Your Overconfidence Is Your Weakness | Rebel Alliance Invasion of Sith Empire Held Dubrillon Hex

[AMCO]

Location: Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn
Objective: Don't die.
Allies: Sneering Imperialists, incl. [member="Elani Zambrano"] & [member="Samka Derith"].
Duelling: [member="Aten Ramses"]
Equipment: Lightsaber, Handgun, Anti-Ysalamiri, Shard of Nil, Grav Core, Blackroot Potion [2], & Invisibility Potion [2].

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Flask heading towards his mouth, he had been moments away from a reprieve, moments away from having his rapidly depleting reserves replenished. At that moment, he had lowered his guard, confident that the attack he had launched towards his opponent would provide a sufficient distraction. Once again, his overconfidence cost him dearly.

As the flask was knocked from his grasp by an unseen force, he hissed in anger and frustration, especially when the smoky green substance within was spilt across the floor, dispersing uselessly. Before he had time to even think about launching a counterattack, Aten followed up with a full-on assault. Leaping towards his black-cloaked form, the other man deactivated his lightsaber, instead driving a gauntleted fist towards Adrian. Expecting another telekinetic attack, he quickly threw up another thin grid of energy that could quickly be coalesced around an incursion, only to be caught off guard once more, this time by a direct attack.

With a resounding crash, the phrik gauntlet met his barrier, though this time the improvised barrier visibly strained under the force, visibly buckling under the relentless assault. Allowing himself to go with the flow rather than attempt to counter the full force of the blow, Adrian was flung backwards, pain wracking his form as part of the sonic energy projected by the gauntlet slammed into him, and again as he rolled across the debris-filled corridor, sharp rocks cutting through his dark-cloth attire and drawing blood.

Groaning in pain, the young Acolyte desperately reached out to his dropped lightsaber, now a short distance behind Aten, and called it to his hand as he tried to scramble to his feet. Adrian might not have much in the way of the muscle memory his opponent displayed, but he had survived the trials of the Sith. The pain of his bruised flesh, his aching bones, and his torn flesh was no stranger to him, as unlikely as that would seem when gazing upon his normally immaculate form. Gone was his regular poise, his sense of control. Fuelled by pain, fear, and anger, his focus was almost entirely on his own survival, though in his current state of mind he would gladly disintegrate the Jedi, molecule by agonizing molecule, if given the chance.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Objective: Hold the refinery complex
Location: Refinery – access hallway
Allies: The element of surprise
Enemies: [member="Cenric Marus"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF7V2dSvxpo

Jantar suspected she’d pushed him too far. Interestingly, everything she had said was true – but she suspected he would not see it that way. He blamed her for the actions of others, yet would no doubt not accept any blame for Jedi misdemeanours.

If she was being unfair, it was using the Jedi Code against him – but then, wasn’t it a Sith that ointed out how their rules shackled them? It seemed to Jantar that, you had a choice – be a Jedi and follow the rules…or break the rules yet still call yourself a Jedi? If so, should she add hypocrisy to the argument?

For she wasn’t ignoring his arguments – but they were based upon his opinions, his laws. She was quite sure that Jedi were not permitted to impose their own morality on other races or governments. Yet, here he was – judging her based not on her own government’s justice system, but his own – and by definition, he was the only one breaking the law today. Jedi, it seemed, tended to ignore their own misdemeanours. Countless people died at their hands – often performing menial tasks – how many catering and cleaning staff were on the Death Stars for example? It seemed that when Jedi killed civilians, it was swept under the carpet – focusing instead on the success of the death of one or two individuals.

As she mused these thoughts, he struck. She was fast, but without warning – either from the Force or from her own observations – she was taken down.

She was angry…in fact she was furious. Not with his actions necessarily, but because she’d allowed him to get close enough to grab her wrist and then kick her knee. As she went to ground, she grabbed at the young Jedi’s forearm.

By the time her knee had touched the floor, she’d called on the Force and pumped Force Lightning into him – through her hand. It was not full force – she’d risk it conducting through to her – but enough to stun, or at least cause a numbing sensation.

 

[Cenric Marus]

Objective: Take the Refinery Complex
Location: Refinery - Access Hallway
Allies: Strike Team One
Enemies: The Sith Empire | [member="Jantar Keltainen"]

Lightning coursed through him in an instant. Bright sparks rushed over his skin and singed his clothing. Smoke rose from his form and it felt like every muscle in his body attempted to seize up all at once. His eyes opened to the size of saucers, his fingers tightened, and then suddenly he dropped his lightsaber.

The weapon winked out of life and tumbled onto the floor.

His other hand remained clamped around her arm, fingers tightening as force lightning surged through his entire body. A pained whimper escaped his lips, teeth blazing with sparks of purple as he tried to focus and breath just long enough to gain control of himself.

The barest breath filled his lungs.

Then he forced himself toward. The girl was already on the floor, he'd dropped his lightsaber, but he still had a few options left. With an odd sort of grapple he attempted to push the girl forward onto the ground, hopefully using the weight of his own body to pin her against the floor and lock her arm behind her back. The objective was to restrain her, hopefully causing just enough pain to make her stop what she was doing.

