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Neither Kolchak nor his crew took any note when @Qessax Jal Todda or the few other less dedicated departed. Their final task was at hand, once again, and they would pour themselves into it with all the zeal an dedication expected of those within Intelligence Command. System alarms blared as the Constantine’s point defense lasers worked to rebuff the most lethal of enemy barrages. “Hold ze line. Ve must protect the evacuees.” Kolchak’s voice boomed over the chaos. Even now, he was aware of the arrival of Imperial and Allied craft as they began to scoop up the countless pods from their flagship, returning barrages of fire as those on the fringes took it in turn alongside the Constantine The Constantine’s shields glowed beneath the onslaught of the Raven’s Bane, holes erupting and jettisoning air, crew and cargo into the void of space as internal security measures sealed off portions of the ship. Those trapped within, doomed to an agonizingly cold death at the grasp of the void. ”Hold. For ze Empress.” His voice cracked with the air of authority as he felt the rising tensions across the bridge. They were surely doomed to die here, each lightyears away from their home. There was no greater honor than to die in the service of one’s liege, lest it be to die saving others from such a fate. To willingly lay down one’s life. Beneath the onslaught, the warship’s shields finally breathed their last, their energized barriers collapsing until they could be repaired, revitalized, or recharged. All that remained was the thick metal plates to keep the interior and exterior, life and death, separated. Feet and inches of steels and amalgamations, the finest science had to offer, were all that kept this contained microcosm of the Empire, the last stand of Imperial might, afloat; a wall, a moat, against the lawless infidels beyond. “Hold!” It was all he said. It was all he need say. Any words worth saying had long since been uttered. Last wills and testaments long ago laid down. The scream of sirens filled the craft. Every man, woman, and droid knew that the end was near, that it may be upon them any moment. Still, they did not feel the subtle tug of G-forces as the craft began evasive maneuvers. It was because there was none. They knew their commander. They trusted him. They were as dedicated as he. Here, thousands would die to sage hundreds of thousands more. With a telltale glance, a slow nod, Kolchak and his Chief exchanged a knowing glance. A code was entered into the cracking static of the command console. Any crewman not on the bridge was to evacuate to the escape pods immediately. They were beyond the need to repair anything. The ship was doomed. Anyone not immediately vital to keeping the craft on course, paralleling the Misercordia, were to flee, to make for the rescue craft immediately. Within minutes, Kolchak and a skeleton crew were all that remained; the most dedicated and loyal. They saw it before they felt it. The Misercordia’s hull integrity was lost, swallowed by reactions within. The Constantine moved to close with the larger ship, to absorb the brunt of any blast that might echo from it. In doing so, they knew what was to come. “Gentlemen,” Kolchak spoke, his voice solemn as their ship careened forward, every eye on the bridge turned to him. Those at their posts still stood, attention diverted to the speakers thst channeled the Grand Moff’s voice across the dying ship. “An honor.” A cheer of defiance echoed across the ship, across comms to nearby craft. As the explosive might of the Misercordia enveloped the Constantine. The shield of the craft shielded the vulnerable pods and warcraft beyond as the Constantine absorbed the brunt of the explosion. As fire and void broke into the ship and swept along her corridors, every system began to fail. In the final moments before all life aboard was extinguished, one final line carried from the ship. The cry of Imperial Intelligence, of Kolchak and his command. “Ve are tip of spear.”

