Kashyyyk

[Alora]

Alora stood at the window to their room, looking out at the fleet as it engaged in battle. As Draken stated that it was time to work, the Sith Mistress turned from the window as well. As he squatted down, Alora chose to sit cross-legged on the floor facing him, opening her mind to her love to reinforce and add her strength to his for the moment, falling into a light meditative trance so that when it was time she would have the physical strength that she would need. While Draken was Krath, the Assassin knew her talents lay elsewhere. Once the ground parties began to land, she would find a dropship and catch a ride down to the surface. She felt the meld though once it was time to go she would need her mind on what she’d be doing. She was used to melding with Draken so this was different… on a larger scale.

[Chaotic Tranquility]

An highly encrypted holo comm briefly dings onto Sheog's personal communication unit, await his answer. Despite the levels of firewalls and security that the singular message had encountered, it had reached its destination without triggering alarms or even becoming noticeable save for the Mad Hutt himself.

 

 

A figure dressed in black clothing trimmed with a golden type of yarn stepped forward, it's face hidden beneath a faceless mask. The lighting was articulate, as if the being stood amidst four flaming pedestals commonly seen in ritualistic ceremonies. It speaks but few words. "Lord Sheog of the Sith. I am beseeching you at the my Master's request. I will be arriving at a secluded location in the outer rim shortly where I will await yourself or a fellow representative to discuss a possible Alliance between my Master and yourself. If you should find interest in this, the coordinance are attached. I, as well as my Master, look forward to our meeting.

 

 

Once watched, the holo comm, imbued with a self wiping virus imbedded deep within, would destroy its self and evidence of it would cease to exist.

[Saint]

Every nerve in Saint’s body lit up with a thousand sensations as if being struck by lightning and standing too close to an inferno. Confused, she scanned frantically around her to see where she was hit, or who had fired, but there was no wound or assailant to be found. The feeling of nearness to heat grew into the sweltering sensation of standing on the surface of the sun, an overwhelming impossibility of unsurvivable yet awe demanding force. And somewhere in that primal riot of energies was a consciousness. It sang through Saint, each pluck of the string sending careening supernovas through her body. Each lyrical transmission burned with the confusion of premature enlightenment.

 

A fractal kaleidoscope of a vibrant plethora of colors labeled a study of black and white morality. A clock that measures time in wars. God disproving the existence of God. A wall inscribed with every truth ever spoken. Fires evaporating a flood. A window over the galaxy that shows only lies. The violated dead rising up to cull their errant children. Farmers enslaved to their crops, laboring for them only to one day be buried underneath them, a final sacrament as the children begin to repeat the cycle, feeding the plants their greater destinies. A cycle of broken cycles. God proving the existence of God.

 

A vast frozen lake stretched out around Saint and her squad, coming up from the abyss like a predator from the depths. Saint saw other Mandalorians in the ice, some struggling to escape, some driven so mad by their confinement that they gnashed their teeth like rabid dogs and saw only threats in the faces around them, regardless of who they once knew them as. Still forms under the ice whispered that if you stopped moving, stopped fighting, the numbness would take the pain away.

 

Saint and her squad burned too furiously for this world and the ice strained and cracked underneath them, growling as it readied to swallow them whole. As the surface ruptured, several fell into the freezing waters and did not resurface. Somewhere in that water, Saint heard the voices of her mother and father calling to her. Saying that no matter what she done they would love her. Love had killed them, and left Saint adrift until Bolt had found her. She needed to press forward. The ice steamed and receded wherever she touched it, hissing as it sublimated into steam.

 

“Keep moving!”

 

Saint shouted to the others and she searched for direction, and a glimpse of hearthwarm orange on the horizon became her guiding star. Something deeper in the depths of the lake raged and railed at their escape and slammed its fist against the ice but could not shatter the cage it had made. A song in the air breathed fire into Saint’s lungs, a war chant of her people to embolden the heart against impossible odds. A figure, ever in the distance, beckoned to them. He could not save them, but he could help them save themselves. A clock that ticked for every broken cycle moved forward again, and the thornclad figure of molten steel spoke in a chorus of shifting voices.

