Arken Lussk
Thrills, Chills, and Kills
( Wrong character. )
Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Your Overconfidence Is Your Weakness | Rebel Alliance Invasion of Sith Empire Held Dubrillon Hex
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Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Cenric Marus"], [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Aten Ramses"],, Ras Val'kor, [member="Aryn Teth"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Comet"], [member="Xevek Rakama"], [member="Adrian Vandiir"], [member="Lei Shandian"], [member="Darth Vesper"], [member="Darth Imperia"]
The might of the Sith Empire had come to crush the Rebel Alliance in one fell swoop.
Their great fleets had left their postings, arriving in such numbers that victory might seem impossible for the rebels. Sith Lords of the highest caliber came from every corner of the empire to steal themselves a piece of the glory that would come from the end of the alliance: even the Dark Lord himself had chosen to attend this bloody conflict.
The knight felt their arrival as tremors within the force. It was as if a great and violent storm had come, roiling up the currents of the Great Ocean and sending the force into a state of cacophony. It was a feeling that he had learned to dread as a child, and one that he had counted on today. The confirmation of his hypothesis set his heart at ease.
And then Cenric decided to destroy that momentary peace. Cedric moved to follow after his padawan, only to find his path blocked by ray shields. For a moment, the knight felt a sense of panic, but he trusted in the will of the force. Cenric had learned much during his time under Cedric's tutelage - the boy could handle himself.
Still, Cedric couldn't keep the concern from his voice when he responded to the padawan. "Be careful Cenric. Find your way back to us if you can, and don't take any unnecessary risks," his voice was strained. "I have faith in you. May the force be with you."
The exchange was cut off. Cedric returned his attentions to the conflict at hand.
"They've all come Romi, I can feel it. We have a chance," he snapped off to his companion as another stream of blaster bolts found themselves returned to their points of origin. It was then that he noticed [member="Coren Starchaser"] joining their midst. "Took you long enough Starchaser. You're right, and they've come in greater numbers than anticipated. Now it's a fair fight." He parted his lips to speak again, but another voice cut him off.
He felt it like a whisper in the back of his mind: a private promise of desolation. Cedric recognized it immediately, and the source of that whisper quickly revealed itself in the open. [member="Darth Vesper"] approached, and Cedric raised his blade in a defensive posture.
"Antherion," his voice carried over the chaos of battle, enhanced by the force. "I should have seen the plague eating at you when I had the chance. I couldn't help you then." The masked Jedi Guardian slowly approached the Sith Lord, the soldiers of either side giving the two warriors a wide berth.
"I regret that," the knight gestured toward Vesper with his blade. "But it isn't too late. No one is beyond redemption. There was potential in you to be a good person Antherion - you can still be saved. I don't want to fight you."
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Cenric Marus"], [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Aten Ramses"],, Ras Val'kor, [member="Aryn Teth"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Carnifex"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Comet"], [member="Xevek Rakama"], [member="Adrian Vandiir"], [member="Lei Shandian"], [member="Darth Vesper"], [member="Darth Imperia"]
The might of the Sith Empire had come to crush the Rebel Alliance in one fell swoop.
Their great fleets had left their postings, arriving in such numbers that victory might seem impossible for the rebels. Sith Lords of the highest caliber came from every corner of the empire to steal themselves a piece of the glory that would come from the end of the alliance: even the Dark Lord himself had chosen to attend this bloody conflict.
The knight felt their arrival as tremors within the force. It was as if a great and violent storm had come, roiling up the currents of the Great Ocean and sending the force into a state of cacophony. It was a feeling that he had learned to dread as a child, and one that he had counted on today. The confirmation of his hypothesis set his heart at ease.
And then Cenric decided to destroy that momentary peace. Cedric moved to follow after his padawan, only to find his path blocked by ray shields. For a moment, the knight felt a sense of panic, but he trusted in the will of the force. Cenric had learned much during his time under Cedric's tutelage - the boy could handle himself.
Still, Cedric couldn't keep the concern from his voice when he responded to the padawan. "Be careful Cenric. Find your way back to us if you can, and don't take any unnecessary risks," his voice was strained. "I have faith in you. May the force be with you."
The exchange was cut off. Cedric returned his attentions to the conflict at hand.
"They've all come Romi, I can feel it. We have a chance," he snapped off to his companion as another stream of blaster bolts found themselves returned to their points of origin. It was then that he noticed [member="Coren Starchaser"] joining their midst. "Took you long enough Starchaser. You're right, and they've come in greater numbers than anticipated. Now it's a fair fight." He parted his lips to speak again, but another voice cut him off.
He felt it like a whisper in the back of his mind: a private promise of desolation. Cedric recognized it immediately, and the source of that whisper quickly revealed itself in the open. [member="Darth Vesper"] approached, and Cedric raised his blade in a defensive posture.
"Antherion," his voice carried over the chaos of battle, enhanced by the force. "I should have seen the plague eating at you when I had the chance. I couldn't help you then." The masked Jedi Guardian slowly approached the Sith Lord, the soldiers of either side giving the two warriors a wide berth.
"I regret that," the knight gestured toward Vesper with his blade. "But it isn't too late. No one is beyond redemption. There was potential in you to be a good person Antherion - you can still be saved. I don't want to fight you."
A Light Shining in Darkness
Storming the beaches, facing down death's odds...
Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Corso"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance
Wyatt had maintained his defensive position well, reactions and placement allowing the bullet to pass through his lightsaber; though it turned into molten lead and slapped his armor with a sickening pop. It stunk, and the heat had singed the outside plates, but at the very least he was unharmed for now.
Exhale, inhale.
The force ebbed and flowed as the other sith moved towards him; a sickening darkness in his shadow as he felt it move for them both. Alkor may not feel it, but Wyatt knew he sensed it from experience rather than true metaphysical sensory ability. If he were a lesser man, he’d of taken Alkor’s advice; but far too much relied on him.
“I never had a chance to leave.”, he offered back to him, a small smile forming on his rosy lips. Wyatt knew he was the only distraction they had. The longer he fought, the more likely the rebels could overwhelm the imperials.
With Alkor on the ground, although steadier in his aim; was more vulnerable to a strike; though to what degree Wyatt didn’t know yet. In some sense, he was a one trick pony with almost all his force combat experience put into the likes of telekinesis and speed; but the downside of the one was you could never see the effects of what you did, while the other some could keep up with. In this case, he outmatched the Mandalorian, but the necrosis on his hip had still taken its toll over time, and he could feel it.
Still, keeping the pain from his mind was simple for the time being; letting instead guidance lie in the fact that Alkor was on the ground; a rebar laden pillar directly behind him only a few meters. A strong palm focused itself on him, and just as before the dust became unsettled as he let out of an explosion of kinetic force through his palm; directly at pushing and lifting the now laying Alkor to hopefully smack into the rubble behind him.
In truth, the conflict saddened him. He couldn’t sense the emotions of the warrior, couldn’t see what made him strong, but the sense of hope he got off what he said. The warrior before him wasn’t like the rest of the sith, he could feel for him, couldn’t possibly bring himself to end his life. Dreams, aspirations, he did what he did for something beyond wonton murder and destruction.
Wyatt just had to find what made him tick.
Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Corso"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance
Wyatt had maintained his defensive position well, reactions and placement allowing the bullet to pass through his lightsaber; though it turned into molten lead and slapped his armor with a sickening pop. It stunk, and the heat had singed the outside plates, but at the very least he was unharmed for now.
Exhale, inhale.
The force ebbed and flowed as the other sith moved towards him; a sickening darkness in his shadow as he felt it move for them both. Alkor may not feel it, but Wyatt knew he sensed it from experience rather than true metaphysical sensory ability. If he were a lesser man, he’d of taken Alkor’s advice; but far too much relied on him.
“I never had a chance to leave.”, he offered back to him, a small smile forming on his rosy lips. Wyatt knew he was the only distraction they had. The longer he fought, the more likely the rebels could overwhelm the imperials.
With Alkor on the ground, although steadier in his aim; was more vulnerable to a strike; though to what degree Wyatt didn’t know yet. In some sense, he was a one trick pony with almost all his force combat experience put into the likes of telekinesis and speed; but the downside of the one was you could never see the effects of what you did, while the other some could keep up with. In this case, he outmatched the Mandalorian, but the necrosis on his hip had still taken its toll over time, and he could feel it.
Still, keeping the pain from his mind was simple for the time being; letting instead guidance lie in the fact that Alkor was on the ground; a rebar laden pillar directly behind him only a few meters. A strong palm focused itself on him, and just as before the dust became unsettled as he let out of an explosion of kinetic force through his palm; directly at pushing and lifting the now laying Alkor to hopefully smack into the rubble behind him.
In truth, the conflict saddened him. He couldn’t sense the emotions of the warrior, couldn’t see what made him strong, but the sense of hope he got off what he said. The warrior before him wasn’t like the rest of the sith, he could feel for him, couldn’t possibly bring himself to end his life. Dreams, aspirations, he did what he did for something beyond wonton murder and destruction.
Wyatt just had to find what made him tick.
ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
Allies: [member="Darth Imperia"]; Sith
Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Cenric Marus"]; Jedi and Rebels
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The laugh that came out of the hooded man was high, cold, and joyless. For the longest time, most of his laughs had been joyless, for as far back as he could remember - the state of being Sith had devoured the whole of his life. That was the only way he really could, at this moment, process the notion of redemption - a joke. A cruel one, a meaningless one, one that wasn't funny in the slightest. One that was offensive and absurd. And yet, for that brief moment, like cold water poured over steel, he laughed. Then, in an instant, his face was absent all emotion.
And when he spoke, his words would be familiar to Cedric. Words Cedric had once spoken to him, when he had submitted himself to be taken prisoner.
"There is no surrender. You've proven yourself weak-willed and ignorant, and the damage you have done must be responded to accordingly. You crossed me. I do not forgive such trespasses." He paused weightily, letting the words hang in the air.
"Did you think, Cedric, that you could fool me twice?"
He closed his hand into a fist, the flame in his palm snuffing out with a hiss. Then, he waved his hand and it sprung back to life, hot and red, displaced in a circle around them. The soldiers that drew back now recoiled further, driven away by the sheer heat, the brightness driving their eyes to aversion. He didn't so much as blink. He had drawn into himself a fair bit of power from his stolen relics in preparation for this, and even though he could feel the ache in his soul and body, he would spend that coin freely.
Just to see this man broken for humiliating him. For trying to sucker him into the con of redemption yet another time. The cliff of weakness and mercy, which one throws one's self over only if desperate or despairing.
Then, he raised his saber in salute and, slashing the air with a snarl as the circle closed behind him, lanced a javelin of flame - aiming to catch Cedric's mocking helm in a searing, scarifying embrace.
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Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Cenric Marus"]; Jedi and Rebels
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The laugh that came out of the hooded man was high, cold, and joyless. For the longest time, most of his laughs had been joyless, for as far back as he could remember - the state of being Sith had devoured the whole of his life. That was the only way he really could, at this moment, process the notion of redemption - a joke. A cruel one, a meaningless one, one that wasn't funny in the slightest. One that was offensive and absurd. And yet, for that brief moment, like cold water poured over steel, he laughed. Then, in an instant, his face was absent all emotion.
And when he spoke, his words would be familiar to Cedric. Words Cedric had once spoken to him, when he had submitted himself to be taken prisoner.
"There is no surrender. You've proven yourself weak-willed and ignorant, and the damage you have done must be responded to accordingly. You crossed me. I do not forgive such trespasses." He paused weightily, letting the words hang in the air.
"Did you think, Cedric, that you could fool me twice?"
He closed his hand into a fist, the flame in his palm snuffing out with a hiss. Then, he waved his hand and it sprung back to life, hot and red, displaced in a circle around them. The soldiers that drew back now recoiled further, driven away by the sheer heat, the brightness driving their eyes to aversion. He didn't so much as blink. He had drawn into himself a fair bit of power from his stolen relics in preparation for this, and even though he could feel the ache in his soul and body, he would spend that coin freely.
Just to see this man broken for humiliating him. For trying to sucker him into the con of redemption yet another time. The cliff of weakness and mercy, which one throws one's self over only if desperate or despairing.
Then, he raised his saber in salute and, slashing the air with a snarl as the circle closed behind him, lanced a javelin of flame - aiming to catch Cedric's mocking helm in a searing, scarifying embrace.
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Bookworm
Objective: Deal with the Interrupters
Location: Deploying to the Refinery
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Vaylin"] [member="Samka Derith"] @Janter Keltainen [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Darth Vesper"] [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Corso"]
Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Romi Jade"] [member="Wyatt Morga"] [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Aten Ramses"] [member="Aryn Teth"]
Equipment: Armor Lightsaber
They had seen the Crestfallen take a missile as they neared their landing site, but Taeli could still sense the Dark Lord and those with him. As the ship touched the ground, the ramps lowered and out stormed Sith Legionaries and one very annoyed Darth Arcanix. The rebels had blown open or carved their way into the facility, their men fighting and dying on the beaches to buy... ah... she was not surprised Coren was among their number. The man was always spoiling for a fight, but to stoop to such a low... she felt a little of her respect for him ebb away.
Lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss, she joined the fray, yellow eyes blazing. Every movement of her blade was another life taken, every flash of lightning another rebel incinerated. Her annoyance had already been high today, but to actually attack the kolto refinery... they were potentially hurting more than just the Sith military machine. These facilities provided for the entire Sith Empire, and any shortage would hurt the civilian sector as well.
The Emperor was surging forward, his entourage and forces nearing the facility. She and the soldiers with her would start to link up with them, the facility ever nearing... and the rebels would all die.
Location: Deploying to the Refinery
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Vaylin"] [member="Samka Derith"] @Janter Keltainen [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Darth Vesper"] [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Corso"]
Enemies: [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Romi Jade"] [member="Wyatt Morga"] [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Aten Ramses"] [member="Aryn Teth"]
Equipment: Armor Lightsaber
They had seen the Crestfallen take a missile as they neared their landing site, but Taeli could still sense the Dark Lord and those with him. As the ship touched the ground, the ramps lowered and out stormed Sith Legionaries and one very annoyed Darth Arcanix. The rebels had blown open or carved their way into the facility, their men fighting and dying on the beaches to buy... ah... she was not surprised Coren was among their number. The man was always spoiling for a fight, but to stoop to such a low... she felt a little of her respect for him ebb away.
Lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss, she joined the fray, yellow eyes blazing. Every movement of her blade was another life taken, every flash of lightning another rebel incinerated. Her annoyance had already been high today, but to actually attack the kolto refinery... they were potentially hurting more than just the Sith military machine. These facilities provided for the entire Sith Empire, and any shortage would hurt the civilian sector as well.
The Emperor was surging forward, his entourage and forces nearing the facility. She and the soldiers with her would start to link up with them, the facility ever nearing... and the rebels would all die.
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Character
Location: Refinery Complex
Allies: [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Enemy: 1v1 me on rust [member="Darth Vesper"]
He had expected as much.
"I never fooled you. You turned on us." Antherion's scathing words would have cut Cedric to the core had recent events not transpired. Ession had been a terrible loss, and one that had threatened to consume the Jedi Knight entirely. It was only through faith and friendship that he had pulled himself from that darkness, and in the face of that tragedy, Cedric had been tempered. His purpose was made clear, his place within the galaxy obvious. There were no words that could give him pause: not anymore.
A circle of flame erupted around the two, forcing any that might have sought to intervene away. The knight's brow furrowed, but he retained his composure. Refusing to make any offensive moves until provoked, Cedric had been waiting calmly when the jet of flame came roaring toward him. The knight reacted, though not quickly enough. The pillar of fire washed over his form, ensconcing him in a cocoon of orange flames for a moment. Then, as quickly as it had done so, the flames were dispelled. Cedric emerged seemingly unscathed, save for the scorch marks that now marred his armor.
Looks, however, were deceiving. The mobility shield he'd been wearing was not designed to withstand a sustained source of heat, and found itself shorted out before Cedric could dispel the assault. The icon on his HUD representing the shields indicated irreparable damage.
"Don't make me do this Antherion. I was wrong to fire upon your ship, but your betrayal drove me to an extreme. I was just a boy. I didn't know how to deal with something like that," The knight stepped closer, his blade humming loudly over the crackling of the flames. It radiated the Light, in stark contrast to Vesper himself. As Cedric drew closer, its calming presence did too; one that few could ignore at this proximity. "You needed help. You still do. The Dark Side is corruption: a drug, and you've become an addict. Let me help you."
Allies: [member="Romi Jade"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Enemy: 1v1 me on rust [member="Darth Vesper"]
He had expected as much.
"I never fooled you. You turned on us." Antherion's scathing words would have cut Cedric to the core had recent events not transpired. Ession had been a terrible loss, and one that had threatened to consume the Jedi Knight entirely. It was only through faith and friendship that he had pulled himself from that darkness, and in the face of that tragedy, Cedric had been tempered. His purpose was made clear, his place within the galaxy obvious. There were no words that could give him pause: not anymore.
A circle of flame erupted around the two, forcing any that might have sought to intervene away. The knight's brow furrowed, but he retained his composure. Refusing to make any offensive moves until provoked, Cedric had been waiting calmly when the jet of flame came roaring toward him. The knight reacted, though not quickly enough. The pillar of fire washed over his form, ensconcing him in a cocoon of orange flames for a moment. Then, as quickly as it had done so, the flames were dispelled. Cedric emerged seemingly unscathed, save for the scorch marks that now marred his armor.
Looks, however, were deceiving. The mobility shield he'd been wearing was not designed to withstand a sustained source of heat, and found itself shorted out before Cedric could dispel the assault. The icon on his HUD representing the shields indicated irreparable damage.
"Don't make me do this Antherion. I was wrong to fire upon your ship, but your betrayal drove me to an extreme. I was just a boy. I didn't know how to deal with something like that," The knight stepped closer, his blade humming loudly over the crackling of the flames. It radiated the Light, in stark contrast to Vesper himself. As Cedric drew closer, its calming presence did too; one that few could ignore at this proximity. "You needed help. You still do. The Dark Side is corruption: a drug, and you've become an addict. Let me help you."
