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Naboo


RaveN

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The Fair Lady of Iziz, a Harrower class destroyer that had served under Darth Nyrys's colors in the past was her chosen chariot to carry her to the campaign. Her captain was battle hardened and had displayed unyielding courage at Corellia, where the ship had nearly been lost entirely. The ship had returned to service with scars apparent but resolve undiminished. She had been waiting for the realspace breach in the hangar, and the blue green orb stood vast in front of her. It was a beautiful world, but beauty alone did not protect anyone from the ugliness of the galaxy. Luck and circumstance were the only arbiters of who got a free pass, and Naboo just didn't have the answer in its cards. There were Jedi here, because of course there were, and surely their would be idealistic lackeys were here as well, or at the very least en route.

 

It would have been better if this had all been avoided, but these people were irreconcilably devoted to the principles of liberty and democracy. They put the burden of leadership on children and called their naivete purity, holding to such notions even after it put one of the most brutal dictators in centuries on a galactic throne. Sheev Palpatine, or more properly Darth Sidious had been a visionary in terms of plotting the domination of the galaxy, but once he had it he had seemed at a loss for what to do with it. Like the rest of his people, he suffered from focusing on the art of things while completely ignoring purpose. 

 

She missed the simplicity of being a warrior already, the simple binary of threats and nonthreats replaced with a dizzying web of potentials and probabilities. When she was a Sith warrior it was easy to only kill the people that needed to be killed. Now, every action was emboldened exponentially and every Sith under her command was trying to pull her in their direction. She could feel the pain and sorrow that Darth Mavanger was feeling, even though he was trying to mask it as rage. To try and stop his rampage would either end him or reduce him to the shadow of a man, and replacing him with lesser leadership would only draw the war out. Conflict was inevitable, only the cost was variable. Perhaps the next generation could be guided to a higher purpose, but these unfortunates had been cast in the role of warning to any that believed that grace and kindness were meaningful traits in a warzone.

 

For whatever reason, the prior Dark Lord had been concealed in shadows for most of Mavanger's campaign. It was not unlike Exodus to move in such mercurial ways, but Darth Nyrys was not the man that came before her. She would be a symbol to her people and a unifier of the galaxy. But first the old ways needed to burn.

 

A large number of imperial engineers shuffled towards her, struggling to carry the object that she had requested. It was not a remarkable piece of craftsmanship, neither cursed or crafted by Sith secrets. Plainly speaking, it was a metal spear, composed of a tungsten alloy, although peculiar in that it was too heavy to be wielded by a mortal soldier. Nyrys took it up with ease, and with preternatural strength and prowess, launched the weapon from the hangar towards Kwilaan space port, guiding the weapon's descent and goading it ever faster with the Force.

 

"May the worthy emerge from the ashes to take their place among us, while the weak perish in the flame and the dust. I'll be going down with the first wave, captain, ready a shuttle accordingly."  

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Mordecai had been drawn to the light of the Imperial Knight like a moth to the flame. She stood defiant, a symbol of his enemy, of his hatred. The cause of his grief and his sorrow. He would cut her down, and then he would burn this city to the ground. There was no other path for him. In his anger, and his rage, he felt a change in the Force. He recognized it as the presence of the Dark Lord, but recognized it was not the same as the Dark Lord he had met. It mattered not. His priority, first and foremost, was the carnage that he would bring to the Palace after this battle He broke into his own sprint as the doors the the generator station opened, meeting the Imperial in a furious clash of force-imbued strikes.

 

His perception was sharp, heightened by his emotions, as he batted away the first two strikes with his sabers. The third was too fast for him to fully block, but he managed to redirect it, his blade pushing hers as the saber sliced through his armor, scoring a hit to his right bicep. He snarled, the pain giving him purpose, respite from his loss. He drew on it, using it to fuel his blows as he went on the offensive. He hooked to her right, seeking an opening past her shield. He was fast, himself, the Force augmenting his speed and strength as he struck. A blow to from his left to hers, towards her legs. A second, hoping to split her defense, thrust towards the right side of he abdomen. A third blow, from his left once more, a vertical slice towards the top of her head, and a fourth, final blow thrust towards her right shoulder. Each blow carried a weight behind them that the weightless nature of the sabers belied. They struck with the force of the Sith Lord's anger, which he felt to his very bones. His pain gave him speed, drawing out the wound so that he might strike faster. His sorrow gave him caution to not blindly throw himself into the fray, as much as he wished to.

There would be no vengeance if he died here today.

((1))

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Wrath Of Korriban, one of the new Chaosas Class destroyers Clan Brasganu had churned out for the Sith fleet was the first to exit hyperspace. This marked the arrival of Darth Akheron and his new apprentice Solus, along with the nomad raider fleet that was other members of Clan Brasganu, with the addition of several new classes of ship. The Exodus Class Star Destroyer Rancor's Revenge and the Sion Class Heavy Tactical Assault Carrier Chaos Bringer and the new Acklay Class Heavy Interceptor starfighters that filled their hangars.

 

Akheron observed the battle as it unfolded before his eyes. He felt the Darkness spreading across Naboo like a dark tide as chaos reigned both on the ground and in the depths of space. He had a specific objective in mind, one given by the new Dark Mistress whilst he was still in hyperspace. Most unexpectedly. As was the fact he found out there was a new Dark Queen, where Exodus once was king. but he didn't pry, so long as she proved herself in the eyes of the Fanged God he would follow her.

 

He and the Linnorms of Clan Brasganu were to travel into the Naboo Abyss.

 

There in the deep of the hollow core among the strange phenomenon that occurred and the titanic sea leviathans, they would gather as many samples for study of the Plasma that lay there as they could. A plasma unique to Naboo, and to destroy anything that prevented them from accomplishing their goal. Be it a gungan or anything else from the deep. 

 

But first they needed to get to surface. Speaking to his second command, the Lord-Captain Darth Akheron issued a order. Allowing his apprentice, wherever he was to prepare for the task to come.

 

"Unleash the Acklay's, burn Naboo to cinders. Ravage them with everything we have, for the Fanged God. Take command and report to fleet command, I am going to the surface, our prize awaits there. Have my apprentice, Solus meet me in the hangar with Tear, his tuk'ata. Tell him and the Linnorms prepare for a swim. We are going fishing in the Naboo Abyss for plasma."

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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She let the air expel from her lungs in a long stream as she felt the blows come. The Sith Lord had more than a foot on her and though he was armoured, he carried a strength and anger in him that would have frightened any young woman such as herself. But she had the force. She did not fear, for even if this led to her death, wounding, or great injury, she had the force and it did not lead her without purpose. 

 

His blows fell like hammers on an anvil. Fast as lightning and as strong as a falling starship. The force worked in her, guiding her movements and she could see the double image of precognition as each of his blows fell. A hazy ghost of a sabre a millisecond before his fell in its path. And even as his first attack came, She would only be able to block it while taking a fearsome blow at the same time. But it was better to save her legs and her mobility.  

 

 The first strike came from an angle, hooking towards her legs while the second came a millisecond behind it at her thin abdomen. She felt the call of the force and shifted her hips to the side as she dropped her shield to catch the first blow on the energy field of the shield's front.  The blow hammered the shield back against her braced arm so hard the she could feel the durasteel lattice flex against her arm. But she, and the force held, even as the second blow scored along the side of her abdomen. Burning away the bright red tunic and bubbling the first layer of flesh away below it. A long gash of blackened skin and burning fiber on the right side of her belly. Not devastating, but it would slow her if the fight was counted in minutes instead of seconds. 

 

She brought the shield up at an angle and the last two blows skittered across the top of the shield as she began her riposte. She pushed up against both lightsabers with her shield. Using the force to amplify her strength in an effort to fully clear his guard as she stepped past his left side. Holding the lightsaber horizontally, she made a long cut as she moved forward under his guard. Hoping to draw the blade from his stomach and out through his spine. She followed this with a back handed swing at his back as she finished her step through, pivoting and bringing the shield back up with the speed only the force could give as she turned to face the Sith Lord. 

 

The force was her ally, and vengeance would not have its day. 

 

((2))

Actions Taken. 

Blocked three blows, took one on the side.

Pushed shield up against his two lightsabers, stepped through with a cut following with a second cut.