 

“You will find a new fire to carry through the darkness at Qat Chrystac. Remember who you are. Remember who you need to become.”

 

The words obliterated the dreamscape and sent the squad tumbling back to reality. If not for the ice water that still permeated their kit, it would be too easy to dismiss the vision as a fever dream, but it was more real than the world around them now.

 

“Get to the exfil point squad, we have work to do.”

[Sheog the Mad]

Karema brought his blade in a wide arc, his haughty gaze appraising the Hutt’s apprentice with disdain. She had far too much fear of everything in the galaxy. Everything seemed to scare her, and what scared her pissed her off. He breathed in a sniffling huff, dragging the girl’s blade down to the matting at her feet with his raw strength. He held her blade down and brought his face close enough to hers to see the drips of perspiration on her face, smell the trepidation that emanated off of her like a perfume.

“This weapon is your life…”

 

His eyes continued to glow with their hidden fire

 

“Your fear consumes you. What exactly is it that makes you so weak?”

 

---

 

The other Vermandois observed the overtly mysterious message with little but boredom. The cliche of a mysterious master was all but played out in the galaxy, but he would do his best to answer in similar fashion for the Master of the Krath.

 

 

The Bleeding Kyber was the loom upon which the destruction of Kashyyyk was woven. Threads of colour coming together for a grand design. The crimson strands of lifeblood, Wookiee and Ally both, laced the masterpiece into macabre twilight across the Wookiee homeworld. Greed echoed in its avaricious emerald, twinkling with each blast of turbolasers. A cheer of victory across the battlemind as superheated plasma burned life to fading, sparkling ash that would alight the evening sky in a meteor shower for decades to come with every orbital pattern. The Wookiees were losing.

 

Still, their rage burned with primal strength, intertwining the victorious crimson with its sulphuric yellow. It tasted of wildfire upon the mighty Hutt’s wiggling tongue, a smoldering bitterness that would need to be purged before it could ignite into hope amongst the enemies of the Sith. Supported by his brother Krath, Draken, his essence a bright star in the tapestry, fed by upcoming union with Alora. Draken’s star burned bright within the battlemind, and Sheog brought its strength in synchrony with his own.

 

The Lord of Madness focused upon the patterns within The Force, following the threads of rage back to their source, pressing the weight of the combined Sith masters to bear upon the Wookiee High Command. Like a swarm of Piranha beatles surging to tear a Runyip to mouthfuls of flesh within the Jungles of Yavin IV, the Sith fleet set upon the Golan III defense platform with an avidity for death.

 

The prideful rage turned to fear as the full might of the Sith came upon their souls. Terror ripped apart the cohesiveness of the Wookiee fleet, devouring their strength. A shadow void of form stripped their power from the Force, the grasping strength of thousands of Sith consuming their holiness and their pride, leaving them only the antipathy of nightmares. Their dread was far easier to manipulate. As the Golans fell, and the enemy fleet became disjointed, Sheog restained the inherent violence of the dark side no more. It would be an orgy of slaughter, an echo that would resonate through the Force to the edges of the galaxy.

[Rose Cariadus]

As Rose sprinted down the large swaying rope and wood bridges that spanned the gaps between worshyr trees like the lazy designs of a child's treefort. She was playing the part of the rear guard, trailing the retreating Mercenaries, and preventing a counter attack. Kolibri jogging beside her, the distant flashing of the fleet fight sparking green and red flashes in the sky overhead, to reflect dully on their armour through the thick foliage of the Kashyyykian forest. From the static filled feeds tracking down to their HUDs it seemed like it was the fight of a lifetime, she was a bit sad she didn't have a basilisk to join the fray.

 

It was then that an icy hand gripped her heart and brought her boots to a skidding halt, leaving her swaying in the middle of a rope and timber bridge half a klick out of the exfil point. Her breath had left her and she was choking back sudden tears as her eyes looked distantly off into the horizon, seeing the visions of the Gods.

