Invasion Z is for Ziost! (The Primeval invasion of Silver Sanctum Ziost)

[Darth Voracitos]

Objective: Stomping space maggots (B)
Location: Somewhere inside the Orbital Defense Station
Allies: The Primeval, I suppose
Enemies: Space maggots
Gear: You think me base? I've nothing but myself and what mass is held behind these violet robes.
(Hover Throne and lightsaber)

Ziost.​

​

"Huh, apparently I had arrived here to form some... pitiful alliance of barbaric Warlords." The Dark Lord mused as he looked upon the defense station fast approaching while he was aboard his transport ship boarding the station by the end of his sentence. "Apparently I've been busy as an over bloated corpse. I'm glad I ate them." The morbidly obese man laughed slightly to himself, though maintaining an unamused sort of look. His Throne pushed against the gravity of the station, straining slightly under the weight of its master... his presence a welcomed blight upon this darkened world of the Sith. He breathed in the vivid darkness held here, and the conflict going on all around.

"At least I had good tastes." This time, he legitimately smiled as he welcomed the senses of his own flesh and blood body renewed through Akala's portals, taking in everything around him. In his hand, he held a glass of wine, and carefully brought it to his lips to sip, as his Hover Throne casually descended down the transport ramp into the defense station. Any manner of defenses could be awaiting him, but they were nothing. If he felt any meaningful incoming presence, he did not yet lead on to it yet. If they came to him, they came to him.

He couldn't care less who thought they could challenge the portly man from the history books, anyone who should challenge him, would be given a good lesson as to why he was named the Master of Gluttony.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Objective: A
Location: On the Walls
Allies: Silver Coalition, [member=Thurion Heavenshield]
Enemies: Primeval
Gear:

Spoiler

-Beskar'gam
-Orar'bev
-Two dual WESTAR 34 pistols
-Fett-Kal Knife
-One Flashbang
-One thermal detonator
-Repulsorpack

There on the walls of an ancient architecture that stood proud and strong since the days of the Old Republic was the Mandalorian Rally Master among many other men and women here to fend off a foe he and his vode were currently battling: the Primeval. News of this invasion intrigued the ears of the Warrior and it was a scenario he could not miss. Vengeance he sought out on the Primeval for causing injury on the Mando'ade. He wasn't marching with his brothers and sisters to cause havoc and death on this new enemy. He knew that very well and knew he would be giving his strength to the noble Jedi in this hour. If he was paid or not he was more than happy to kill these zealots with Warriors by his side.

The cold harsh wind hit his uncovered face as he had his buy'ce in his right hand. Moments passed and his ears had the opportunity to meet the frostbite. It hurt, yes, but that wasn't anything when facing raging fire from his enemies. His eyes scanned the area and saw identical soldiers with similar armor, yet different weapons but from these masses of defenders he saw a man in armor of blue and gold giving orders to lives who vowed to fight until the end. He admired their courage and hoped they wouldn't be afraid of Death when it had come to take their lives. There was no greater honor than dying with bravery.

And there it was, the first shot fired. Who fired it? That didn't matter to him, but it symbolized the beginning of this battle. The cue signal as he concealed his face with his buy'ce that protected his face and represented him as a Mandalorian with the traditional T visor. He didn't descended from his nest just yet. He wasn't a coward, no. It was pawns facing off pawns. Vilaz was only just conserving his strength until a huge threat that could rid of ranks of soldiers. Something that was proportional to him or more.

Something like a challenge, that could contend with the Redneck.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Objective: Taking a tour of the Citadel, with a number of friends! (A)
Location: Just outside the party zone! (Outside the citadel)
Allies: I'm dancing! (Primeval)
Enemies: I'm dancing solo, but soon that shall change! (S.S.C.)
Gear: Oh, well you see here I've got my hands, my Throne, my whip, my Lovey! , and a secret surprise!

Spoiler

My whip is something I've used since day one, a six meter long paralytic barbed whip capable of rending flesh into shreds, and lacing the wounds with a quick acting paralytic drug that relaxes the muscles for increased damage upon subsequent lashes, without numbing the pain. Often seen dirty with chunks of flesh and dry coagulated blood coating it. Immediate effects of the poison affects only the lacerated area, but will spread quickly throughout the radius given several moments, especially if close to major arteries.


As for my special surprise, I won't tell what it is, but I promise it isn't anything cheaty! I just prefer to unveil it when it is most dramatic! If you are uncomfortable facing me with this in mind, I'll fill you in via PM.

