC Forces
Load-out

Upon The Soil

​

As swaths of her world burned and A'Mia wrestled with the overwhelm of it all, her allies toiled.

Life within the Blackwall was obscured from outsiders but rumors of conflict between Sith were always readily prevalent. Squabbles about doctrine and power bases, heated war councils regarding their next move as an Order, and so on were just facts of life for such beings. However, when faced with a shared enemy? The Sith had an unexpected skill for working in lockstep with one another.

The Imperial foe had insisted upon learning this lesson the hard way.

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.

A moment of empathy shared between mothers, empathy which fed wrath.

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.

A weapon turned back upon he who thought to wield it.

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.

A gift and lesson freely given, one the forest would remember.

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.​

A shield, hoisted by hands so small yet so capable and brimming with potential.

A chorus of bellowing roars filled the air soon after the wyrm's arrival, as terrible beasts began to languorously swim through the air from within the tree's mighty boroughs. Their shaggy, rubbery hide was coated in overlapping plates of sarassian iron, especially around their weaker dorsal half. Composite-beam laser turrets had been affixed to their giant frames, controlled by Baarann-Hai Graug in enclosed spherical mounts. These anti-Infantry weapons began to make passing sweeps over the enemy lines as the Aanhaku made slow, languid passes over the enemy formations.

A new hoard to join ranks with those yet being replenished by the remaining altars.

"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.

And an act of much needed support from a respected mentor.

These separate actions wove together, braiding power with power and twining the intricate workings of various Force practitioners together to craft something that no one Sith could hope to achieve alone. Elsewhere, even the dark glee of Lirka Ka and indomitable combat prowess of Darth Prazutis added to the pattern. Mercy did the unthinkable and fully consumed a missile, transmuting its energy in her own strange way so that she was more brilliant than a sun for a time.

Others still were putting themselves between warheads and Brosi, giving as much violence in turn as they got. Though her senses couldn't reach so far as the position of Darth Strosius , A'Mia knew that he and his men rained mechanized death upon their enemy from his location in one of Brosi's few cities.

The neti's lament waned, she knew if she continued on that course then her cries would become a dirge. A'Mia could not allow that.

Eyes refocusing upon their hands between them, A'Mia centered herself upon the working. Her visage, once primordial and wracked with unspeakable pain, soon softened into that of a devout student presented with sacred knowledge. Her pain remained, dark tears still bloomed, but her bearing became that of a woman tasked with work that must be done even in the face of unbearable loss.

"Yes, Lady Raaf," the neti acknowledged as she sank deeper into the bond.

Energy surged from and through them, into Psilofyr and throughout the land. A'Mia followed her mentor's lead and poured the passion her grief provided into the working.

All things end, it's part of living.
Forest fire feeds the trees.
​

It whispered like a hymn through boughs and branches, fresh and green or burnt alike. The world tree groaned and swayed as if in gale force winds and soon the power they directed was burgeoning into new life.

Across the theaters of war, various dead were claimed by altars or the soil, recycled biomass soon to bloom anew. Grasses, shrubs, and even trees pushed themselves through blistered, trampled soil and sprouted again in defiance of destruction. Growing at a pace which would surely make one wonder if they were caught in a time vortex wherein everything was sped up.

The world tree itself rumbled and faintly shook, dropping dead branches the size of Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers as it did. Branches which would crash down upon the forces at war surrounding its base. A'Mia and the tree began to rapidly heal together. Angry blemishes upon her face and crude cuts which littered her form began to close, whilst the wicked burns and gashes to the great tree's trunk began to show signs of new bark pushing out the damaged tissue.

A'Mia no longer concerned herself with individual foes, nor lashing out against them in hate. Instead she channeled herself entirely into the act of restoration, in maintaining the vibrancy her world yet contained. There would be much of that work ahead, to address fallout and pollution. However, her singular focus for the time was the obstinate survival of her world.

They thought to bury us, but didn't know that we're seeds.

 

[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 no longer felt distant.

It pressed down into the ground, into muscle and bone, and into the places where instinct lived. Srina Talon 's will was threaded through it, shaping and directing its weight, and Gerwald felt where she drew from him without needing to search for the connection. Above it all loomed Darth Carnifex , his presence so heavy in the Force that the sky itself seemed reluctant to move without permission. Rain fell hard and purposeful, flattening smoke, drowning flame, and turning the battlefield slick and treacherous.

The forest answered in its own way. Roots shifted beneath the surface, not thrashing blindly but tightening and releasing in uneven pulses. Insects rose in thick, hungry clouds where Imperial machinery sputtered and failed. Somewhere deeper within Brosi, something ancient and ritual-bound had been broken, and the backlash rolled outward in a wave of raw Sith magick that carried no restraint with it, only pain.

