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

[Seraphina Pryde]

Location: Outside Treptel Spaceport - Brosi
Thread Objective: Off With Their Head
Mission Objective: Destroy the Rainmaker cannon battery.
Allies: TIC
Enemies: Aerik Lechner Irina Jesart Skadi Lightbane Torvald

Before Seraphina could pivot to strike at the female Sith, she was pushed hard to the ground by a shoulder thrown with the force of a battering ram. Dramatically outsized by the woman and momentarily dizzy from her time-drift, it was all she could do to maintain her grip on her weapons as the ground rushed to meet her face. Fortunately, her face mask provided protection from further injury, but her world briefly spun as time warped within her perception, with events from seconds prior looping and overlapping in a disorienting cascade within her mind.

Nevertheless, Seraphina gritted her teeth and wrestled herself back into focus. Her thoughts soon returned to coherence and her senses regained their clarity.

She realized then that she needed to get up.

Seraphina threw her lightsaber chakram from her left hand at Skadi’s legs in a powerful backhand throw, before scrambling back onto her feet. However, it was then her ears registered a series of sounds that made her blood run cold. Although she could not know with certainty what the exact nature of the noises were, they sounded like the wet crunch of splintering bone, the visceral tear of twisting flesh, and the harsh snapping of muscle ripping and reforming! She immediately glanced towards its source, her eyes widening as they honed in on the male Sith who she had wounded only moments prior. At the same time, she noticed the woman standing protectively in front of him...

And leaving the Rainmaker cannon exposed.

Seraphina didn’t hesitate. Immediately after regaining her footing, she reached through the Force and called her other lightsaber chakram back from the jungle, before telekinetically casting it on a trajectory aimed to strike at Aerik.

Then, driving the Force into her legs, Seraphina raced towards the cannon at blistering speed!

---

The jetpack-crippled Dark Trooper which had been attacking Irina was struck several times by its own redirected blaster fire, but its armor and shielding yet held their integrity. It was only when the scattergun-wielding sentry droid was thrown into it did the battle droid finally fall. However, only the sentry droid was disabled.

With a deep mechanical groan, the Dark Trooper pushed the sentry droid’s broken chassis away before getting back onto its feet, servos whining harshly in the process.

Then, brandishing its arm-integrated vibroblades, the Dark Trooper launched itself towards Irina with its foot-mounted rockets, charging her in an effort to slice the pyromancer in twain!

Spoiler: Loadout

• Seraphina Pryde’s Battle Suit
• Seraphina Pryde’s Lightsabers
• FAE/M-01 “Scherezade” Energized Vibroblade Mk. II
• G-2 Imperial Standard Blaster
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (4)
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II
• Supernal Infusion Vials
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (4)

Spoiler: NPC Information

• Glory-III Class Dark Trooper
  
  • Status
    
    • Shielding: 30%
    • Armor: 66%
    • Structure: 94%
  • Armament
    
    • ND40 Kase Blaster Repeater - Hands
    • Flamethrower - Wrist
    • Rail Submachine Gun - Wrist
    • Retractable Kamikiri Blades (2)
    • Crushgaunts
    • Electric Defense Grid
    • Electrical Filaments
    • Droid Neural Pacifiers
• Glory-III Class Dark Trooper
  
  • Status - Disabled
    
    • Shielding: 0%
    • Armor: 67%
    • Structure: 19%
  • Armament
    
    • ND40 Kase Blaster Repeater - Hands
    • Flamethrower - Wrist
    • Rail Submachine Gun - Wrist
    • Retractable Kamikiri Blades (2)
    • Crushgaunts
    • Electric Defense Grid
    • Electrical Filaments
    • Droid Neural Pacifiers
• DT-series Sentry Droid
  
  • Status - Disabled
    
    • Armor: 74%
    • Structure: 19%
  • Armament
    
    • Electrohammer - Left Hand
    • AAF-8 Scattergun - Right Hand
• DT-series Sentry Droid
  
  • Status - Disabled
    
    • Armor: 97%
    • Structure: 100%
  • Armament
    
    • AAF-8 Scattergun - Left Hand
    • AAF-8 Scattergun - Right Hand
• DT-series Sentry Droid
  