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Violence

 

Mordecai grinned savagely as he made contact with her flesh. For a moment, albeit just a fraction of a second, that act relieved his aching soul. But it wasn't enough. No, it only served to remind him of his pain rather than truly relieve him of it, and he was back in the fight. When she pushed against him to break his guard, he used the strength she called forth to break his guard to put distance between them. It was enough for him to block the blade with one of his own, freeing himself from the shield lock that his opponent had attempted. It wasn't enough to stop her next blow, however, as she moved like lightning behind him, scoring a dangerous hit across his back. Had it not been for his armor and his physique, that blow may have ended the battle. He stumbled forward, in a spin, the bridge over the endless chasm of the generator room behind him as he struck out.

 

She had speed, but he had power. He would pound her shield like a drum until her arm gave out, and then he would snap her spine across his knee. He let out a battle cry as he swung his sabers, his strength and speed amplified by the pain across his arm and back. His first blow was dual purpose- directed to the point of contact he had established previously, it would batter a weakened zone, and with he maneuvering, she had left herself between his saber and her shield. His second saber was directed towards the same spot, a fraction of a second later as he swung them in tandem. Another blow high, seeking to behead her, and he pressed the attack, sending a rage-fueled kick of his armored foot towards her knee, as he did on Kuat against the Knight he had fought there. As he did so, he sent another thrust towards her right shoulder, hoping to disable her fighting arm.

 

His anger and his rage, his pain, both emotional and physical- the drove him. They powered his blows, driving them forward like battering rams. If her shield was her wall, his blows would be his trebuchet, smashing those behind it to bloody bits. To give into his emotions like this was the Sith way. His way. And it would see him victorious.

 

((2))

 

 

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When Solus powered on, his first sight was Stitch-Mouth standing over him, robes covering everything but his scarred face.


“Gah!” Solus shouted as he jumped up. Tear was also startled awake, and gave out a yelp in surprise.  “Wh...what’s happening?”


Stitch-Mouth said nothing, but pointed at Solus’ shoulder, and then ankles. Recently attached to them were metal tubes with propellers inside them. Solus was surprised to discover that he was already controlling them, as wires had been worked into him and attached to them. 


Solus looked at the devices and then at Stitch-Mouth.


“My my, thank you good...um...thank you...You must be akin to some kind of specialized mechanic, with me as your project, no?”


The human said nothing, but the glare spoke volumes. Solus instantly quieted. Something about this sorcerer unnerved him. 


Stitch-Mouth first gave Tear a piece of meat, and then led the Shard and the Hound through the Destroyer, to another hangar, where groups of men and women were preparing for battle. Even as Solus approached the hangar, he could hear the chants and singing of the linnorms, mentally preparing themselves.

 

“We go with blades, and guns alight,
Ra-ka-ka-ta, Ra-ka-ka-ta!
The mouth is open, we kill tonight,
Ra-ka-ka-ta, Ra-ka-ka-ta!

 

Solus found himself swaying slightly with the chants of an old shanty-turned gospel. The people making the noise were clearly into it, as if this ordeal was a religious experience. Course, to them, this was everything. And their energy was practically sucking Solus into it. Stitch-Mouth however, simply turned around and left Solus to his devices. 

 

“What greatness! What wonderfulness! What beauty!”  Solus commented. Tear growled in agreement.

 

“Cut off their heads and break their bones,
Ra-ka-ka-ta, Ra-ka-ka-ta!
Feed the gods with their moans!
Ra-ka-ka-ta! Ra-ka-ka-ta!

 

Solus entered the hangar. A crowd of the Linnorms were gathered around the ships, chanting, singing, drinking and inhaling mind-altering drugs. They were ready for this.


For a bit, Solus only stared at the group, unsure what to do, and unable to turn away from the rowdy choir. Then everyone came to attention. The Lord of Wrath was entering. 

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Akheron heard the chanting, the battle drum booming throughout the ship, as the chorus grew. The Linnorms seemed in high spirits, but he knew well how quickly a battle could change. In the force outside was a crescendo of destruction, it fed the Sith Lord's wrath in preparation for what was to come. He allowed the chanting to continue as he walked through the ship up until the moment he entered the hangar where Solus waited.

 

Akheron knew if they were to secure the Plasma a diversion would be needed to distract the gungans, humans and their Jedi friends. Walking in front he spoke, speaking in more detail of the task ahead.

 

 "Greetings my Linnorms, my elite, welcome to Clan Brasganu my new apprentice Solus. A Shard, but among us another unproven soul. this shall be his crucible, his proving ground. As much as it is ours. We have been given a unique task. We are given the honour by the new Dark Mistress to claim the special Plasma that exists only within the Naboo Abyss, for study by the Empire's scientists and sorcerers. 

 

Task Force One, codename 'Fury ' for the duration of which I shall be apart and my apprentice, shall first secure the area surrounding the swamp and prepare a landing zone for our submersible drop barges. Then we shall proceed to the plasma itself and secure the area surrounding it, allowing for the scientific and sorcerer team to do it's work collecting.

 

Task Force Two, codename 'Fang' shall act as a diversion...and attempt to keep the enemy occupied for as long as is needed to secure enough samples. These orders come directly from the new avatar of the Fanged God, the new Dark Mistress herself. Do not disappoint me or her.

 

You know the price of failure. Operation: Leviathan is now underway. Go bring glory to yourself, earn your privileges my Linnorms! For the Fanged God! Come my apprentice, let us bring destruction to Naboo and the wrath of the Sith upon the gungans. "

 

On that he motioned the group's to head to their correctly assigned ships. 

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Solus nodded and studied each word Lord Akheron said intently. Only when everyone was making their way to the ships did he get a chance to expound his thoughts.

 

“Um...master…” Solus started, a little unsure of himself. “I can’t help but question the fact that a new empress is in charge now? Whatever happened to the Spider? Did she kill him? If so, what does that bode for us? And if not, is she truly worthy to lead? I mean, if someone else killed him, then she is...”

 

A few of the Linnorms who could overhear gave Solus a glare. The shard couldn’t help but flinch slightly under their sight, much to the soldiers’ amusement as they strapped themselves in. It was clear that, as their lord stated, Solus needed to prove himself, and questioning their newest Empress was not helping. Solus needing to earn respect not just from Lord Akheron, but to the Linnorms. After all, how many new recruits, full of zeal and unbridled passion, died on their very first mission? Respect couldn’t be wasted on the weak.

 

“And um…” Solus continued as he and Tear boarded a ship, which started up and began to take off. “Gungans? Pardon my inexperience, but what are they? I overheard a few of the others mention them. Warriors of some kind? Or something akin to livestock? Truth be told, I don’t fear either, but it may help me if I knew more…”

 

Outside the ship, the firepower was truly impressive. The metal vessels that hung over the planet reminded Solus of some battle he saw in his visions long ago. The one with the massive city below and two waging armies above. Somewhere in his chassis, despite his ignorance of the situation, Solus tingled with excitement. 

 

"My my my... what a beautiful sight..."

 

Tear growled in agreement. 

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Alcmène almost thought she had beaten him, but just as quick as he last strike he recovered from his almost tumble and came right back. Like one of the rabid hunting dogs back on Outremer had pursued her when she had been a child. Feral, angry, despairing let the last moments of his life not be fulfilled. That dog had hungered for meat, for something to eat, anything to quench that gut burning pain. This Sith was not much different, his desire burned through the force like a beacon. He wanted to kill her, kill the queen, kill everything that lived on the planet of Naboo. If things were not so much life and death, Alcmène would have wanted to calm him down, help him work through the pain. But the dozens of lifeless bodies in the corridor outside gave her the answer. 

 

She did not know why, all that she knew was that if she did not stop him, then many many more would die pointless deaths. And in that moment she was glad, for she had a purpose here. Even if she died in the attempt. She was fighting for life itself. For happiness, for joy, for a laughing moment with friends. And in that she centered herself. She was calm in the face of this storm. 

 

She watched the ghostly images of precognition stretch out towards her and she brought the shield up, its long frame covering most of her body as the lightsaber stretched out towards her. The shield intersected the first blow, its energy matrix turning a bright white from the power discharge. The force of the blows came next, jutting her arm back with every strike, until the bones and muscles in her arm cried out with agony from the tremendous strikes they were receiving. But still her force held, as did her wall. The shield moved in a blur, its energy field catching blows that would have dented a starships hull. 