 

[Leliana]

Location: Kolto Processing Plant - Security Hub
Objective: Stop the Rebels, Kill the Rebels
Allies: [member="Djorn Bline"] | [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"] | [member="Jairus Starvald"] | NPCs - Imperial Lawbringers | TSE
Enemies: [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"] (Directly Engaging) | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Noah Corek"] | TRA
Equipment: Sith Lightsaber | Daggers | Hidden Blade | Assassin Armour

The moment her attacks had either struck or missed her opponent, Leliana surged forwards to close the gap between them. She couldn't allow the bolter to remain in play, she had to disable it, that was paramount. One blast of that, even across her leg or arm would be devastating to the assassin's ability to fight.

However before she could get close enough, Leliana felt the Force suddenly whip around and restrain her. Like roots rising from the ground, gradually wrapping around her ankles and up her legs until it had a firm hold on the assassin.

As it was restraining her, Leliana began to try and formulate a plan. At first she tried fighting against it with the Force, but that was swiftly abandoned. There was little in the way she could do facing some higher trained than her. Instead she looked for alternatives, a large piece of furniture, or maybe a loose wall panel that she could move. But there was too many variables, the item could be too thin, or not large enough to cover her entire body.

It left her with only one option, and not a lot of time to decide.

She had kept it at bay for a while now, forcing herself to not rely on it no matter what. At the same time Leliana had focused on learning how to control it - rather than being the one controlled. The voice had been silent, but as the slightest doubt creeped into the assassin's mind, it found an opening.

Let us out.
We can take her.

There was no other option...so Leliana let the locks fall away and the mark activated. It burned on her hand, hidden beneath her gauntlet. Dark brown eyes shifted to a corrupt amber, and dark side energy lashed out like an open dam. A powerful shockwave emanated from Leliana's body, blasting the buckshot away from her in every direction, striking Rebel and Legionnaire alike.

It shattered what bound her legs to the ground, burning it away like fire to a tree. And the moment Leliana felt it loosen, she darted away - using the shadows to hide. The Dark Side hung around like a smog afterwards, providing a smokescreen to conceal the assassin's movements. It would slowly dissipate on its own, but by that time Leliana had effectively vanished, hidden from Elpsis' 'sight'.

At her little hiding spot, Leliana let out a grimace, feeling her entire body shake and tremble in pain. The shockwave had been too powerful for her body to handle, and had taken a toll as a consequence. She bit her tongue, focusing her efforts to 'power down', forcing the mark to become dormant and her eyes returning to its natural colour. There was no way she could face her opponent head on, Elpsis was too powerful and it wasn't Leliana's expertise to begin with.

She needed to keep moving, that was a fact. As such, the assassin pulled the hood up over her head, concealing her surface thoughts from being easily picked up. Leliana had no knowledge of whether her opponent was a mentalist, or the fact she was actually an empath. It was done as a precaution, one piece to a puzzle that Leliana hoped would build to a solution where she could reach Elpsis before being caught again.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: Strike Team One
Objective: Take/Evacuate Refining Complex
Enemies: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]
Equipment: Powergaunts, Lightsaber, Asheran Armorweave clothing

The clap of energy sent a screech through the air, thankfully projected at the Sith but Aten wasn’t unscathed. There was a ringing in his ear from the sonic blast, if he hadn’t been so sure to face the emitters forward he would’ve possibly gone completely deaf. Aten’s movement didn’t stop as his right foot touched the ground after the thrown punch, quickly followed by his left. He stayed in constant motion charging the Sith keeping track of his progress Aten would be on the Sith the moment he began to rise to his feet. Aten’s one-time master in Kol had asked Aten why he resorted to hand to hand combat, the answer Aten had given at the time was that he wished to subdue others giving them the chance to surrender instead of maiming them. The terrifying truth was that Aten enjoyed it, the feel of his fist colliding with his foe sent a sense of excitement through the youth. Against a Sith it allowed him to vent all his frustrations without words being spoken, without the need of taunts.

Seeing Adrian’s arm reach out like a child who’d recently had their toy taken Aten didn’t care and came in with a right hook at the Sith’s ribs. He’d had more than enough of the acolyte’s use of the force. Since the beginning of the bout Aten had been on his back foot, no more. This needed to end, he didn’t wish to kill the Sith but it didn’t seem like he’d resign himself to surrender.

It was either send the Sith into unconsciousness or kill him, he wouldn’t spare Aten if given the chance. Breaking the typical formation for a punch as the hook came around Aten’s left arm straightened its gauntlet still set on low. It was originally meant for the acolyte’s hand but the knuckles of the gauntleted hand would smack against the saber hilt releasing a burst to send it tumbling back down the hall from whence it came just as the right hook connected simultaneously. The explosive force from the right hook would throw the acolyte into the wall in which Aten hoped the momentum would either send the Sith flying through or at least bounce back off in which he'd follow with a straight jab to the Sith's chest.

 

[Nyra Mazul]

Location: Da Behemoth
Objective: Engaging?
Allies: [member="Blackblade Guard"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Rixas"]
Enemies: [member="The Slave"] | [member="Katya Shorn"] | [member="Judas Foster"]

Nyra could practicably feel the eyes on her. Good. That was the effect she was going for. If she didn't want to turn men into drooling idiots she'd have picked another form, like a Hutt, to be. With a mutable shape such things were often in Nyra's thoughts. Wetting her lip with her tongue she watched as Judas and 'The Slave' dart off in a force enhanced race to the finish line. "Boys," she said looking back at Katya a smile crossing over her face as she dramatically rolled her eyes looking back at Katya.