Ziost​

​

Pecking an ear off of a dead body strewn up on his Throne, the zealous grey-black Hutt and his rotted flesh was being ferried across the land by the strain of his Hover Throne pushing against the gravitic pull of this world, his presence a welcomed blight to the darkness held here. Roaring in delight, the Warlord was chasing two dozens individuals leading to the Citadel, screaming and sending his whip at them, hoping to catch one for his own pleasurable enjoyment. Each of these Terror Runners were sprinting towards their deaths, as they had on Wayland, only their presence here would not matter in the long run.

It was what the Warlord could do on his against the enemy, that would matter in the end. His eyes crimson with blood lusting desire, he was in precisely the correct mood to devour the enemy whole. Who though, would be the first to face his poisoning wrath?

It could be anyone, but as the Terror Runners all exploded into the Citadel, allowing their master passage into the defensive fort, the Warlord hoped to meet them soon. His itch to play was nearly overwhelming.

 

[Nima Tann]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the Walls
Allies: Silver Sanctum Coalition
Enemies: Primeval, [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Loxa Visl"]
Gear: Lightsaber with meditation crystal, Armored Light Jedi Robes

Tick tock tick tock...

Boom... Boom... Crash...

The cold...

Nima watched as the dedensive systems of Ziost boomed some of the ships before they landed.Primeval ground army could be seen at the distance from the walls of Ziost, all ready and their numbers were not that few either. It was her first real battle, she had been in duels here and there, but not in a real battle. Breathe, breathe... Was she scared? No. More like... excited? How could someone be excited for something like this? And how the Jedi put themselves in such a matter like this.. She, or the ones she loved, could die in here.

She slowly descended from the upper side of the walls, since the soldiers on here could take them if they got on the wall, which, she hoped that wouldn't happen. And she was going at the other side of the walla to prevent that happening. As she moved on... Primeval army started their movement as well. In a minute, outside of the wall was full of Primeval, they didn't expect such a force like this.

Swing... Defense... Swing... Parry...

She could hear the Grandmaster's speech, giving the Jedi courage to go on in this looking-bad battle scene. She shouted the ones near her, trying to give them courage. She could see her fellows dying in pain, incapacitated, choked. By the Force...

The battle continued, as the Master and bunch of Knights were outnumbered in such numbers, if she wasn't a Jedi she could easily be in a disadvantage here. She was always a fast attacker, didn't use so much armor and equipment. As her stepfather said once "Lightsaber is the only weapon you need in the dawn of darkness." One swing clear to the chest, dead. One pull towards the lightsaber slashing the stomach, dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead... Breathe in... Breathe out...

She finally has found a way out from this, since in this rate she wasn't going to last much longer, just to take a breathe then she would return to the scene. There were somebody else... Someone she could sense the darkness very much... And someone else, she couldn't quite read a signature. But footsteps... and speaking... She started to follow from the shadows.

They weren't anyone she met from the Temple, didn't look like Jedi as well. Enemies... finally she has decided to come out from the shadows and face them, as a Jedi, a Silver, a Master. Two versus one, she had her disadvantages. But she didn't fear them. "Identify yourselves." She said, in a cold tone, no attacking until they attack you. Remember your training.

 

[Keira Priest]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the walls
Allies: The Primeval
Enemies: [member="Connor Harrison"]
Gear: Personal lightsaber

Typical. The Jedi were always so boring. No response had been offered, not even a mutual acknowledgement had been extended. It would be incorrect to assume that Keira had expected anything less. Out of all the individuals she had faced in the past, this particular sect always seemed to be the most stubborn when it came to any sort of confrontation. They were bent on maintaining their composure so that they might always appear as the serene peacekeepers they attempted to embody. A laughable endeavor, allotting time to semantics rather than actually honing one's skill in battle. It was the more deadly arts that dictated whether one would survive at the end of the day, not peacekeeping or idle conversation. Something she would have thought the Jedi would have puzzled out by now.

But the one she would be facing was far from the typical Jedi. His methods were far from orthodox, his very signature in the Force a testament to that, riddled with darkness as it was. It would be easy for him to succumb to the dark and become like her, but on the other hand he could be redeemed just as easily. In her eyes he had been nothing more than another curiosity to be scrutinized, and so they had conversed in hopes of learning the other's views. Now, however, he was an obstacle, and just like those others she had been faced with in the past, he would eventually be overcome. Whether things would be resolved peacefully or through far more violent means wasn't a question that bore asking this time. It chanced that now she was out for blood, and would be hard-pressed to change her mind.