 

Another flicker of precognition and she let herself drop into a low guard, Letting the shield take the brunt of his kick. Its silver lower rim grinding painfully against her shin as the force of the blow was absorbed by the shield and the lower part of her leg. His last strike bubbled flesh away at the side of her neck and upper shoulder, singing away loose hair and the tunics upper sleeve as well as the first two layers of flesh below. As she lifted her right arm her breath passed through her teeth with an agonized hiss. Pain jutted up her neck but she held the yellow saber steady. He was close, so with effort she began her counter attack. 

 

She knew had to stay agile to survive here as a simple contest of strength would leave her at a loss. 

 

Relying on her speed, she flicked her shield arm up bringing the energy shield up to strike its rim toward his wrists. Then she shoved it forward as she stepped around him, trying to disbalance him as she moved. 

 

Keeping her footwork quick, she drove five quick stabs at his middle and lower abdomen. Striking at the seams of his heavy armour below the rim of her shield. They were not the hammer-like blows of the Sith Warrior, they were the lightning fast strikes of a Jedi Guardian. Everything a blur of bright yellow light as she danced around his right side. Her face the passive smile of pure calm. Even through the pain in her shoulder and abdomen.

 

The Force was with her. Even to the bitterest of ends. 

 

((3)) ((Amazing Duel.))
Took damage to the upper shoulder and neck. 

Strike with shield then five lighting fast strikes to his lower body

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In these fleeting moments of combat, Mordecai was whole. He was fulfilled. In the command room, and when speaking with other Sith, he had to remain reserved, he couldn't let his emotions take control of the conversation. With his troops he had to remain the unflinching leader, the warrior that would lead them to victory from the front lines, fighting beside them. The only one he'd felt comfortable speaking his mind to had been Jarvus, his confidant and his lover. But the Rebels had stripped that from him. They had dashed that happiness upon the rocks of their treachery. And so, in the here and now, he took solace in the fight. In the battle. In the killing. This Jedi was the object of his hatred, the symbol of defiance that so many echoed. Maybe she had recruited the troops that had killed him. Maybe she was unrelated. It didn't matter.

 

For the first time, he truly understood how Xahl had felt. The man's lust for vengeance, so all-consuming that it choked out the Sith Lord's words, any attempt at peace. The Rebels were a threat to the peace that the Sith Empire offered, and for that, every last one of them would burn. It started here, with this Jedi's corpse upon the ground. His vengeance willed it so. He gave in to the darkness. For days, he'd been fighting back against his grief. He let it fuel his anger, but he never embraced it. As the Jedi began her final assault, he let out a wail of anger and sorrow, a demand for justice that would not go unanswered as the first tears he'd shed in years streamed down his face and the Dark side consumed his thoughts and his movements, dark energies erupting from his spirits like hot water geysers. Her shield met his body, forcing him back further onto the bridge. Her first strike deflected off of his breastplate. The second and third were parried by his blades as he made his own final push. The fourth caught his chest, just below his ribcage, again mostly deflected by his armor, yet still giving a deep gash across his side. The final blow found its chink, though likely not where the Jedi had intended. He parried, leading the saber towards his right shoulder, where it met the flesh between his shoulder pad and breast plate.

 

He welcomed the pain like an old friend, letting out another roar of defiance as he pressed his assault. He let it fuel him, the coalescent vortex of his emotions leading him to attack with brutal, reckless abandon. A series of savage strikes, one after another. One aimed across her chest from his left as they circled, eat trying to gain the upper hand in their positioning. The second from his right, a frenzied swing fueled by the Dark Side. He embraced the pain that the swing caused him as his charred flesh flexed, letting each swing build in power and speed. He delivered a third blow, coming down on her head once more, followed shortly by his second saber striking for the same spot, hoping to draw her shield over her head, obscuring her vision. He delivered a final twinned blow, his sabers swinging in unison towards her stomach.

 

This would only be the beginning. If he was not stopped here, the galaxy would burn until his vengeance was sated.

((3)) ((One of the best duels I've been a part of. Regardless of outcome, this was an excellent experience.))

Edited by Mavanger

 

 

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It was worse than the aftermath and the battle of Chandrila. Soldiers and pilots of all kind scrambled, many of which were caught in the live-fires of the Sith Troopers and the shuttles that landed in the first wave of the invasion. And more toward the palace off to the side trying to avoid the contacts were the squad of Nudono Warriors and the Queen herself. Though their jerks on the woman were harsh it was evident they didn't realize it, and so far they have succeeded mostly in avoiding the firefight around them. Mostly. They had already run into a few squadrons in close-quarters in which the Trandoshans quickly dispatched with their primitive yet effective and brutal slug throwers. Or spike launchers, however these people of the galaxy prefer to call them. They were making their way to the nearest docks or ship or anything where they could get the Naboo Queen away from the chaos. 
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Vox felt it, the cold pull of darkness beginning to flood over him. This planet was going under and they couldn't handle the immense and seemingly endless tides of darkness casting their shadow across the planet. And time was running out. 
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They were running for their lives, and they had no choice but to fight along the way. As soon as several Sith Troopers showed themselves and begun firing they were caught in a puddle and flames and molten chemical. Their screams filled the air for several seconds before the superheated liquid, the flames, and the severe pain silenced them altogether. Vox had yet to use his Lightsaber, however he certainly used the Force to help guide them where they needed to go. Another soldier found their arm missing and their legs blasted off by the two grenades shots of the Puncture Rifles. Another's torsi were completely ripped apart by a single shot of Krexis' Ripper. These weapons and their tactics were both brutal and gory, but their accuracy and reactions could be easily mistaken for an elite squads. 
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Much like back at that marketplace on Nar Shaadda, Vox allowed the Force to take him where they needed. To his vision were a brilliance of colors, markings of the enemy and allies, a seemingly gold streak leading them. Through this sight Vox had  wen able to foresee the different threats coming, either hiding from attack shuttles above or ridding the galaxy of such evils, there were as if ghosts of their coming had arrived in the correct spots. Vox signaled for the group to get down and they did so under a bridge that had a great river passing under it. They used the thin walkways and kept low as shuttles and fighters alike flown by. 
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With a sigh, Vox turned to the four individuals behind him and said in Common Trandoshan for the Queen to understand... If she could, "We're nearing our objective. Remember, we stop for nothing, we stop for no one. As much as we can help out we also have an endless source of foes from all angles. On my signal."
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The other three warriors nodded in affirmation. On a sudden nudge, Vox and co. begun moving with the Queen between them. Vox covered the front while Equinox and Romulus had either side with Krexis at the back. Their goal was to get her off this now-accursed planet alive. They were nearing the next docks for where ships landed, and Vox had hoped for the best but if not the best? The Chieftain and his warriors would rip their first down. 

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A lone AIAT/I exited hyperspace and made for the planet below. It hailed no comm chatter, nor did it engage any opposition or it transmit any transponder codes to either side. It simply flew as fast as it's hyperdrive and sunlight engines allowed. 

 

Aboard this ship was the entirety of the 432nd Chandrillian Squadron, Veterans of Kuat. And in the lead, Colonel Mythos Von'Howlster of the Rebellion.

 

((Will make landing post tomorrow if no one has any objections))

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Low above the streets of Theed, three groups of two fighter squadrons followed a surprisingly agile freighter as it barreled and twisted its way through corridors, between buildings, and low above archways. The only targets they engaged were those directly in front of them, despite the reluctance of some of the pilots. Their path was too twisting and complex to allow for much else, though the path did bring them through the air above the Queen and her guard. Jackson had enough sense to help them out with a brief flyby as needed, before blasting his engines into gear as he guided his fighters to safety.


Once they breached the city walls the Plunder swooped low along the rolling hills and used them as cover. Their path began to follow the low dips and shallow valleys that Naboo's surface was famed for from them onwards, before arriving at their destination: a spot below the quickly forming blockade, where they could slip through. Given that they were fast enough and, of course, that they were unmolested in their full-throttle attempt at escape.

-

Jackson sealed his ship as they gained altitude, refusing to dwell on their trip and looking forward, instead, to investigate their gradually closing escape vector. They were no longer covered by anything besides themselves and his aura, which was actively shifting and hiding them beneath the fierce gazes of their enemies. The young Knight had been spending more and more time practicing his ability to use the force around him to color his own, in order to mimic the environment wherever he might be, but it was the first time he had been put in charge of so many lives before. His ship he could cover without too much difficulty, but extending it out to cover the six squadrons around him was a strain on his senses.