A Legacy In Flames
DUBRILLION
Refinery Complex
WITH: [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"] [member="Coren Starchaser'] [member="Ras Val'kor] [member="Aten Ramses"]
OBJECTIVE: Take Refinery Complex
ENEMIES: Eventually: [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] & [member="Darth Vesper"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Samka Derith']
[youtube]
https://youtu.be/qATkXKpAZrY[/youtube]
A slight bend to the knee or waist fueled her defense; she whipped her blade from one side to the next. Every now and then a stray bolt
"What!?" Her head begged to whip back, but her attention couldn't be immediately stolen. "Aten!". In a drive for space, she tightened her wrist in effort to deflect the bolts back to their origin rather than scatter the plasma period.
She backpedaled until she'd been able to move clearly. Turning she reach out in a effort to jumpstart her body and get it to move "Wait!"...but she couldn't. The door closed, and separated the two.
Sigh.
She'd been teaching the boys the importance of trust. Trust in yourself and in others. Really, she was learning the lesson herself. Part of her knew she had to let him go. She trusted him...
-------------- Few Minutes Later
"I feel it..." she mused in response to Cedric, her face scrunched up in uncertainty. At this point she wasn't sure how things were going to develop. Her head whipped around when she saw Coren approach the group to which she presented a smile of her own that wasn't so quick to go away. She maintained her wall while the two of them spoke, she was holding off an opposite direction of the two, somewhere in the middle. "Fair?" she interjected. Smirking, "Please..." she stepped into her next blow, splitting the round somewhere down the middle with her own blade.
"We need to keep pushing..." she urged turning as she saw Cedric engaging whom she assumed to be a Sith.
She looked at Corey, her eyes wrote the story. She motioned forward with her head in the opposite direction.
Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
Alkor lost control of his pistol the moment he was airborne, and the weapon clattered to the ground. In the meantime, it was all the Mandalorian could do to right himself as he was flung wildly through the air, albeit not toward anything solid, but instead toward a pile of rubble. It would be anything but painless.
He tucked his arms inward and pulled his head and knees to his chest- a less than daunting task, given how compact his previous position was- and managed to broaden the area of his body that the kinetic energy was displaced across.
His entire being screamed at him in perfect time with his HUD, screeching in his ear that he was badly bruised across several limbs and his chest, and that muscle tissue had been impacted to near reasonable limits. At the end of this whole ordeal, he could badger the Sith for some Kolto to help with that.
He groaned as he lifted himself up and pressed the frosty blade back into its sheath, since he would need both arms to push back to his feet. [member="Khonsu Amon"] was already where he wanted to be, closer to the kill than Alkor. There was no saving the Jedi from that fate now. The only kindness he could offer was a quicker death-
If he could manage it more quickly than the Sun Guard.
They weren't like Mandos. Thyrsians had a distinct hatred that ran deep in their blood, and born of that, an innate bloodlust. They sowed carnage across battlefields with a skewed sense of honor, far from the concept that Mandalorian people held close to their hearts. What this massive monstrosity promised was savagery and enmity, nothing more or less.
There was no hope for a clean death by his hand, and no one deserved what would come of it.
He pushed off both palms with a mighty effort, huffing and gasping to fill his lungs with air once more, only to feel a searing pain across his chest.
Ignore it.
He rose to a crouched position and started to press forward, and the pain came again. It was acute, harsh, and left a stinging sensation near his shoulder. It had dislocated. His bioscan confirmed this the moment he was upright, and Alkor cursed loudly.
Three, he counted, both eyes knitting tightly shut, two- before he finished his count, Alkor had reached up and firmly pressed the dislodged bone back into the socket. He swallowed the scream that naturally followed.
Bile stained his tongue as he beat back the pain by sheer force of will, and he swallowed that, too. Tears stained the corners of his eyes as he slowly came down from the agony-induced high, and awareness returned.
It would be a few moments before he could go for his gun, or any other weapon for that matter.
[member="Wyatt Morga"]
He tucked his arms inward and pulled his head and knees to his chest- a less than daunting task, given how compact his previous position was- and managed to broaden the area of his body that the kinetic energy was displaced across.
His entire being screamed at him in perfect time with his HUD, screeching in his ear that he was badly bruised across several limbs and his chest, and that muscle tissue had been impacted to near reasonable limits. At the end of this whole ordeal, he could badger the Sith for some Kolto to help with that.
He groaned as he lifted himself up and pressed the frosty blade back into its sheath, since he would need both arms to push back to his feet. [member="Khonsu Amon"] was already where he wanted to be, closer to the kill than Alkor. There was no saving the Jedi from that fate now. The only kindness he could offer was a quicker death-
If he could manage it more quickly than the Sun Guard.
They weren't like Mandos. Thyrsians had a distinct hatred that ran deep in their blood, and born of that, an innate bloodlust. They sowed carnage across battlefields with a skewed sense of honor, far from the concept that Mandalorian people held close to their hearts. What this massive monstrosity promised was savagery and enmity, nothing more or less.
There was no hope for a clean death by his hand, and no one deserved what would come of it.
He pushed off both palms with a mighty effort, huffing and gasping to fill his lungs with air once more, only to feel a searing pain across his chest.
Ignore it.
He rose to a crouched position and started to press forward, and the pain came again. It was acute, harsh, and left a stinging sensation near his shoulder. It had dislocated. His bioscan confirmed this the moment he was upright, and Alkor cursed loudly.
Three, he counted, both eyes knitting tightly shut, two- before he finished his count, Alkor had reached up and firmly pressed the dislodged bone back into the socket. He swallowed the scream that naturally followed.
Bile stained his tongue as he beat back the pain by sheer force of will, and he swallowed that, too. Tears stained the corners of his eyes as he slowly came down from the agony-induced high, and awareness returned.
It would be a few moments before he could go for his gun, or any other weapon for that matter.
[member="Wyatt Morga"]
Judas of Vahl
Beyond Broken
Allies: [member="The Slave"], [member="Katya Shorn"]
Foes: The Sith Empire, [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]
For such a small floating box, the interior was rather comfy. Enough to comfortably fifty, maybe even more if you don't give them crash webbing. During trips like this, Judas liked to stretch his legs a little bit. Unfortunately, the threat of being depressurized and spaced had been a concern voiced far before the Slave invited him aboard, forcing him to wear a suit beneath the bulk of his usual armor.
Needless to say, he wasn't happy about it.
A grumpy pout laced his features as he sat poignantly between a deep-space terrorist and a bodysuit girl.
The Betrayer had been unsheathed, resting point-down between his legs. Calloused hands slowly ran down its edged flanks, drawing trickles of blood. A nexus deep within began to awaken with each and every drop offered to its metallic vessel.
A proper puddle of it began to flow beneath his boots just as the boarding ship slammed face-first into the Behemoth's hull. Crimson streaked against the bulkhead as gravity took its course. White-hot plasma torches made short work of the star destroyer's hull, with the trio of Force-cloaked... pirates(?) dropping into the corridor.
"We need to move quickly," his voice came, gruff and harsh.
Foes: The Sith Empire, [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]
For such a small floating box, the interior was rather comfy. Enough to comfortably fifty, maybe even more if you don't give them crash webbing. During trips like this, Judas liked to stretch his legs a little bit. Unfortunately, the threat of being depressurized and spaced had been a concern voiced far before the Slave invited him aboard, forcing him to wear a suit beneath the bulk of his usual armor.
Needless to say, he wasn't happy about it.
A grumpy pout laced his features as he sat poignantly between a deep-space terrorist and a bodysuit girl.
The Betrayer had been unsheathed, resting point-down between his legs. Calloused hands slowly ran down its edged flanks, drawing trickles of blood. A nexus deep within began to awaken with each and every drop offered to its metallic vessel.
A proper puddle of it began to flow beneath his boots just as the boarding ship slammed face-first into the Behemoth's hull. Crimson streaked against the bulkhead as gravity took its course. White-hot plasma torches made short work of the star destroyer's hull, with the trio of Force-cloaked... pirates(?) dropping into the corridor.
"We need to move quickly," his voice came, gruff and harsh.
M E A T B A G
Allies: The Sith Empire.
Enemies: The Rebel Alliance.
Objective: Hold Refinery Complex Dorn until Reinforcements Arrive.
Dubrillion // Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex DornThe Beaches.
A muttered Thyrsian curse slipped through his lips as the twinned plasmatic bolts missed their intended target. It was only natural that an unassisted burst from his wrist blasters would’ve eluded their target, spearing into the sands far behind the two combatants. Even if he had struck the Jedi in the chest, the bolts would’ve done little against his armoured hide. If anything, they would’ve distracted him from his duel; creating an opening from which his competition could exploit.
Aside from the momentary flicker of annoyance, Khonsu began building his momentum undaunted - surging across the treacherous, corpse-strewn dunes to close the gap between the gilded predator and his prey.
His darkened eyes never wavered from the Jedi; seeking to divine his martial prowess at a glance in the attempt to determine the best approach. He studied what he could, as bolts of coalesced lightning stitched along his winding path from enemy soldiers that sought to keep the fight between their Jedi commander and the Mandalorian warrior on even footing. The Sun Guard would’ve returned fire, but as he was bereft of his helmet and didn’t want to risk losing sight of his target - the man soldiered on.