Progress slowed to a far more relaxed pace once the figure that claimed that muddled presence came into sight, the onyx armor worn serving only to add to the bleakness of their surroundings. This was an area dark by nature given the Citadel that stood upon the frozen ground, so it was an irony that the Jedi would be protecting such a place, willingly putting their lives on the line for what was considered an artifact of the very darkness they so staunchly opposed. There had always been a morbid sort of curiosity that possessed most when it came to the dark side, and it seemed they were no different. Contrarily, those that embraced it felt far more at home among the remains of a once vast empire that still took root to that day. Unlike the Jedi they weren't alienated, instead embracing every aspect of it.

In contrast to the blatant differences that separated most that would clash that day, the two standing across from each other now within conversational distance were perhaps more similar than either would willingly admit. Both had faced trials and tribulations in their life, and continued to do so despite having found some sort of temporary home. They had fought countless times before, many wars waged simply for the right to live. And in the end each had been faced with a choice between light or dark, and such was the divide wrought between them. For all of their similarities, there was that one ever present difference that the both of them were acutely aware of. Perhaps in time it could be remedied, depending on just who wavered first. But that would come later. Now was the fun part.

Briefly her gaze cut to the one behind Connor, though she didn't linger for long, her attention quickly enough turning back to the Master. "Jedi."

 

[Matreya]

Objective: B
Location: Outside the Orbital Defense Station
Allies: Primeval | [member="Darth Voracitos"]
Enemies: None at the moment
Gear: Terentatek Duster | Wardens Cloak | Beskar'gam | Kallig's Scorching Saber | Tantibus | Bodo Bass Gunbelt filled with all kinds of fun explosives | Damien's Talismans of Concentration (2)

Landing an unspecified Republic ship, one stolen so recently as to hardly be counted upon computers that held such information, Damien rose as he finished the required controls. Heading for the exit ramp, the Ancient Sith paused and cocked his head...

...why did that essence feel familiar...

...someone he knew....

..it was so near in his brain and yet unobtainable..

...Voracitos. His master. The only being he ever allowed to call themselves such. The only one who he ever allowed close enough to devour any part of him, let alone his memories. Voracitos was the sole reason Damien now considered himself a Mentalist.

Sighing, Damien felt torn as to whether he should go to his old Master or if he should leave it alone. But then, he decided with a nod, nearby would be good enough. If his Master had good enough memories he would recognize the being he mentally crippled so long ago. Even if he didn't know his new body..

Heading in the direction of the man, he chose to stay distant enough to hardly be seen.

 

[Chastity Lunelle]

Objective: A
Location: Ground floor the Citadel
Allies: [member="Connor Harrison"], Silver Sanctum Coalition
Enemies: [member="Kuryr"] (claimed), Primeval
Gear:
Chastity’s custom armor
Lightsaber
HK-45 Heavy Blaster Pistol

As they landed, Chastity could see the sky lighting up with enemy fire, and the jetstream of fighters cutting through the sky in ribbons. What would happen out here while she was inside the Citadel? She imagined the pristine white snow stained with blood, and it ran a shiver up and down her spine. Worry forced a rut into the Padawan’s brow as she locked eyes with Connor. He told her to take the Rangers inside the Citadel. Wait, he was leaving her? The prospect of being separated from her Master filled her with a dull dread that she had no emotional defense for.

There was a Dark Jedi coming after him, and he didn’t want her to be anywhere near where the Darksider struck. After what had happened to his former Padawan Syala on Belgaroth, Connor had become extremely overprotective. Or maybe his protection stemmed from another reason, having more to do the fact that they were now sharing quarters. She didn’t like his order one bit, but she swallowed audibly and nodded her head in an affirmative gesture. Now was not the time to fight, especially with so much at stake. She stood on tip toe to give him a peck on the cheek.

“You’d better come back in one piece, Connor Harrison.” she said with a sharp laugh that was obviously a weak attempt at bravado. Then, the Padawan gestured to the Antarian Rangers to follow her inside the Citadel, where they would begin to set up their defense. Caressing the pommel of her personal lightsaber, one that Connor had helped her construct, she kept his words inside her head like precious objects. Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force.

The Padawan figured if she repeated the mantra enough times, maybe soon, she would even believe it.

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the walls
Allies: Jedi/Silver Sanctum
Enemies: Primeval
Gear:

• Beskar Beskar'gam
• Dinu'ul
• Beskad
• Chaav'la Revolver w/ standard and Ori'shuk ammuntion
• Bodo Baas Gunbelt
• Taozin Amulet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I1Onxf2VwQ​

The Mandalorians had lost on Wayland, this was true. The Primeval had struck and taken the world through force. Many shouted from the highest rooftops to retake the world while others prepared for whichever way the Mand'alor would turn his might. For Betna, while Wayland was indeed a defeat, he saw the aftermath in a... different light.