  • Status
    
    • Armor: 89%
    • Structure: 97%
  • Armament
    
    • Electrohammer - Left Hand
    • AAF-8 Scattergun - Right Hand
• DT-series Sentry Droid
  
  • Status
    
    • Armor: 91%
    • Structure: 99%
  • Armament
    
    • G-41 Imperial Heavy Rotary Blaster - Left Hand
    • G-41 Imperial Heavy Rotary Blaster - Right Hand
• Advanced Blastromech Droid
  
  • Status
    
    • Armor: 78%
    • Structure: 100%
  • Armament
    
    • Heavy Rotary Blaster - Head
    • Micro-Missile Launcher - Head
      
      • FAE/WH-04-S2 Universal Missile - Plasma Warhead (3)
      • FAE/WH-04-S2 Universal Missile - Baradium Warhead (3)
    • Flamethrower - Body

 

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: OUTER RIM TERRITORIES > SITH HOLY WORLDS > BROSI > OUTSKIRTS OF NEW SHOENGEN​

EQUIPMENT: FLIGHT SUIT | BODIE | BLASTER PISTOL | FIELD COM-SCAN LINK​

OBJECTIVE: STAY ALIVE...​

TAGS: Naamino Zuukamano | Rieva "Killshot" Alonn ​

Naami's voice was everything Haro needed in that moment. Relief flooded him and he let his head rest back against his ship with a sigh that was almost a mirthless laugh.

"Thank the Force," he muttered. His bruised brain registered Naami's words a bit delayed.

"Grounded. Ship's totaled. Banged up pretty bad but'm on m'feet." Haro's voice was strained from the pain and slightly slurred.

Pushing himself off the interceptor's hull, the battered pilot cautiously stepped out, peering around in an attempt to get his bearings. He stayed in a low ready position, blaster pistol clutched in his hands. He blinked hard once, twice, three times in an attempt to clear the blur from his vision.

Thick storm clouds blackened with the smoke pouring from the forests roiled and rumbled overhead as if the atmosphere itself was growling protectively. It appeared he'd landed near the middle of a wide corridor between unfinished skyscrapers. At the time, it had made for a decent makeshift landing strip for his crash, but now it felt terribly exposed.

"Where're you? What building?" He asked, squinting around at the nearby skyscrapers in search of Naami, hoping beyond all hope that he was close by. He took another cautious step out into the open and—

BANG!​

He heard the shot half a second before he felt it. He was on the ground before he registered what had happened, his face pressed to cold, damp duracrete. The ringing in his ears was deafening now, his vision swimming with stars, and the pain—it was unlike anything he could have imagined. His heart thundered in his chest which told him he was still alive. For now. He tried propping himself up onto an elbow but the pain was so great he couldn't even cry out, it just stole the breath from his lungs.

Sucking in short stuttered gulps of breath, Haro dared to tentatively explore his torso with a trembling hand only to jerk it away a moment later with a whimpering groan upon finding the wound. It was still hot to the touch, a mess of charred flesh and seeping blood on his lower abdomen.

"I'm hit," he barely managed to hiss through clenched teeth, his face a mask of agony and terror, then he croaked two more broken words before his vision started to swim with blackness. "Naami... Help..."

Whether it was his luck or incredible reflexes, he'd shifted just in time for the shot not to be immediately fatal, but he knew he wouldn't last long without medical attention.
​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Oucoa Enaki Breastplate, Weal & Woe,
Kor'ethyr Flight Suit

Squad: Haro Aven | NPC pilots (now crashed and scattered)
Foe: Rieva "Killshot" Alonn | NPC pilots (now crashed and scattered)

Stygian Caldera
Brosi
Outskirts of New Shoengen​

Carefully finding his footing on the unfinished level of the building he'd crashed into, Naami squinted as he took stock of his surroundings. Smoke rose from an apparent crash in the far distance, though whether it was one of his own squad mates or the enemy he couldn't know. Visibility was also impacted by the growing storm clouds and ash on the winds.

"Grounded. Ship's totaled. Banged up pretty bad but'm on m'feet."

