Faction [TSC] Terror in Tapani

[Mercy]

Onboard The Siegemother
​

Tag: Lysander von Ascania | Naniti

The Togruta stayed silent but Mercy got the distinct impression she had been about to speak before deferring to Lysander. Eyes flicked from one to the other, they'd both get the distinct impression of being sized up, just for what purpose was unclear. Mercy had grown up with the Echani and so body language was not just a metaphor for Mercy.

She felt it in the stance between them. The way they leaned into each other, even for the slightest centimeter, the way their heads swiveled to catch when the other was speaking.

Was it love? Was it obsession? Was there a difference when it came to the Sith and their ilk?

"Well, I have come to accept your judgement, von Ascania." Mercy murmured warmly as her attention shifted back to the lad. "So if you value hers, then I suppose for the time being so will I." Then that smirk turned a bit wolvish. "But does she speak? Or is it her mere presence that brings you good fortune?"

Mercy snapped her fingers and across the view port a map was projected of the Tapani sector. She stepped to the side so they both can see it clearly.

"I did hear that Arris Windrun got herself a pet Jedi to try and mold into something useful." Acier Moonbound was someone she hadn't met yet, but by all accounts he was an impressive specimen. "We will have to see if he bends or breaks. Not everyone can shake the passive nature of the Jedi, some are destined to be weak and inspire weakness in those around them."

"So far we have encountered little issue. The Tapani have been caught unaware just as Arris predicted. But, come closer, Lysander and Naniti. And let's see how well the Togruta's judgement truly is. See here, girl, these are our battle lines." Her golden arm, eldritch and monstrous unwound into tendrils so that Mercy could easily gesture towards the various points on the holo projection.

"And here is the convoy we are waiting on. In that vast space between us, there are pirate ships under our current employ, who are harraying them towards us."

She glanced towards the young woman.

"What risks do you see? Or do you believe we have covered every possible option?"

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective One- Life Day
Tags: Valephor Crokell | Open​

There was logic to traveling light and without a group, it also helped that neither of them necessarily carried the hallmarks that immediately gave them away as undeniably Sith. It was to their benefit that they could pass through the initial courtyards of the estate as if they belonged. A'Mia carried herself with the air of one precisely where she was meant to be and affected the guise of a scholar with scribe in tow.

Inhabitants of the great house had some forewarning but not enough, confusion and misinformation meant the Covenant members were just as likely to be received as tentative allies as they were feared enemies, should they be spotted and recognized for what they were that is. For now though, the neti and langhesi blended in.

"Excellent, Valephor. Some of the minutiae is unnecessary here during field work, but your enthusiasm for the task at hand is acceptable. How far does that sense of yours travel? Certainly there must be a limit to what you can take in."

Upon reaching a more populated and therefore more heavily monitored area near the proper entrance of the place, she split from the main path and began to slink lower to the ground— moving with inhuman grace and a rather unusual gait which would be impossible for a biped. Doorways, even pathways became mere suggestions to her when they approached a section of wall she wished to scale. Her own uncanny senses assured her this was the surest route with the least resistance.

Aware of the student's limitations, she paused and released one of her sithspawn. Crooning to it as one would a favorite pet, A'Mia gave psychic instruction that it was to aid the boy. That done, she turned to skitter up to the second story of the building where a small balcony led into servant's quarters. The shambling vines embraced and carried Valephor whether he was ready or not, carefully depositing him on the balcony before following the neti indoors.

She was just lowering a second body gently to the floor, two servants who'd been dispatched cleanly, each with a phrik blade to the throat. A'Mia's robes drank the resulting blood like leaves do sunlight or roots do water, but her serene face was artfully splattered with crimson as she turned to regard the young man.

"We are to leave none alive," she reminded him calmly.

"But I seek to leave most carnage to the others. I am curious about the non sentients you mentioned. Guard beasts perhaps? Also, if any of the children are near— we handle them first."

A’Mia straightened her posture, corpses on either side, and delicately wiped her face clean with a sleeve of her robes.

"Questions or statements before we continue?"

 

[Vexorion]

​

[]

Torture Me - Davey Suicide​

Objective: 1 - Life Day
Tag: Open


The Guard House lived in a false sense of order, its illumination pooling like weak suns across polished stone and wavering banners. Vexorion slipped inside as a wrinkle in reality rather than a man, his presence dimming the air, his breath unheard. The six guards barely had time to register the wrongness; an itch behind the eyes, a pressure in the skull before the silence thickened and claims were made. His blade whispered once, twice, and then no more; the room became a museum of interrupted lives, each body folded into stillness by intent rather than chance. He lingered only long enough to savor the echo of fear that clung to the walls, then moved on, unhurried, satisfied.

The connecting hallways bent inward like the throat of a vast creature, doors and arches leaning toward him as if listening. He walked them with a pilgrim's patience, boots never quite touching the floor as he passed. He traced the hidden seams with a gloved hand, memorizing the pulse of the place; the way servants' routes bled into noble corridors, the way secrets preferred the dark. By the time he reached her chambers, the House had already begun to forget its dead guards.

She was waiting, lamp turned low, silk robe careless in its defiance of propriety. "You're late," she said, smiling like a promise.