For him, it was the end of an era. The end of what the Mandalorians had been and the beginning of what the Mandalorians could be. There was always the possibility that the Mandos would simply remain in the same rut they had been, ironically refusing to adapt to the changing galaxy, but there was also the chance that all would change. That the Mandalorian people would adapt and, in doing so, thrive. For many, the fall of Wayland was an outrage, an act of near-blasphemy that required immediate, absolute, and terrible retribution.

For Betna, it was the bell of opportunity and, perhaps, the rise of a new era.

Which was why he was here. Why Betna fought alongside the Jedi here on Ziost. He wished to improve ties with the Jedi to their east, but also to fight the Primeval again. He would do battle shoulder to shoulder with the jettise and combat their enemies to learn. To understand. To gain the knowledge that he'd been unable to gain on Wayland. He would fight the Primeval and see how they acted and reacted and, perhaps, fight one of their champions to gain a small measure of renown and to better understand just who, exactly, he fought.

And so he found himself outside the walls in the thick of the fighting. Weapons discharged, great war machines shook the ground below his feet, and the cries of the wounded and dying filled the air between thunderous explosions. The fighting swirled around in a maelstrom of death and destruction as his blade bit deep into armor and flesh. Blood spattered across his armor and weapons while more sizzled off the face of his shield. So far, none had been able to match him.

In a bid to attract a champion of some kind or another, he began reciting an old war poem he remembered from his youth, told to him by the older warriors of his clan. It had been taught to him in Mando'a, but he opted to translate it in Basic as best he could. With luck, another would answer him.

"Up onto the overturned keel!"

The beskad whirled and bit deep, sending another Primeval warrior spinning away in a spray of blood. He joined the other fallen soldiers scattered here and there upon the frozen earth of the tundra.

"Clamber, with a heart of steel!"

Another soldier swung at him, forcing Betna to take the blow on the Dinu'ul shield in his off hand. The Mandalorian shoved hard, putting his body weight into the movement, and pushed the foe backwards.

"Cold is the ocean's spray!"

As the Primeval soldier stumbled back, Betna swung the beskad in a short arc and felt the beskar sabre impact on the enemy's knee joint, sending him tumbling to the ground bleeding.

"Your death is on its way!"

The reverse stroke came as Betna stepped forward, the sharpened sword separating the soldier's head from shoulders in a crimson fountain. Betna stepped forward, bringing another Primeval soldier into range of his blows.

"With maidens you have had your way!"

The translation was rough, but technically meant 'worlds' rather than young women. Mando'a was strange like that sometimes, but Betna doubted the enemy soldier cared much. Not with a beskad hilt-deep in his gut, at least. As Betna yanked the weapon from the dying man, another soldier stepped up and leveled a weapon.

"Each must die some day!"

The beskad blurred and struck the weapon aside. The dinu'ul followed, bashing and burning the enemy soldier at once and sending him reeling. He, too, joined his comrades bleeding upon the tundra as Betna's backstroke ended life once more.

His breathing was barely affected, but he knew that would change very quickly. This was no skirmish to be one in a few moments of brutal combat.

This was a battle. One worthy of songs for centuries to come.

 

[Isar]

Objective: A, Sith Citadel
Location: Walking toward the main gate
Allies: Primeval
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Gear: [/FONThttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/56935-totem-of-the-gorax/]Totem of the Familiar | http://starwarsrp.net/topic/56936-totem-of-the-elemental/]Totem of the Elemental | http://starwarsrp.net/topic/48784-chain-whip-lightsaber/]Chain-Whip Lightsaber | Gauntlets of the Golden One

In the chaos of the Primeval onslaught, no one heard the crunch of snow underfoot, nor the creak of the malevolent trees in the wind. The only sounds audible were those made by mortal hands: the high whine of blaster fire shrieking in lancets of red and blue; the dull thud of artillery and flak as the beleaguered defenders of the former Sith Citadel fought to retain their foothold on the planet; the screams of the dying and the roars of fierce, fiery warriors. All about, the noise of battle hurtled through the air.

So no one heard the shuffling step of one lonely Ewok, trudging through the snow; his brown fur covered in the white powder so that he seemed more a part of a landscape than one of the invading Primeval zealots. A black chain wrapped across his chest and over one shoulder, an odd addition to his traditional Ewok head covering and foot wraps. Yet odder still were the gauntlets on his paws, made all of gleaming metal, though frost now covered them.

Warok the Defiler was his name, an exile of Endor. He appeared to have little concern for the ongoing fight as his little form was headed in a beeline straight toward the main gate.

In this collision between two great powers, who would notice one diminutive teddy bear?