A burning flag, a sheet of white stained with blood, T-visored helmets trod under foot by the marching of a thousand metal boots, a world surrounded by light, fourteen thousand republic warships dropping through the thick atmosphere of a duel connected world, A man in a bone mask surrounded by fire.

 

The images flashed swiftly through her mind, and though she was not a war historian, the face of Mandalore the Ultimate burned in her mind the longest. His face burned away and replaced by the spike God of War Kad Ha’rangir, a deity she had only met in her dreams.

 

War was coming, and life would be the sacrifice for him. She blinked back tears as Kolibri screamed at here that they needed to move. Then it was all lost in fire as a lazily falling siege torpedo fell upon them, launched from space to eliminate the gunning platform above them. The torpedo technicians aboard the St. Cathryne hadn’t thought through the fact that the platform had been made of wood, and so the torpedo only activated its warhead when it hit the metal helmet of Kolibri.

 

Rose was tossed a thousand meters away, her armour broken and discarded, cradled from harm by the body of the Kuati nobles child who had only been there to prove himself. The rest of the Mandalorian Mercenaries would escape the inferno, having been far away from the blast. Rose however, lay in a furrow of sand staring into the night sky. Laughing, tears of joy streaming down her bleeding face.

 

Her arm raised to the heavens, dripping blood.

 

“My God, My God, My God, My God thank you for this Trial.”

 

She would awake days later aboard the Medical cruiser, bandaged heavily and asking for Saint speaking of Kad Ha'rangir and a vision.

[Raynuk Montar]

Through gritted teeth and determination, Raynuk continued the chaotic dance of pounding cannon fire into the engines of the Yubookoo while deftly keeping his own ship from getting rocked by return fire. For what seemed like an hour of concentration and laser focus afforded to him by the Sith Battlemind, he continued to shunt power around, keeping his shields recharging, his mobility up, and his cannons charged. Yet finally, the corvette's rear shields buckled, and the Darksoul's cannons began mercilessly tearing into the corvette's delicate engines. With the shields broken, Raynuk sacrificed power from his engines and maneuverability to shunt to the concussion missile launchers, instantly firing off a pair of ordinance before his ship even had a lock; but at this close of a range, it didn't matter.

 

The heavy concussion missiles slammed into the rear of the corvette, detonating just port of the center of the engines. The explosion literally tore the port side engine from the rest of the ship, which then exploded on it's own after a final second of uncontrolled thrust. The turbolasers on the Yubookoo fell silent as the rear of the hammerhead began erupting into cascading explosions as fuel lines, power cells and who knows what else got caught in crippling waves of destruction. Yet even then, Raynuk did not relent his attack, as he continued to pour more cannon fire into the very heart of the Yubookoo. They had dared to try and make an attack run away from the bulk of both fleets, and they would pay more than they could have possibly fathomed.

 

Raynuk's attack ceased only when one final massive explosion tore what was left of the Yubookoo from one large piece of burning ship, into two smaller pieces of burning wreckage. The blast pelted the Darksoul with debris, and out of instinct alone sent the Darksoul into a dive away from the ship. It was only then, with his blinded focus on his prey broken, that Raynuk took account of what else had happened. The Totenkopf had been decimated by what was left of the Fahraark. Both ships were utter losses, and as Raynuk watched, more explosions decimated them both as they began turning themselves into little more than debris. Raynuk did not however, immediately see the Ravenhammer, and had to quickly check his sensors to find the ship on the other side of the wreckage.

 

But Raynuk didnt suppress the frown that rose as he realized there was a gunship on the Ravenhammer's tail. Once again equalizing power among all his systems, Raynuk kicked his small fighter forward, screaming and diving through the debris to remove the threat the gunship posed, even if it meant tearing it apart one chunk of damned wookiee wood at a time.

 

--------

 

The Golan defense platform couldn't possibly stand under the crushing will of the Sith and Black Sun fleets and the Sith Battlemind. The enemy force had truly and thoroughly been broken, and now they knew that. From the beginning they had all been doomed, even if the wookiees had been too stubborn and prideful to see it. But now? Now there was no escaping it. But as was frustratingly usually the case with 'good guys', when stubborn pride melts into doom, terror, and failure, there is a rise in stupid and pointless gestures.