As his augmented weight carried him forward, his mind had drifted for but a moment as his gaze caught sight of an enemy soldier lowering his rifle. He had the Sun Guard dead to rights but refused to take the shot. Instead, the man stared on in stupefied awe as he watched the blood-bathed revenant charge across the sands. It was almost akin to a scene, stolen from one of the ancient texts that survived the weathering of the ages. Where two champions, paragons of their virtues, fought amidst a legion of their faceless lessers.
Where the outcome of their battle, would determine which side would hold the advantage.
However, that lofty title had placed an unworthy mantle on the Sun Guard’s shoulders. He was not a paragon of any virtue, nor was he deserving of the title of champion. The man was nothing more than a caged animal - set loose upon the battlefield like a roving whirlwind of fury and chance. Unlike his newfound prey and his cultural rival, Khonsu was standing on the abyss of primal fury - waiting to take that one fateful step off the edge and become truly engrossed by the beast lashed within his breast.
In the moments before combat between the Jedi and the Sun Guard began, several things had occurred. The first, and most notable, was that the blood-slicked knife found itself pressed back into its sheath - allowing the bearer to comfortably wield his force pike with both hands. The second was that Alkor was summarily dispatched by the Jedi - after a lengthy bout that had seen both combatant’s affected in some manner - with a mighty telekine burst of energy. The third item and everything that transpired thereafter was of little import.
With the Mandalorian writhing atop the sands, that meant the Mercenary’s bellowed claim from earlier would become true, in a manner of speaking, as he was the prime contender for taking this warrior’s life.
The Sun Guard said nothing, as the distance between the two disparate fighters had finally closed. He had nothing to say to the man, nor would he give him the pleasure of such a simple distraction. Words required wind and effort to form, which were better spent towards nourishing the body whilst embattled by a skilled opponent. Instead, the Thyrsian sought to offer the pointed tip of his polearm as a worthy substitute for conversation.
Let his actions speak for him, as they carried more weight than his words ever could.
Thus, as the man’s sphere of defence had come within his weapon's reach, Khonsu thrust his gathered momentum behind the spiked lethality of his force pike - seeking to spear through the Jedi’s heart.
Enemies: The Rebel Alliance.
Objective: Hold Refinery Complex Dorn until Reinforcements Arrive.
Dubrillion // Sith-Imperial Collection and Refinery Complex Dorn
A muttered Thyrsian curse slipped through his lips as the twinned plasmatic bolts missed their intended target. It was only natural that an unassisted burst from his wrist blasters would’ve eluded their target, spearing into the sands far behind the two combatants. Even if he had struck the Jedi in the chest, the bolts would’ve done little against his armoured hide. If anything, they would’ve distracted him from his duel; creating an opening from which his competition could exploit.
Aside from the momentary flicker of annoyance, Khonsu began building his momentum undaunted - surging across the treacherous, corpse-strewn dunes to close the gap between the gilded predator and his prey.
His darkened eyes never wavered from the Jedi; seeking to divine his martial prowess at a glance in the attempt to determine the best approach. He studied what he could, as bolts of coalesced lightning stitched along his winding path from enemy soldiers that sought to keep the fight between their Jedi commander and the Mandalorian warrior on even footing. The Sun Guard would’ve returned fire, but as he was bereft of his helmet and didn’t want to risk losing sight of his target - the man soldiered on.
As his augmented weight carried him forward, his mind had drifted for but a moment as his gaze caught sight of an enemy soldier lowering his rifle. He had the Sun Guard dead to rights but refused to take the shot. Instead, the man stared on in stupefied awe as he watched the blood-bathed revenant charge across the sands. It was almost akin to a scene, stolen from one of the ancient texts that survived the weathering of the ages. Where two champions, paragons of their virtues, fought amidst a legion of their faceless lessers.
Where the outcome of their battle, would determine which side would hold the advantage.
However, that lofty title had placed an unworthy mantle on the Sun Guard’s shoulders. He was not a paragon of any virtue, nor was he deserving of the title of champion. The man was nothing more than a caged animal - set loose upon the battlefield like a roving whirlwind of fury and chance. Unlike his newfound prey and his cultural rival, Khonsu was standing on the abyss of primal fury - waiting to take that one fateful step off the edge and become truly engrossed by the beast lashed within his breast.
In the moments before combat between the Jedi and the Sun Guard began, several things had occurred. The first, and most notable, was that the blood-slicked knife found itself pressed back into its sheath - allowing the bearer to comfortably wield his force pike with both hands. The second was that Alkor was summarily dispatched by the Jedi - after a lengthy bout that had seen both combatant’s affected in some manner - with a mighty telekine burst of energy. The third item and everything that transpired thereafter was of little import.
With the Mandalorian writhing atop the sands, that meant the Mercenary’s bellowed claim from earlier would become true, in a manner of speaking, as he was the prime contender for taking this warrior’s life.
The Sun Guard said nothing, as the distance between the two disparate fighters had finally closed. He had nothing to say to the man, nor would he give him the pleasure of such a simple distraction. Words required wind and effort to form, which were better spent towards nourishing the body whilst embattled by a skilled opponent. Instead, the Thyrsian sought to offer the pointed tip of his polearm as a worthy substitute for conversation.
Let his actions speak for him, as they carried more weight than his words ever could.
Thus, as the man’s sphere of defence had come within his weapon's reach, Khonsu thrust his gathered momentum behind the spiked lethality of his force pike - seeking to spear through the Jedi’s heart.
[member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Corso"]
A Light Shining in Darkness
Storming the beaches, facing down death's odds...
Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Corso"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance
Wyatt was at odds, having spent so much effort to throw the Mandalorian aside for the moment; that despite the many calls of the force and beckons that would have insured safety, it was far too late as he whipped back around to meet his other opponent. His real target, as he would be, was a man the same height as Wyatt, but littered with far more muscle; enough to impose on any lesser man.
When both came to meet, there was almost no time to react to the force pike that threatened now to impale him. His reactions were quick, but even that would turn out too late. The force pike’s distance was such that it nearly touched him already, and although the world moved slow to him now through a mixture of adrenaline and force augmented speed and reactions, there was no time to get out of the way.
His decision? To slam a last minute telekinetic strike into the side of the head of the weapon, sending careening; just enough to make the strike into his thigh with brutal efficiency. Wyatt cried out in agony as it laid waste to the muscle, the vibrations tearing flesh asunder while the shocks forced them to seize. The pain forced him to move faster, to move through the blindness to gain something between them;
But he did something different, for the moment at least. His lightsaber, still ignited in all its azure fury, moved to slice the pike in half at the base with a blinding speed. The wound would slow him, that much was already certain, but if he could debilitate the range of his weapon before it became more of an issue, then that would be better.
It was only a matter of time before he either got the message on the radio that they were clear, or he’d fall in combat. His goal now was to distract, to keep the two titans of the battlefield concerned just long enough to let the refineries and infrastructure fall.
It was all he could do to prevent any more deaths.
Objective: Maintain the Momentum.
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] │ [member="Alkor Centaris"] │ [member="Corso"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance
Wyatt was at odds, having spent so much effort to throw the Mandalorian aside for the moment; that despite the many calls of the force and beckons that would have insured safety, it was far too late as he whipped back around to meet his other opponent. His real target, as he would be, was a man the same height as Wyatt, but littered with far more muscle; enough to impose on any lesser man.
When both came to meet, there was almost no time to react to the force pike that threatened now to impale him. His reactions were quick, but even that would turn out too late. The force pike’s distance was such that it nearly touched him already, and although the world moved slow to him now through a mixture of adrenaline and force augmented speed and reactions, there was no time to get out of the way.
His decision? To slam a last minute telekinetic strike into the side of the head of the weapon, sending careening; just enough to make the strike into his thigh with brutal efficiency. Wyatt cried out in agony as it laid waste to the muscle, the vibrations tearing flesh asunder while the shocks forced them to seize. The pain forced him to move faster, to move through the blindness to gain something between them;
But he did something different, for the moment at least. His lightsaber, still ignited in all its azure fury, moved to slice the pike in half at the base with a blinding speed. The wound would slow him, that much was already certain, but if he could debilitate the range of his weapon before it became more of an issue, then that would be better.
It was only a matter of time before he either got the message on the radio that they were clear, or he’d fall in combat. His goal now was to distract, to keep the two titans of the battlefield concerned just long enough to let the refineries and infrastructure fall.
It was all he could do to prevent any more deaths.
Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
His freshly reconfigured arm hung loosely in front of him as he stumbled his way forward, reddish haze threatening at the fringes of his HUD. He could see the fight in front of him in slow motion, dragged down from the insane speed by his adrenaline. More blood drawn from the Jedi as he cried out appeared as red text in front of Alkor's eyes. The man would be subjected to far more suffering than this if he continued to resist.
He refused to look away. The Jedi had fought with some measure of honor, even as he attempted to beat his way past Alkor with mystic arts and flaming blade. His men were doomed to share his fate as the Sun Guard and Sith Imperial Stormtroopers met them head on and exchanged fire. They were gridlocked in the expanse between the beach and the Refinery, bursts of red and green light flying in every direction as one or the other fought for what they believed was right.
Alkor resolved to continue, in much the same pain as his strange Jedi enemy. They shed blood together on a battlefield and fought, regardless of what had spurred the encounter. Under any other circumstances, the Mandalorian might have shared drinks with him, and with any opportunity to hear him out, Alkor might have explained to him the Manda- a paradise beyond life far greater than any belief in light or darkness.