 

[Connor Harrison]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the Citadel walls
Allies: [member="Chastity Lunelle"] | Silver Sanctum & allies
Enemies: [member="Keira Ticon"] (claimed)
Unique Gear: Combat Armour | Lightsaber

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmxsDo-vnHU

Connor's eyes moved more than his body - there was something disturbing him. A presence and voice in the Force he heard belonging to [member="Taeli Raaf"]. Of all the worlds, she had to be on this one, right now, like a conscious on his shoulder watching over him keeping him from falling. And with Chastity on the other, it was the most awkward of situations. But, apart from that, it was too convenient to all happen at the same time as the Dark Jedi emerging casually from the low mist ahead.

It was his mind playing tricks on him. She couldn't be here - who else would turn up? Corvus? Syala? A whole history of those who walked beside Connor in someway now at the moment his whole future hung in the balance - in the balance of Keira. Keira - that was her. A volatile girl who at one time didn't know whether she was coming or going, and even put faith in Connor for a while. Now, she was certainly coming. The cold wind wrapped around them, lapping at any loose fabric on their bodies, tickling loose strands of hair.

He lowered his head at her welcome, her voice reminding him how self-assured she was. Much like himself. Connor stood and let the Force wrap around him, embracing a new sense of emotion that was empowering and unnerving at the same time.

”Child.”

The girl would need to stand aside, or be cut down.

”I see you've found your path. One of more uncertainty; surrendering yourself to the ones who provide the easiest way out. Such a shame.”

He didn't care which she picked.

 

[The Red of Sinner]

Objective: A; Defend the Sith Citadel
Location: Inside the Citadel, just behind it's doors.
Allies: [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Aedan Miles"] and other Silver Jedi
Enemies: The Primevil, and their ilk
Equipment: Armor, Lightabers One, and Two, Drakon Regiment.
Drakons' Equipment

Spoiler

Shadow Company
Unit Count: 50

Chain of Command: (From highest to lowest)
Lieutenant
Sergeant
Private

Weapons Used:

Ten use this: DLT-20A Blaster Rifle
Four use this: T-21 Light Repeating Blaster
Four use this: F-Web Repeating Blaster (One to carry the weapon, one to carry the tripod, the other to carry the shield, the last to cover them with the E-11)
Five (one uses it in the F-Web unit) use this: E-11 carbine
Five use this: Double Vibroblade
One use this: ACP - Repeater
Twenty-Five use this: Imperial Heavy Repeater

The Drakon Dropships had landed many hours ago, dropping off fifty-one men, all dressed for ward, all ready to die fighting. The Drakons were elites among elites, the best Romeo had, and they were here to help the Silver Jedi the best they could against Primevil forces. They were all here for blood and revenge for what the group had did to their kinsmen, their brothers in arms. Romeo had left them, he died, though he doubted anyone here knew about that, and he came back to save his men. He had taken the Drakons into a private room when he had come back, apologized to them, got on his knees, and begged forgiveness. They told him there was no need for their commander, their general to be on his knees before them. They understood, things happen, stuff gets in the way, and he had a lot on his plate at the time.​

Now they all gathered in the plaza of the Citadel, readying up.​

​

The F-Web was being set up in the middle, while the twenty-five split up on either side of the plaza, reading their weapons towards the entrance of the Citadel. Romeo stood next to the F-Web, both sabers in hand, and his mask hiding his face, but a grin spread wide over his face. Some of his old Levantines were here, and they knew Romeo was not a Jedi, not close. He wondered if it pushed the Silver Jedi's buttons, knowing a Dark Jedi, a Darksider was helping them against an enemy. It amused him to think of them flustered by his presence, and that they were not to apprehend him...but that could always changed after they won this battle. They could always try to arrest him later on afterwards, but he was prepared for this already.​

"Prepare your inferred men, its about to get dark."​

The men around the the F-Web held a shield up around them as they prepared their E-11s, and the Drakon on the turret prepared the gun and another positioned the shield. Both sabers activated, one grey, and the other purple only to suddenly have darkness encase them. ​

"Kill the lights in the plaza." ​

Romeo spoke in his com to a man handling the lights who turned them off, encasing them in more darkness. The rest set up in the next room as reinforcements if they were needed. Where Romeo stood, along with the F-Web, no one would be able to see them, and without the inferred, no one could see out of the darkness that Romeo had created. The light absorbing cells on his hilt allowed this to be a thing. Now they waited for the enemy to show it's ugly face.​

 

[Jsc]

Obj: B
Location: Gunship Flotilla over the ODCC
Allies: n/a
Vs: [member="Condor"] p1

The Orbital Defense Command Center was under attack by the enemy. Drop pods and landing craft had already been sited in the area and over the radio. The ODCC was a prime objective for the enemy. It relayed information back and forth with the Navy stations above them. To have it cut off would destroy a vital link with their Fleet above. Roberts had to reinforce.