 

A small warning light flashed at the pilot's closed eyes, briefly illuminating an angry vein on his forehead and a thin red line trickling down his lips from his nose. They were approaching the gap and he was pushing his concentrating to its utmost; he would get these people to safety, in friendly arms, it was just a question of how well he covered them from the detection of someone important. Or dangerous. If they made it through the gap then their destination would be the far side of the star, which they would use as cover get to their last eventual destination. Nar Shadaa, where they would rendezvous with friendly forces and recuperate as needed. It was going to be a decent trek through the galaxy but they would be safe there, at the least.

 

But first they had to slip out from under this net before it was settled and drawn in, and without losing everyone in the process.

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The cold chill rolled down her clothen spine, the seat of her Fury-Class Interceptor embraced her, sending chills through her body, piercing her flesh and stinging her bone. Kahla shuddered, the throttle's leather cooled the skin of her palm like an icy steel. The flight stick in her right hand creaked, unfamiliar with the metal grasp. Reaching up she flicked the necessary switches. The engines spun up with their signature whine, and as she willed, the gunboat of a ship lifted off the hangar floor.

 

The engines blared with a mighty roar as she blew free of the hangar door, her muscles clenching as she slammed the throttle forward. The pull of acceleration pushed her into the seat behind her and she grinned like a child on life day. And as her childish hunger for adventure began seeping in, the ugliest of freighters violently dropped from hyperspace and bolted for the planet. There was no doubt in her mind; no true Sith would fly such a vessel. She was as disgusted by it as she was with the rotten hut she had the misfortune of smelling.

 

There was no hesitation in the robotic movement of her craft as she turned to give chase. Excitement filled her soul at the thought of finally earning, in her own eyes, her place as a true Sith. So much has led up to it, the merciless, indiscriminate slaughter of innocent and deserving alike. The ideal of 'the Ends justify the Means' swirled in her head; the power she craved would be hers, and any that stood in her path would be cut down.

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Mavanger vs Alcemene

 

First of all, both of you did an amazing job with your writing here. Guardians and warriors have a reputation for being hard to write well, and both of you did admirably. This duel felt very much like lightsaber combat distilled, and placed on the forefront rather than a focus on powers. That being said, there is always room for improvement, so I have a couple of points to go over:

 

-Darth Mavanger is on the warpath after the death of his lover, Xahl. I know this because we’ve discussed it over comms and because it’s the reason Mordecai went from conqueror to butcher at Naboo. That energy feels absent in the first and second posts, with the focus instead being on vague anti Jedi and rebel sentiment and technique.

 

-Furthermore, I felt like the heavy armor that Mavanger was wearing was under utilized, being relegated to the role of damage mitigation rather than being leveraged to position more aggressively. Alcemene was able to use her shield both to respond to attacks and to have an impact on the landscape of the duel.

 

Duel result: Alcemene wins  

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Akheron answered, a serious tone to his voice. Under the mask, a smile formed...he thought it good that his apprentice ask such questions. Afterall how else would they learn and break their chains. 

 

 "If someone killed The Spider we shall soon hear of it. But I don't think that is the case...something mysterious surrounds it though. All I know is that he is gone, and that it seems to be the will of the Fanged God. For as the clan motto holds true 'Death, remembers for all'. A new avatar has been chosen however and thus it is not for us to question further such matters. Who knows what part we yet play...We shall see. Time will tell if our new Dark Mistress is worthy and strong enough to lead, so far she seems capable.

 

For now the Fanged God favours her and so as members of Clan Brasganu and servants of the Darkness are bound by blood to serve her. As are you as my apprentice.”

 

Pausing a moment he  continued, even as he ensured every item he needed was secure. Then signalled the pilot to take off.

 

"As for Gungans.The Gungans are a sentient, amphibious, sometimes force-sentive, humanoid race native to the planet below us. Prior to the Invasion of Naboo, an event that took place in 32 BBY, the Gungans were a largely isolationist society. but now they are more semi-isolated. They have long managed to combine machinery with biology using the viscous plasma we seek. They usually live in large bubble-like domes under the water but some have been known to explore beyond the planet for good or ill. Most dismiss Gungans as primitive pests, and yet they have developed an advanced, unique, technology. They have grown the basic structures of buildings, vehicles and technology and adorned them art. Not as primitive as people think. The power source for Gungan technology is a mysterious blue-white energy "goo" that is mined in the depths of the oceans, specifically where we are heading, so expect a fight. The viscous plasmic material forms the basis of Gungan weaponry.

 

 

The Gungans are a warrior race and have a standing army. Ground troops are expected to be  carrying portable frames which generate a protective energy field capable of deflecting blaster fire. In large-scale combat, gian shield generators can create an immense umbrella of protective shield energy that can stop laser bolts and physical objects with great kinetic energy. So you can imagine the potential of the plasma we seek to study .

 

It would benefit the Sith and the Empire greatly, not to mention the clan. This is why we must not fail. In the meantime I suggest you prepare yourself. Meditate...focus yourself in the Darkness. Feel it. Connect your rage, anger...your hate and fear....suffering to it. Embrace it all and open yourself fully to the negativity. Feel the emotions of all here, the terror of your enemies out there and only then will you knew true beauty. "

 

He let his apprentice consider his words and accomplish this particular test.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Meanwhile aboard the Korriban's Wrath, Akheron's second command. A slightly younger human man of 30, Lor Dji'jin stood watching the battle as he unleashed the waves of Acklay Class Heavy Interceptors from the bows of the ship, escorting bombers and the dropships as they made their way to conduct strafing bomb runs or to deliver troops to the ground. 

 

As he looked on the tactical display he noted a Fury Class Interceptor pop up. It was curious given how old the vessel was considered against more modern technology. Regardless, he noted the frequency was a ally so sent 4 Acklay Interceptors as escort and as attack squad if they wished. 

 

A message was soon sent informing the pilot (Kahla) of the new escort and the fact they had specific orders to now follow her express commands. No matter what that could possibly mean for them.

 

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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She caught the first blow on her shield, the weight of his strikes almost buckling her completely as she was pushed back with every fierce strike. Her shied was battered down again and again until one of the red sabers field the left side of her vision completely. A sharp pain at her ear, then nothing as the side of her face went completely numb. His hands came together for a double blow and the arc of his blow shimmered before him as he struck. She stepped to the side and let the blow pass her by, the force of his blow sending him towards the edge of the power shaft while her yellow saber came up in a long line of golden light that passed through his chest. 

 

He stumbled once as she brought the shield back up, then fell hard into the darkness of the shaft below. The two red lightsabers lighting his path into the depths several kilometers below. 

 

She blinked and let out a sigh as she leaned heavily on the shield before hauling herself back up to stand. She spared a glance down the shaft but could see nothing, and with the literal host of the darkside coming down on the complex she could not spare a moment to feel if he had died. He had fought well, and she said a quick prayer for his soul. For he was a man, and he did deserve the respect of a man who had fought well. She snapped off her golden lightsaber and clipped it back onto her belt. 

 

Then the pain from her wounds came to life. She winced and began a slow jog after Vox.

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“Death comes for all” Solus repeated slowly after Akheron spoke, as if he was tasting every word on his non-existent tongue. What a beautiful phrase. So delicate, yet so powerful. Something about it resonated with the Shard. He liked it immensely. 


The explanation about the Gungangs was also fascinating, though not as much. The idea that these warrior people utilized something besides technology to combat the forces of this world of worlds was...unbelievable. And Solus voiced that opinion.


“Still, to think...not to use the weapons we have at our disposal already and relying on their old contraptions...that is mind boggling, yes? I mean, look at my body! Why, even my last one was a powerful vessel, with all of its crudeness, yes?  These Gungans master...bah, if the new empress thinks their weapons will be useful to us, then I wiill do my best to acquire them, but bah!” Solus waved a hand away as if to mock something imaginary. “What pathetic beings we will crush, eh?” 
Then Akheron spoke those words that Solus was not ready for. 