 

Such was the case with the crew of the Golan defense platform. Even as the fleet tore holes into the platform, the damned wookiees sent a final volley of siege torpedoes out, aimed directly at the Bleeding Kyber. The salvo and its target came as a surprise, as for the duration of the battle so far the Golan had been slugging it out with whatever ships were closest to it. With so much of the defensive force broken, the position of some of the Sith and Black Sun ships had become sloppy, and as doomed as they were, the personnel on the Golan found a hole, and shot torpedoes through it, attempting to throw one decimating dagger aimed at the very heart of the combined fleets.

 

There was only one ship left between the Golan and the Bleeding Kyber, and that was the Warrior-class corvette Doomhandle. The moment the salvo breached the perimeter of the Fleets, and as the Golan itself was pummeled to its destruction, Commander Gatillo turned the full attention of his crew and his ship to stopping the salvo. He ordered the anti-missile octets to immediately targeted, tracked, and open fire on the salvo. But fate and the Force had a different plan in mind, as a failure in the tracking system due to previous damage sustained rendered the octets to be ineffective.

 

With the rage, violence and manipulative power Sith Battlemind swelling through the Commander and his crew, it did not take much to push Gatillo over the cliff into the chasm of heroic self sacrifice. If the octets were going to fail, he would simply place the Doomhandle between the volley and the Kyber. His order to abandon ship fell upon deaf ears, as the rest of his crew were just as willing to die for the glory of the Dark Lord as Gatillo himself was, and his head was so clouded and influenced by the Sith Battlemind that he could not and did not question them on it.

 

So it was that Commander Gatillo and the rest of the crew of the Doomhandle positioned themselves between the volley of siege torpeodes and the Bleeding Kyber, and even went so far as to charge at the torpeodes themselves, forward facing turbolasers, cannons, and octets firing nonstop at the torpedoes, serving little effect other than putting on a good show of false heroism.

 

"FOR THE DARK LORD!" came the final transmission of the Doomhandle as it dove into the volley of torpedoes, erasing the ship, its crew, its captain, and the torpeodes into one extremely large, extremely bright, and extremely stupid fireball, leaving no discernible pieces of debris behind. The momentary threat against the Bleeding Kyber had been ended.

 

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

 

As Raynuk rounded the debris of the Totenkopf, he finally caught visual on the Ravenhammer and the wookiee gunship that was continuing to hound it. A snarl escaped his lips as he charged at the two ships, hitting his comm.

 

"2V, turn to 164 point 68 and maintain speed. I will end him."

 

<> came the droid's reply, a moment later followed by the Ravenhammer pitching slightly and aiming directly at Raynuk.

 

Three seconds later, like two laser shots passing each other, Raynuk and the Darksoul screamed across the top of the Ravenhammer, cannons bursting to life as the Sith and his ship spewed red, tangible hatred at the wookiee gunship. The gunship was completely blind-sided, so focused on trying to crack the nut of the Ravenhammer's shields that the pilot never saw Raynuk coming.

 

Fifteen...

 

An entirely evil smirk crawled its way to Raynuk's face as he wheeled the Darksoul back around, only to spot a number of escape pods floating around where the two Hammerhead corvettes and the Totenkopf all met their destruction. Raynuk didn't even hesitate or think about it. He immediately opened fire on the closest escape pod, atomizing it and whoever might have been inside. If it was an escape pod from the Hammerheads, then Raynuk was simply finishing the job. And if they were from the Black Sun corvette? Well, in that case, they had failed the fleet and were being punished for their hubris. Not to mention he was preventing them from potentially being captured; so in a way he was doing them a favor.

 

Raynuk didn't stop until all of the escape pods had been destroyed. Then, and only then, did he turn his ship to rejoin the rest of the Fleet, signalling his intercept objective complete despite the loss of the Black Sun ship, and the Ravenhammer being safe once more. By the time he returned, there was little left to do besides mop up those foolish enough to still be fighting the fleets and wait for further orders from the Dark Lord himself.