The zabrak shifted his focus downward upon hearing that, icy gaze finally adjusting as dust settled below. Naami found Haro then and the tightness in his chest eased slightly.

"Spotted you, I'm up maybe a few hundred feet."

He began to hastily make his way toward scaffolding set up on the edge of the building, determined to make for the fastest route down to get to Haro as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and turned in time with Haro's next comm message.

"Where're you? What building?"

"Stay in cover, I'll be—"

The shot rang out.

Naami watched Haro fall as if in slow motion, horrified and frozen in place for a few seconds.

"NO!"

Haro's voice came in, pained, but Naami couldn't hear the words. Suddenly, a more expeditious route was clear to him but before he made the leap, the imposing zabrak lifted his left palm and fired off a wicked Force blast in the direction that shot came from. He didn't care if it took an entire building with it, he had to vent the rage somewhere.

Then he took a running leap directly from the open floor of the unfinished structure, pushing off the edge with a powerful kick. Suddenly, more enemy combatants had gathered their wits and taken note of the Sith hurtling through the air. New shots started to ring out and Naami plummeted like a stone. Instinctually using the Force to bolster his physical form, the zabrak tucked into a roll as he landed and sprang up from the maneuver, boots thudding against crumbled duracrete.

With a roar the man let loose another Force blast into another shorter building where he felt certain another enemy was hiding. A figure darted out from where Naami just disintegrated a wall and the enraged zabrak reached out to grab with power fueled by the Darkside. The man let out a terrified yell as he froze in his tracks, even as Naami continued to run toward his downed best friend.

Skidding to a stop and crouching down, Naami's concentration for holding the distant enemy faltered as he took in the sight of Haro.

"No…" his deep voice cracked and wavered.

The distant pilot collapsed in a heap after being released by Naami, but his compatriots kept up a stream of suppressive fire on Haro's crashed interceptor. The zabrak swore vehemently and his hands trembled faintly as he carefully turned his friend over, rolling him closer and under better cover.

"Haro…"

Naami's eyes were wide, pinprick pupils and panting breath giving all the hallmarks of adrenal overload. He cursed again, wincing when he took in the extent of the damage and was enraged he didn't have his normal MedKit on him since he'd been airborne rather then prepared for martial conflict.

"We gotta get you outta here, buddy."

He snarled as another blaster bolt whizzed by, uncomfortably close to where his horned head was just barely tucked below the ruined fuselage of Haro's interceptor.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Objective Two
Gear: Armor, Lightsaber, Skeggox
SO Allies: Aerik Lechner // Irina Jesart // Torvald
TIC Enemy: Seraphina Pryde ​

Skadi felt a surge of satisfaction seeing her enemy go flying from the impact of her shoulder slamming into her. The Valkyri staggered somewhat after the blow, but was quick to regain her footing and was about to launch herself again at her foe when the red armored female flung her chakram saber towards Skadi’s leg, forcing the Valkyri to pivot and drive her still ignited lightsaber down to block the chakram. The distraction gave her opponent time to get back to her feet, and Skadi snarled in agitation.

The sounds behind her were still reaching her ears, and though she was very curious as to what was happening, she didn’t dare take her eyes off her enemy. Aerik would have to take care of himself for the moment, at least until he was able to rejoin her in combating their shared prey.

In the next moment, things happened fast - again. Skadi recognized her mistake (leaving the cannon exposed), and was forced to make a split second decision as the red armored woman recalled her saber then threw it at Aerik, before bursting with speed to reach the cannon itself. As much as she wanted to defend her comrade - her duty was to defend the cannon, and that was the decision she made.

Dipping into the Force yet again, Skadi formed icicle like blades (three of them) and flung them with her free hand with tremendous power and speed - aiming not to strike her foe directly, but just ahead of her - so her enemy’s momentum would carry her into the path of the thrown projectiles. Skadi was then right on the heels of her throw, intent upon tackling the armored woman to the ground before she could reach the cannon and its gunner directly.

 

[Rieva "Killshot" Alonn]

Weapons: Blaster, dagger
Enemies: Haro Aven Naamino Zuukamano
Allies: 5 downed NPC Dagger Squadron pilots

The world detonated around her.