"Late is a mercy," Vexorion replied, his voice a frigid blade. "I like to arrive when expectation has softened."

She laughed softly and stepped closer, unafraid. "You always say such things. Did the guards give you trouble?"
"They gave me satisfaction," he said. "Which is all they were ever worth."

Her fingers brushed his wrist as she pressed the passkey into his palm. "This will take you where the House doesn't look," she murmured. "Hidden corridors. Old ones. Remember our deal, Vex? You promised to take me with you if I aided you."

"Excellent," he said, savoring the word. "And I shall keep my word. I will rescue you from this Hell."

He did not hurry. The lamp guttered once as he leaned in, close enough for her to feel the chill he carried. "You've been very helpful," he told her, almost kindly. Her smile faltered, understanding arriving too late to matter. When he left the chamber, the lamp went dark behind him, and the House gained another secret it would never confess. Vexorion vanished into the hidden corridor, passkey warm in his grasp, carrying with him the quiet arithmetic of betrayal completed.

 

[Rixa]

The first Sith ships cut into realspace like knives through silk.

She watched the convoy, watched the shift in the convoy’s movement as panic rippled through formation. Escorts peeled off. Signals flared. The neat lines broke into something messier.

Voro swore under his breath. "They’re spooking them. Convoy’s trying to scatter."

"Good," Rixa said. "Give me full power! Charge the disruotor cannon."

She had that look on her face that came before a fight. The raw anticipation. Rixa had never been the best pilot, she was a better with a blaster and a sword.

Still, she wouldn't let anyone pilot her ship.

Sial diverted power from rear shields for a few moments and gave the disruotor fill power.

Rixa laughed as she cut a line straight towards the heart of the convoy. Two starfighter angled to meet them.

The Wayward Star lurched, then spat fire. Bright lances stitched across the void, tearing through the shields of the first starfighter. In needed a moment to recharge, so Rixa dropped below it's line of fire. She took a few hits to the shields in return.

"Sial?"

"Lining them up!"

Rixa ignored the fighter for a moment, letting the mirialan operate the rear turret and target the fighter coming back around.

Defensive fire snapped up towards them from the freight Rixa had lines up. Blue bolts cracked past the cockpit, one glancing off their shields hard enough to rattle Rixa’s teeth. She laughed.

"See," she said, rolling the ship to keep the freighter in front of them. "They’re paying attention now."

The Wayward Star fired a full volley of ion cannon fire as she strafed a bull freighter. It punched enough of a hole for her to fire the main disruptor cannon. She took apart it's dorsol cannon and also blasted a hole in its hull.

"Oops," she laughed as the Wayward shot through expelled air.

"Might'n remind the captain we're not supposed to do any real damage..." Voro sighed.

 

[Valephor Crokell]

OBJECTIVE ONE - LIFE DAY

Madrona A’Mia​

Despite his proclivity towards neuroticism, Valephor found himself relatively unbothered by the infiltration process. He knew they would be discovered eventually, but that kind of certainty made it a bit easier to accept, in its own way. Yes he feared death, but when you knew where everyone was at all times and could definitely say they were oblivious because there were no spikes of adrenaline when they saw you, it took a bit of the edge off of things.

Much more concerning was the idea he might make a fool of himself. That particular fear never quite went away, especially when in the presence of um- er, august company. 'Professor Medrano has things under control,' he assured himself, noting her utter lack of concern. 'She's probably conducted dozens of slaughters like these. Killed hundreds of people. Maybe even thousands.' He took a steadying breath. 'I'm sure she knows what she's doing.'

"Excellent, Valephor. Some of the minutiae is unnecessary here during field work, but your enthusiasm for the task at hand is acceptable. How far does that sense of yours travel? Certainly there must be a limit to what you can take in."

The apostate blushed, his chest swelling a bit with pride at the implied praise. "Certainly! It's a bit like gravity, theoretically infinite in range, but in practice it diminishes to triviality over much shorter distances. Other life signatures also create noise that interferes further, which is almost always the limiting factor. Assuming nothing between us but empty space, I could- with great time and effort- sense you from the other side of the galaxy, but on a tropical world with a robust microbiome I'd be lucky to pick you out from a kilometer away, and that's even taking into consideration your unique biology and my growing familiarity with it-"

His mouth clicked shut, his jaw tensing as he realized what he'd just said. "N-not that I'm peeping or anything! It's just um- well, you are a very distinct woman, with a very distinct energy and it's such a signature is hard not to, er, remember- not that I would ever want to forget! It's just, well-" he cleared his throat. "Ahem. Aside from that, it's mostly about attention management. Large distortions in homeostasis or unique signatures stand out if I'm not distracted, but I have to focus to get more information. And the closer someone is, the less I have to rely on spotty information and vague sensation, and the more I can directly examine their biology."

Valephor's ramblings came to a close, and he found himself drawn to Professor Medrano's gait. Oh, but the biomechanics of her body were so fascinating. No need for joints when your cellular structure could alternate between rigid and elastic at will. Effectively that made her pure muscle, though he wasn't sure how performance compared to more traditionally structured myocytes. He presumed she was strong though. Force within, she looked strong. She could probably pop his head like a grape with those-

No! Bad thoughts! Be respectful!