"I can't believe they left us all alone. It seems a rather bad idea to leave the questionable ally alone with one of your numbers." Nyra shrugged a little before reaching for her waist and grabbing her whip. "And the way they looked at me." Nyra shrugged and with a flick of her wrist sent the whip lazily out. "Is either one yours? The gold haired broody one? Or the Dark and broody one?"

Raising an arm Nyra flicked the wrist again and affixed the end of the whip to a point above the pair. She yanked on it twice testing that it would hold and gave Katya a satisfied smile. "And how would you like to bruise their egos?" She asked nosing up to a cargo rail above holding a container. In lackadaisical manner she lifted her feet off the ground and opened up her legs swinging into the other girl before wrapping her legs around her pulling up on the girl to lift her off the ground. "Here we go..."

She swung from the whip a few times after getting a grip and the container began to move. It was a slow pace at first as Nyra continued to squirm and sway like a girl on a swing, Katya remaining between her legs. And then with a great push utilizing the force she arced the pair into the air up and over before falling atop the container. Gravity, physics, and the magrails friction-less surface did the rest as she lay atop of Katya and started to zoom down the tube overtaking their two companions.

Nyra waved a bit while laying atop of Katya before looking down at her prey and smiling. "We're all alone now. What to do? Girl talk?"

 

[AMCO]

Location: Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn
Objective: Don't die.
Allies: Sneering Imperialists, incl. [member="Elani Zambrano"] & [member="Samka Derith"].
Duelling: [member="Aten Ramses"]
Equipment: Lightsaber, Handgun, Anti-Ysalamiri, Shard of Nil, Grav Core, Blackroot Potion [2], & Invisibility Potion [2].

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While his lightsaber shot through the air towards his hand, Adrian extended a tendril of telekinetic force, mentally toggling the grav core at his wrist. Soon after, he began to feel lighter as his personal gravity began the process of reversing entirely.

Before his silvery hilt reached him, however, his opponent was upon him, a right hook descending towards him as he struggled to get on his feet and scramble backwards, bruised body protesting every step of the way. Form visibly tensing from the exertion, he threw up another barrier, this one equally unable to block all of the excessive sonic energy. While he managed to slow himself down somewhat through the force, the impact with the wall was still jarring, the shock carrying throughout his battered body. There was a chance he might have heard something snap, but it was hard to tell, what with most of his body already hurting, more so after receiving part of another blow.

The pain was immense, so much so that his view blackened, then cleared up again as the pain and fear poured new strength through his aching form. Sliding down the wall, then slowly sliding up again as his gravity changed, he telekinetically pulled his shattergun from its holster in preparation for the inevitable follow-up attack. He had no idea where his lightsaber had gone, though he could still feel the resonance of its crystals somewhere close. No matter, he had always been better with a sidearm anyway. There was no time to aim, no time to do anything but trust in his instincts and his connection to the Force. Near soundlessly, the armour piercing round would launch forth at point-blank range, heading at the immense speeds so characteristic of shatterguns.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: Strike Team One
Objective: Take/Evacuate Refining Complex
Enemies: [member="Adrian Vandiir"]
Equipment: Powergaunts, Lightsaber, Asheran Armorweave clothing


Aten looked upon Adrian his eyes still cold, detached, while Adrian’s seemed to be filled with what Aten could only think was fear. This was a desperate fight for the Sith’s survival, at least he seemed to think it was. Aten wasn’t a murderer, he had no intentions of killing the man, however, he couldn’t let that be known. If he did the Sith would obviously use it to his advantage. As Adrian’s body hit the wall and began sliding up Aten watched carefully for any movements. Whatever other sorceries this Sith knew had somehow begun to take effect in an attempt to levitate the Sith out of Aten’s range.

Having never put his lightsaber away Aten activated it the azure blade returning to life. Held in his grasp horizontal to the ground. During the time that the pistol had left the Sith’s belt and flew to his hand Aten’s saber was already coming up around in an upward arc its path in line with the barrel of the weapon. That was the issue with attempting to bring a weapon to bear at near point-blank range, you were still within range of your foe and there was a chance they could attempt to disarm you. The fact Adrian had resigned himself to the use of a projectile weapon was the final sign of the fight coming to a close. He was running out of tricks, strength, abilities. That arc would continue upon slicing through the weapon. Completing the arc Aten’s elbow would pull back the saber straightening aimed slightly upwards. With a faithful thrust, the saber would aim to penetrate the Sith’s left shoulder. Not enough to completely maim the acolyte, just enough to ensure he didn’t keep retreating using his flight as the saber would drag down that side of his body if he continued to do so.