Killshot felt the Force blast before she saw it; a violent pressure wave that ripped through the unfinished tower like a sledgehammer. The duracrete wall beside her disintegrated outward in a deafening concussion, fragments screaming past as the entire structure shuddered violently beneath her boots. She moved on instinct. Killshot rolled as the floor buckled, slamming shoulder-first into a half-collapsed support beam as the level gave way behind her. A slab of ceiling crashed down where she’d been lying a heartbeat earlier, pulverizing stone into choking clouds of dust and ash.

The platform lurched. Then dropped. Killshot skidded across fractured concrete, boots barely finding purchase before the edge vanished beneath her. She lunged, fingers clawing for anything solid, her gloved hands barely catching the jagged lip of exposed framework as the entire section tore free and plunged downward.

Her body wrenched hard, joints screaming as her full weight snapped against her grip. For a split second, gravity tried to claim her. Then she kicked, boots scraping wildly against the wall until she slammed into the building’s exterior. Stone tore at her palms as she slid several meters before managing to hook an elbow into a twisted strut, arresting her fall in a brutal jolt that stole the breath from her lungs. Pain flared hot along her ribs and shoulder. She forced it down. Then muscle by muscle, Killshot climbed, hauling herself sideways along the skeletal frame until she found stable footing on a lower ledge. Only then did she allow herself a single measured breath.

Behind her, the tower folded in on itself with a thunderous roar, cascading downward in a grinding avalanche of steel and stone. Silence followed; thick, ringing, unreal.

Killshot crouched low, pulse steadying as dust drifted past in slow motion. A shallow burn throbbed beneath her flightsuit. Something in her shoulder protested sharply when she rotated it. But it was still functional. Acceptable.

She ghosted forward to the fractured edge. Down below, she spotted them. The Sith had reached the pilot. Rage burned through the horned warrior as he dragged his wounded companion into cover, blaster fire cracking around them. Even from this distance, the sheer violence of his presence was unmistakable; a storm barely contained in flesh.

Killshot did not raise her blaster. Not now. The initial shot had failed. The battlefield had shifted. Forcing a second attempt would mean exposure… and unnecessary risk. Instead, she studied their movement patterns, the flow of terrain, the channels that would funnel them through the shattered city. Angles. Chokepoints. Escape routes.

The hunt had changed. This was no longer a clean execution. This was pursuit, like a dogfight being initiated on the ground. With a silent step backward, Killshot vanished into the skeletal bones of the ruined city, dissolving into smoke, shadow, and falling ash. She was not retreating, merely repositioning. Patient....Relentless....Waiting....

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: Roka Varg | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
Allies: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Torvald
Enemies: Seraphina Pryde​

The pain did not fade when the blade left him. It remained sharp across Aerik’s cheek and jaw, a clean burn that flared each time his skin shifted or his breath pulled too tight through his teeth. Blood traced the path of the cut in a steady line before dropping from his chin to the trembling platform below. The warmth of it was immediate against his skin, and the cooling air made the wound sting harder with each passing second. He swallowed and tasted iron, and the metallic tang lingered at the back of his throat.

The apprentice had been marked.

That truth settled deeper than the physical wound itself. It was not pride that reacted to it, and it was not embarrassment. It was something older and less forgiving. The anger rose without being summoned, not in a sudden burst but in a steady climb that filled his chest and tightened his grip around the hilt of his saber. The pup did not attempt to restrain it. He let it build. The molten blade steadied in his hand as though it recognized the pressure behind it, and the crystal no longer resisted what moved through him. It accepted it.

The bond with Irina Jesart flared in answer.

What had been forming carefully between them tightened sharply as the pain crossed it. The young Lupo felt the connection strain under the surge, and the sensation traveled through the bond before discipline could shape it into something more controlled. Anger followed the pain along the same line. Aerik did not shield her from it and did not try to lessen what passed between them. If the wound burned in him, then the bond would carry that heat as well. He pressed into it once, not with words or instruction, but with a presence, allowing Irina to feel the shift that was taking hold in him.

Aerik was too consumed by the reaction to shield her from it.