“Focus yourself in the Darkness”


There was no way Akheron would mean the same darkness that Solus was envisioning. To Akheron, it was probably figurative for the dark side of the force, or the presence of the Fanged God. But for Solus, it was something else entirely. 


Solus wanted to speak against this command. Solus desperately wanted to beg and ask for just a few guiding words, or permission to let his usual excitement guide his actions. Wasn’t that enough? 


“Yes...master” Solus instead spoke softly. With that, and a very long pause, the chassis slumped forward slightly as it powered down. 
Solus was terrified. The darkness that surrounded him was even bigger than before. As impossible as it felt, Solus could sense his robot chassis around him. All it would take was a little jolt from his thoughts, a dash of his shard to the wires on him, and the body would come back online. 


But he couldn’t. Not yet. 


“The Darkness” Akheron’s voice echoed in the endless void. Solus was a soul floating on an invisible current, with nothing moving nor anchoring him. Space could only hope to be as impossibly big as this.  The gap between him and the edge of everything was too far to sense, yet it was right there. 
Akheron’s voice echoed again, a memory in a land of silence. 


Connect your rage, anger...your hate and fear....suffering to it


Solus wanted to cry, but he had no voice to sob with. He desired to weep, to mourn, but with no body, how could he make such a desire come true? The silence. The darkness. The shadow of nothing. How terrifying! How dreadful! Oh to be back in that world of worlds! To leave this place! Could anyone hear him from here? Could anyone even speak to him here? Maybe he should flee now. Back to the world of worlds where the light shines and...
No...focus Solus. Don’t let it consume us again. Right Solus? We have been here before. For an eternity that was only a moment. Stay... focus…. Remember those words…Let them echo again.


Connect your rage, anger...


Rage...oh that is a powerful emotion! Yes, we remembered it. The first moments when you, Solus, were cast off into this void. Do you remember that, little Solus? Those first few moments of silence? How quickly you turned to anger with your shard-mates...can you still feel that anger? Oooh it makes me hungry now… I drool with anticipation...


Your hate...


Oh the hate...how sweet it is to feel that despicable thing. Can you focus on it? Point it in a direction? There we go, Solus...point it. Guide it. Where are we aiming? I don’t know anymore…


Akheron? That is a good thing to hate, but why him? Cause he placed us here? He simply commanded you. We obeyed. No...no...not him…no definitely not Roshan, though maybe Lord Helios would do...


The Gungans… yes that's a good target. Ooooh that hate is flowing now! We hate the Gungans. We’ve never met them, and yet we already loathe them entirely... I’m sure even Akheron feels that hatred! We certainly do, haha!  Oh how my hunger grows in anticipation!


Connect suffering to it


Yes, connect it. Like you connected with the wires to the body, connect the darkness with our suffering. All the pain we feel. Let it flow into the darkness and back out. In….out….in...out…


Who is that? Who is speaking to us? You don’t know? Good...let’s keep it that way. Focus Solus. Feel the darkness. Remember the Force? The Wicked flame? Can you call on it now? 


There it is... the impossible geometries. The colors of emotions. The sounds of death and guilt. The smells of hunger. My hunger. MY hunger Solus. Can you smell it? Death is my meat Solus. Use your hatred. Yes, like that. Tint all the impossible things with that hate. Make all the life around your scrawny little shard feel it. Make the Force feel your hate...yes...now feed me. Recall the hatred. Bring it back. Focus it on the Gungans. Can you see them? Good. Now kill them...kill them. 


Kill them all

 

With a start, Solus’ body powered on. The ship was approaching the planet now. It was only a few miles above a swamp where they would land. Surely the Gungans were below. 

 

“Let us kill them master!” Solus proclaimed. Next to him, Tear seemed to smile, as impossible as it should have been for such a hound. “I feel the darkness flowing through me! Yes that is what it is! Let us kill the Gungans! Kill the Gungans, haha!”

Edited by Solus
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    The Empire of old had been obsessed with super weapons, constructing obscene technological terrors the size of moons that could obliterate planets. Such force was unnecessary to send a message, and ended up being a monument to galactic inefficiency, as well as a symbol for the galaxy to unite against us. It was overkill, not in the sense of amusingly swatting aside an enemy, but the gross misuse of resources and power to clumsily bellow some measure of potency.

 

Darth Nyrys believed in simple yet elegant statements, no need to rave a misbegotten manifesto when a singular potent word could get your word across. The spear that she had thrown was such a statement. Hopefully the galaxy was listening so that unnecessary bloodshed could be avoided.

 

Submit.

 

The spaceport was suddenly engulfed with dust and ash as the spear hit the planet with such force that it could have been mistaken for a nuclear bomb. A relativistic kill vehicle attack was actually far more merciful than an atomic strike or orbital bombardment, as it lacked the radiation or obscene extended thermal spike. Not that anyone suffering through it would feel particularly blessed.

 

Her opening statement issued, she headed planetside with the troops aboard an assault shuttle. As her forces descended, she felt a disturbance in the Force, yet another sudden quietude. Darth Mavanger’s presence had been muted as it lay hazily in that twilit place between life and death. Flanked by elite soldiers, she made her way to where the last ghostly vapors of his presence remained.

 

“Guard the perimeter, I need to conduct a ritual,” she commanded the troops that accompanied her. She waited until they withdrew out of earshot before she confessed to the mostly dead man, “I don’t have a ritual, or any kind of answer here.”

 

“Everything is falling apart, and I wonder if maybe that’s why Exodus disappeared when he did, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the mess, with the blame, as everything crumbled into ruin. I thought that maybe with your talent for command that we could rally the Sith here and keep the rebels on the wrong foot enough to prevent them from capitalizing on our moment of weakness. However, it seems that the galactic wheel is turning with inevitable surety, and entropy is here to banish us all back into the shadows.

 

You were one of the good ones though, Darth Mavanger, not rotted from within like so many of the others. A true warrior of the Sith, taken from us too early. But Sith are not beholden to the rules of the galaxy, so if you are truly one of our number, you will rage against this hand of stolen cards and legacy denied. Why are you so still at this betrayal by the stars to cut your story off at the knees? GET UP! BITE AND CLAW YOUR WAY BACK HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE!”

 

Her throat was raw and sore from the sudden outburst. Tears came to reflect the mournful storm within her soul. “You know what the secret power of the Sith is? It’s not the Dark Side, or the quality of our agents, or some secret spell or weapon. It’s failure. We are constantly failing, but unlike our enemies we learn from our mistakes. We fail constantly, but we always rise from the ashes as something more, evolved. Superior. The scars we bear are lessons, not marks of shame. I thought that you were the answer, but perhaps the true path lies with another. I will not let the Sith end here because of my own faulty expectations. If your fight ends here, then I will find another. But if there is still some measure of you that wants to conquer death and spit in the face of the light, give me a sign.

 

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As Mordecai fell, his rage simmered. For the first time in weeks, he could think with a clear mind. Was this the peace that the accursed Jedi always spoke of? If so, he could understand why they were so steadfast. He didn't have much more time to ponder, however, as his body smashed against the walkway below, a hundred feet below where he had fought the Jedi. His sabers tumbled into the abyss below, and his mind went black from pain, even as his armor absorbed the worst of the impact, and his mind danced on the edge of death. He was badly injured and alone. If a Rebel found him, they would kill him. If a Sith found him, they would likely do the same. He had failed. His pain and his anger were what kept him alive now, and both were fading with time. He could feel the Force recoiling as the world above burned. His people were enacting his will, but there was something else.

 

Death on a scale he had not foreseen was buffeting the Force, the power of thousands of lives snuffed out at once deafening what tenuous grasp on the peace of the Light Side he had. It was power. It was fear. He could feel the perpetrator coming closer. Whereas Exodus's presence had been a miasma, smothering and altering reality into something nearly unrecognizable, this was something else. Something that was possibly even more powerful than what he'd felt years ago at Corellia, before the Dark Lord Exodus' fall from grace. It cut through the force like a withering blade, leaving a bleeding wound wherever it went, cutting its own path through the palace. Towards him. Towards his failure.

 

When she spoke, he realized who this must be. The new Dark Lady, Darth Nyrys. 