[Delta73]

Red Wing cut a path through the wooden vessels the Wookiee’s called gunships with a flurry of concussion missiles and the high powered chain linked blasts from their Borstel RG-9 laser cannons. The eleven modified Uriel ARC’s remaining dove after the black painted A-wings as fast as their engines could move them. According to the readout, Green wing and Blue wings were also on station, hurtling towards the Golan Platform and the Mon Cal beside it.

 

Delta activated his throat mic to his onboard crew on Uriel I and spoke grimly, “Navigator, confirm the Mon Cal is firing on all thrusters to prevent category three orbital decay?”

 

He could hear the clicking of her running figures on the on board computer,

 

“Affirmative Grey Lead, they are ETA three minutes from establishing full orbital pattern and clearing the gravity well.”

 

Delta nodded his response, which the navigator smiled at.

 

The fleet was starting to do maximum damage to the golan and this would be their only chance to prevent a priority target from escaping.

 

“All wings, when at maximum effective range release plasma missiles at the Mon Cal Bacca bring the forward shield down and Grey Wing will follow up with Ion Bombs, then Blue Wing with heavy rockets.”

 

Ca’Aran what are you doing, you know they don’t pose a threa-

 

The voice of his ghost was cut off by the bright explosion of the Totenkopf and most comms sizzled into white noise as the radiation cloud from the main reactor and gravity well generator imploded. He could feel a sudden cry of surprise from his adopted daughter through the force, and then nothing.

 

Tel…

 

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the Bacca, which was currently transmitting a request for ceasefire signal. Offering to surrender.

 

“This is Admiral Lonbassa of the Defense forces, from the Flagship Bacca, we will stand down and surrender o-”

 

With a flick of a switch, Deta killed the transmission and sent it into record mode. The rest of the fleet could listen to this beast’s plea for surrender.

 

Not long ago Delta would have listened.

 

Not this time

 

The voice of his ghost turned despirate, her voice a wail in the force.

 

No Ca’Aran don't turn to this don’t do it. Please! This will break you! It will break me!

 

The ghost begged and pleaded, and Delta could feel the distant touches of fists hammering at his helmet. He looked up from the controls to that beautiful face, long gone.

 

I will show you how broken I can be

 

The green crackling torpedoes slammed into the forward shield array of the Mon Calamari cruiser. Though the shield was rated for much more, the plasma missiles scattered across the shield, drawing much more power, and after two dozen had hit, the shield array finally failed. In beautiful coordination The ARCs dove through anti-starfighter fire to make their approach.

 

“Mark.”

 

Two Ion Bombs dropped from each ARC to fall, magnetically propelled, into the Mon Cal’s shieldless prow. Instantly the firing thrusters of the magnificent ship ceased activity, and most turbolasers shuddered to a stop as arcing ion energy severed electrical connections throughout the whole ship.

 

Delta spun the ARC in a long angle to watch as heavy rockets from Blue Wing tore great holes in the prow of the Bacca, venting oxygen from several decks and forcing the ship further into a decaying orbit.

 

“Target all escape pods and vents on the surface, seal them into their tomb.”

 

Green wing gave affirmative and dove into their grisly task, strafing the long series of holes and melting durasteel along the perimeter of the doomed ship, only a few escape pods were actually able to launch, and were quickly dispatched, scattering their life into orbit. The remaining crew on the Bacca began to feel certain fear. The dawning realization of an immanent and meaningless death.

 

The Bacca did not have long to ponder its fate and within several minutes dropped into the planet’s atmosphere, falling almost majestically into the planet’s unyielding gravity well. A metal tomb for five thousand crew and officers. To their credit, they were able to get comms backup in time to cry for help but no one answered. They were too far gone for even tug ships dispatched from the Golan to assist. Alone, the Bacca dropped, a thousand meters long asteroid of metal and living beings to crash into the planet below, trailing fire and smoke for a thousand kilometers through thick, unyielding atmosphere before the ship exploded when it impacted the surface. Delving a crater three kilometers wide into the pristine surface of the wookiee homewold. The Antimatter core went next, and bathed a thousand square kilometers in hundreds of sieverts of deadly radiation.