Alkor quietly hoped that, regardless of how the man died, he might even catch a glimpse of something so beautiful. He deserved better than the hand he was dealt, and so did those poor, ill-fated soldiers under his command.
He made his way almost to [member="Khonsu Amon"], where his gun had landed, and crouched low to scoop the weapon off the ground. With a painful effort, he rolled the shoulder at his right and grit his teeth. The pain was exquisite, and reminded him of a different time. The feelings that blossomed forth caused his heartbeat to increase, and with it, the pain seemed to dull. He felt his mind work at staggering speed as he mapped out a course of action.
Khonsu presented a clear and present obstacle to his intended purpose, but they were allies in this venture. He was not going to sully the honor of his armor or his clan by resorting to friendly fire. There were many possibilities, but the one that seemed most promising would require something a bit more thought out than whimsical.
He tucked the weapon away and circled out, making a clear path to the Jedi as he engaged with Amon. Kaliki'ad snapped free of his back and firmly into his grip as he breathed shakily in and out. His HUD estimated the subtleties of both players' movements and sought out the nexes of their blows, it timed their defensive movements, and it told Alkor the precise moment he would have to move to get what he wanted.
Now.
It blared in his ear, but he barely heard it. The screech lasted for longer than two heartbeats, a longer time than it took for him to explore into motion. They might feel in the Force as danger, or they might not- Alkor had no such connection for his feelings to bleed out into- but he rushed at the combatants with his blade dipped low.
It would take a few moments for him to reach.
[member="Wyatt Morga"]
He refused to look away. The Jedi had fought with some measure of honor, even as he attempted to beat his way past Alkor with mystic arts and flaming blade. His men were doomed to share his fate as the Sun Guard and Sith Imperial Stormtroopers met them head on and exchanged fire. They were gridlocked in the expanse between the beach and the Refinery, bursts of red and green light flying in every direction as one or the other fought for what they believed was right.
Alkor resolved to continue, in much the same pain as his strange Jedi enemy. They shed blood together on a battlefield and fought, regardless of what had spurred the encounter. Under any other circumstances, the Mandalorian might have shared drinks with him, and with any opportunity to hear him out, Alkor might have explained to him the Manda- a paradise beyond life far greater than any belief in light or darkness.
Alkor quietly hoped that, regardless of how the man died, he might even catch a glimpse of something so beautiful. He deserved better than the hand he was dealt, and so did those poor, ill-fated soldiers under his command.
He made his way almost to [member="Khonsu Amon"], where his gun had landed, and crouched low to scoop the weapon off the ground. With a painful effort, he rolled the shoulder at his right and grit his teeth. The pain was exquisite, and reminded him of a different time. The feelings that blossomed forth caused his heartbeat to increase, and with it, the pain seemed to dull. He felt his mind work at staggering speed as he mapped out a course of action.
Khonsu presented a clear and present obstacle to his intended purpose, but they were allies in this venture. He was not going to sully the honor of his armor or his clan by resorting to friendly fire. There were many possibilities, but the one that seemed most promising would require something a bit more thought out than whimsical.
He tucked the weapon away and circled out, making a clear path to the Jedi as he engaged with Amon. Kaliki'ad snapped free of his back and firmly into his grip as he breathed shakily in and out. His HUD estimated the subtleties of both players' movements and sought out the nexes of their blows, it timed their defensive movements, and it told Alkor the precise moment he would have to move to get what he wanted.
Now.
It blared in his ear, but he barely heard it. The screech lasted for longer than two heartbeats, a longer time than it took for him to explore into motion. They might feel in the Force as danger, or they might not- Alkor had no such connection for his feelings to bleed out into- but he rushed at the combatants with his blade dipped low.
It would take a few moments for him to reach.
[member="Wyatt Morga"]
Vilaz Munin
Aliit Alor
Location: Dubrillion Refinery Complex
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Vaylin"] | Darth Prazutis | [member="Comet"] | [member="Elani Zambrano"] | TSE
Enemies: [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | TRA
Objective: Subdue and eliminate
Vilaz was not...infected of the Force, thankfully, unlike the Sith that were aboard the Emperor’s personal shuttle that flew through the void of space, avoiding volleys of turbolasers and hostile spacecraft that violently painted the scenario above the earth of Dubrillion. It was much more vibrant when looked upon, yet the theater taking place below the atmosphere of Dubrillion was much more explicit and detailed. Fighting within the cockpit of a star fighter and blasting his enemies into the silence of space, or having star destroyers at his will and outthinking his opponent on the other side of the field never interested him. No, having feet on the ground, a beskad in hand, and slaying beings in person attracted more than anything else. The Warlord was always a man that belonged to the front lines of a vanguard, never covering the rear or anything as that.
While he was a man that hated the idea of the Force, his position on it was a bit complex. How so? Well, after Carnifex’s personal shuttle received damage by enemy ordnance and considering the altitude and velocity the vessel view people would survive this landing. He could’ve died, but fortunately that never happened as a barrier was made that served to protect everyone except the two pilots that deceased after the shuttle’s happy landing. How funny that the thing he hated just saved his life from the nasty landing that he and the others experienced.
Still...his stance on the Force didn't change and continued to hate on it. Stubborn and prideful he was, perhaps a bad thing to heavy on the sin of pride. Nevertheless, old habits and behaviors never changed.
The Zambrano’s crimson blade carved through a shape in what was once the functioning cockpit of the Crestfallen. From there, those that had joined the Dark Lord of the Sith would leave the wreckage and would run at superhuman speed by tamping in with the Force. Which left the Mandalorian behind, running to catch up with his allies. Quite comedical to see.
”Fething Force Users and their speed,” the Munin grunted to himself as he ran.
After running for some seconds his legs jumped up and activated his repulsorpack which elevated him in the air, yet making sure not too high as was not in the mood of being in some marksman’s sights. The speed of the aerial device made sure he arrived quickly as he can on one of the metal platforms of the refinery complex that overlook the beautiful landscape of Dubrillion that was covered in the imagery of war.
His HUD plotted out a map of the refinery, granted access by high Sith-Imperial command, and would venture further within the Imperial architecture. His double sworded vibroblade was in hand and like its wielder, it was hungering for flesh to rip apart and have its contents spilled.
Allies: [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Vaylin"] | Darth Prazutis | [member="Comet"] | [member="Elani Zambrano"] | TSE
Enemies: [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | TRA
Objective: Subdue and eliminate
Vilaz was not...infected of the Force, thankfully, unlike the Sith that were aboard the Emperor’s personal shuttle that flew through the void of space, avoiding volleys of turbolasers and hostile spacecraft that violently painted the scenario above the earth of Dubrillion. It was much more vibrant when looked upon, yet the theater taking place below the atmosphere of Dubrillion was much more explicit and detailed. Fighting within the cockpit of a star fighter and blasting his enemies into the silence of space, or having star destroyers at his will and outthinking his opponent on the other side of the field never interested him. No, having feet on the ground, a beskad in hand, and slaying beings in person attracted more than anything else. The Warlord was always a man that belonged to the front lines of a vanguard, never covering the rear or anything as that.
While he was a man that hated the idea of the Force, his position on it was a bit complex. How so? Well, after Carnifex’s personal shuttle received damage by enemy ordnance and considering the altitude and velocity the vessel view people would survive this landing. He could’ve died, but fortunately that never happened as a barrier was made that served to protect everyone except the two pilots that deceased after the shuttle’s happy landing. How funny that the thing he hated just saved his life from the nasty landing that he and the others experienced.
Still...his stance on the Force didn't change and continued to hate on it. Stubborn and prideful he was, perhaps a bad thing to heavy on the sin of pride. Nevertheless, old habits and behaviors never changed.
The Zambrano’s crimson blade carved through a shape in what was once the functioning cockpit of the Crestfallen. From there, those that had joined the Dark Lord of the Sith would leave the wreckage and would run at superhuman speed by tamping in with the Force. Which left the Mandalorian behind, running to catch up with his allies. Quite comedical to see.
”Fething Force Users and their speed,” the Munin grunted to himself as he ran.
After running for some seconds his legs jumped up and activated his repulsorpack which elevated him in the air, yet making sure not too high as was not in the mood of being in some marksman’s sights. The speed of the aerial device made sure he arrived quickly as he can on one of the metal platforms of the refinery complex that overlook the beautiful landscape of Dubrillion that was covered in the imagery of war.
His HUD plotted out a map of the refinery, granted access by high Sith-Imperial command, and would venture further within the Imperial architecture. His double sworded vibroblade was in hand and like its wielder, it was hungering for flesh to rip apart and have its contents spilled.
Jantar Keltainen
Evil is a word used by the ignorant and the weak
Objective: Stop the rebels taking the Refinery Complex
Location: Refinery
Allies: Sith
Enemies: [member="Cenric Marus"]
Jantar walked slowly along the corridors. The briefing they’d received suggested key points the rebels would target. Although she was supposed to have operated as part of a team, they’d been given enough information to operate alone – in case they became separated, or their partner died.
