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Bernon Mrrgwharr allowed his pride to swell up as he heard of his victory. His feelings on the loss at Falleen were minor, as it was only important to Darth Akheron. The Sith would rise again, they didn't need Falleen to do it, at least not yet. He accepted his Master's wishes. He did not speak, and he grabbed his hands. The feelings around him changed as his surroundings turned into the Astral Force Plane. He looked around himself and thought of what he should say. He knew that what he must say would anger Darth Akheron, who was his Master. However, it would serve to make him rise again, and hopefully, he would not try to murder him for what he said once he returned. This was the Plane of Death, where people went when weakness claimed their form. He would use that idea to provoke his Master to anger. He reached out to Akheron's soul and hoped for him to listen. "I call out to you, my Master, my pitiful Master, unworthy of the title of Darth, so I shall call you simply Akheron." He waited a few moments before speaking again. "You failed us, the Sith, at Falleen, and if you cannot even fight and succeed in defending your ambitions, then why do you think you have the right to be called Sith?" He let out a mocking set of laughter. "You are foolish, you have failed yourself, your Apprentice, and your Order, the Sith!" He paced around for a bit longer, thinking of what to say next. "You are a weak Warrior, and those have no place among us. Do you know what this realm is? It is the place your soul finds refuge when weakness claims your form, and that is why we will never remember you, or your disgracefulness." He let a cruel smile play across his lips, then spoke once more. "I, an Apprentice, a mere Apprentice, stand in success where you stand in failure! I am the Warrior that will replace you! You have failed!" He could only hope what he had said would make Darth Akheron chase after him. He would continue to wait until he came about. For now, however, he thought for a bit, as he often did. If the battle on Falleen had failed, then that would mean more than just a few repercussions for the Sith. They could have defeated both Darth Akheron and Darth Mavanger. Darth Akheron was a great Warrior, and hopefully, he would return soon enough, but if Darth Mavanger was killed, did he have the same ability to return? He did not know the answer to these questions. All he could do was focus on his studies and become a great Sith. He continued to wait for Darth Akheron to show his face, and he prepared himself. He was fast, but he didn't know he his strength would allow him to be faster than Darth Akheron. His Master knew what he was doing, and if he didn't think he could survive this, he probably wouldn't have given him the task. The wait seemed like it was endless, yet it was in truth more like a few minutes. Soon, the wait would give way to a chase, and he would participate further in the Dark resurrection of Darth Akheron. He was certainly both willing and wanting Darth Akheron to stay alive, as he was his secondary Master, and he would provide him with the knowledge that would make him far stronger than he already is. Darth Akheron would return to life, and through him and Krath Inmortos, he would gain much power.

There were a multitude of different interrogation techniques available for use against the Sith. Most included bravado, physical violence of some kind, or the application of a correct amount of lies and false truths. However, what was never recommended was showing abstract weakness to them. Which the blue coloured Twi’lek had just managed to do when she had arrived unbidden to the interrogation. Had she not had a lifetime of royal training to confine her spirit, the young queen would have told the Twi’lek to leave and compose herself that instant. But it was too late, and the Sith had already perceived her weakness. Such creatures sup from tears and weakness like an alcoholic suckles greedily from his morning elixir. She gave her a quizzical glance and let one of her fine eyebrows raise in a questioning air. “I am glad I survived as well Esmer, and the Gungans can wait. They waited when I called them for aid and paid a princely sum for that. Perhaps they can be reminded that their place is not in aloof isolation.” She turned her head at the sound from the Sith Lord. She was tired, and his mocking tone grated on her ears. “You killed many fine men and women Sith. You lost. Though I must question if all of you are gone or are simply waiting for another galactic lull to emerge from your filthy dens. Is that why you are trying to destabilise our nation by killing its queen?” She held out her blaster pistol and pointed it towards his kneecap from behind the bars of his cell. "Answer quickly, I have gungans to attend to.”