 

But Delta was not satisfied. The ghost was silent for the first time in an age and Tears dripped down his cheeks to puddle at the O ring of his helmet as he realized it. He would never be satisfied. He was forever broken. He was utterly alone. With only the laughing of a different spirit in his mind. He turned the ARC in a long wheeling turn back towards the battle. His heart empty and a hungry void beginning to eat as his stomach.

[LiveDieLiveAgain]

As the order for recall came through, the squad retrating toward their escape and the vessels high above, Borsk ran in the middle of the squad, his combat shotgun gripped firmly in his right hand, its lighter size preventing him from losing more mobility than the store of weapons he carried already did. He wished now, as he always did when partaking in battles, that he had actual armor, instead of the tree-styled camoflauge suit he wore, its thin fabric providing little cover against the heavy blaster weapons the Wookies used. The heavy limp and pulses of pain in his thick leg attested to that. Borsk cursed as he ran, eyeing with hatred the lush forests and styled buildings of the famous world, home to the ancient enemies of his people and so very different from long left behind Trandosha. He much prefered the ending deserts and wild beasts to this leafy, almost urban setting.

 

Though the bounty hunter hated retreat, it was something he had done many times, whenever the odds were stacked too tremendously against him, as they often were. Targets would often surprise their adversary with remarkable skill (Remnant), devious tricks (Cursed Jedi), or overwhelming numbers of kriffing guards (GA). Borsk ground his teeth as he realized there would be few bounties gained this day, his place in the Scorekeepers eyes only advancing through his actions at the breach of the compound.

 

He jolted as if struck, as a feeling, a dream-like vision raced through his mind, a feeling he had never felt before, and one he found particularly queezy, much of his life having been spent avoiding the Force and its facets at every oppurtunity. Scenes appeared behind his eyes, each of the many failures he had experienced during his career flashing before him, each time when working alone had proved insufficent. Another series of images flashed by, the squad he had so recently met, each fighting alone and falling on far different planets, each time when he could have saved them and did not, culminating in his own death, entirely alone save for those who had come to slay him. Then a face appeared for a moment, strange and deadly, as a chilling voice rang through his mind, "You have always fought alone, bounty hunter, and you shall die for it, alone and forgotten. Unimportant, left behind in the annals of history. Or, you can change, accept these as your family, your squad, and follow my code to glory far beyond your reckoning. Perhaps, you might even impress the Scorekeeper."

 

Borsk shook his head, his vision returning to the exploding world around him, his goals now changed by the unusual event. As he opened his mouth to speak, wondering if they had experienced the same vision, a missle impact blew the fast-talking and over friendly mercenary he had met aboard the Marie far away. Her body flew, rag-dolling through the air to land heavily on the ground. He saw the missle had struck her companion, and she may yet live. Borsk slid to a stop, grabbing the shoulder of the fierce and wild fighter he had battled beside in the compound, his voice a roar amidst the chaos, "The Soft-skin has fallen. We must save her. None left behind this day."

[Terra]

Terra stepped back, placing two rounds from her assault rifle through the center of mass of the Wookiee Lifegaurd, his yowling battlecry making him a target as he began a maddened charge. His powerful legs stumbled but he kept coming, his powerful arms slamming into her, driving her to the permacrete. Its rough surface was unforgiving and the breath left her lungs in a rush or pain, her vision exploding into colours.

 

The colours transformed into something far more vibrant as her chest seized, trying desperately to fight against the spasming to draw breath. She saw banners fading into smoke, the glory of death and the life that fed upon it. She writhed beneath the Wookiee but she no longer felt his weight, or the tearing of her flesh beneath his fangs.

 

A galaxy in flames and from it ashes, the birth of new life. An echo was forming, a scream from slaughtered souls. It came from something within her, something that had been burned from her soul in her youth.