“Surrender.” The single word escaped Aten’s lips, they held no emotion, void of mercy, contempt, or even thrill. He had enough of this song and dance. This fight had gone on long enough, he didn’t wish to kill the Sith but if forced he would. Aten hoped that point was made perfectly clear upon his stab with the saber. There was no reason the bout needed to resort to the death of one or another. It was only if the Sith could swallow his pride that both could walk away from this encounter. The Rebels could despise Aten for allowing a Sith to escape all they wished, he couldn’t bring himself to simply imprison one in the same way they did.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Location: Space above Dubrillion

Objective: Provide air support for Rebel forces

People of interest: Other fleeters above Dubrillion

I sit atop my 4-wing staring at the cracks between my fingers as my small fleet of “Diplomatic” vessels race towards chaos. My mind is still stirring with doubts. What the hell am I doing? Cavorting with the very same people I had once sought to destroy. But I had been promised something, something that I had forever thought beyond my reach before… A dream. A promise of redemption. With the collapse of the Empire there was little else left for me. I was still unsure this was the correct way to go about it, but admittedly it did feel right.

Inferno and I had burned worlds, over saw terrible things in the name of a tyrannical regime. But, I was just following orders right? Surely a simple doorkicker like myself could be forgiven? I ask myself these things and they come clawing back into my mind. Flames, a house on fire, a mother wrenched away from her son. Where is he! Searching… Searching for a rebel. Her husband… She claims she doesn’t know. She claims they had nothing to do with it. Why can’t they just tell us! I throw her to the ground and raise my gun. The boy screams. He’s a force user!

Klaxons wake me out of my stupor. My cybernetics are old. The robotics within myself torture me, play my sins for me to relive over and over. I want them to end… I raise my head from my hands and the feed mercifully stops. For now.

“Reversion in 5. All wings prepare for launch. Follow your squad lead… And may the force be with you…” A distorted nervous sounding voice announces over the intercom.

I hop into the cockpit of the pearl and smile. This is what I was made for, behind the yoke everything makes sense. The voices, the screams, they all stop and I become one with nothing.

“This is it Inferno. Launch on my lead and look for holes in the enemy fleets line.” I bark into my comms as my X lifts from the hangar and launches into the void of space. “The ground forces are counting on our air support,”

“Copy,” Comes a simple response.

My flight consist of two bombers and three 4-wings. I’m not worried about the other squads only mine. Inferno and I had been through hell together, but after today I would make sure no trooper ever had to live that hell again. Our cause was finally a just one, a righteous one.

“All flights, formation Beta-kresh,” Comes the major’s order. My squadron takes the front of the V formation. The small fleet behind us makes another jump to slipspace. There would be no retreating for us. It was win or die...

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Allies: Rebels - [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Noah Corek"]
Enemies: [member="Leliana"], [member="Djorn Bline"], [member="Jairus Starvald"], [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"], TSE. Engaging: Leliana.

Phrik armour, lightsabre (both in sig), rebreather, boltgun, sonic carbine, sidearm.


Elpsis had the Sith restrained in an iron, unyielding grip. Her bolter roared, spitting out buckshot. But then there were powerful ripples in the Force, as malevolent darkside energies swept from the Apprentice. For the briefest of moments, Elpsis had felt a great darkness inside the Sith. Something malevolent and alien, as if another entity was exerting control over her actions.


However, there was no time to ponder this, for the dark energies blossomed into a shockwave, freeing the Sith from her restraints and blasting buckshot away. The dark energies made Elpsis feel dizzy. The empath took a breath as she felt nauseous. There were throbbings in the back of her head. But she managed to overcome them. A solid durasteel pellet had connected with her shoulder. The shockwave had increased its momentum, but it could not get past Phrik armour.


As she found her equilibrium again, she reached out with her senses. A smokescreen, born out of the shockwave, hung in the air, blocking physical sight. However, she had heard the Sith dart away to safety. The blind, as a matter of fact, heard a good deal better than those with physical sight. Furthermore, she could still perceive her aura. It was more difficult to focus because of the smog, but she followed the threads. To the cloudy spot where her ability to read emotions was stiffled, though she could hear breathing. There she was.


Meanwhile, the room temperature began to get...hotter. Elpsis' own body temperature increased as well. Fire rushed from her hand. Not a singular fireball, which could have been dodged or redirect more easily, but rather a wave of scalding flame. The continued increase in temperature would also make it more difficult to put out the flames. Meant to engulf Leliana's hiding spot and set her alight. Or flush her out of her hiding spot. Rebels and Imperials kept their distance, preoccupied with a fierce melee of their own.

 

[H3xle]

LOCATION: Dubrillion Garrison

OBJECTIVE: Shake, Rabble, and Roll
ALLIES: [member="SL2222"] | [member="darth voracitos"]
ENEMIES: [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

Cam's back slammed into a wall opposite the entrance to the garrison building from where the squads had been preparing to board shuttles. Something large and sharp appeared in front of him, and he dived to the side to avoid it, narrowly missing being shot with a barrage of bolts. He scuttled to the side of the door, peeked around with his rifle, and opened fire on the nearest of the massive Brutes.

From the outside, it likely looked entirely deliberate. A legionnaire in full battle rattle, dodging blasts and blades while returning fire. Inside that armor, however, Cam could not believe how much he was sweating. It was almost like being detached from himself. The piece of him that had had the brutal lessons of boot camp drilled, stamped, and beaten into it was in charge of his body, while the rest of his consciousness seemed preoccupied with the amount of sweat his body was generating.

Completely ignoring the other liquid that he had released at some point. The liner of the armor was designed for that, it wicked away moisture.

The initial attack by the Brutes, and their leader Tathra, had shocked the Legionnaires. However, as squads got their feet under them, the tide began to turn.