It seemed that the fledgling was not as dispossessed of mettle as his first encounter had originally suggested. The squire was confused and scared, but that was the appropriate response to being in proper battle for the first time. Drawing a bead as he advanced confidently, he sent lancing bolts of crimson into the heads of enemy soldiers, flicking his blade to deflect any fire that was on course to hit him. Even as the edges of the enemy formation began to fray, desperation slowed the advance as they began to fire more often and more erratically. Tygo could hold his own against the onslaught, but many of the line soldiers and the squire would be overwhelmed without intervention. The inquisitor holstered his pistol and clutched at the threads of light that fluttered unseen beneath the veil of reality, raveling them around his hand in a circular motion before manifesting them as a blinding light in the palm of his hand, bright enough to cause those that looked upon it to flinch and recoil. Under the blinding aegis of the light, Tygo and his allies advanced to close with the enemy line in melee combat. Tygo made sure to position himself between the squire and any massed enemy fire so that the boy would not get gunned down.

For the most part, sneaking out of the palace was simple. The Linnorms who were still alive were following Solus’ last command, and the Falleen forces were having their hands full dealing with the fires they caused. The Imperial Forces were busy with wounded civilians, rampaging cultists, or getting their own men to safety. And it seemed several Jedi were focused on the central temple. No one had time to notice a small analysis droid walking between the shadows through the streets. His original plan was to find a ship in the nearby docking bay, but that plan quickly became discarded when Solus realized there was no way a Linnorm ship would escape the planet unharried. His next best option was to find a speeder bike to escape the city and take a ship from elsewhere on the planet. Perhaps a farmer had a shuttle he could steal. However, that plan itself changed when Solus spotted it: a Faleen 578-R space transport. It looked like it was refitted for royal use, and had been utilized for troop transport onto the planet surface once the trench lines were broken. Currently, a pilot and copilot sat around its side, waiting for further orders as the battle raged further in the city. Solus made his way towards the two, raising his hands into the air. “Excuse me gentlemen? Oh excuse me!” Solus called out. The two soldiers looked up, puzzled at first. The copilot stood up and raised a pistol. “Halt! Identify yourself!” Solus stopped in his tracks and kept his hands up. “Please don't shoot! My name is S-115, servant of the royal family!” The captain held his hand up to his partner. “Hold on, I remember hearing this droid. He sent out a distress call earlier. The copilot lowered his weapon. Solus approached, feigning relief and joy. “Finally, someone recognized my message! No one ever responded and I was worried that it didn’t go out.” The copilot shrugged. “That’s command for you. They pay attention to what’s going on, and worry about details later” Solus sighed as he stepped forward closer. “Perhaps you could put me in contact with your commander? I have vital information about the Royal Prince, and it must be communicated before it is too late. The two looked at each other, and shrugged. “Our commander should be back soon to discuss what we can do with you. If no one responded to you earlier, I doubt they will listen at the moment. You are welcome to wait here though, droid. Safer here than…” Solus stretched himself through the Impossible Geometries towards the Captain. He rushed forward towards the man and fell to his knees, grabbing the man’s sides, making a connection both physically and mentally. As he did, the Madness churned and began to massage the man’s mind. “Please, I beg of you, let me speak with your superiors! Or maybe the Alliance themselves! If we do not act, the prince will die! Please, please, you must help me!” As Solus' words left his voicebox, the Madness distorted the man’s perception for just a moment. In the Captain’s eye, he did not see a droid, but a small human child, crying for their parent. One that was strikingly similar to his own back on Empress Teta. The image only lasted a moment before the Madness retreated, but the effect was immediate. “Ok, ok! Calm down, I’ll help you! Just calm down. Frank, get the ship online so we can get a message to command. The copilot looked at his captain but nodded as the captain repeated his order. Solus silently thanked the fact that Imperial command still relied on the fact that superiors’ orders were almost always followed. Solus thanked the pilot and everyone went inside. The copilot never made it to the controls. The moment Solus stepped inside the ship, he called upon the force and shoved the man forward, his head hitting the sharp edge of a metal console. Following this, Solus turned to the captain and pulled the man down. The Shard then lodged his scomp link directly into the man’s eye. “Stupid son of a nerf…” Solus growled as the memories flowed from the man’s brain into Solus’ own. Clearence codes, planet locations, names of loved ones, all of it flowed like a data stream through the Force into Solus' mind “Maybe your children will grow up smarter. I doubt it though…” About an hour later, Solus dropped the body, believing he had enough to get off world. The Shard took command of the ship, and drawing on the man’s memories, utilized several codes and tricks to avoid detection and come off as just a simple civillian shuttle. As solus broke hyperspace, he gave one last glance towards Falleen, the burial place of his master. “May the Fang God find your soul tasty…”