Jantar simply bypassed either scenario and went straight to solo mode. It should speed her up – no debates about turning left or right at the interchange. No pointless conversations about, ‘Did you hear that,’ ‘Do you sense that,’ ‘Do you come her often.’ The usual banalities.
Calmness, in and of itself, was a bad thing. Jantar needed her adrenaline to flow – she needed to stir her emotions in order to better access the dark-side. Yes, she could drag out memories, but real-life feelings…they were so much better.
Suddenly she heard a loud klaxon nearby – swiftly followed by the sound of heavy laser bolts. The initial shock produced a sense of fear and this – above all emotions – was the one she liked the best. Well, almost the best – but there is time for that later.
For some, it was a debilitating emotion, but properly harnessed, it beat anger or pain. For Jantar embraced what she feared. She never felt more alive than when she believed she was close to death. It liberated her, exhilarated her.
So, she followed the sounds – and soon saw the tell-tale red lights of an activated proximity alarm. But she trod carefully – the turrets could not differentiate friend from foe. She’d allow the intruder to remove their threat – or if they died, she’d find a more worthy opponent.
Location: Refinery
Allies: Sith
Enemies: [member="Cenric Marus"]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsUhA23-eME
Jantar walked slowly along the corridors. The briefing they’d received suggested key points the rebels would target. Although she was supposed to have operated as part of a team, they’d been given enough information to operate alone – in case they became separated, or their partner died.
Jantar simply bypassed either scenario and went straight to solo mode. It should speed her up – no debates about turning left or right at the interchange. No pointless conversations about, ‘Did you hear that,’ ‘Do you sense that,’ ‘Do you come her often.’ The usual banalities.
Calmness, in and of itself, was a bad thing. Jantar needed her adrenaline to flow – she needed to stir her emotions in order to better access the dark-side. Yes, she could drag out memories, but real-life feelings…they were so much better.
Suddenly she heard a loud klaxon nearby – swiftly followed by the sound of heavy laser bolts. The initial shock produced a sense of fear and this – above all emotions – was the one she liked the best. Well, almost the best – but there is time for that later.
For some, it was a debilitating emotion, but properly harnessed, it beat anger or pain. For Jantar embraced what she feared. She never felt more alive than when she believed she was close to death. It liberated her, exhilarated her.
So, she followed the sounds – and soon saw the tell-tale red lights of an activated proximity alarm. But she trod carefully – the turrets could not differentiate friend from foe. She’d allow the intruder to remove their threat – or if they died, she’d find a more worthy opponent.
The Admiralty
Location: Dubrillion, Saaraishash HQ
Allies: TSE [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Vaylin"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Samka Derith"]
Enemies: Rebels | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
--
The one eye stared at the map created by Hirou and found himself grinding his teeth.
Neither option was ideal- both had sizeable Rebel forces incoming and their engineers were still trying to break through the jamming sequence established by the Rebel fleet at hyperspace reentry. Whichever route they went, they wouldn't be able to figure out what was happening on the other side until it was too late. It was a risk that Ardeth didn't enjoy taking.
He always calculated, looked at the situation from multiple angles, before making a decision.
There wasn't any time for that now though.
"The refinery is the logical choice." The High Inquisitor, Tabigarashu Madara, suddenly squeaked out and Ardeth looked up. Eye-ridge frowned as he studied the retreating form of the cat. The decision was made quickly then- because if the Inquisitor thought it was the right way to go?
Then who was Ardeth to argue that.
"The refinery it is then, High Inquisitor. Agent Ri'Had, we will accompany you." He called out after Ri'had, before the Muun offered the palm of his large hand for Hirou to jump on, if they were in need of quick transportation, before he strode after the fellow agent. They were... a strange sort, if Ardeth was being honest. Oh, an alien, so clearly much better than all those filthy humans.
But-
Strange.
They'd find their way towards the hangars and Ardeth's mind were abuzz with thoughts. "If only we could break through their heavy jamming." It would have made everything easier, no?
Allies: TSE [member="Tabigarashu Madara"] [member="Khaji Ri'Had"] [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Vaylin"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] [member="Samka Derith"]
Enemies: Rebels | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Aten Ramses"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
--
The one eye stared at the map created by Hirou and found himself grinding his teeth.
Neither option was ideal- both had sizeable Rebel forces incoming and their engineers were still trying to break through the jamming sequence established by the Rebel fleet at hyperspace reentry. Whichever route they went, they wouldn't be able to figure out what was happening on the other side until it was too late. It was a risk that Ardeth didn't enjoy taking.
He always calculated, looked at the situation from multiple angles, before making a decision.
There wasn't any time for that now though.
"The refinery is the logical choice." The High Inquisitor, Tabigarashu Madara, suddenly squeaked out and Ardeth looked up. Eye-ridge frowned as he studied the retreating form of the cat. The decision was made quickly then- because if the Inquisitor thought it was the right way to go?
Then who was Ardeth to argue that.
"The refinery it is then, High Inquisitor. Agent Ri'Had, we will accompany you." He called out after Ri'had, before the Muun offered the palm of his large hand for Hirou to jump on, if they were in need of quick transportation, before he strode after the fellow agent. They were... a strange sort, if Ardeth was being honest. Oh, an alien, so clearly much better than all those filthy humans.
But-
Strange.
They'd find their way towards the hangars and Ardeth's mind were abuzz with thoughts. "If only we could break through their heavy jamming." It would have made everything easier, no?
Jairus Starvald
Eidoloclast
Location: Kolto Processing Plant, Deep Lab
Allies: TSE, incoming [member="Leliana"] [member="Djorn Bline"]
Enemies: Whoever is upsetting the Progenitors (Rebels, [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"])
In Scene: [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"]
"Oh, I think they can be quite pleasant, if you give them a chance to behave."
In truth he had been bored this entire time, so playing with the meaning of his words and watching how it all flew over Vain's head. It was very amusing and honestly maybe it was a little bit too hilarious. He really needed a hobby. (No, building up a cult with murderous sentients and occultists wasn't the same thing, thank you very much.) But whatever that hobby would be, it would have to wait for now.
Jairus dropped into the sub.
Then stretched a bit- which spawned an angry noise from his right side. Jai glanced over and only then noticed he had practically pushed Vain into the wall with that little gesture.
The discrepancy between their size hadn't ever been more clear.
"Oh." The Sith Lord carefully pulled himself back a bit, trying to keep his arse on one place but it was difficult. This seat was hilariously inadequate for him. "Sorry, these things really weren't made for me." Very smol, but he reckoned that it would be pretty comfortable for Vain and Jain exclusively. The piloting began and it became clear that Jairus was okay at it.
Not great, he scrapped the tight corridor a handful of times, but ignored the glances she send him.
"You know, you remind me of someone... just can't put my finger on it." Jai mumbled before the Progenitors came into view. The light of the sub caused them to slink off into the shadowy parts of the crevice, but he could feel them too and they felt like the Darkside.
"Mmm, what are you thinking?"
Allies: TSE, incoming [member="Leliana"] [member="Djorn Bline"]
Enemies: Whoever is upsetting the Progenitors (Rebels, [member="Ari Vox"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Elpsis Kerrigan-Alcori"])
In Scene: [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"]
"Oh, I think they can be quite pleasant, if you give them a chance to behave."
In truth he had been bored this entire time, so playing with the meaning of his words and watching how it all flew over Vain's head. It was very amusing and honestly maybe it was a little bit too hilarious. He really needed a hobby. (No, building up a cult with murderous sentients and occultists wasn't the same thing, thank you very much.) But whatever that hobby would be, it would have to wait for now.
Jairus dropped into the sub.
Then stretched a bit- which spawned an angry noise from his right side. Jai glanced over and only then noticed he had practically pushed Vain into the wall with that little gesture.
The discrepancy between their size hadn't ever been more clear.
"Oh." The Sith Lord carefully pulled himself back a bit, trying to keep his arse on one place but it was difficult. This seat was hilariously inadequate for him. "Sorry, these things really weren't made for me." Very smol, but he reckoned that it would be pretty comfortable for Vain and Jain exclusively. The piloting began and it became clear that Jairus was okay at it.
Not great, he scrapped the tight corridor a handful of times, but ignored the glances she send him.
"You know, you remind me of someone... just can't put my finger on it." Jai mumbled before the Progenitors came into view. The light of the sub caused them to slink off into the shadowy parts of the crevice, but he could feel them too and they felt like the Darkside.
"Mmm, what are you thinking?"
B E A C O N
This Is War
Location: Dubrillion
Objective: Get rid of the Rebel Alliance (At the Refinery)
Equipment: Orbalisk Armor, Lightsabers
Allies: Not the Jedi
Enemies: The Jedi
She sucked air in through her nostrils, her eyes closing tight as she strode through the street with that insufferable bearer of bad news trailing slightly behind her. "Where did you say that most of them were making a play at?" She asked, after letting out a deep breath that shifted the breeze around them. "Well, like I said a few minutes ago, some of them were expected to be moving on the Kolto plant, and we believe a team is, or was, moving on the refinery complex." The woman said, evidently having explained this already - something she seemed to put some emphasis on. The Firrerreo shook her head and opened her eyes, staring ahead, and sighed. "Yes, but where are most of them expected to be? I'm not going to waste my time walking out to one of the two if I'm going to play the part of observer." Braith repeated impatiently. Speaking of walking, the witch strode through the street barefoot and seemed to be hardly bothered with the feeling of the bottom of her feet treading on hot pavement, if even at all. "Well I suppose the majority would be heading towards the refinery, but it might be better to be concerned about the smaller groups - they might send fewer, but more capable, Jedi there." She replied, clearly not aware of what Braith was usually tasked with taking care of. "Well then it's a good thing we have many capable Sith available to head towards both places, hm? I'll be heading towards the refinery, I'd suggest you not tag along unless you're confident in your ability to avoid becoming collateral damage." She said smugly, her hand reaching down for the saberstaff that hung from the right side of her hip.