"The relationship reverses when it comes to dead-tech though," he blurted, trying to distract himself. "On Desevro, there's a thick enough microbiome that I can map the interiors of buildings as long as they're within a quarter of a kilometer. Same for droids. But-"

Suddenly, a mass of living greenery appeared. "Oh good heavens!" Valephor exclaimed, his voice high and shrill. Before he could ask what was going on, his Professor let out a noise that he would very much like to hear again, then flaunted the perfection of her body by effortlessly scurrying up a sheer wall, her form shifting just slightly to facilitate the feat.

The apostate only had enough time to recognize the hulk as one of Professor Medrano's 'Sithspawn' before vine-like tendrils wrapped around his waist, yanking him from his feet. He clamped his mouth shut with both hands to keep from singing like a choir boy as he ascended, stiff as a board as he was flung through the air. He thought that for sure he was going to splat into the wall, when the creature set him gently down inside the building, leaving him wide-eyed and shivering as he stood frozen.

Professor Medrano was already inside of course, lowering a body to the floor in motion so gentle he envied the dead. She turned her attention back to him, and he found himself warming beneath her gaze. 'Oh wow,' he thought, the blood on her face highlighting the teal of her eyes. It enhanced her beauty just as a flower in the hair of a debutante, adding an edge of intensity that had him distinctly aware of just how easily she could kill a foolish little Langhesi that strayed too close.

"We are to leave none alive," she reminded him, and he hung on to every word. 'I'm starting to think I might have a problem,' he acknowledged internally, though he displayed only a serious nod. "But I seek to leave most carnage to the others."

He blinked. 'Oh. Well, there goes my suggestion for reversing the filtration systems to suck out all the clean air and replace it with concentrated toxins to kill everyone in one go. And here I thought I was being clever too...'

"I am curious about the non sentients you mentioned," she continued. "Guard beasts perhaps? Also, if any of the children are near— we handle them first."

He opened his mouth to answer only to stop short as she wiped at her face with her robe. Was it wrong that he wished to be the one to do it? It made a certain kind of sense for a- a lower caste Acolyte such as himself to perform such a function. In recognition of her status of course. He just wanted the Professor to receive her due respect.

Yes. That was all.

"Questions or statements before we continue?"

Valephor flinched, feeling as though he'd been caught doing something wrong. "Ah, yes. The um, 'guard beasts' I can't attest to that one way or the other. There are life forms, they aren't sapient, and they're large. I am too unfamiliar with their biology to say more than what I already have. Most are towards the center of the complex, but three are scattered about, with one being somewhat close. It may or may not be in the building, I can't sense the walls well enough to tell."

He tried not to look too sheepish.

"As for the children, there are thirty four within a hundred meters, but none are in prime condition," He pointed in the direction of the signature. "The closest one is that way, deeper within the estate."

It was interesting, the route that the Neti was taking them on had wound through the complex without clear direction. He had no idea where she was taking them next, though he did note that it seemed to be avoiding the faint life signature with frightening precision. They were on the opposite side of the complex from it now. Meanwhile, they seemed to be getting closer to the one in stasis. And the damaged one sat in the center and below where it always had.

How curious.

Valephor jumped. "Oh! Almost forgot!" He knelt, hands darting to pat down one of the servants. "No, not this one..." he muttered, then moved to the next. "Drat," he said after repeating his search. "Arco said there's always a code cylinder," he scrunched his nose. "Then again, Arco was always full of poodoo. Baron caste my bright red rear!" He huffed.

As the apostate made to stand, the unusual eye color of one of the servants caught his attention. Curiosity peaked, he looked a bit closer at the man's microbiology. "Ah, nevermind. Retroviral RNA insertion. Slightly high midichlorian count though at three thousand two hundred and-" He clamped his mouth shut. "Forgive me, Professor. No minutiae. I'm ready to continue."

 

[Ghruna]

OBJECTIVE 1

Near: team Arris Windrun

"Back foul beast!"

Ghruna couldn't remember being called that before. She didn't judge human ages all that well, but the man looked about her own age.

He stood between Ghruna and more members of the party. He was dressed far too smartly and she did not like his sneer.

She had never met a saber rake before. The small version of a lightsaber he carried was too small and slender, too decorative.

She wasn't interesting in picking a fight with anyone not worth her time. The palace was ahead and that was where the spoils were.

The young man gave his weapon a little flourish and levelled it at Ghruna's chest. She took half a step back. She towered over him and his silly little sword.

"Now step away brute and I will let..."

There was a dull thud as his arm hit the floor.

It was follow by the snap of his Lightfoil turning itself off. Ghuna had taken advantage if her reach and large, unstable lightsaber and swung first.

"My..." pain caught up with him. "...arm..."

Ghruna kicked him in the chest, sending his body tumbling away. Gunships thrummed overhead. Blaster fire rang out.

Ghruna turned her golden eyes towards the palace.

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer

In the same way that her emotions were muted, so was Neriah's surroundings. The firework. The music. The screams. It was all as if she was listening to them through a wall. As if she wasn't right here in the thick of it, reaching up with the Force, snapping necks with relative ease, before throwing the corpses off to the side as if they were just some kind of rubbish. Guard. Waiter. Guest. None of it mattered to her as she'd lift them up off the ground, using the Force as her ever reliant companion.