Legionnaires weren't individually impressive, on the norm. They weren't expressly trained for strength, stamina, speed, melee skills, ranged skills, or anything else. Line Legionnaires were trained to hold the line. If they had any special strength, it was being trained to respond to almost anything.

Rebels attack? Cool, let's get some.

Brutish aliens attack? Waste movingly less cool, but let's get some.

Strange tentacle monsters try to drive you insane? We joined the Legion, that ship has sailed.

Oh, and Legionnaires definitely had one strength above all.

They were Legion.

The Brutes had killed, injured, and maimed many soldiers, but not nearly all of those assembled. Those assembled were soon joined by the garrison guard and the stragglers that would have otherwise received punitive action for being late to the party. As the seconds passed, more and more streams of plasma fire hit various Brutes. They were certainly strong, but the Legionnaires were many.

Cam found himself with more Legionnaires near him in the doorway. One with a bigger weapon and more rank than Cam stepped out, and others followed. Cam slid into the line, taking his place in the wedge formation as they began to push to take back the field.

"For the fraahking LEGION, SCUTTA!"

Cam turned and saw a member of his squad bludgeoning a Brute like a boss. Cam was both suitably impressed, and spurred to the fight, his adrenaline pumping him up. Behind his squadmate, a Brute rose up. It's weapon was gone, but it reached out with it's ugly paws to try to tear SL-2222 apart.

Cam stepped out of line, raised his blaster rifle, and sent a stream of bolts at the beast. The first few took it's attention away from SL-2222, but as it turned towards Cam, a trio of bolts impacted on some gem thing peeking out. The beastie collapsed to the ground without even a twitch.

Thinking being a thing of the NOT RIGHT NOW, Cam stepped forward and covered SL-2222, taking the next nearest enemy under fire as well. As he neared his squadmate, he let his shoulder pauldron bump against his squadmates.

They would certainly not go quietly into the night.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Location: Refinery Complex

Enemies Engaging: [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Taeli Raaf"]

Cedric had been vaguely aware of the illness that had infected Ras. He'd never broached the topic with the former imperial, but any Jedi could sense that the malady afflicting him was not a natural thing. Even so, the knight had assumed that the dark side's presence around Ras had been due to some old memento or relic the soldier carried with him. He'd never suspected that the affliction was actually tied to him and not some object of power. When the soldier rose, his intent clear, it gave Cedric pause.

"I can't say I'm surprised Raaf," his voice was limned with disappointment. "I felt something off when we met before. I looked into you after that," and indeed he had. Taeli Raaf had been the kin of Corvus Raaf, and had operated around the same time his father had. She, like his progenitor, had originally let her allegiances lie with the Sith. Then, like his father, she'd fallen down that dark path once again. It was a remarkably similar cycle that had led Cedric to a number of conclusions about the trust instilled in former Sith by their supposed saviors.

"I'm sorry you couldn't cut it as a Jedi, though I'd be remiss to say this wasn't a predictable outcome. There are more than a few SIth in the past that have taken the easy route when things got hard," his words held little meaning save to pull the attention away from Ras. He'd assumed the soldier had intended to strike Raaf down, but he did not. He just stood there.

The knight's gaze fell upon [member="Ras Val'kor"]. "It's time for you to pull out soldier. I'll handle her - get yourself to a medic."

 

[Irajah Ven]

Location: Kolto Processing Plant - Deep Lab heading into the lowest levels
Allies: Caf, TSE [member="Leliana"] [member="Djorn Bline"]
Enemies: Entropy, Rebels, [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"]
In Scene: [member="Jairus Starvald"]

Her head tipped forward, not expecting the flick. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, blinking with slow surprise beneath the mask.

Antics?

Excuse him.

The main issue, the reason she didn't argue here was that he was correct. Not about the antics part. But about the not being able to do anything else here. There was no capacity to bypass whatever had been done at the source with the computers here. If she could have even gotten the computers running.

Despite popular opinion, Vain was not difficult for the sake of being difficult. She just usually thought she was right and knew better while everyone else was an idiot.

With a grumble, she got up. Moving around quickly, she took several full syringes from various drawers around the lab, slipping them into inconspicuous loops on her belt before scurrying out of the lab and catching up to Jairus this time. She grumbled something impossible to make out (likely by design), as the Legionaries fell into step around her, placing the doctor in the center.

At the lift, a small number of Imperial soldiers fought grimly. A pair were working, even with the fire fight going on around them, to rig an external power source to the lift, get it functioning again. The facility was large, level upon level between them and the main offensive happening above. Getting the lifts working again would properly allow the soldiers at the base of the station to reinforce those above, otherwise it would take too long to reach them and it might be too late. A slightly larger group of enemy soldiers- Vain could not see any particular uniform or familiar markings to denote just who they were and who they were allied with- had pinned them down, the drive of numbers and no need to protect technicians slowly wearing down the Legionaries. If it had continued as it was, the end result would have been pre-ordained. Imperial troops dead to a man, and the lifts still out of commission.

Yes yes, Jairus was very smart. Shut up.

The Sith Lord and the soldiers with him hit hard and fast from behind, like a cresting wave. New blaster fire joined in the cacophony, and the beleaguered Imperial Soldiers at the lift shifted their attacks to trap the enemy soldiers between the two groups.