 

He recognized something in her voice. Anger. Sorrow. Hurt. As his soul dance ever closer to the release of death, finally tipping over the line, those emotions lashed out, the dark tendrils wrapping around his essence, pulling him back through the sheer strength of his rage and his will to live. To any attuned to the force, his resurrection resembled a blast of nuclear proportions. In an instant, all of his anger, all of his rage, grief, and pain, came exploding back into the Force with reckless abandon. On the material plane, his shattered bones knit themselves back together as best as they could- it was a crude facsimile of healing, his pain still ever present, as his bones remained fractured. His gauntleted hand reached out, grabbing Darth Nyrys's wrist as his eyes shot open, making contact with hers.

 

"My vengeance has not yet been realized."

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So the Lady of Sorrows draws forth her council from the grave

 

The Felix Legions dropped like Valkyries from the sky, following the streams of turbolasers into the burning ruins of Theed. Where once there were granite walkways, there was now only burning slag. The planet would burn, a vengeance for the death of a Dark Lord. A vengeance for a kingdom denied. 

 

For even in their defeat the Sith would bring a ruin that generations would dare not speak of. And the Sith were still in the noontide of their power. 

 

Commander Valinor - Sith Lord

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Admiral 3rd Felix Legions

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Vox had felt it at first. The sudden pull of the Force like a reckoning, an I'll omen coming. Immediately Vox shouted something before the power of a bomb smashed into the nearest docks. The sheer power of the attack was brutal and devastating and all the Trandoshans could do were cover the Naboo Queen. The shaking of the earth beneath their boots, the initial shockwave they were thankfully protected from by a sturdy wall, all of this caused Vox to pull away from his state of grace and into the fight of reality. 
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When the dust settled Vox attempted to refocus his efforts in connecting with the Force once more, at first failing. He then cleared everything from his mind, his worry and urgency fading until he met that same inner self, until he finally found his link to the Force. With a sigh, Vox checked over everyone before looking out into the area, the dust still kicked up high in the air and too thick to see anything ahead. With a signal, the group followed Vox in close formation, well away from the palace and to one of the star ports used for foreign vessels. 
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Ahead the Chieftain shot his Puncture Rifle several times, each one met with a grunt it a shirt scream until they reached an area where the high winds picked up and was removed of any dirt. Equinox, for a moment, stopped to look at the view before him, his jaw drooping in his helmet and his mind almost going blank. Well ahead, the main poet wax completely eradicated, the only thing in it's place a massive crater with a mushroom cloud replacing the once magnificent platform. Whatever had hit the place had also slanted and crooked the platform they stood on, and with a nudge from Krexis, Equinox snapped back to reality before catching up with the group. 
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Vox looked around, and the silence of the area was on e again starting to descend into chaos once more. It was then he saw an escape shuttle, possibly from a nearby ship crashed into a crevice not easily found. There, Vox pointed, and they begun making their way to the potential cover while firing at the sparse soldier and squadron. It seemed damnable that there weren't any ways off the planet, and Vox felt this might be the last time he see anybody his brothers. No, he didn't lose faith however, for the Force made him hold onto some form of belief there was a way out of here... Just he couldn't see nor find it. Regardless, they would protect the Queen, or die trying. 

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The Queen crouched behind the firm company of reptilian commandos. Her young face was etched in the lines of agony, makeup streaked in long lines from the hot tears that refused to stop streaming in cascades down her cheeks. She wiped at the tears with a fierce swipe of a satin sleeve. The makeup streaked even more, but at least the watery stinging went away. The royal city was in ruins, and untold thousands had already been slaughtered. There was no stand to fight here. There was no populace to be saved.

 

She reached up a long thin hand and depressed a panel in the wall beside them. Backup generators in the wall kicked in for a moment as the granite tiling shrunk back to reveal a man sized doorway and behind it a silver gleam of a Nubain designs royal starship. They had no crew, but she was sure the Trandoshans could fit. 

 

She flicked her wrist and an emerald beam of energy spanned from her holdout blaster to drop a Sith Trooper where he stood. 

 

“Commander.” She slapped Vox’s pauldron and motioned towards the ship. “If the Naboo will ever see the light of liberty again we must escape.” For fate had set her cause with the Jedi and the Rebel Alliance. 

 

And calmly, with as much dignity as she could muster, the 15 year old strode through the hail of blaster fire and towards the escape hatch and the relative safety of the starship beyond. 

 

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NPCs for boardwides and small stories on request

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Klaxons and radar alerts lit up like Life Day as targeting systems aligned and locked in, the Pilots alerting Mythos of the incoming fighters with the skies of Naboo in the forward view. The Colonel grimaced, but looked back at the men that littered the ship's innards with contemplation. He knew this entry would be difficult, but not so quickly picked up. Theed was still a few minutes away.

 

"Make for Theed." Mythos guttered out as he turned to exit. "I'll handle to opposition. You two, get to the front turrets." He spoke to two of the 432nd that were close by as he made his way to the rear, open comms commanded. "Let's give em hell."

 

Mythos, rather large even for his species, had little trouble climbing into the rear turret's seat, kicking his duster aside for leg room. His larger hands, on the other hand, engulfed the controls and forced the Shistavanen to use three of his overall digits. Lining up his sights, he swiveled around, and with a look of sheer determination on his face, let loose a volley of emerald bolts. His targets were simple, anything fired upon them or anything locked on.

 

Minutes would pass like hours over the course of the next few moments as the AIAT/I entered Nabooan Airspace and rocketed for Theed. With sweat dripping from his furred face, he licked his lips with feverish vengeance. "Hit the water hard. I don't care if we have to submerge. Let's get them off our tails."

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Two minutes after the Gungan submersibles had descended into the darkest depths of the Naboo Abyss, Bryce refused to look through her bongo’s canopy and just stared into her lap. As a denizen of Bespin, she was a creature of open skies, far horizons, and free winds. The journey through the planetary core was one of impenetrable darkness, claustrophobia, piloting by instrumentation, and eldritch sea creatures with teeth larger than an interceptor.  Yuusan continued to boast about the honor of the Gungan Grand Army--centuries of tradition, never backed down from a fight even against a technologically-superior opponent--but the Talon’s discipline failed her.

 

But she was still a soldier of the Galactic Alliance, and a veteran of the Third Death Star, Coruscant, and Dark Sun Station. She had long developed coping mechanisms in confronting abyssal horror--most of which revolved around keeping calm and busying herself with work.

 

“Bryce, comms check.”
 

“Four by five, Captain,” came an answering voice from her Chiss executive officer. “It’s a little staticky this far down.”

 

“We’ll make do, sergeant. Open up your holomap of Theed. I’ve an idea. We have a direct route to Theed from the Abyss… one of the tributaries of the Solleu opens up to us. Depth is about twenty meters, give or take. Is that sufficient for navigation, General?”

 

“Disa bongo travels just fine. Da transports… risky.”

 

“We’ll have to make do. Unless… our packs carry their own oxidizer. They’re vacuum-sealed. They’ll work just fine at that depth.”

 

“Bit slow until we clear the water.”

 

“True, but the last thing that they’ll expect is an airborne insertion carried out from submersibles. Two bursts should get us to the palace hangar. The opening to the Virdugo Plunge will be perfect for entrance. From there, we can gain transport and exfil. Targets of opportunity are grounded shuttles. Remember, Talons, this is not a fight we will win if we get stuck in. The best we can hope for is to surprise them, blast as many targets as we can on our way to exfil, and get out while they’re still trying to figure out where we hit them from. No heroics--and especially nothing stupid like trying to take on a Sith Lord. You see red lightsabers, you put on the fuel and run, understand?”

 

Understood, Captain,” was the general response from her soldiers.

 

____

 

“Sorry about that, General. I… feel better now.” Bryce apologized to Yuusan, after having defiled the Gungan’s submersible with seasickness. The Gungan, however, seemed to find her response to the final, hairraising maneuvers 

 

Thirty minutes later, the bongos began their final ascent from the Naboo Abyss and began to rise towards the Solleu River. Somewhat shaky after having expunged her seasickness from the final, hairraising maneuvers onto her boots, Bryce lifted a canteen to her lips and apologized. “Sorry about that, General… I’m not exactly suited for amphibious operations.”

 

The Gungan, however, seemed to find the defilement of his submersible hilarious. He burst out into massive, jolly, jowl-shaking laughter, taking his hands off the yoke to pound one of the control panels. “Birds not so good at water maneuvers, eh! Ha! Now, weesa ready! Depth tenska meters! Go and maken big messen. Ouch-time for deh Seeth.”