The sudden snap, hiss of a lightsaber caught her attention, her gaze hardening on the blue blade in Acier's hands. Maybe he wasn't a bleeding heart, especially if his saber hadn't even been bled yet. For now, her saber remained attached to her hip. The others could slice through the hapless guests here.

A thought proved evident as Varin charged on through like some kind of flaming wrecking ball. All show. All bravado. Yet at the end of the day, it appeared Acier and her were left to clean up his dirty work. Varin spoke a big talk, but it didn't seem like he was making sure to clean up all of his messes.

"Of course he's going for the main entrance. It's the most obvious route."

And that's what you always got out of meatheads. The ones who felt valiant, as if they were some kind of Dark Knight. With Neriah however, she turned her gaze over towards the nearest wall. Arris did tell them to flank and find their own way in, so she flicked her hand in the direction of said wall, watching as bricks and supports were blown apart by the Force, spiralling off into various directions as the Acolyte caught a brick out of the air, tossing it in her hand for a moment...Maybe it'd be fun to get the brick dirty, as opposed to her lightsaber.

"Come on bleedin' heart. Find your own way in."

She called out over towards Acier Moonbound . Whilst Arris might be openly and publically using both Neriah and Ace's proper names, Neriah would at least use some form of alias for them. Meathead. Bleeding Heart. VoidBorg. Either way, she needed to make her way forward.

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Calipsa - Calipsa Estate

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

OBJECTIVE 1 - LIFE DAY​

Ace felt Varin before he saw him. Heat rolled outward in waves, the air itself recoiling as smoke and fire carved a path through screaming bodies. Ace didn't need to look. Varin wasn't fighting, he was unleashing.​

​

Ace swallowed. That was what surrender looked like, and he knew it all too well. Never again.​

​

Arris's voice cut through the chaos soon after, snapping his attention back to the chaos at his feet. She'd ordered Neriah and himself to flank. Varin had gone loud and obvious, because of course, the man's entire demeanor didn't scream subtlety.​

​

As he struck down another guard with one clean cut. He didn't linger. Then Neriah's voice followed, cool and dismissive. She called him 'Bleedin' heart'.​

​

Ace didn't rise to it. He stepped in close, eyes already tracking angles, exits, cover, a way through that didn't involve turning into whatever Varin was becoming in real time.​

​

He nodded once at Neriah and moved when the wall came down, leaping through the breach she'd torn open. Dust and pulverized stone rained down around him as he landed inside. The sounds followed him inside, screams folding inward, explosions muffled by walls, until the estate's corridors narrowed into echoes.​

​

The quietness was when it started to overlap. The marble beneath his feet became packed earth for half a step. The scent of smoke sharpened, turning acrid and green, and his lightsaber's hum deepened in his grip until it howled. The same pitch, the same furious resonance it had carried on Dathomir.​

​

He blinked, hard, and the corridor snapped back into place… but the rhythm stayed. A figure rounded the corner ahead, panicked, unarmed. Ace reacted on instinct alone. Blue light flashed and the body fell.​

​

The motion was identical. Different face. Same arc. Same finality.​

​

His shoulders burned with remembered exhaustion, like when the blade had felt both heavy and easy to keep swinging. He could hear it again: chanting collapsing into screams, reverence curdling into terror. Final Weave. The words crawled up his spine as if they'd never really left.​

​

Another turn, another body, another clean cut. The corridor blurred at the edges, mist creeping in where walls should be. For a heartbeat, he saw huts instead of pillars, totems instead of banners, green fire sputtering where chandeliers should've been. He smelled burning cloth layered over burning flesh and felt his grip tighten until it hurt.​

​

Stop. He told himself. But his feet kept moving.​

​

Ace forced his breathing steady, shoved the images down with brute will, the same way he'd done kneeling in the dirt afterward, lightsaber dead at his feet, horror flooding in too late to stop anything. He couldn't afford that moment again. Not here. Not now.​

​

So he advanced through the corridor like a ghost, cutting only when he had to, every strike stacking weight behind his sternum instead of burning it away.​

​

Arris Windrun | Nilira Vornix | Varin Mortifer​

 

[Naniti]

OBJECTIVE: TWO
Seize Loot in the Tapani Sector
On-board The Siegemother

Naniti's eyes slid a bit to the side at Lysander saying he was using Acier as a punching bag. There was no doubt in her eyes merely curiosity. She knew he wasn't opposed to more 'brutish' methods of training, and she didn't doubt he'd do whatever was needed to get a lesson across. What exactly had the boys been up to though? Usually she'd think to ask the other party, but it'd probably be easier to get Lysander to open up about it later.

The Togruta stood up a little straighter when Lysander introduced her. Her eyes turned back to the Sith Lord in command of the ship and campaign.

"I speak." Naniti wouldn't let Mercy's stare grind her down. "I see things differently than most; remaining silent doesn't benefit anyone." In a way, the Togruta meant that quite literally though many took it to mean she figuratively viewed or perceived things differently. Most people did mean it figuratively when they said something similar. Doubtful Mercy wanted to stand there discussing it though what with being on the verge of an invasion.