The Rainmaker discharged again, and the reinforced platform shook under the recoil. Vibration climbed through his boots and into his spine, rattling bone and breath alike. The noise swallowed the smaller sounds of battle for a moment before they returned in fragments. Aerik remained upright through the tremor, though it required effort to keep his balance. As the world steadied, it did not blur around him.

It sharpened.

He could hear the grind of metal and the impact of weight where Skadi Lightbane and Seraphina Pryde clashed. He felt their engagement through the plating beneath his feet. The apprentice did not turn toward it. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Aerik had to focus on what was happening within him if he wanted to survive it.

Blood continued to run down his face, and the wound continued to burn, but the anger no longer surged wildly. It settled into something denser and more deliberate. The pup’s breathing slowed despite the sting of each inhale. The molten blade held steady, its light thick and unwavering in the smoke and heat around them. Another recoil shook the platform, and loose fragments skittered across the metal, but Aerik did not sway this time. He stood in the center of the thunder and heat with the bond to Irina Jesart drawn taut between them and the change fully rooted in him.

The change did not happen gently.

It tore through him.

Muscle tightened first, drawing hard along Aerik’s frame as though his body were bracing for impact from the inside. His spine lowered and settled into a predatory line without conscious thought, causing the chakram to fly over his form. Breath deepened in his chest, heavier now, slower, each inhale pulling heat in and forcing it back out again in controlled measure.

The anger did not flare.

It locked in place.

Black fur broke through his skin in a rush that felt like fire racing along his nerves and bones. It spread across his arms, his shoulders, his back, swallowing exposed flesh beneath a living mantle of darkness. The strands did not lie still. They shifted with him like smoke curling through them in thin, restless currents that clung and slid and gathered again as though drawn to his heat.

The wound across his cheek ceased its bleeding.

As the heat surged through him the cut seared closed. Blood hissed where it met searing heat. Flesh tightened along the edges of the gash before darkening and hardening into something new. When the fire settled, what remained was not an open wound but a molten scar carved into his skin. It glowed faintly beneath the dark fur that traced his jaw, a jagged line of hardened fire. It did not steal from him.

It marked him.

His features followed the rest. The lines of his face hardened and lengthened, not monstrous but unmistakable. The young apprentice was still there, but something unholy stood forward within him. When his eyes lifted, they no longer reflected the battlefield around him.

They burned.

Fire lived behind them. A deep and molten inferno that was steady rather than wild. The glow did not flicker, it held. Smoke in the air bent toward him before drifting away again, disturbed by the presence that now occupied the platform.

The anger was no longer rising. It had taken a shape.

The transformation was not a loss of control. It was simply the moment his restraint had ended.

 

[Torvald]

TORVALD

He wrapped his clawed hands around the Dark Troopers head, digging his nails into the wires and fillings, with a violent harsh jerk he ripped the droid's head off its shoulders, sparks spewing from its neck. His ears twitched when he heard Irina’s scream and he quickly turned on his heel.

“Coming lass!”

He dove back on all fours, barreling towards her, leaping onto any food soldiers or droids that were foolish enough to try and block him, they were torn to shreds. He could tell she was hurt, somehow. The agony that flowed through her, he could taste it on the wind. No, not her…She was feeling someone's pain. He gritted his teeth charging faster as he began to pant, frost fall slowly gathered around him as his shoulder popped, a guttural growl left his throat as his arm cracked and jerked itself out of place. As if having a mind of its own, the claws dug right into his own chest.

He didn’t care about the pain, it was a welcomed friend. The claws dug into his flesh before his hand jerked back along with fresh bloody flesh, beneath where the patch of skin was, is now a white patch of coarse fur. Torvald’s jaw popped and began to reposition as his teeth tore through his gums, another growl left his throat slowly turning into a yell as his other arm started tearing bits of flesh off him.

His screams slowly turned into monstrous howls.

He broke through the trees, all fours, panting, white fur. The massive white wolf stood in front of Irina bearing his fangs. The only physical resemblance of Torvald was the specialized holster on his back that still held his axe.

He waited for her to hop on his back. They needed to rejoin with the pup and fast. As soon as she settled over his shoulders, his claws dug into the earth, frost fall followed where they went as he tore through more Imperial soldiers towards the other half of their pack.