The shock raced through Psilofyr's vast network like a blade along a nerve, and with it came the unmistakable imprint of Madrona A’Mia , the wound striking her as if it had torn directly into living flesh. Her anguish rippled through the forest, sharp and immediate, and Brosi's fury tightened around it, no longer wild, but focused.

Then came another violation.

The rain could not wash it away.

A metallic bitterness caught at the back of Gerwald's throat as his armor adjusted, filters shifting while warning runes crept along the edges of his vision. Radiation clung low beneath the canopy and storm cover, settling into pooled water and bark. Leaves blackened where droplets lingered too long, and insects died in brittle waves before new swarms pushed through to replace them.

Psilofyr recoiled as the mycelial network tightened and rerouted beneath Gerwald's feet, drawing life away from poisoned pockets and sealing them off like scar tissue forming over infection. The ground pulsed as if the planet were holding its breath, choosing what could be saved and what had to be surrendered. The radiation did not kill the forest outright, but it offended it, and that offense fed what was already boiling loose.

It hit Gerwald like a hand pressed hard against his spine.

The wolf surged up fast, teeth bared and blood singing. For a breath there was no separation between him and it, because the instinct to run, to tear, and to answer destruction with annihilation came without hesitation or doubt. He did not resist the pull of it. He let it take him.

The change tore through him in heat and pressure. His armor flowed and reformed, plates splitting and shifting as mass and posture changed. Hands became paws, claws biting into wet soil. His spine lengthened, muscles thickened, and breath dragged deep and feral through lungs built for the run. Rain slid off his hide in dark sheets as he moved, and the forest seemed to recognize him in that moment, not as an intruder but as something closer to kin.

He came out of the mist low and fast. The impact drove Taregh down, momentum carrying them into mud and rain. Jaws closed on a vulnerable seam, teeth finding flesh beneath armor, and blood cut hot and coppery across his tongue. The Inquisitor's strength answered immediately as an arm clamped around the wolf's body with crushing force and hauled him close. Pressure built along his ribs and spine. It was brutal and relentless, driven by stims and augmentation that pushed far past natural limits.

Gerwald felt it as the squeeze stole breath and compressed muscle in a way meant to break something vital if it held long enough. He twisted into it instead of fighting straight against it, dropping his weight and rolling with the ground as roots slid and tightened beneath them. The planet denied perfect leverage, and the denial mattered.

The lightsaber came up in the Inquisitor's other hand. Gerwald caught the intent before the ignition and wrenched free on instinct, jaws releasing as he snapped sideways. The blade ignited anyway, plasma screaming to life in the rain and carving past where a limb had been a heartbeat before. Steam exploded outward, blinding and hissing, and Gerwald tore himself clear in a violent surge of muscle and motion.

He hit the ground on all fours and kept moving. The wolf did not retreat. It circled low and fluid, using rain, steam, and drifting radiation haze as cover, forcing Taregh to turn and adjust on ground that refused to settle. Overhead, drakes cut through the storm in wide arcs, while the sky remained held in tension by Srina Talon beneath the heavier will of Darth Carnifex . Somewhere beyond the canopy, the energy of another missile vanished and reappeared elsewhere, bent away by Revna Marr 's hand.

Gerwald felt it all as one thing. Grief, rage, sickness, and the deep animal certainty that the land had been wounded in a way claws alone could not answer. The wolf did not understand fallout or ritual, but it understood rot, and it understood when something did not belong.

That understanding sharpened the hunt. He paced with muscles coiled and eyes fixed on the Inquisitor as the storm pressed, the forest shifted, and the air burned with ozone and poison. Allies still fought and bled across Brosi, and the sky still chose where lightning struck.

Here, in rain and mud and poisoned ground, the wolf waited. The Imperials had chosen this. The forest would remember.

Gerwald shifted his weight and moved again. Not a charge. Not yet. He let Taregh track him through the steam and falling rain, let the Inquisitor's attention linger on where the wolf had been instead of where it was going. Paws sank and lifted without sound as he cut wide, circling through uneven ground that punished hesitation and rewarded motion. Roots flexed beneath him and settled again, denying anything that tried to hold still and dominate the space.

The wolf did not roar.

It struck.

Gerwald lunged out of the rain low and fast, closing the distance in a blur of muscle and intent. He went for Taregh's right side this time, angling toward the side that had already overextended. Claws raked for purchase where armor had to give, and jaws snapped toward the shoulder line again, not to hold, but to force movement and break rhythm.

The ground shifted under them as Brosi chose motion over stillness. Gerwald stayed close, close enough that wide strength became awkward and the terrain took its toll. Rain hammered down between them. Steam hissed where heat met water. Radiation prickled along fur and armor alike, sharp and wrong, feeding the animal certainty that this fight had to end before the land paid more for it.

The wolf pressed in relentlessly, forcing Taregh to answer on ground that refused him every advantage.

And the hunt continued.