Solus: The apparition's lightsaber did not move. Yet, when Solus' lightsaber descended, the specter's weapon was raised to block, as if the universe had blinked. The loud crackle of lightsabers striking each other echoed through the illusionary workshop, reverberating off the walls in a way that should have been impossible for the room they appeared to be standing in. The illusion of his creator laughed, and unleashed a flurry of blows at Solus. Her red lightsaber moved with the practiced grace of a Sith Lord even as she cackled, and the area around them flickered between the workshop, the sunlit battlefield of Ruusan, and the rubble-choked tunnels of Coruscant. She did not move with the intent to kill, but more as if she was testing Solus, toying with him and finding the Shard's limits "Lies," she taunted between strikes. "I feel your fear, your impotent anger." A slash to throw him off balance. "Look at you now. You couldn't change what you are!" Another blow aimed to drive Solus back onto the defensive. "Ascended?! You're a scrap heap and a broken rock wired together. You're a child! You're my design! Worse..." The illusion vanished, and was suddenly, impossibly, behind him, blade poised to strike a killing blow. "You're a failure!" She drove the blade towards the Shard itself. Inmortos: Over a thousand years, people had been sacrificed by the Cthon in this place. Those sacrifices had rippled out through the Dark Side, and for centuries they had whispered through these tunnels. Then the moon had fallen, and those whispers had fed and surged into roars and screams, a cacophony of malicious, spiteful echoes that now stood before the necromancer to torment him. To call them conscious might be misleading, but they had enough of a mind to understand what they wanted. They wanted to hurt. They wanted to kill. But more than anything, they wanted to be more. And so, when the necromancer thrust the blade at them and the Cthon swarming him in an act of final defiance, they screamed. They screamed in fear, and in delight. This blade didn't hold mere echoes. It held souls. Real, whole, true souls. A treasure trove filled with what these echoes were pale imitations of. And they wanted it. They would become more. With the knife, they would not be mere noise, but a THUNDERSTORM. The Cthon backed away, covering their ears. To them, the unearthly scream was the commanding shriek of Fivefang. It was the resounding emptiness of the Silent Place. It was the howling of a pack of corridor ghouls. It was the roar of a territorial taozin. The firrerreo apparition flew forward, and it seemed to split and fractal. It was his false, whole self. It was his father. It was his mother. It was the faces of victims his mind only barely remembered. It was his own face, disintegrating into ash. The screams of the dead and dying assaulted him from every direction, through his ears and into his mind, and the tunnel around him was replaced with the illusion of crackling, raging fire. Illusory heat pressed in on him from every side. "You are nothing!" "You will die!" "You will burn!" "Forgotten!" "Devoured!" "Weak!" "Break the dagger!" "Break the dagger!!" "BREAK THE DAGGER!!!" Akheron: Cthon dropped like sacks of wet meat cut from strings. Blood splattered as the shrapnel tore through their pale, dirty bodies. They shrieked and mewled in pain and surprise. This creature, its wrath and power, felt like the Silent Place, yet different. Fivefang howled in rage at the death of his kind, and then gave a quick series of coughing barks. Most of the surviving Cthon responded, and in seconds they, along with Fivefang, had squirmed their way back into the crevices. The remaining few, too bloodhungry to listen, threw themselves futilely at the Sith Warrior. Fivefang and the rest moved deeper into the tunnels, following tight and constricting passages like rats to get ahead of the warrior if he tried to pursue them through the winding, larger passageway it walked now. They had underestimated the warrior. For so many of their kind to die so quickly, this unwilling sacrifice was indeed powerful. But Fivefang was smart. Fivefang wouldn't give up so easily. Further down the tunnel, where the warrior's path would definitely cross, Fivefang hissed at several lurking Cthon. They uncurled themselves and pressed several switches embedded in the ceiling next to a large, hanging metal plate that looked like it had been peeled from the side of a cargo ship. The switches sparked, and crude batteries resting hidden on top of the plate hummed to life, electrifying the metal they sat on. The cables that suspended the plate from the ceiling shifted slightly as the Cthon took up position. When the warrior passed by, the hidden Cthon would release the cables and drop the heavy, electrified plate on their prey, hopefully pinning him and shocking him into unconsciousness. If it killed him...well, they were hungry. Fivefang continued deeper even as the other Cthon set the trap. He wasn't convinced that would be enough. He moved towards the Silent Place to prepare. Many Cthon would be waiting there, lurking around the sacred space. He would be sure they were ready, and that they would fight fiercely to defend the Silent Place. Calypso: Each of the Sith was unleashing their passion. Their fury, their fear, their hate, it all fed into the dark, swirling nexus of power that permeated this place. And at the center, the humanoid figure frozen in carbonite stood in silence. But something of their feelings made it through. Metal debris rattled on the floor, and piles of skulls collapsed as small vibrations pulsed through the ground. *spark* *spark* Pale blue lightning crackled to life and disappeared just as quickly along the outstretched fingers of the figure, the sudden light illuminating the chamber for the first time in over 1000 years. "...more..." The shaking grew stronger.