Pack: Irina Jesart | Skadi Lightbane | Aerik Lechner

Food: Seraphina Pryde​

 

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: OUTER RIM TERRITORIES > SITH HOLY WORLDS > BROSI​

EQUIPMENT: FLIGHT SUIT | BODIE | BLASTER PISTOL​

OBJECTIVE: STAY ALIVE...​

TAGS: Naamino Zuukamano | Rieva "Killshot" Alonn ​

Sickening agony lanced through his core as he was moved. It felt as though his torso might tear open. Again, he tried to cry out but a choked whimper was all he could manage. He looked up to find that handsome tattooed face, blurred as it was, looking down at him with such fear and rage. The way he winced when he saw the wound made Haro's heart break.

Was this how he was going to die?

No... please no...

There was still so much he needed to do. If he died here, now, everything he'd done would be worth nothing. He would be worth nothing—just another womp rat that crawled out of the bowls of Coruscant only to die on some battlefield for a cause he didn't even believe in. He'd never see Niynx Ioune again, never have the chance to explain everything to Naami or Lesh.

"I can't... Naami..." he wheezed, grabbing hold of Naami's forearm weakly, eyes wide with terror. "I don't wanna die... Not like this... please..."

He was trembling, shaking, teeth chattering, his body going numb from the shock. Tears welled in his crystalline eyes, even as the light within them seemed to be fading. He tasted iron on his tongue, the inside of his lips stained with blood.

"I'm sorry..." He choked out a sob, fighting to maintain consciousness.

Bodie crawled out of his pocket and onto the ground nearby, photoreceptors adjusting to take in the situation. The little droid made a sad little whirring sound and shifted to look up at Naami as if awaiting orders.
​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Oucoa Enaki Breastplate, Weal & Woe,
Kor'ethyr Flight Suit

Squad: Haro Aven
Foe: Rieva "Killshot" Alonn | NPCs

Stygian Caldera
Brosi
Outskirts of New Shoengen​

Fear welled up within Naami and threatened to overtake his rational mind. Haro was shot, he was well on his way to dying before the zabrak's very eyes.

"I can't... Naami..." he wheezed, grabbing hold of Naami's forearm weakly, eyes wide with terror. "I don't wanna die... Not like this... please..."

Fear fed into rage, a storm of emotion to match the wartorn skies of Brosi.

Suppressive fire grew fewer and far between, as clearly the enemy was trying to gather their wits after such an unexpected turn. Naamino used the momentary reprieve to sink deeper into the well of Darkness that seemed to have transformed into a bottomless ocean. The sclera of his eyes began to thread with black wisps and his muscles bulged at the confines of his attire.

Wordless fury ripped from his throat in a roar of retribution and defiance as suddenly he lashed out with the Force, shoving the crashed interceptor with all his will in the direction of some of the shooters. The totaled ship crumpled in from the sheer power it was hit by and the thing tumbled end over end at vicious velocity to strike a building with a sickening crunch and screech of metal.

He crouched protectively over Haro as the ship crashed spectacularly and hateful eyes scoured the impromptu urban battlefield. That poor wretch that Naami had arrested mid sprint was just now finding his feet again and the big zabrak glared at him in a way that could be felt. Even as Naami carefully but quickly scooped Haro into his arms, the pained sounds he made tearing out pieces of Naami's heart, those baleful eyes dared the rival pilot to so much as look at him.

Brimming with Darkside as he was, Naami unwittingly unleashed a new weapon upon that hapless opponent. His icy gaze peering out from inky blackness, held only for a few painstaking seconds, caused blistering burns to erupt across the man's skin.

With Haro cradled against his chest, the enemy scattered and one screaming whilst writhing in pain, Naami turned to begin sprinting toward the next nearest building about 50 yards away. Head down and form hunched to offer his companion as much shielding as possible.

"Bodie, route to the nearest med tent NOW!"

 

[Irina Jesart]

Armour
NPC Unit
Location: Shoengen
Allies: Torvald Skadi Lightbane Aerik Lechner
Enemies: Seraphina Pryde

​

His anger came unchecked and raw, surging through the strengthening bond like fire, consuming everything. She fought to hold her own ground, fighting against the torrent desperate not to be pulled under. She couldn’t be uncontrolled, not here, not now. The Dark Trooper surged forward and Irina let loose a snarl, as the next wave of pain slammed into her, white hot and blinding, like her bones were breaking and reforming.