When the woman left all hell broke loose. From the bar all the way down city blocks did the Clone Troopers find themselves in a fleeing effort away from as much conflict between the Alliance and the Sith Empire, which, evidently were here. That was no secret now, while there was of course the fact that their reconnaissance was now long gone after the trio lost the Cultist they were following. And now Falleen was a warzone that while the Alliance sought to liberate the dark planet inevitably it also meant civilians getting caught in the crossheirs of the frantic battle. At the moment the Clones could only try to help in some manner, they were further away from the more active parts of the skirmishes and trying to make their way to them, but the fleeing citizens in the way did not help matters at all. Moving into a very short alleyway, the trio would use this moment to catch their breaths and focus on the situation. It was nothing short of chaos and there was no clear goal aside from assisting allied forces... If they didn't shoot the Clones first. Riggs took his helmet off to catch a fresh breath with Thumper snacking him upside the head immediately, "Out your bucket back on, idiot!" "Oi! There's some things fresh oxygen does that a damn filter can't! Where the hell did that creepy lady go?! We were tracking then-!" "Then she disappeared once chaos and panic set in. Get your helmet back on, Sargeant, we're still on mission." Tilt replies, even he was uncertain as to what to do but even then their goal was reconnaissance. It didn't help that he forgot who assigned them the now pointless mission, just when he thought they got their foot in the door the Imperial Remnant launched an invasion. With a hard sigh, Tilt leaned against the stone structure and tried to come up with a plan, do something somewhat meaningful instead of being fodder. What would Wayforward have done? "First time I've seen you stumped. Want a suggestion?" Thumper asked Tilt as he kept lookout between either ends of the alleyway, "We don't need to go big or go home, Captain, it's clear command had other ideas. Maybe our "reconnaissance" mission may have been a way to get us out of their hair. It's not like back then when we were sent on constant suicide missions, we could simply aid our units, that's just as good as anything..." Tilt stood straight up, and looking upward he could see the mixture of smoke and energy bolts soar in the sky. Thumper was most likely right, the days of the Grand Republic were all but history, in the end Tilt and crew were nothing more than numbers, bodies, and soldiers, not the bonafide badasses they were and the feats they did that scared even the strongest of steel willed Ark Troopers. Crazy, low survival rates, yet rarely did a Trooper die in the Bad Company... Another thing turned to history. Perhaps going for something more tame like firing support from here on out, finishing careers as old men who proudly served the Galaxy, maybe even spending the next years in ordinary squads and perhaps training a few cadets? Tilt nodded slightly before hoisting his Westar up to his chest, looking to his two men, his mind almost made up. Just as he was about to speak, Thumper continues with, "Or... Knowing we aren't pansy ass recruits who suck their mommas teet, you want things to be high risk, don't you?" Tilt's grin grew as unfortunately, Thumper had to say what he was thinking. And to think he was actually about to join ranks with regular soldiers! Not that they didn't do their fair share, what they did on the front lines was brave... But what Tilt was used to was unorthodox even by the Republic standards back in the day. He looked to his sniper and asked, "What you got in mind?" "Common sense tells me we should ask command, I honestly believe we should still try to help other-" "Awww c'mon! They're just gonna pull some crap to get us outta the way! We had to beg to even be on Falleen!" Riggs interjects, to which Thumper holds up a hand. The sniper holds down a button on his tacpad gauntlet which allowed for a signal to the nearest Imperial commander. They had to call up anyways in case things went south as instructed, whether their higher officer liked it or not, "This is CT-1567 of the 153rd Battalion, calling in to command. We're... Well behind enemy fire, so much so we're removed from the battle just East of the city, awaiting further orders as instructed." "Either they'll be pissed or... They won't care. Hey, what about that temple we seen earlier?" Riggs quietly said to Tilt as the two start to keep watch for unsuspecting visitors. "Contested. Jedi, Sith, there'll be a massive amount conflict up there... Maybe if we're lucky we'll join 'em, probably get killed too, chances are low, our position here is better than most and we can probably..." Tilt choked down a bit of pride, he never viewed himself above the average soldier, but adding himself to the front lines alongside others felt weird for lack of better words, "Simply join the rest of the soldiers. Let's see what the bosses have to say, yeah?"