The two parted ways there, with the woman that was little more than a messenger tasked to rouse her from her sleep running off to notify her superior of the developments on her end and Braith on her way to the refinery complex. Golden parasites lined her body like interlocking scales of armor and her dark hair was tied tightly into a bun. Her interests were far removed from the concerns of empire at large and were much more personal - she had a deep-seated distrust for the Jedi Order ever since the days of the Galactic Republic, and even a little white lie by the agents of the empire about information regarding the disappearance of someone she only wanted answers from did much more to spur her into action that petty concerns like the safety of a planet so close to the capital. At the very least she could let off some steam and kill some of these fools if they couldn't give her what she wanted - not that she had high hopes for any real information in the first place. Still, she had to put in work at some point.
"Might as well start now.."
Location: Dubrillion
Objective: Get rid of the Rebel Alliance (At the Refinery)
Equipment: Orbalisk Armor, Lightsabers
Allies: Not the Jedi
Enemies: The Jedi
She sucked air in through her nostrils, her eyes closing tight as she strode through the street with that insufferable bearer of bad news trailing slightly behind her. "Where did you say that most of them were making a play at?" She asked, after letting out a deep breath that shifted the breeze around them. "Well, like I said a few minutes ago, some of them were expected to be moving on the Kolto plant, and we believe a team is, or was, moving on the refinery complex." The woman said, evidently having explained this already - something she seemed to put some emphasis on. The Firrerreo shook her head and opened her eyes, staring ahead, and sighed. "Yes, but where are most of them expected to be? I'm not going to waste my time walking out to one of the two if I'm going to play the part of observer." Braith repeated impatiently. Speaking of walking, the witch strode through the street barefoot and seemed to be hardly bothered with the feeling of the bottom of her feet treading on hot pavement, if even at all. "Well I suppose the majority would be heading towards the refinery, but it might be better to be concerned about the smaller groups - they might send fewer, but more capable, Jedi there." She replied, clearly not aware of what Braith was usually tasked with taking care of. "Well then it's a good thing we have many capable Sith available to head towards both places, hm? I'll be heading towards the refinery, I'd suggest you not tag along unless you're confident in your ability to avoid becoming collateral damage." She said smugly, her hand reaching down for the saberstaff that hung from the right side of her hip.
The two parted ways there, with the woman that was little more than a messenger tasked to rouse her from her sleep running off to notify her superior of the developments on her end and Braith on her way to the refinery complex. Golden parasites lined her body like interlocking scales of armor and her dark hair was tied tightly into a bun. Her interests were far removed from the concerns of empire at large and were much more personal - she had a deep-seated distrust for the Jedi Order ever since the days of the Galactic Republic, and even a little white lie by the agents of the empire about information regarding the disappearance of someone she only wanted answers from did much more to spur her into action that petty concerns like the safety of a planet so close to the capital. At the very least she could let off some steam and kill some of these fools if they couldn't give her what she wanted - not that she had high hopes for any real information in the first place. Still, she had to put in work at some point.
"Might as well start now.."
Reaching
Location: Garrison
Objective:Get rekt in card games. Don't get rekt in life!
Allies: [member="Cam Fyrden"] [member="Darth Voracitos"]
Enemies: [member="Tathra Khaeus"]
Oh fething fethcakes
BAM, went the droppod, smashing the legionaries in front of him. A splash of red and sand sprayed across Kir's chest and helmet as he pulled up his weapon.
Oh Ancestors have mercy
The repeated shock of the weapon shook his arms as he stepped backwards, laying down suppressive fire against the monsters that exited. They were bigger than him, much bigger. However, the rapid repetition of explosive rounds roaring from his weapon did tear through the carapace. He was slower than the others and he knew that made him a target.
They would tear him limb from limb if they got a hold of him.
As soon as the closest squads cleared, the legionarie let go of the trigger, hoisted up the weapon, and legged it. He ran faster than he thought he was able to, fuelled by the absolute terror those creatures struck in him. A terror, however, that did not outweigh his willingness to fight. He and the others were ingrained with the ideal of the martyr in war, and they knew that death would come for them. But the measure of an Imperial hero was the mountain of corpses it fell upon, and Kir had not made enough of a mountain yet.
"Blast them, blast them!"
Days of basic training flashed in front of his eyes, he could see their old mentor, a retired Blackblade, instructing them on how to fight a larger opponent: Split up, small squadrons constantly moving. Lay down suppressive fire and keep mobile. They will tire more quickly than you. Avoid engaging in melee if you can.
Throwing the repeating particle blaster in front of him, the mirialan legionarie ducked behind the cover of a crushed artillery piece. He let his weapon cool down while he unhooked one of the grenades from his harness.
"Private, for the Emperor, that is why!" "For home!"
Charging the grenade, he could see the two giants locked in combat. Nothing he had could tear one of them apart without destroying the other, so Kir focused on the grunts.
Objective:
Allies: [member="Cam Fyrden"] [member="Darth Voracitos"]
Enemies: [member="Tathra Khaeus"]
____________________________
Oh fething fethcakes
BAM, went the droppod, smashing the legionaries in front of him. A splash of red and sand sprayed across Kir's chest and helmet as he pulled up his weapon.
Oh Ancestors have mercy
The repeated shock of the weapon shook his arms as he stepped backwards, laying down suppressive fire against the monsters that exited. They were bigger than him, much bigger. However, the rapid repetition of explosive rounds roaring from his weapon did tear through the carapace. He was slower than the others and he knew that made him a target.
They would tear him limb from limb if they got a hold of him.
As soon as the closest squads cleared, the legionarie let go of the trigger, hoisted up the weapon, and legged it. He ran faster than he thought he was able to, fuelled by the absolute terror those creatures struck in him. A terror, however, that did not outweigh his willingness to fight. He and the others were ingrained with the ideal of the martyr in war, and they knew that death would come for them. But the measure of an Imperial hero was the mountain of corpses it fell upon, and Kir had not made enough of a mountain yet.
"Blast them, blast them!"
Days of basic training flashed in front of his eyes, he could see their old mentor, a retired Blackblade, instructing them on how to fight a larger opponent: Split up, small squadrons constantly moving. Lay down suppressive fire and keep mobile. They will tire more quickly than you. Avoid engaging in melee if you can.
Throwing the repeating particle blaster in front of him, the mirialan legionarie ducked behind the cover of a crushed artillery piece. He let his weapon cool down while he unhooked one of the grenades from his harness.
"Private, for the Emperor, that is why!" "For home!"
Charging the grenade, he could see the two giants locked in combat. Nothing he had could tear one of them apart without destroying the other, so Kir focused on the grunts.
No. 1
OBJECTIVE: Earn Credits
LOCATION: Above The Refinery
ALLIES: The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: The Rebel Alliance
The Spear II gracefully moved throughout the void of space. Avoiding the hail fire of coloured lasers as they made their way towards it. A half spin there, and a full spin here. It's guns ran red, hot, glowing. A continuous fire that snuffed out a Rebellion with the persistent squeeze of a singular button. His Heads Up Display ran wild within the cockpit, towards the vessels ahead, creating a mass confusion for anyone unfamiliar with the intricacies of Mandalorian technology. Fortunately enough, Fett had worn a helmet his entire life. It was't always Mandalorian, it wasn't always beskar; at one point is known to the Galaxy as the uniform of one of the greatest armies they had ever seen, and it was made of plastoid. All of that was gone now, that identity he had was gone. He wasn't some Clone anymore, he was some Bounty Hunter. The Bounty Hunter with more captures than any other- the best in the Galaxy. Finally. Finally he had a purpose. Finally he was his own man.
Then, however, he jolted forward as the Spear II was struck by something, by some Rebel. A quick glance at his Radar and it showed several Rebel Fighters behind him. Not a chance some Imperial came to save him, he was just a Bounty Hunter- not worth anything in the eyes of most. He stuck out like a sore thumb too, but that was on Fett for the choice in starship. He had only one thing to do, and that was to run. Flee. The Ship descended into the atmosphere, tearing through it rapidly as it bobbed left, and bobbed right, an occasional laser striking true on it's target. He didn't intend on having a Spear III that was for sure. Oh the poor Concord Spear wasting away in a Dagobah Swamp. An unfortunate reality.
Fett fiddled with several buttons, switches and the like in a mere moment as he soared several hundred metres above the Refinery. That thing about running? It didn't last forever, and it was always for one reason or another; to gain an advantage. One final press of a button, a concealed compartment on the rear of the Spear II opened to reveal a particular type of bomb. A Seismic Charge. Seconds of silence bar the raging roars of starship engines. Then, well, it detonated. A blue circle extended itself outwards from the explosive device, rippling through the air and crushing all the Fighters behind him with it's seismic energy. Fett was in the clear, and a smirk cracked upon his face.