Despite a quiet admonition by one of them to Vain to stay back, the Doctor only hung back until opportunity presented itself. Then she darted in, gloved hand jabbing a syringe up beneath the edge of a helmet and injecting the entire contents directly into the soldier's bloodstream. Without hesitation, the man struck at her with the butt of his rifle, knocking her to the ground, mask dislodging in one last futile effort before he dropped to the floor himself in convulsions.

A woman's face. Familiar. Pale and lightly freckled. Dark hair and piercing hazel eyes.

Vain's hand scrabbled across the floor to snatch up the mask before anyone noticed in the melee.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Location: "Abandoned" Dubrillion Super Laser Facility (Fething cultists)
Objective: Stop the death cultists *again*.
Allies: TSE, [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"]
Enemies: Rebels? MOSTLY DEATH CULTISTS

Khaji maneuvered them in perfectly, taking point for a moment which allowed Hirou and Ardeth to situate themselves without worry.

Riding in the Muun's pocket, Hirou's nose poked out over the edge, ears flicking back and forth. Apparently they were invisible, but Hirou was not that familiar with the Force (outside of the books they had studied, and what books they had been! One autographed, just for them by [member="Velok the Younger"]!). It seemed prudent to also hide properly in that pocket. It wasn't that the Nezumi didn't believe Ardeth, so much as they had come to believed in their own abilities just as much.

"Watch out for Skraal," the little voice pipped from the pocket. The last time Hirou had dealings with this group, they'd almost been eaten. They didn't want to repeat that. The fact that a Skraal would be of almost zero risk to the other two, it was something the littlest amount them could not forget.

Ardeth moved forward, which meant Hirou did as well. Deeper into the facility. Empty, it felt. Silent. On the surface everything seemed as it should be. And yet....

"I can smell blood," Hirou said softly, nose wrinkling. "Some old, some fresh."

A scuff of movement, easy to miss if they had not been on the edge of awareness this entire time, came from around the next corner. Peering around it....

A pair of Imperial troopers- likely those sent here to examine the station just the day before- lay in the center of the hall. A pair of Mirialians, their green skin stark against the splash of dark red blood. Hirou recognized the tattoos the cult favored on their faces. But it was the markings on the wall that set their fur on end. Old blood and new, yes. Strange arcane symbols had been painted there some time ago, the marks like fading rust. The pair were repainting the symbols with blood from the troopers.

The pair retreated slightly, enough to signal to Khaji.

Two ahead. No weapons visible.

No quarter.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Deal with the Interrupters
Location: Refinery
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Corso"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Elani Zambrano"] [member="Ras Val'kor"]
Enemies: [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Romi Jade"] [member="Aten Ramses"] [member="Aryn Teth"]

Directly Engaging: [member="Cedric Grayson"]

Equipment: Armor Lightsaber

She couldn't help but laugh at the admonishment from Grayson about her second 'fall' and return to the Sith, and his disappointment that it occurred. Poor naive boy. Good on him for doing a little checking into her background, but he was likely woefully uninformed about certain things. Like the fact it was hard to live as a Jedi in this day and age, and it was... because the Jedi didn't even live as Jedi did. She had acted more like a Jedi in her ten years undercover than most Jedi had in their lives, and that was saying something.

"It's amusing you think I relapsed," she replied, still chuckling a little. "One cannot fall again if they never were redeemed in the first place. Oh no, in the last ten years, I lived among the Jedi and let me tell you, that part was hard. When I realized that I, a Sith who had managed to infiltrate the highest levels of the New Jedi Order, was a better Jedi than the actual Jedi. It was... so amusing, each and every day."

She glanced at the new soldier of the dark side, amusement still rolling off her as Cedric gave his order to him. He still didn't realize... he truly was a boy playing at pretend.

"But if we're going to discuss how the Jedi path is hard, no wonder you and your ilk cannot walk it. Attacking a planet that provides medicine not just to the Sith military, but also to all the civilian markets in the Empire and the Tingel Arm, is hypocrisy at best, a doom on your cause at worst. You might wear the trappings of a Jedi, you fight like a Jedi, but this is easily imitated, however. I would know from first-hand experience. You lack a vital quality found in Jedi... but I'll leave you to ponder on what that is. But at least the Sith know what they are. They are not afraid to look in a mirror and see the monster they might be. Tell me, Grayson, have you looked in a mirror lately?

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Objective: Defend the refinery complex
Location: Refinery – access hallway
Allies: Sadly none
Enemies: [member="Cenric Marus"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPQIs9JviMU

Jantar felt the effects of her own actions – it was impossible to be in contact with someone and not have some of the Lightning conduct through to you. But she knew the young Jedi would have felt the worst of it. Plus, it had the added delight of providing a stimulus for her connection to the Force.

Her training was brutal – she’d been required to undertake mental and physical challenges before her master taught her of the ways of the Force. And there were punishments too – a balance of beatings and Force-induced pain. She learned to understand that pain was a way of telling you that you were still alive. And so, she embraced it, expected it and almost wished for it. It was her constant companion and she found that, apart from fear – it was the best way to forge a deep connection to the Force.