Not her pain.

His.

The Dark Trooper collided with Irina, one vibroblade turned aside by her saber, the other glanced along the side of her armour with a scream of metal on metal. The weight of it took them both to the ground, the impact driving the wind from her as pain and fury made it impossible to see, impossible to think. Bones breaking and reforming in a way that they shouldn’t. No. Not her bones. Her bones were fine.

Aerik was shifting.

His anger was like a veil of red, dulling everything but the pain. Irina gave in to it, she let his rage feed into hers, dropping the saber as she clutched at the droid's helm and screamed. Fire engulfed it, white hot and unforgiving as it seared through seals, melted servos, the machine cracking and popping under the intense heat. When it sagged against her she heaved it aside, and rolled to all fours, not bothering to register the molten handprints left on the droid's face.

Another wave of pain racked through her and she pressed her head against the earth, screaming.

Aerik…Please…

Heavy white paws landed beside her as she reached for her saber, her trembling hand closing around the hilt and clipping it back to her belt. Every muscle screamed, every bone felt like acid beneath her skin, sitting in all the wrong places. One hand grasped the thick fur on Torvald’s side hauling herself up onto his back as her skin began to burn.

Fingers dug into Torvald’s thick pelt as he launched forward, with Irina laying flat against his back, face buried, jaw clamped. She closed her eyes, but didn’t see black she saw Skadi, she saw a red armoured woman and all of it she saw eyes that were not hers.

Irina opened her eyes as the pain subsided, but the rage remained, unrestrained and tangled with her own as the city and jungle blurred past the edge of her vision. Her breathing steadied and she lifted herself just enough to see over Torvalds head as the tree line broke, giving way to dense undergrowth and a battle raging before the rainmaker canon, a great black wolf stood at its base, smoke curling from its fur.

Something in her heart stirred, softer than the rage that consumed them. She slid from Torvald’s back the moment his paws hit the metal platform, boots thudding as she moved toward Aerik, slowing as she drew near, something twisting in her gut.

“Aerik?”

​

 

[Rieva "Killshot" Alonn]

Weapons: Blaster, dagger
Enemies: Haro Aven Naamino Zuukamano

The crash had been loud. The Force-fueled tantrum had been louder.

From her elevated perch two structures over, Killshot did not flinch when the interceptor folded like cheap tin and cartwheeled into duracrete. The shockwave rippled dust across her view. She adjusted one gloved finger and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Rage. Predictable, powerful and sloppy.

Through the settling dust she tracked the Zabrak as he scooped the wounded pilot into his arms. His posture changed; protective. Defensive. Head down. Target mass reduced. Smart.

The burning man screaming in the street drew her eye only for a fraction of a second. Unnecessary cruelty. Emotional expenditure. The Dark Side always demanded interest on its investment.

She shifted her position instead of firing. The distance to the building he’d chosen was approximately fifty yards. Open ground. Limited hard cover. Wind dragging left to right between the structures. She did not aim for the one being carried. She aimed for the path. A single shot cracked through the battlefield. Not at flesh, but at the edge of a fractured streetlight ahead of Naami’s trajectory. The durasteel snapped and the heavy fixture collapsed, crashing down into the space just ahead of where he was sprinting; forcing a split-second decision. Slow down. Divert. Expend more energy.

Killshot rolled onto her side immediately after the shot, already abandoning that nest. Never fire twice from the same grave. Boots hit the stairwell as she descended at speed with her blaster drawn. The hunt had changed. Now she wanted to see how long rage could carry him.

 

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: OUTER RIM TERRITORIES > SITH HOLY WORLDS > BROSI​

EQUIPMENT: FLIGHT SUIT | BODIE | BLASTER PISTOL​

OBJECTIVE: STAY ALIVE...​

TAGS: Naamino Zuukamano | Rieva "Killshot" Alonn ​

Haro winced at the scream of durasteel buckling in itself from the impact of Naami's Force push, but it was the enraged roar that still rang in his ears. He nearly blacked out from being picked up, but he refused to lose consciousness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to stay awake. So he clung weakly to Naami's flight suit, trying to focus on the rise and fall of the zabrak's big chest.