A flight of gunships came over the western tundra headed for the ODCC. Karen was aboard the vessels, dressed in her TR, disruptor, belt items, and lightsabers. She was accompanied by reinforcement Rangers and her vessels were piloted by Silver Shadows. Coming in hot from the western expanse of this frozen tundra world. Blue skies, brown cliffs, and white snow. They were off to war.

 

[Boethiah]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the wall.
Allies: [member="Loxa Visl"]
Enemies: [member="Nima Tann"]
Gear: Anja's Armour | Dreamweaver

Anja briefly turned her head towards Loxa, before looking up towards the source of the voice. Her Umbaran eyes could sense a heatsource, a lifeform just hidden from her own view by the nature of the high wall towering in front of her. The Host Lord took two small steps backwards before drawing her warblade, Dreamweaver, from the sheath along her waist.

The battle roared in the background, screams and gunshots came and went, cannons thrashed against the high walls in an effort to bring down their weakpoints and allowing their troops to flood the halls and corridors. She didn't concern herself with the battle any longer, the witch focused on her opponent--the one who asked for her to identify herself. Anja's breathing paced regularly, her heartrate was steady, and every muscle in her body was neither too tense nor too relaxed; perfect.

In. Out. Deep Breaths.

She drew upon her magicks, summoning the latent energies and pulling in those around her that existed on this dark, bitter world. It was empowering to be standing here on Ziost, she was no Sith but still the energies of the past lingered enough for her to feel quenched, or even engorged, by the planet's twisted core. She fed without feasting, drank without drinking, and slept without resting. It was difficult to imagine how the Sith were ever driven from Ziost.

Finally, "I am no one; we are The Primeval." She answered the feminine voice whose owner was still hidden from her direct vision but not entirely so.

There was no question in return, no comment, no statement.

Anja awaited the prelude of battle.

 

[Keira Priest]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the walls
Allies: The Primeval
Enemies: [member="Connor Harrison"]
Gear: Personal lightsaber

Of course, Keira hadn't walked into things not expecting some sort of admonishment. But it was still altogether disappointing that things were, thus far, transpiring exactly as she had expected them to. Once again he referred to her as a lesser, though whether that was to provoke her or not remained to be seen. Either way, she didn't immediately react, violently or otherwise. The only expression she wore was one of quiet bemusement, a slight amused smile having settled itself upon her lips as soon as she approached. They had most certainly changed, each metamorphosing in their own way, but still remaining stubbornly the same in others. It was a frustrating and yet vaguely entertaining thing, that he seemed to still be intent on lecturing her in some manner or another. But she wasn't in the mood for another long-winded speech about just why she was walking the wrong path.

Besides, it wasn't as if she'd chosen this one anyhow, not that he would listen. It wasn't as if she would delve into the finer points of things anyhow. Their opinions would remain no matter how long they traded quips back and forth. Each was as unrelenting as the other, something that had the penchant to be rewarding and yet utterly destructive at the same time. And she had a feeling that the latter would be taking hold far faster than the former, this time around. They had wasted their breath with idle conversation plenty during the first meeting. Now they would settle unfinished scores in the only way they knew how: through combat. To call either of them unorthodox would be an understatement at best. They were both good at what they did, the trouble being that each knew it. Now they would see just who could back up their word with action.

"You really need to break that habit of judging a book by its cover." All Jedi were like that, in her mind. After one quick glance at an individual they would proclaim them either light or dark, with no thought for those that resided in the middle on either side of the spectrum. A funny thing, especially when it came from one such as this. Coming from Connor, it was hypocrisy in its finest form. "Especially when you're such a torn up copy yourself." Whether he would admit it or not, he was fundamentally broken in some way, just as she was. That one link connected them above all else, calling out to the cracks in the facade of the other no matter what sort of face they put on. They were cut from the same cloth, though ripped and then stitched up into entirely different, opposing renditions.

Almost lazily she reached down to palm the hilt of her weapon, doing nothing more than holding it in a loose grip. It was a silent testament as to just what would transpire in the minutes to come, while not entirely succumbing to the adrenaline humming through her veins just yet. Patience was a crucial thing, even for people like her. Especially for people like her, when it came to these sorts of situations. It would do no good to approach things rashly. Not when facing an opponent more experienced than she. As self-confident as she acted, death wasn't on her agenda that day, nor anytime soon. "Go on, then. Keep telling me what a mistake I'm making in walking this path, when I could be a mindless servant of the light instead." A pause, and that smile widened ever slightly. "Or you could shut up and fight for something for once in your life."