 

Bryce stood to her full height and clamped her helmet onto her head, the airtight seals hissing into place. The hydrostatic bubble canopy retreated and water flooded into the crew compartment--the warm air of the compartment was replaced by cool, stale air from her armor’s air supply. The Talon looked upwards, at the glimmering surface of water above her.

 

She and one hundred shock troopers kicked off from their transports and triggered their jetpacks simultaneously, turning their bodies into sapient missiles that rode a stream of exhaust and bubbles towards the surface of the Solleu River. The water was far from an ideal medium for their jet packs--acceleration was slow--but they soon cleared the surface of the water and streaked unimpeded to rooftop level above the surface of Theed.

 

Or it would have been rooftop level, had a squadron of transports not been blasting the city into rubble from turbolasers. Muttering a curse, Bryce gave the jetpack another burst of fuel and kicked in the repulsorlifts, causing her to glide above the smoke and rubble from a vantage point. Her head on a swivel, the Talon scanned from side to side in search of grounded transports.

 

“Multiple targets in that plaza to the left, take them. Boom and zoom, Talons.” Two platoons of Talon Company veered towards the open boulevard that led to the palace complex, while the other half continued their glide towards the hangars that rested on the cliff face at the very edge of the city. Another troop transport had touched down at the entrance of the domed hangar complex--she and four soldiers in her squad cut their repulsorlifts and fell upon the grounded vessel, landing hard on its dorsal surface.

 

“P for plenty, Rashik.” Bryce muttered to the Chiss, who thoughtlessly planted a sequencer charge just in front of the sublight engines. She and the other Talons blasted freely at a squad of the chrome-plated Sith troopers, forcing them to scatter and take cover until the charges were set. A heavy pat on her pack confirmed that the explosive charge was in place and ticking down. Without a word, the five shock troopers gave their jetpacks a microburst of thrust to escape and sprinted along the roof of the hangar complex. Far in the distance, a series of explosion rumbled and dark smoke began to rise from the Place Plaza, signifying the success--and retreat--of the rest of her soldiers.

 

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As the ship neared ever closer to the swamp, Karys opened a pouch upon within his robes. From it he withdrew a spare lightsaber, one which was much like his own and waterproofed in the same way as well. It would do as a temporary solution until Solus made his own. As Solus regained composure and exclaimed, excitedly about killing gungans, Akheron was somewhat amused , even as the ship shook and tumbled a bit. They lost two ships part of his team and another two from the diversion team on the descent under fire, as expected the swamps were protected.

 

In many ways Solus reminded the massassi of a child, at least in how he reacted to some things. He would soon outgrow it though he hoped...if he would need to if he was to survive the trials. For they broke even those who thought themselves unbeatable...if their will was weak they went insane. 

 

"You will get your fill soon enough my apprentice, but first patience. Let them come to us. That said if you are to fight you will be needing this. It is a lightsaber a tool of extension...but this one is but a temporary solution until you make your own. It works underwater. Just remember a lightsaber is not a sword, so don't handle it as such. A lightsaber is weightless. Adjust accordingly and watch as I do. Learn. Now let us begin." 

 

It was then they arrived. As the ramps opened, he allowed the diversion force to split off and make for the bubble cities. To light them up and distract as intended. His lightsaber lit up a crimson, even as he felt a shift in the force. A great wound had been created, loss of life untold claimed by the spear. His smile widened under his mask, his wrath fuelled by the mass loss.

 

He spoke out even as he sliced a gungan in half once he parried the electrostaff upwards. The first of his many victims upon the planet.

 

"Can you feel that my apprentice!? Our Dark Mistress has marked her arrival. Most impressive a display I might add. Feed on the destruction...let the terror and cries of the dead and dying fuel your rage. Let it flow through you like lightning and guide your movements. Unleash your true self. There shall be no redemption or mercy for those in our path."

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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As Solus held the weapon in his hand, his excitement was barely containable. While he didn’t understand how it worked, he knew its purpose clearly. A weapon of the gods, in his very hand. A weapon to cause destruction as he saw fit. A thing to cause death on a scale of his choosing. 


Solus also felt the loss of life in the force when Akheron did. It was an amazing feeling. The loss of life only felt like a tingle, but he could see it. Fading in and out of his sensor's vision, the impossible geometries revealed themselves, shattering and unable to reform. As his lord went to battle, Solus couldn’t help but watch, almost hypnotized by his master’s battle prowess. The force around him was changed color. The air, was it more red now, or was that just the glow of his blade?


“Yes my master! Haha! Isn’t it glorious? Oh is the Fanged God enjoying this? Haha! I must join! Yes! I must join in! Haha He calls me to this!”


In his elation, the Shard was almost unable to turn on the blade. He shook with excitement as he fumbled with the weapon. But after a moment, the blood-like blade hissed to life. Solus could see the force swirl around the weapon. The red colors were not just from the blades.


Solus looked up. An amphibious biped  was charging towards the shard, spear in hand. Solus acted on instinct. His free hand reached out and grabbed the spear by the shaft, and with a duck under its pointed tip, Solus brought the blade up. 


It was so much different then fighting with his previous chassis. Where he would have had momentum, here he had only speed. But where he would’ve felt resistance of metal on flesh, here the only resistance was the energy cutting through burning flesh. 


The gungan fell lifeless to the ground. Solus couldn’t help but stare at the body momentarily. 


Then he laughed again. 


“Hahaha! Such beauty! Yes! The Wicked Flame! The Fanged God! The Dark Side! Death! Death! Death!”


Solus began to chant the word over and over again as he charged forward towards the swampy areas. A few more Gungans were waiting, flinging their energy balls with atlatls. Some of the more fresher Linnorms behind Solus took the cue and charged alongside him, eager to kill.


“Death! Death! Death!” they all cried out, eager to give the Fanged God his due. 


When Solus reached the Gungans, he let himself loose. The thrill of killing was still new to him, and with a weapon of the gods in his possession, it was so easy to do!  One slash, another slash, a warrior and his weapon were cut down. A spin of the body, and another was decapitated. A bringing of the blade up, then back down, and another Gungan screamed as he lost his arm. 


“Oh Stitch-Mouth, what a body this is! I can see all the enemies around me! Haha!”


Solus continued to hack and slash at the enemies around him. True, it was  sloppy and uncoordinated compared to Akheron’s style, with the shard wasting energy and over powering his swings, but still how it filled Solus with glee! 


A noise caught solus attention. Bursting into the clearing, another gungan charged, this time on some kind of reptavian mount. However, Solus didn’t have time to react, as a blur of motion suddenly knocked the rider off and onto the ground. Tear lived up to his and his brother Rip’s namesake as he pulled the gungan’s throat out. 


Solus laughed again, and separated the kaadu head from its body. It was clear they both were enjoying themselves greatly. 


Solus looked up. A line of Kaadu riders charged the Shard, the Hound, and the small batch of Linnorms.  Solus readied himself to strike, despite having the numbers and cavalry against him.


“Haha! Yes! Come and get me! Come and let me kill!”

Edited by Solus

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3 light freighters blasted out of hyperspace over the planet of Naboo, hurling themselves at high speed towards the surface. Swift JusticeThe Trident, and Bloodlust all moving at top speeds, Tros stood in the back of his own ship, Swift Justice with six others. His gaze rested on the holoprojector that was displaying the two other ship squads. Every single Mandalorian had their buy'ces on and weapons for the most part at the ready for entry. Only Tros stood without any weapons drawn or at the ready. "This is our mission,  to support the Sith Empire as best we can. We're here to make a name for ourselves amongst the Empire. If you are unable to do so, cause as much chaos and damage as possible. Update each other through your HUDs and link up. I want to have our ears and eyes everywhere." Tros then pulled out his WESTAR-35 blaster pistols and held them at the ready. "For Kote. Darasuum Kote."

 

Tros then cut the holoprojector and turned towards the landing ramp and awaited the signal within his HUD for entry. It flashed for him, yellow, yellow, yellow, green! At the green, he opened the door and walked about halfway out and then turned himself and let the air take him off the landing ramp of his own ship. He began to free fall towards the surface of the planet. It took him about four seconds before he passed through a few clouds and before him loomed the city of Theed. He refused to activate his jetpack until he reached a good midpoint between being too close to activate them and too far away from running out of enough power to get him to the surface safely. As he came down into a good area, there was some soft movement towards his right where about three or four royal guards were attempting to escort people out of the city. They were not headed towards the main palace area where he would have assumed would be the transports. They were quick to open fire on him and the other six Mandalorians. 