"Naami..." He muttered softly. There was so much he wanted to tell him.

Someone nearby cried out, an agonizing and desperate sound. Then Naami was on the move and the pain of being jostled made it a bit easier for Haro to stay conscious, at least for the time being.

Bodie had hovered up to land on Naami's chest and secured itself there. The moment the little droid was given an order, it immediately began calculating an optimal route and soon projected a guiding beacon for Naami to follow. Another sniper shot tore across the battlefield and struck a streetlight ahead. Bodie trilled a warning to Naami as it came down on them.
​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link,
Oucoa Enaki Breastplate, Weal & Woe,
Kor'ethyr Flight Suit

Squad: Haro Aven
Foe: Rieva "Killshot" Alonn | NPCs

Stygian Caldera
Brosi
Outskirts of New Shoengen​

The heavy thudding of Naami's boots was soon overshadowed by the whiz of another blaster bolt which caused a streetlight to come crashing down directly in his path.

"Chit…"

The zabrak almost thought to Force leap, but feared how that might jostle his precious cargo more than running already did. Naami's powerful legs tensed, muscles coiling as he suddenly pivoted, altering his course slightly. It was guesswork trying to determine from where that last shot specifically came from but he turned so that his back was hopefully almost entirely concealing Haro.

His new course added half again the previous distance to proper cover but the beacon Bodie provided seemed to be more directly in alignment with the adjustment. No telling how far the med tent was from here but the zabrak didn't have time to figure that out right now.

"Haro," Naami practically growled, trying to keep panic out of his hoarse voice, "Buddy, you gotta stay with me ok?"

They were so close, maybe 10 more yards to go. And he continued on between panting breaths.

"Gotta tell me— the first time you saw stars… Tell me that story, buddy."

 

[Saltare Dothon]

The city of Raan burns in sections. Mal Crus' assault had been precise and brutal, power grids sabotaged, substations gutted, the skyline reduced to black silhouettes against distant firelight. Entire districts now sit in engineered darkness. Rolling over the dead streets, Inferno Squad's stealth transport glides into the city, its hull absorbing the flicker of distant explosions. No engine flare. No transponder ping. Just shadow.

Inside the vehicle, red tactical lighting washes over armored figures.

Saltare stands near the drivers, peering through the windscreen.

"Status."

"Mal Crus has secured the central grid hub," one of the drivers responds. "Thermal bloom confirms heavy fighting near his last known position."

Their original vector updates on Saltare's HUD, a direct line toward Crus' position.

Then-

A chirp.

A sharp burst of encrypted static cuts across the squad's private frequency. Logan's helmet turns to Saltare. They've heard the intrusion twice before, short, incomplete bursts. Ghosts in the signal. This time, it resolves. A coordinate string.

Logan voices, "Signal originated inside the blackout zone."

"Same encryption breach pattern as before," another Inferno member adds. "Someone's piggybacking our channel."

Saltare pulls up the holomap on his HUD as the coordinates populate. A residential grid. Some...mundane neighborhood.

"Third time we've been pinged," Logan says quietly.

"And the first time they've spoken," Saltare replies.

If they continue toward Mal Crus, they arrive in four minutes. If they divert? Seven minutes to the new coordinates. Saltare's heart beats a few times. Outside, anti-air fire arcs uselessly through the empty sky far below.

Saltare makes the call. "We investigate."

The stealth vehicle changes direction, weaving between streets as it nears its new target.

Mal Crus can hold, but Mal also may be of help.

Saltare patches into Mal's comms again, " Mal Crus , this is Saltare. I'm sending you new coordinates, highest priority for Inferno. If you can break free, we could use the assist. If not, we'll head to you after."

"Approaching coordinates," the driver murmurs.

The vehicle churns up the street as they near their intended target: a boring slate-gray hab block nestled among many of the same buildings. "Drop the ramp, guns up, look for targets. TIC forces haven't made it this far yet; treat everything as hostile for now."

Rohlan Basra