 

[Mishk]

Objective: A
Location: outside the walls.
Allies: Primevil [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]
Enemies: Jedi @?
Gear: huh, are we in a war?.... Quickly picks up a stick - a nasty looking one!

.............................................................

"boom... argh... hsssss... noooo.... argh....." Mishk tried to mimic the sounds created around him. He could easily be mistaken for a child unaware of the danger he was walking into. To a large degree that was true. Mishk was an infant in the world his beloved master had opened the gateway to only a few month earlier. It was not the force itself, that seed he had carried for decades, but it was how beautiful it could behave. For Mishk it was like walking into a dream - all that death, all that agony, all that pain...

"Beautiful...." he expressed taking it all in. He watched his masters dark trail, hissing wonderful serpents Calling to him to follow. At the same time the citadel lifted its dragon breath spewing forth death to all. It beckoned him as well, almost equally strong. Mishk kept taking his small steps toward the citadel, but never leaving his beloved object of worship, [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] for too long.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Objective: B
Location: Inside the Command Center.
Allies: The Primeval
Enemies: Silver Sanctum Coalition
Gear: The Incapacitator | Heavy Pistol x2 | Armour | RDI Smartpack w/ x2 Pistols | Taser Blade

Infiltration missions were honestly not that difficult once you're inside. Catalys had managed to enter the command center unnoticed when the alarms went off, his immediate goal was to find the control room and shut down the planetary defenses so that The Primeval's fleet above could finally join the fray and land the rest of their forces. Yet something inside him said that it wasn't going to be that easy and that he probably was going to end up bumping into the wrong person. Still; he went on and towards his objective.

The Exemplar of the Bleeding Sun was an intelligent agent who specialized in fighting Jedi and he wasn't short on gear, either. On his back was the rather noticeable RDI Smartpack with its mechanical arms, the pack itself looked to be about the size of a small child; clearly not something people would miss. In his hands was the sg-wd----blah, blah blah--it was an amazing piece of work, the rifle's cone-shaped fire made it the perfect weapon for taking down Jedi. Then at his hips were two holsters carrying his woebringer heavy pistols, and finally strapped along his chestplate was the nifty taser blade.

How many inventions did these kooks come up with during their time on the other side of the galaxy? I guess he couldn't really complain, the Umbaran was packing quite the punch and wouldn't have many issues in combat; probably. If he did? Well he'd deal with them when he got there, for now it was time to kick some ass... Or have his ass kicked.

 

[Sage Bane]

Objective: B, Kill or seduce Damian Starchaser
Location: Somewhere in the Orbital Defense Station
Allies: Primeval
Enemies: [member="Damian Starchaser"], Jedi whelps
Gear:
Vonduun Skerr Kyrric (no helm or gloves)
Lightsaber
Amphistaff biot
The Hated Hand

When the call howled through the darkest regions of the galaxy for the One Sith to join their allies from Unknown Space, known colloquially as the Primeval, Sage Bane, a Hand of the Dark Lord of the Sith, heeded it with extreme prejudice. Armies of crazed zealots, cult leaders, warlords and pirates storming the snow-capped world of Ziost to claim it for the Dark Side? Now that sounded like a party. Especially since Ziost, "The Gateway to the Empire," a planet rich with Sith history and culture, belonged to the Silver Sanctum Coalition, who claimed some old friends of Sage's among their ranks, such as Jedi Masters [member="Connor Harrison"] and his good old buddy [member="Coren Starchaser"]. Two Jedi Masters' heads for the price of one. It seemed there was a special on arch-enemies today, and it was a deal Bane could not resist.

Never without his One Sith special forces, Sage ordered his troops to surround the Orbital Defense station, and report to him when their postions were dug in. Sage himself had a special mission. Just like during the purges of Ruusan and Dorin, the Lord of Thorns would seek out the Jedi and put them down like mangy cur. As the Sith Illusionist stalked through the back of the mountain that, according to allied spies, held a maintenance tunnel that spilled into the Silver Sanctum's Orbital Defense station, he gathered the Force around him and sent it out into the ether, searching for the telltale Light Sided signature of any stray Jedi nearby. Screams pierced the air, mixing with the blaring of the station's klaxons. The sounds of destruction and fear filled the Sith Lord with a powerful bloodlust, a heady sensation that shot straight to his amphistaff arm, sending the trio of serpentine creatures into a frenzy. He reached into a treat bag on his gear belt and tossed one of the sentient heads a sliver of raw meat, which it snapped right out of the air. That should satiate the infernal creatures until he could give his beloved pets something a bit more fresh.

A Light Sided signature shimmered in the gloom of the mountain tunnel. The sweet scent of prey. Using the Force to bolster his speed, he moved like a blur through the tunnels, sniffing out the Jedi like a fox on the hunt.