Together, the Tusken and the Mandalorian warrior dispatched four of the cats easily. The explosions caused by the grenade launcher especially, the remaining cats began to scatter. This prey was much more feisty then what the Hutt normally brought. This meal would have to be earned. The leader of the pack however, was earning its own meal ticket chasing down Kiv. The small jawa, with the ever knack and sense for finding hiding spots, had slipped himself through some debris that had been scattered around the chamber, and once the cat had dived in after him, gave the feline the slip, looking for his next hiding spot. “This is the last time I play ring ‘round junkyard!” Kiv sxreeched loudly, hearing the roar of the Saber-cat giving pursuit once more. Somewhere during the running, Kiv was joined by Eyes, who had began to chuckle. If it haden’t been for the seriousness of the situation, Kiv would have told the droid to shove it. Instead, he ran face first into the two lovers. “About time you idiots showed up! Last time I give you an easy in, yes?” Thankfully what happened next gave both the Jawa and his droid, as well as the two lovers, a moment's reprieve from the felines. Having landed on the Hutt’s head, Zeris had sent Gorgonzola into a panic. His arms flailed about. His deep laughter had turned into a screech that rivaled the jawa’s. He screamed that the assassins were upon him, and demanded his few men to do something about it. Before they could, however, Zeris had successfully disarmed the shields separating the gangsters from the cats. Of the four cats still alive, the three that were chasing and hunting the lovers changed targets. There was no use going after these morsels. The new prey that had just been presented looked far more tasty and less likely to injure them. The Hutt frantically slid off of his perch and made a motion for the nearest exit, only to stop when he saw his precious Saber-Cats devour his little entourage of men. Scared, he turned and faced Zeris, his large eyes widened with terror. “Boo…boo” Gorganzolla stammered, shaking his thick arms like a scared child. He grabbed his own face and scratched himself, on the verge of crying. “...BoomBox! Stop them!” The Gonk droid gave one, affirmative, Gonk. Its master had given it's codename. All restrictions no longer applied. Gorgonzola needed help now more then ever. BoomBox was an old droid, even by Gonk standards. It had overheard the failings of empires and organizations that no one deemed worthy to be written down. It had seen the destruction of many hardened criminals, as well as their underlings over and over. It had witnessed the last wishes of crime bosses all over the galaxy, only for their children to fail their parent’s desires. It saw the rise of potentials, and fallings of failures. In all of this time, it gained its own form of sentience in that time, always desiring to help those it was made to serve, but unable to protect those from harm. It had been that way until 85 years ago when, in the services of Gorgonzolla’s mother, it made a request. It asked for upgrades to protect the Hutt’s newly born son. And miraculously, instead of being wiped and reprogrammed, it was granted its request. In the time that followed, its processing core, its shell, its connections, everything had been improved and updated. How else was it able to control the shields in this place so perfectly, unless over ridden by its front controls? Its armor housing, Droid Heavy Plating Type 3, had been given a nice, water-proof coat of lubricant. Gorgonzola, even as a child, spilled his drinks often, so water-proofing was a must. How was Boombox supposed to keep his ward from getting into the sharp cutlery? Repulsor generators strong enough to shove a Gundark away of course. Just had to use the lower settings with the hutt. And for those threats who desired to kill the Hutt at a distance? The modified sonic weaponry was more than capable at handling such problems. BoomBox, now unleashed, had its outer shell open up, revealing the compartments inside. For the assassin behind (Zeris), the revealed repulsor generators would hopefully slam her into the wall and perhaps pin her momentarily until the droid could get closer to its hutt ward. For the assassins in the middle of the chamber (everyone else), it began to fire burst after burst of sonic blasts, strong enough to break the bones of any who stood in its way. It even sent a few bursts towards the cats mauling the Hutt's entourage. Without having to worry about controlling the shields, it could do so with the full extent of its contained Fusion Generator. “GONK!” BoomBox bellowed, taking slow but steady steps towards its terrorized master, while unleashing hell on those who wished its ward harm.

The now solitary black painted star destroyer seemed to waver for a moment against the background of the burning planet. Its edges becoming hazy for a split second before the multi kilometer starship came apart at its seams. Deep within the vessel the antimatter core erupted with the strength and gravity of a small star. There was a flash of bright white light, then the pride of the Alliance fleet crumpled against the gravity of the released antimatter. While such a gravitational anomaly such as the one within the grand Star Destroyer could only be measured in milliseconds before they disappeared, the effect was magnificent. The exploding starship seemed to shrink into itself, pulling durasteel and human form alike into the depths of a dark void, before the internal supply of the ship’s hyperdrive was used up. Leaving nothing at all where the old Misericordia had been except exceptionally radioactive space dust.