Her blue eyes shifted to the map put on display for their benefit. Mercy's description of Acier being a Jedi pt hadn't gone unnoticed, but it hadn't warranted comment by her either. A Sith Lord could describe someone far worse than a 'pet.' And as for the preconception of a Jedi being weak that was as common place among Sith as describing a Rancor or Kryat Dragon as terrifying. Nothing unexpected from a Sith Lord where Naniti stood. So, she'd spent the time of them discussing as much studying the map instead.

"Several unaccountable possibilities, but the obvious one is the quality of the pirates. Too ambitious and they might try to secure more than agreed upon. Too careless and a ship escapes, possibly drawing in reinforcements. Long as they don't terrify the Tapani to the point they rather blow themselves up than be boarded, it'll come down to whether they bothered to bring any elite troops as security." Naniti leaned forward slightly and then pointed at the far edge of a formation. "Any further out of alignment and a sharp-eyed Tapani Captain might be able to slip into a sensor scattering field within the nebula."

Naniti straightened up to look back at the Sith Lord. Probably best not to use her ability here and now. Someone like Mercy would probably notice. Worse, someone like her might do exactly what Naniti was afraid of. A Jedi might not have a choice in becoming someone's pet, but she did.

Lysander von Ascania | Mercy

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Objective: 1
THEME​

Though his direction was straight forward it was not shorter. Good. He would use this to attract the main attention of guards so the others could slip in easier. Ignati’s gaze fell upon a squad of guards yelling at him to stop. A crack developed on his helm as a piece of phrik fell to the ground its integrity shattering like glass. Forcing itself out of a hole in the helm looked to be another flame taking the shape of a singular horn. Piercing forward Ignati grasped his skull letting out a pained scream. The scream devolved into a growl as he looked up, the horn now curling backwards into a point.

He pulled out his heavy saber hilt. The blade roared to life as he surged forwards.

Screams sung into the air as his burning crimson blade hacked through armor and bone. Limbs rolled down the walkway and the stone flooring grew slick with blood. He stretched his arm towards the last few members of the guard and let out a yell balling his fist, the guards crumpled into themselves not so much as a scream leaving them, just the wet crack of bone and flesh folding in unnatural angles before they dropped to the floor.

He stopped in front of the gates as more guards began to rush him, the heated cloud of death surged forward around him claiming their breaths, their flesh and their lives as Ignati gripped the gates. Electricity surged around him as a security from the entrance but was met with little regard as He roared tearing the metal off the stone walls and flinging them forwards, anyone in front of him were caught in the slinging metal, crushed and hacked as he made his way across the courtyard.

His hands coalesced flame into a massive ball as he lobbed it towards the entrance of the palace, the doors blown into splinters.

The crack in his helm ran over his right eye which glowed with the intensity of the sun. Malice, rage and fury waged war in his gaze. Ahead of him in formation were another line of guards.

His breathing deepened. Then a man stepped forward. Light robes, brown boots.

“Your fury controls you, young one. Please, let me help you.”

Ignati’s gaze sharpened on the stranger who pulled out his own lightsaber igniting a green blade.

Ignati let out a low growl as he dashed forwards with his saber on a direct offense towards the Jedi.

Arris Windrun | Nilira Vornix | Acier Moonbound​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Sheva's Moon, Tapani Sector
Tag: Riffraff Ranat | Anet Raine

Kirie had never been one for the front line. She hated war, abhorred violence, and lacked the cruel streak and proficiency for killing of her fellow Acolytes. So far, she had managed to dodge her way out of most raids and quests for glory by volunteering for the jobs nobody wanted, or even just slipping away from the back of the group and making her way back to the Library to continue her studies.

This time, though, she hadn't had that luxury. The Covenant's aspirations were growing lofty, and it was every other week now that the ambitious and anarchistic Sith leading it commanded another raid, another attack, another provocation.

All of the Acolytes had been called for the Tapani campaign, and Kirie was no exception, but it was with relief that she saw that her betters had sought to place her on Sheva. She would be spared from participating in the bloodshed for another day at least.

They had assembled on the barren moon that overlooked the large planet, which hung above them like a great jeweled orb. A swarm of Covenant ships that had come to perch like metallic insects, waiting for the chance to latch onto the side of a larger beast.

There was an air of excitement and trepidation in the air, but Kirie ignored it. She kept her head down as she walked around, taking frequent breaks to rest, as the moon's thin atmosphere made it hard to breathe, a red-sigil bag slung over her shoulder in an effort to look like she was doing something important.

At least Anet, the closest thing she had to a friend these days, had been assigned to the same mission. Kirie kept an eye out for her fellow bookworm, Anet Raine , and the other Acolyte supposed to be joining them, Riffraff Ranat . Hopefully the pair would make this outing a little less painful.

With a frustrated huff, Kirie found a set of munitions crates to duck behind for a few moments, long enough to retrieve her datapad and type out a quick message to Anet, whose contact ID she had managed to wheedle out of the girl after their disastrous trip to the lower floors of the Red Library.

<: "I just arrived." :> Kirie sent, after erasing the part of the message that had originally read 'it sucks down here'.