She was pleased he dropped his saber – albeit a minor inconvenience for a Jedi – but less enamoured that he retained a tight hold of her. But, as much as close quarters saber duelling was not her forte, she was accomplished at unarmed combat and her dark-sided magics were easier to conjure when you didn’t have a saber waving in your face.

And she knew she’d weakened him – which was a huge plus for her. Not only towards the outcome, but to her ego also.

He rolled her over and pinned an arm behind her back – no doubt expecting her to find the sensation too uncomfortable to maintain. Maybe he hoped she’d yield? Being underestimated had always been a weapon in her arsenal.

Her eyes flickered a shade of sulphur as she connected deeply with the Force. The pain helped this, gave her focus. She was quite ready to endure a broken limb to progress with her attack – but then, that also depended on how squeamish and gallant her Jedi opponent was. It was one thing to pin someone with a threat to break an arm – quite another to press that final few centimetres and hear the bone pop.

“Never forget you initiated this,” she said, her voice still calm. “You attacked me – and I offered no provocation. What does your Code say about that?”

She put her free hand out and squeezed open air. Simultaneously, he would feel a contraction of his wind-pipe. How much he was prepared to endure would be directly linked to the time he was ready to remain static in this position.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Location: Under the Sea - Near Kolto Processing plant
Allies: [member="Cerbera"] dearest, TSE

​

There was a distinct difference between them concerning interest in rebels. Ophidia did nothing but detest them and everything they stood for.. Ophidia was deeply vested in The Sith Empire's proceedings and this exact group was becoming a nuisance: They were a rash she would prefer dealt with so that their attention could be diverted to more productive matters; a persistent fly, buzzing in the periphery of her eye, soon to be swatted by the Imperial fist. The Pale Assassin had patience for many, irritating things, but this? No.

However, she did enjoy a creative solution, and Cerbera always brought her creative solutions.

"Oh I will, most definitely."

She swivelled the the vial, eyeing it carefully.

"I am almost afraid to ask what you crossed to breed this." "Almost."

The two Sith set to work.

The clinics were busy, manned to capacity. Medical droid buzzed to and fro, along with some Quarren and some Human doctors tending to the evacuees. Official Sith-Imperial personell were isolated to their own section, treated with the most expedited care. The sooner the legionnaires and auxiliaries could return to the defence of the city, the better.

However, that meant others were sometimes de-prioritised: Civilians whose deaths would be stapled to the opposition's conscience. Now, these poor unfortunate souls would be given a new purpose.

All they needed do was to sprinkle Cerbera's concoction in strategic places. Infect a patient, and a nurse, a widow watching over her son. The hopeless wanderers in the street, touched by a finger they never felt, towards a destiny chosen for them. Each infected another, and another. It was beautiful to trace, like a puzzle falling into place.

"You have outdone yourself, dear."

 

[AMCO]

Location: Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn
Objective: Don't die.
Allies: Sneering Imperialists, incl. [member="Elani Zambrano"] & [member="Samka Derith"].
Duelling: [member="Aten Ramses"]
Equipment: Lightsaber, Handgun, Anti-Ysalamiri, Shard of Nil, Grav Core, Blackroot Potion [2], & Invisibility Potion [2].

---

---

---

For a moment, it was as if time slowed down before his eyes. As he drifted upwards, back to the wall, the shattergun floated from its holster into his right hand. As he raised it Aten moved the short distance towards him, charge looking to his eyes like a jog through water. His hand raised itself, slowly, too slowly, as an azure blade descended. Finger squeezing the trigger as the blade made its final descent, even he did not know who would be first.

With a bang and a flash of light, the magnetic rails exploded, torn apart by a beam of condensed plasma.

Hand recoiling from the twisted lump of metal that had been his handgun, half his handgun, he came crashing down to real-time, his focus broken. The raw fear he felt still providing him with energy that belied his battered exterior. As the blade was driven towards his shoulder, he telekinetically propelled his light form sideways and upwards, a light form that grew ever lighter with every second that passed thanks to the device on his right wrist. His opponent, however, once again demonstrated his quick reflexes by diverting the blade slightly, though instead of piercing his left shoulder it was only a glancing hit. A damned good thing too, since a proper hit could have easily done irreversible damage before he would have been able to stop his ascent. Still, it hurt like Hell, the plasma tearing through flesh like a knife through butter, causing the young Acolyte to growl in pain.

“Surrender.”

For a moment, the words caught him off guard, then he laughed hoarsely. "Oddly enough, a rebel dungeon is low on my list of vacation destinations." Of course, the way this was going, he might not have much of a choice. He'd do what it took to stay alive, though he was counting on Imperial reinforcements arriving before it came to that. They better, considering how damned well-funded the Armada and Legion alike were.

 

[Warchief Waddles]

Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: Strike Team One
Objective: End This
Enemies: [member="Adrian [/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']Vandiir[/FONT][FONT='trebuchet ms']"]
Equipment: Powergaunts, Lightsaber, Asheran Armorweave clothing

The hit hadn’t scored a direct hit like he sought but even a glancing blow with a saber was enough to possibly change the tide of a fight. Whatever technique or technology the acolyte wielding that allowed him to begin floating away was certainly coming in handy allowing the man to escape Aten’s wraith for a few seconds. The issue was they were still in a hall, and neither of them were short individuals. With the ceiling in place there was nowhere the Sith could truly float to escape the Jedi within the hall. Adrian had to go to Aten’s left to evade the saber that had been aimed at his shoulder. Taking two steps back Aten tracked the Sith’s progress.