His next action may of proven a bit rash. The magnetic lock on Koda's boots kicked in, and he found himself glued to the floor, only relieving it's from the vice-like grip whenever he demanded to take a step forth. The autopilot encircled the Refinery from hundreds of metres above, and upon eventually reaching the ramp of the Spear II, Fett lowered it. The deafening roar of the winds consumed him, and then he jumped. Plummeting to Durbillion like a stone from space. A very heavy stone, mind you.
LOCATION: Above The Refinery
ALLIES: The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: The Rebel Alliance
The Spear II gracefully moved throughout the void of space. Avoiding the hail fire of coloured lasers as they made their way towards it. A half spin there, and a full spin here. It's guns ran red, hot, glowing. A continuous fire that snuffed out a Rebellion with the persistent squeeze of a singular button. His Heads Up Display ran wild within the cockpit, towards the vessels ahead, creating a mass confusion for anyone unfamiliar with the intricacies of Mandalorian technology. Fortunately enough, Fett had worn a helmet his entire life. It was't always Mandalorian, it wasn't always beskar; at one point is known to the Galaxy as the uniform of one of the greatest armies they had ever seen, and it was made of plastoid. All of that was gone now, that identity he had was gone. He wasn't some Clone anymore, he was some Bounty Hunter. The Bounty Hunter with more captures than any other- the best in the Galaxy. Finally. Finally he had a purpose. Finally he was his own man.
Then, however, he jolted forward as the Spear II was struck by something, by some Rebel. A quick glance at his Radar and it showed several Rebel Fighters behind him. Not a chance some Imperial came to save him, he was just a Bounty Hunter- not worth anything in the eyes of most. He stuck out like a sore thumb too, but that was on Fett for the choice in starship. He had only one thing to do, and that was to run. Flee. The Ship descended into the atmosphere, tearing through it rapidly as it bobbed left, and bobbed right, an occasional laser striking true on it's target. He didn't intend on having a Spear III that was for sure. Oh the poor Concord Spear wasting away in a Dagobah Swamp. An unfortunate reality.
Fett fiddled with several buttons, switches and the like in a mere moment as he soared several hundred metres above the Refinery. That thing about running? It didn't last forever, and it was always for one reason or another; to gain an advantage. One final press of a button, a concealed compartment on the rear of the Spear II opened to reveal a particular type of bomb. A Seismic Charge. Seconds of silence bar the raging roars of starship engines. Then, well, it detonated. A blue circle extended itself outwards from the explosive device, rippling through the air and crushing all the Fighters behind him with it's seismic energy. Fett was in the clear, and a smirk cracked upon his face.
His next action may of proven a bit rash. The magnetic lock on Koda's boots kicked in, and he found himself glued to the floor, only relieving it's from the vice-like grip whenever he demanded to take a step forth. The autopilot encircled the Refinery from hundreds of metres above, and upon eventually reaching the ramp of the Spear II, Fett lowered it. The deafening roar of the winds consumed him, and then he jumped. Plummeting to Durbillion like a stone from space. A very heavy stone, mind you.
Igni Irae
Allies: Rebels - [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Noah Corek"]
Enemies: [member="Leliana"], [member="Djorn Bline"], [member="Jairus Starvald"], [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"]
any other Sithies who jump in
Phrik armour, lightsabre (both in sig), rebreather, boltgun, sonic carbine, sidearm.
These are the exploits of Away Team...Rogue. Its mission? Trespass on Sith government property and disrupt said government's autarky policies, upset the fish and disrupt the Sith Inquisition's coffee break. Not necessarily in this order. Anyhow...on with the plot.
Intrusion had been made, Quarren guards had been encountered and taken out lethally or nonlethally. Air had been cut in this section of the facility, though luckily they wore rebreathers. Of course, that would not last indefinitely, but no matter. The slicer was busy working his techno-wizadry.
While the team subdued the Quarren regulars, Elpsis' attention lay elsewhere. For the briefest of moments, her Force senses prickled. In the far distance, she felt a dark presence. Strong. Powerful. Malevolent. Clearly that of a Master. Force Sense was no science and did not yield pinpoint accuracy. The presence receded, as if moving away. Or concealing itself.
She soon lost track of it when precognition whispered inside her mind. "Stormies." Her ethereal eyes caught sight of presences moving from around a corner - thank you Heavenly Mother, for letting the empath see through walls. Her lightsabre was in her grasp by the time the Stormtrooper patrol had happened upon them. Every jackbooted, imperialist tyrant had Stormtroopers. Some could aim, some could not hit a barn. Then again, in all fairness, the First Galactic Empire's Stormtroopers tended to perform well unless they went up against heroes with plot armour. Or were handicapped by idiot leaders.
These musings aside, the whine of blasters filled the air. It was met by the song of a lightsabre as it slashed bolts out of the air, with some of the Rebel Specops returning fire as well. These stormtroopers could aim and were equipped with better rifles than the crappy E-11. Stormtroopers or were injured died all the same as reflected bolts pummelled them. Moving quickly, Elpsis advanced. However, a Stormtrooper was canny and produced a sonic blaster. Misunderstanding the nature of the weapon, she blocked on reflex with her sabre when the bolt screamed towards her.
Ouch. The sabre fell out of her grasp. Her arm hurt. Another bolt grazed her, causing her to feel dizzy and disorientated. Instincts took over. A blaster bolt was caught with her hand. The burning sensation was painful, but fed her with energy. Energy she unleashed by projecting her willpower onto the blasters of the surviving soldiers. Blazing heat flooded the blasters at a ridiculously fast pace. Boom. There was a smell of ozone, accompanied by cries of troopers when their overloaded weapons were turned against them. Her sabre cut one down, then was thrust through the helmet of another. One patrol was out of the game. Obviously there were many more. A facility this crucial would merit a large garrison, after all.
"Sensed a dark presence earlier. Probably a Sith Master," she said calmly. "Can't track precisely. Seemed to be moving away. To the ocean, maybe," she remarked. As for Jairus' observation, Elpsis was of the opinion that she was hella hot. She had a bit of an ego in such matters. Bit like Sio. Just not pompous and egotistical.
Enemies: [member="Leliana"], [member="Djorn Bline"], [member="Jairus Starvald"], [member="Dr. Vain Jar'He"]
any other Sithies who jump in
Phrik armour, lightsabre (both in sig), rebreather, boltgun, sonic carbine, sidearm.
These are the exploits of Away Team...Rogue. Its mission? Trespass on Sith government property and disrupt said government's autarky policies, upset the fish and disrupt the Sith Inquisition's coffee break. Not necessarily in this order. Anyhow...on with the plot.
Intrusion had been made, Quarren guards had been encountered and taken out lethally or nonlethally. Air had been cut in this section of the facility, though luckily they wore rebreathers. Of course, that would not last indefinitely, but no matter. The slicer was busy working his techno-wizadry.
While the team subdued the Quarren regulars, Elpsis' attention lay elsewhere. For the briefest of moments, her Force senses prickled. In the far distance, she felt a dark presence. Strong. Powerful. Malevolent. Clearly that of a Master. Force Sense was no science and did not yield pinpoint accuracy. The presence receded, as if moving away. Or concealing itself.
She soon lost track of it when precognition whispered inside her mind. "Stormies." Her ethereal eyes caught sight of presences moving from around a corner - thank you Heavenly Mother, for letting the empath see through walls. Her lightsabre was in her grasp by the time the Stormtrooper patrol had happened upon them. Every jackbooted, imperialist tyrant had Stormtroopers. Some could aim, some could not hit a barn. Then again, in all fairness, the First Galactic Empire's Stormtroopers tended to perform well unless they went up against heroes with plot armour. Or were handicapped by idiot leaders.
These musings aside, the whine of blasters filled the air. It was met by the song of a lightsabre as it slashed bolts out of the air, with some of the Rebel Specops returning fire as well. These stormtroopers could aim and were equipped with better rifles than the crappy E-11. Stormtroopers or were injured died all the same as reflected bolts pummelled them. Moving quickly, Elpsis advanced. However, a Stormtrooper was canny and produced a sonic blaster. Misunderstanding the nature of the weapon, she blocked on reflex with her sabre when the bolt screamed towards her.
Ouch. The sabre fell out of her grasp. Her arm hurt. Another bolt grazed her, causing her to feel dizzy and disorientated. Instincts took over. A blaster bolt was caught with her hand. The burning sensation was painful, but fed her with energy. Energy she unleashed by projecting her willpower onto the blasters of the surviving soldiers. Blazing heat flooded the blasters at a ridiculously fast pace. Boom. There was a smell of ozone, accompanied by cries of troopers when their overloaded weapons were turned against them. Her sabre cut one down, then was thrust through the helmet of another. One patrol was out of the game. Obviously there were many more. A facility this crucial would merit a large garrison, after all.
"Sensed a dark presence earlier. Probably a Sith Master," she said calmly. "Can't track precisely. Seemed to be moving away. To the ocean, maybe," she remarked. As for Jairus' observation, Elpsis was of the opinion that she was hella hot. She had a bit of an ego in such matters. Bit like Sio. Just not pompous and egotistical.