<: 'Where are you two?'' :>

 

[Karok]

TAPANI SECTOR
ATTACHED TO THE HULL OF A TAPANI TRADE VESSEL
OBJECTIVE 2
Equipment: Medium armorweave suit, blaster pistol and lightsabers[in sig]
Tags: Jas Katis Vestra Tane

"Hands in the ai-"

Vestra screamed, and her voice burst eardrums and cracked glass.

She stepped out, over the writhing bodies of the ship's security forces, and closed her eyes.

A slightly muffled scream erupted. The reverberations of which Karok could hear and feel through his entire being. It shook the plasma cutters in their rotations, creating a rather satisfying irregular circle. After what felt like ages, they powered off and immediately a red toned fist blurred into action. With a corresponding slam, the drop pod door was forced off its hinges and structural constraints.

The figure of a large red skinned alien covered in a black and red armorweave suit emerged. The remnant's of Vestra Tane scream still lingered and Karok only cast her a glance of recognition. Savoring her deceptive calm and basking in the beautiful ruin she orchestrated. This was before the sound of more company echoed down an adjacent hall. " Time to make a name for myself." He muttered in his under his breath. Practically internalizing the sith knights moment as if it could be his own.

The gen'dais perception already pierced through what was and began setting on what would be.

Snapping back to the moment, he felt his hands instinctively fall toward his lightsabers and then he paused. I dont need them for this. Splayed bundles of muscled fingers reformed into dense claws. As the first body appeared around the corner, Karok was already apon him. A single arm outstretched and impaling the torso. Like a angler he reeled in his prey and held up the security guard like a meatshield. Agony sounded aloud and fear quickly churned the minds of the following group in record time.

They stood no chance. Blaster fire sounded briefly before the impaled corpse of thrown at the others. Knocking them over like bowling pins. As they recovered or tried to, a shadow loomed over the remaining squad. And as surrounding corridor changed to a more crimson hue, Karok felt the stimulation that bombarded his senses depart. The hum of the electronics, the screams, his own biology signaling that his biomass was damaged. It all fell away in till there was only silence.

Basking in the heat of the violence before reality returned once more. Just as Vestra did.

" Which way?" He questioned.

 

[Tibera Jessen]

Location: "Mercy's End" Starport, Tapani sector.
Objective II: The Corral
Tags: Gillem

Tibera had only been on contract in the sector a few weeks, but so far it was an almost perfect detail. Good pay, plenty of downtime, and not much shooting to be done. Hell, if anything it seemed a little too perfect! Then the message came down that the bloody Sith were coming, damn and blast! Of all the crazies in the galaxy, this was possibly one of the worst to hear coming! She was going to be making an exit out of Tapani ASAP, no sense in risking becoming prisoner for these forced up psychos...

"Alright, everyone on your guard! We gotta get the last of the convoy loaded up here and moved off planet! Check your manifests close but don't drag your feet, I'm not risking my hide doubling back for anything," The mercenary barked, commanding smaller groups of workers and soldiers to do their jobs under the duress of an impending raid!

Her hope was to be long gone before The Covenant got to the star port, that hope would soon be dashed...

Red ships soon warped out of Hyperspace, and transport ships were filling the skies. Long disused defenses sparked to life, spewing fire into the air, leaving black puffs of flak as they detonated. Various colors of laser fire volleyed up and down, fire being returned from above. Just another hour and everything would have been fine. Sixty bloody minutes too late, just her luck...

Tibera raised her forearm mounted comm unit, speaking into an unsecure channel the convoy security had been using! "Ready up! We have contacts coming in!!"

It was all she could think to say on short notice, and it was received by all the mercs under her command. They ran for positions no one had hoped to use, mounting guns and grabbing rockets. It wasn't much, but they could at least slow the sith down, long enough to get everyone away. That's what mercs were good at, dying over important patches of dirt.

A blaster cannon shot crashed not far from the loading area, sending Tibera off her feet as the ground shook beneath her. They weren't just looking to take the star port, they wanted to cause as much damage as possible. Whatever The Covenant was after, they didn't care about blowing chit to pieces!

Tibera's ears rang, and her vision became blurry. One of those times she was glad to have a helmet. She slowly regained consciousness to recognize voices yelling over comms. Mercs desperate to coordinate a defense against the incoming raiders. This was going to be a bloodbath...

 

[Arris Windrun]

OBJECTIVE ONE
Direct Tag: Ghruna
Nearby: Acier Moonbound | Nilira Vornix | Varin Mortifer

Varin, Neriah, and Acier had all breached the palace.

In the corner of her eye, she noticed Ghruna; turned and watched her strike the saber rake down; arm swiftly removed, a kick square to the chest. He was done. Dead? Maybe not, but she sensed he wasn't long for life.

Sense. Arris was never particularly good at perception when it came to the Force, but that was before what Vestra Tane did to her at the Red Ronin.

She's noticed things a bit more since then.

There was a body on the ground. Still bleeding. Still alive. He crawled. From the way he was dressed, there was no mistake - the man was Calipsa. He wore the damn heraldry proudly on his Life Day robes. She walked after him, her heavy metal feet thumping against the duracrete. Panic hitched in his breath. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at certain death... the end of the cyborg's revolver staring him down.