 

[Kuryr]

Objective: A
Location: the Citadel
Allies: Someone I suppose
Enemies: [member="Chastity Lunelle"] (claimed and soon to be collared)
Gear: Whip Sword Pistol Armor

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woAcXSMyCEw​

​

Chaos... that was she scene around him as he moved forward. He wasn't worried about the drones that scurried along the walls, hiding on the parapets of the citadel. He was looking for a challenge. One foolish soldier rushed him and was met with an acid filled slug to the face, the man's screams were drowned out by the noise even before Kuryr stepped over the slowing dying body. He wanted a trophy, something to remember this battle. The press of bodies lessened as the breeches in toe walls grew, the defenders were being met body for body by zealots, pirates, monsters and every conceivable thing in between. An ambitious form rushed forward, lightsaber in hand. Kuryr wondered if this was this was what he was looking for, before the body could even meet him, it was intercepted by the sheer press of bodies that pushed forward behind him.

He saw a small force of soldiers heading onto the citadel, being let by what he could only guess was a jedi of some sort. The distance left his wondering about her, but the force allowed him to feel her fear. Was she running already? Would she trust in the walls to protect her, or perhaps her men. His stride quickened at the prospect of destroying her illusion of safety. His arm flew up sword clashing with that of a soldier that had decided to venture forward. He admired the soldier, the lack of fear in his actions deserved the respect of a clean death. Slamming his head forward into the other man's visor gave them the slight amount of separation needed for his blade to be thrust into the unknown soldier's exposed neck. Blood splashed across his armor as the body fell lifelessly to the ground, Kuryr noded to the man as his life blood leaked across the stones of the citadel. There would be much more blood before the day was over, the temple would be baptized in the blood of its defenders. He made his way towards the building, his helmeted head giving no sign of emotion or concern for anyone or anything around him. He turned the corner into the citadel and saw the troops retreating on good form, eyes up and weapons at the ready, He had to dodge back from the first blaster bolt that met him as he entered the building, a return shot from his pistol felled the man that had fired on him, someone that was close enough for his prey that she would notice.

" If you surrender now, I will allow your men to leave alive." He was speaking directly to her, of that there was no doubt, she was the only person in the that wasn't in a standard uniform. "Unless you would rather fight, in which case I will kill all of your men and then you."

 

[Blackthorne]

Objective: A
Location: Outside the wall.
Allies: [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]
Enemies: [member="Nima Tann"]

Be it not her place to speak wherein the Host Lord does speak.

Loxa remained silent, a white-robed shadow of Anja that stood at the ready, eyes traipsing their surroundings, keen on the movements of their enemies and allies alike.

Be it not her place to take the honor wherein the Host Lord does stand. That honor is the right of the Host Lord.

At her side the Priestess gripped her staff, holding it diagonally before twisting it a hair degree. The sound of blaster bolts pinging off the phrik echoed through the area, barely covering the voice of the Host Lord at her back. It were not a shot directed at them, merely those that had flung from the fray.

Be it her place to guard the Host Lord and see her to her glory.

Saffron eyes flared into a pale glow beneath the shadow of her hood. Loxa glanced, briefly, over her shoulder towards the sound of the approaching figure.

 

[Gwrtheyrn]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_bAdo7SHFA[/media]

Objective: B
Location: At the gates of the Orbital Defense station.
Allies: Silver Jedi Order
Enemies: Primeval (Dueling [member="Theseus Reneun"])
Gear: Ashlas Mercy - force imbued greatsword, Firbolg 700 Anti Freak Handgun

Exhilaration flowed through every fiber of Gwrtheyrn's being. This was the true calling of the Silver Jedi - the stuff that sagas were made of. All around him brothers and sisters fought bled and died to defend the galaxy from something truly foul. That he was there to witness their heroism and thus immortalize both the victorious and the fallen with song spoke to something ancient within the poets soul.

That was not to say that Gwrtheyrn would simply play the role of a passive observer. All the damned souls in Chaos could not drag the Maelibus from the battlefield if Marka Ragnos himself commanded them. Standing twice the height of a man and weighing over a tonne Gwrtheyrn was a Maelibi warrior in his prime. A species considered legendary by the various hunters and academics for their strength, speed and ferocity they were not something to be taken lightly in any circumstance.

Raising his sword to the heavens Gwrtheyrn called the challenge to any that might dare face him in combat. Covered in the golden flames of the lightside of the force the blade would signal a beacon that would be near impossible to miss. Those sworn to the darkside would know the threat implicit in its presence - face me in battle or die running like a coward.

[member="Theseus Reneun"]