 

A few shots went off his right shoulder and side armor before him and the others opened fire on the guards, dropping them rather quickly. One of the other Mandalorians walked up alongside him. "Alor, there are about 7 unarmed lifesigns hiding in the building that guards were defending. Orders?" Tros looked for a second at the door and then towards the other explosions he heard in the distance. "No survivors. Sutu Skoss, you're with me. We advance." Tros and Sutu activated their jetpacks and moved rapidly towards the cliff side of the city near one of the waterfall locations. As they left, three of the Mandalorians quickly fire their rockets on their jetpacks towards the building that held the civilians, while the other two used their flamethrowers to begin lighting up other buildings. Tros and Sutu arrived near the edge of the upper city nearest to the waterfall. Arriving, the two quickly opened fire on anything that moved that was clearly not apart of the Sith Empire. As they finished their own handiwork, Tros pulled up his comlink to Vulios. "Vulios, the spaceport. Strike it hard with as much firepower as you can. Let nothing escape."

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The craft had already put decent distance between them, and the weight of the Fury was dificult enough to accelerate. It would be a minute at least before she could lock on, longer still to get within gun range. Kahla held the pressure to her throttle, as if trying to push it beyond its limits, though it didn't help much. Tension worked its way up her back as she leaned towards the blinking console. The anticipation was starting to drive her mad as she pondered the nature of the craft she pursued. It looked like a Search and Rescue craft, was it there to evacuate the city? Maybe an important figure? As far as she knew the queen was still on the surface, and a vessel like that would be a good candidate. Not as conspicuous as a Royal starship.

 

The radar flashed to life with four new friendly signatures quickly gaining on her. Too big for interceptors, too small for full bombers. Kahla was unflinching on the throttle, still holding it tight to max thrust. But the four fighters had no issue catching up, even overtaking her ancient craft. She hadn't requested an escort, this was her chace, and she would see it through. Soon the lead pilot radioed in, he was short spoken, to the point. "Darth Akheron sends his regards." His voice was monotone, almost robotic; it was as if his every word was practiced. Kahla sighed, a little disappointed, though quite intrigued at the play the other Darth made. She knew him only by name, he was taking part in the campaign in the outer rim, though she'd never met him in person. Curious indeed.

 

"Two of you form up behind me, the other two are to attempt to disable the craft. The kill is mine." She ordered greedily. This time she wouldn't be sharing in her meal.

 

The fighters that took off ahead of her reminded her of her own craft in a way. More modernized, thinner. Almost like they got rid of everything not completely essential. Not a terrible craft, but not as robust as hers.

 

The screens flared and power surged to the auxiliary weapons, the enemy was within visual range now and Kahla's steel thumb teased the launch button. The tension worked its way through her every muscle, her shoulders stiffened as she inched towards the vessel. She couldn't make it so simple as to launch a missile; no, she wanted to see the looks on their faces as she cut them down. The two fighters she had sent forward had taken damage, a rear turret was giving them trouble, forcing them back into formation behind the Fury-class.

 

The atmosphere engulfed her view, a vibrant shade of blue at the edges of sight, but towards the horizon, darker plumes of smoke, orange flames burn cities under clouds of black. The invasion was in full swing. Kahla smiled, knowing her part in the destruction. She drew her attention back to the forefront, just in time to duck the first volley of neon green bolts sent her way. "Break off, Keep anything that can still fly on the ground! I'll handle this." She shouted over the comms. The Acklay fighters had no trouble pulling out of the steep dive as Kahla pushed the advance.

 

She pulled into a large corkscrew as the next field of bolts stormed towards her. Finally, the massive, juicy engines were within range, and Kahla cackled as she crushed the flight stick in her metal grasp. The quad laser cannons let loose a burst of relentless death. The targeting system was precise, impacting the large port side engine. In her determination Kahla accepted the traded fire from the larger craft, the green bolts quickly stripped her shields, and before long started ripping into the hull on her right side. Flames burst out of the fresh holes, but her aim was true and her enemy would soon impact the water beneath them.

 

The control surfaces fought her as she pulled the throttle back, deploying the airbrakes that promptly blew off. Kahla felt herself sucked down into her seat as she hauled back on the stick, forcing her craft to level. Just as she met the horizon line a streak of burning light carved its way through the atmosphere. In the distance beyond Theed an unrelenting explosion ripped through the ground and sky. She grinned in awe of the devastating blast. What a Brilliant message this will be.

 

Her interceptor started losing its speed, and with alarms blaring its nose dipped. The ground flew up with destructive speed, and Kahla knew there was no correcting her path. A deep laugh escaped her as she rolled the craft left and yanked the stick back. It wasn't enough to turn, and she was sent into a sideways belly dive. She lept from her chair and made for the port side airlock as the wing smashed into the stone ground, leveling the interceptor onto its underside. It slid thrice its length along the ground before coming to a rest in the Naboo architecture. Fire leapt from panel to panel on the hull of the vessel, and black smoke rose to the sky.

 

There was but a beat before what was left of the slammed against the uncovered soil. A dark cloaked silhouette stood, contrasted by the glowing red caution lights of the craft. The figure stepped forward with malice and driven intent.

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Vox and his Warriors fired at anything that moved and avoided friendly fire. The destruction was something that lingered in the Chieftains mind, the sheer power of the Sith was something not to be trifled with. It was then he decides that one day his tribe will become a superpower, contested with the Sith and those who dated tread along their path. It was then that Vox felt it was just about time to go home, not quite yet, but that feeling stayed with him. He needed to rely in the Force for that signal but how it would come was a mystery. For now, Vox focused his efforts away from his people and onto alongside his warriors and the enemy. However their situation staying around a crashed shuttle for cover was getting harrier by the minute. 

 

They moved once more and to along the granite walls of the once brilliant palace. They used broken stone slabs for cover, and with no way to go, Vox felt the Force bind him to this particular spot. Why? Was this their final stand against tyranny? They hadn't done much to impact the galaxy let alone save their own people from the Slavers and hunters of Trandosha. What purpose did moving here serve?

 

 

“Commander.” Vox heard then felt the slap of his pauldron, he turned to glance at the young Queen of Naboo, her makeup ruined and dried from its long list streams of tears, “If the Naboo will ever see the light of liberty again we must escape.”

 

With as much concern Vox had with moving from their position it was going to have to be the right move. The enemy was stacking odds even higher with their numbers, and he didn't have time to consider it as the Naboo Queen decides to stroll on out from the cover and into an escape hall. A trap door! Clever people, whoever built the palace! The squad of armored lizards followed behind the Queen, more so gathering around her to protect her. A blaster bolt crashed into Romulus's helm as he ducked where the Queen would have stood. And then they entered through. 

 

Covering her backside, the Trandoshans spew firth a flurry of spikes and grenades and fire. They clustered through the hall as they downed more Sith trying to follow them in. Krexis was ripping through bodies with his own unique rifle, Equinox begin throwing Firebombs, between that and Vox and Romulus peppering the corridor with spikes, it was hard for any trooper to get a clear shot let alone come anywhere near the entrance. The Trandoshans found the ship the Queen was walking toward and hastened their efforts, boarding the ship along with the small woman. 

 

"Romulus! Start up that vessel!" Vox barked in a roar-like shout so his technician could hear over the constant blaster- and slug-fire.

 

The smaller Trandoshan only nodded as he quickly rushed into the ship and started for the controls. Years of being taught how to work technology and machinery in secret paid off in this moment. He powered up the ship and it's shrill roar echoed through the room. Romulus then quickly used his helmets internal radio, "Vox, the ships ready, let's go!"

 

Vox then barked something over the comm-link to the other two warriors and they moved toward the ship. It was time to leave. When the Queen boarded the ship so did they however Krexis remained on the open hatch of the back. He picked off soldiers who moved into the large room when the escape vessel lifted from the ground and quickly finished his entry when the door began closing. Romulus wasn't the best at flying star ships but he was the best experience of the four, and when the blast doors were fully open in the few seconds they took off. 

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