Before she could pull the trigger, a hand crossed her periphery unnoticed until it grabbed her gun. It did not try to push or yank the weapon away; it simply gripped. She turned her attention to who might've been responsible, but saw no one. When she looked back at her gun, the hand was gone.

"The hell?"

She pulled the trigger, and a slug ripped through the man. He stopped breathing.

Arris shook her head - literally to try and shake whatever that was. Her attention turned to Ghruna, who made her way towards the palace.

When the Talusian caught up, she called out. "Acolyte," she didn't know the girl's name yet. "I've already sent three ahead, but these people have escape tunnels, yeah?"

She didn't clarify if that was a legitimate question or the lead-up to an idea. The words just hung in the air as if their meaning was obvious.

More noticeable than her words, perhaps, was how the Dark Side rolled off of her; a woman barely in control. Arris held back Hatred like a floodgate. Long enough to reason in the Maldrani's presence.

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

Objective 2
Allies: Sith Covenant
Ops: Tibera Jessen​

Job was simple enough for now. Honestly he didn’t mind the quiet for the past few days working with the caravan. But like all peace and quiet, there's always a loud boom to follow.

The air rocked with artillery fire as the lead barked their orders, mercs and nonmercs jumping on cannons to return fire, explosives. The Covenant came in like a damn wrecking ball, hellbent on crumbling the whole place to dust. Gillem had been working with the Covenant for a bit now, the pay was good. Today, the pay was gonna be a lot better. Luckily Gillem knew just where to stand.

Silhouetted by the smoke posted up in a small opening above the loaders, with his high powered rifle glassing and sighting the area, looking at the mercs fighting back. If the Covenant wanted an easier time to take the caravan he had to do something about their cannons.

His sights fell onto the artillery racks, the explosives and high plasma rounds used for ground to air or air to air combat. A slow exhale. A squeeze of the trigger.

The blaster rifle fired its high powered bolt into one of the artillery racks. A massive explosion sounding off sending bodies and equipment alike flying off. He racked the lever down on his rifle, ejecting the burnt out plasma coil, the barrel fell forwards waiting to be fed a new coil.

He didn’t like killing pointlessly, it’s why he chose to be with the caravan. Something about the rich trying to get out with just their valuables instead of helping escort lives just didn’t sit right with him.

The Morellian rangers would not be happy with him now if they weren’t before. But he was no longer in Morellia. He was just a man trying to get by now.

The caravan mercs were also not expecting one of their own to be working with the covenant. Unfortunate really.

 

[Skael the Patient]

Tags: Kirie | Anet Raine | Riffraff Ranat

And suddenly there was a bird.

Said bird was perching on a heap of stones. Duracrete that was supposed to be used for the construction of a nearby installation. It was already well on its way, before the cycle was over, there would be multiple fortifications on the moon that could be used for further incursions. Skael was told this was the way of expansion, you establish a foothold in an alien region and then keep going afterwards.

Weird.

The bird plopped down next to Kirie as she walked and marched alongside of her. As if they were both on a mission. "Birds require sustenance to perform well, miss." A voice suddenly said out of nowhere. It couldn't be the bird, of course. The bird was eyeing her up, yes, but everyone knew that birds didn't talk.

"Give the bird a peanut or a cracker. I promise he will be very thankful."

The bird screeched hopefully.

Could a bird sound hopeful? Probably as likely as a bird being able to talk.

 

[Ghruna]

OBJECTIVE 1

When the Talusian caught up, she called out. "Acolyte," she didn't know the girl's name yet. "I've already sent three ahead, but these people have escape tunnels, yeah?"

The Dark Side rolled off the Talusian in waves. Ghruna turned at the sound of her voice, taking in the torn metal, the blood, the way Arris stood.

She could read the body language of the Sith. She could feel the raw anger through the Force. A tempest of rage that smashed against Ghruna's awareness.

Basic standard was her this language. Even in the tongue she was used to being direct. She assumed she was being asked a question.

"I do not know!" she replied.

She glanced toward the palace, then back at Arris. It felt like the question came with an expectation.

One of the guards was still moving. Ghruna took one step and slammed her foot down into his neck.

She might have still been growing into her frame, but she was still over seven feet tall and more muscular than a typical human. The boot came down woth enough force to shatter vertebrae. She grinned and gave her boot a twist just to be certain.

"What do you want done?" she asked, brow furrowing slightly.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective Two
The Covenant's answer to rising food costs
The Siegemother

Mercy | Naniti ​

Mercy had a way of making questions land before they finished forming; perhaps because they surfaced on her face rather than being thrown outright like a dagger. Lysander might have carried a reckless streak here and there, but he knew lying to someone like her wouldn’t be clever; in fact, it would be suicidal. And well, shortening the Togruta’s lifespan didn’t sound especially appealing either. So he answered; a faint crease at the corner of his eyes, the ghost of a smile, before discipline smoothed everything away.. that didn’t erase the truth, but it seemed better than naming anything aloud.

The phrasing surrounding their new shadow wouldn’t register as offense, but it did bring some consideration. Not that it should have been a surprise. Sith did have a way of naming things into submission.. a word that seldom left the blonde’s lips, though enforced with fists when necessary. From his own perspective, the Jedi's structure was still far from collapsing. His own pressure was being applied with honesty and constant repetition, as one might when sharpening a blade. Rather than testing with cruelty, Lysander sought certainty, for when close quarters demanded action, Acier would walk, and others would not, so that he might still be of use to the Covenant another day.