“You fool… I wasn’t planning on imprisoning you. I simply want to ensure you cause no more harm on this day nor strike me when I turn my back.” Having a good idea of how fast the Sith’s levitation was progressing Aten rushed forward his hair billowing behind him. He couldn't trust the Sith's words, especially not with the feats he'd performed in the battle and the other weaponry he may possess.

Why couldn’t Adrian had made this far easier on himself and Aten, hadn’t the fight drug on long enough? Enough blood had been spilled and energy wasted. Right foot planting on the wall Aten kicked off his right arm coming down diagonally across his body the blade of the saber pointing to the floor and to the left. Body twisting in the air Aten within range of the Sith he brought right arm across in a slash from Adrian’s right hip up to his left shoulder. The tip of the plasmatic saber would gently coast along the Sith’s belt, and body in an attempt to completely disarm the Sith of whatever other flasks, weapons or tools he’d brought along with him. Aten wasn’t seeking to kill him yet as it approached the shoulder he incorporated a twist of his arm clockwise, forearm facing the ceiling and brought the saber across to the Sith's right shoulder going all out the saber pressing in, an attempt to completely disarm the Sith apprentice. Maiming an individual hadn’t been on the agenda yet this could be the only way to ensure the acolyte was out of play for what remained of the attack.

 

[H3xle]

Location: Dubrillion, the Refinery => Outdated Culty Facility

Allies: TSE [member="Ardeth Zun"] [member="tabigarashu madara"]
Enemies: Rebels/Death Cultists

When the Muun agent rendered himself and their leader invisible, Khaji turned back to the path. He half-lidded his eyes and drew a pair of quick breaths, exhaled, and inhaled again. Each inhale was at a different height. The scent was muted, but it was one he could follow. The Muun and the Nezumi each had very distinct scents, and the mix of them was altogether unique.



Khaji followed them as they neared and entered the building. The play of scents across their path was layered, old scents and new. Some were scents of people who seemed to come by often, ingraining the scent into the space, while others were new. He detected the scent of the typical Legionnaire uniform armors, as well as the grease they used to clean and store their weapons. One of the legionnaires who had passed by here used too much grease and didn't wipe the weapon down thoroughly enough. Haste as that often ruined the weapon.

Khaji paused when the coppery scent of near-human blood intruded on the scene, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose. He draw a pair of long, wickedly sharp, curved fighting knives into his hands. A voice in the back of his mind chided him for not bringing his tail spur. His weight shifted to the balls of his feet, and he dropped into a fighting crouch as he stalked forward, behind the invisible pair that led him.

The pair retreated slightly, enough to signal to Khaji.

Two ahead. No weapons visible.

No quarter.

The message was received, and Khaji slipped the rest of the way into the role of a hunter. He scented the air, identifying the pair before him as he glided forward. The pair was fairly focused on drawing the glyphs in the blood of the legionnaires.

Once, long ago, Trianii Rangers had been known as masters of hand-to-hand combat. Throughout the long period of the original Empire's rise and fall, through the dark times of the Gulag plague and all the way to the present, tribes of Trianii learned the art of the hunt. Khaji had not originated in one of these tribes, but he learned their ways. Took them for himself as he trained to be a Ranger.

An inexperienced hunter would have let out a sound, a purr of delight that the hunt was on, a growl to give his quarry a chance to fight or to scent their fear. Khaji had long passed that phase. The best hunt was one that ended in a swift, clean kill.

Khaji paused at the edge of the light, switching his left hand to hold the fighting knife to hold the blade coming from the bottom of his fist. Both blades rested easily in his hands as he took a last breath in, then he slipped forward with deceptive speed. There were no large movements, no pouncing steps as he closed the distance to the first cultist.

His left hand slashed forward, held at knee height on his quarry. It cut through the thin pair of pants the cultist wore and cut the hamstring beneath the flesh. Khaji's right hand slipped forward and around, the curve of the blade finding the curve of the cultist's neck as he arched it back to scream out.

Blood, rather than sound, is all that came from that neck as Khaji quickly dispatched the first, and moved onto the second cultist.

Khaji's heartbeat rose as the second cultist turned and saw the Hunter. The second cultist leapt back, beginning to turn to run, mouth opening to shout an alarm. Adrenaline racing through his limbs, Khaji made a leap from the still falling form of his first kill of the day. His left foot struck the side of the second cultists knee as his tail snapped forward, crushing the larynx to stifle the shout that had been coming. Khaji landed fully, both bodies of the cultists hit the ground at the same time, and Khaji's knives crossed and uncrossed in a quick blur of movements.

The glyphs they had been drawing in blood now had arcs of new blood crossing through them, and both cultists were down, their lives spilling onto the rough ground as Khaji crouched, nose twitching and eyes searching for the next quarry.

After a moment, he caught the scent of Ardeth and Hirou, and a visible shiver ran through the cat. He knelt and cleaned his blades on the second cultists tunic, then sheathed the blades.

Not trusting himself to speak yet, the thrill of the hunt and kill singing in his veins, he nodded to the pair and waited for them to resume the lead.