As he fell silent, it was because he found nothing that needed correcting. He just stood where he was, following Naniti's reasoning as it began to unfold. Nothing in the response surprised him; if anything, it was reassuring. Trust, he was beginning to understand, wasn’t built in grand gestures.. it showed in moments such as this.

She delivered exactly what the room required.

Given the space, his own thoughts gathered from a slightly higher altitude while resting on the projection a moment longer, following the lines.

“The funnel works, but only as long as the pressure stays pointed, if you will. Too much of it and panic takes over, and once that happens we’ll lose predictability. I'd suggest keeping the outer net just tight enough to make the nebula feel tempting, then close it once they decide to commit.” Lysander angled toward mercy; no need to make a show of it. “She’s right about.. restraint. Sometimes.. the cleanest kill is the one that never gives them a reason to fight back.”

Based on what he knew, the Life Day festival was likely doing the opposite.

“Fear.. that stuff burns fast. People freak out and make a mess of things. Point them the right way and they’ll move on their own. Way more predictable.”

But then again, he was still just an apprentice, and most of his experience had been earned on the front lines. It was highly possible Mercy and the others saw angles he did not.. if so, his time aboard The Siegemother would just be another lesson in its own right.

All things considered, studying sounded better than challenging.

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer

It was simple enough. Walking through the corridors, flicking her hand left and right. The sounds of crunching bone and cartilage echoing alongside her steps. The distinct hum of a lightsaber coming behind her, as she left some to be dealt with by the bleeding heart. Was she perhaps testing himself herself? Who knows? Though she did her gaze behind herself for a moment to look at Acier, an apathetic gaze focusing in on him.

"...If you care that much about their suffering, aim for a shiak thrust. You can justify it by saying it's more efficient. Precise. However you want to. Just know the more emotion you put into a strike, the more likely it is to overwhelm you. Either way, I don't care."

Of course, if she truly didn't care, she wouldn't have even suggested the idea. She cared little for a supposed "Jedi's" plight. No-one had cared for her. No-one had been in her corner. She had been left to suffer alone. Though in fact, she had never really been alone. There had always been those voices. In the back of her mind. Though those voices had quieted down. Along with the rest of Neriah. She cared about very little, about anything anymore.

"Just know, sooner or later, they'll try to kill that bleeding heart of yours. You'll likely able to fight it. You won't be their target of torment. But if you do? It's better to stop caring. To stop feeling. They won't treat you as a human. So you might as well not feel like one."

Was she perhaps talking too much about herself? Did it even matter? Who knows. Who cared. Neriah just sighed to herself as she turned her gaze towards a guest, running down the far end of the corridor. The Acolyte simply took out her journal, flipping over the pages, focusing on the resentment she had put into the pages. The anger, And as the woman's fingers began to crackle with electricity, she threw her hand forward as a bolt of lightning erupted from her diary with enough potency to vaporise a hole through the target.

"...Perhaps it would be best for you to lead the way, Bleeding Heart."

​

 

[Mercy]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania Naniti

Mercy smiled at the two apprentices and their thoughts.

She wished for it to be encouraging, perhaps even approving, but a smile from Mercy could be a terrible thing. Especially when she was trying to restrain herself. Currently she was. Every instinct in her body told her to jump into an orbital drop-pod and launch herself right into one of the treasure ships and just go to town there.

Instead here Mercy was... teacher, general, Lord.

"Very good. Each one of you has identified an issue that often props up in times like these." She raised one finger. "The unreliability of chosen allies. In this case, pirates, but this goes for any creature that is not Sith. We cannot trust them and yet we must rely on them at times, because while Sith number few, these mongrels number many."

A second finger came up.

"And the weakness of our prey. We must protect them against themselves at times. When we do not, when we press too hard too quickly, they are liable to throw themselves off of a cliff just to escape our grasp or they die in their tracks because their bodies give out during their flight."

That terrible smile became even sharper than it already had been.

"This is why I am here and not herding them towards the anvil as is my wish. My face would scare them to stupidity and they'd get themselves killed way before we would be able to extract from them that which is owed to us."

Mercy looked from Lysander to Naniti.

"So yes, we keep the funnel as loose as possible, until they have committed and cannot change course any longer. But... what do we do about our unreliable allies? We cannot trust them, they have a treacherous and base spirit. But rely on them we must, so how do we reconcile this. Whoever gives me a pleasing answer..."

Mercy glanced back towards the map, humming in thought, before clapping her hands excitedly. Every movement she made was full of energy, hungry, she wanted to be there.

To tear them apart... but here she was, doing what she was doing.

"Will earn the right of first strike. They will be the first one in and the last one out. They will be allowed to claim the first prize and the last."

To some that might have sounded more like a punishment, but when Mercy turned away from the map and towards them again? Oh, yes, it was clear that to Mercy it was an honor bestowed. Because in any other situation she would have been the first one through the breach. The first one to draw blood and tear people limb from limb.

An honor indeed.