 

The echo formed into words, a deep reverberation of shadow of the warfare she had brought to so many.

 

...Did you think your deeds would go unseen?

 

...Did you think I would not see your waste, your unworthiness?

 

...You are no child of mine!

 

No… No… No… I am your CHILD! Did I not bathe myself in blood for you? I did everything for you, I died for you, fighting those gorram Arasuum Mando’a!

 

...You fought only for yourself, fed on death for no one’s benefit but your own. You are not chosen like your bretheren.

 

...You shall die a weak and broken thing

 

Pain roared through her as the Wookiee’s fangs skidded across her collarbone, tearing through pale flesh in a frenzy of rage. Her electronic eyes opened but saw nothing, and a weak scream faded from her lips, masked by the buy’ce.

 

...My brother has cast you aside, hasn’t he?

 

A new voice bubbled through the pain as Terra could feel blood beginning to pool within her throat. This one held an evil tone, the haughtiness and self righteousness was gone, replaced by cruelty.

 

...You see your own echo, the screams that pour through the rifted places. Where planets have fallen and died. Where death walks, fueled by massacre and quietus. Do you not see it?

 

The colours formed into a sea of blood, and walking on its surface a form of shadow. It stooped, a hand cupped to drink and the ashen face was her own.

 

...That is my brother’s dream, Kad Ha’rangir’s grand fantasy! You a slave to blood once more. I see a far better fate than that of a pawn in his grand crusade of blood.

 

The scene pulled back, the crimson sea turning to the woven threads upon a loom. The grand crusade of nightmares played out under a weavers hand. A daydream that captured the whole galaxy in its delusion. The spinner’s hand passed again, pale but strong. She would be no slave to death and blood, but the enslaver. She had a wry smile upon her face.

 

Hod Ha’ran.

 

...You know my name, but do you know my character?

 

You are the agent of fortune, leading the charade, the masked man behind the curtain, weaving the fate of the galaxy, profiting from your brother’s zealotry.

 

...Help this crusade. Form your echoes and direct them, we can both use the death that awaits. You’ve walked through death before, walk through it again. Be reborn and take upon my servant Hades. He awaits you on Dxun.

Three rounds from her rifle ended the Wookiee’s rage and she rose from beneath the corpse, her umber armour stained with a mix of both of their blood. Vision slowly returned as she stumbled, her legs weak and trembling. The clap of the lizard’s heavy hand upon her armoured shoulder almost caused her to fall again. She bit back a cough of blood as she sprinted after the Trandoshan to the side of a crumpled mass of blue and orange armour. Terra slipped her medpack and helmet off, her sulphur eyes slowly fading to an averous emerald.

[SithAcolyte]

A holo message arrived on Alora's comm, a long lost friend reaching. Alora's friend was far away, sitting comfortably in the cockpit of her ship, completely unaware of what was taking place on Kashyyyk.

 

The hologram sat there, waiting for Alora to open. Whenever she did, she would see;

 

The image flickering to life. Woman siting a pilot's chair. Tattoos visible on her bare arms, wet hair brush back from her face. A face that once held a dark beauty as a Lady of Sith, now plain with no make up. Darla looked older than the last time Alora had seen her. Frailer too. Thin and a little gaunt. Years of fear, stress, hiding in the outer rim had taken it's toll. From the small flickering image it was evident that there was nervous tension in the woman.

 

For a moment she just sat there in silence, searching for the right words it seemed.

 

"Hey old friend. I'm not sure where you are or what you're doing. I was wondering if I could see you." Another silence. "I'm sorry it's been so long. It's nothing personal. After the kids were born I was so scared that something would happen to them... I went into hiding. I've realized now that I can't hide forever. I'm alone. They're in a safe place. I guess I'm just trying to find myself. Get back to who I used to be."

 

Tilting her head she let out a sigh and ran her hands through her wet hair.

 

"You probably don't want to see me. I know that when I returned to the Jedi our paths went in different directions. I'm a Jedi anymore. I haven't been for years. Heck, I don't even own a lightsaber anymore. But yeah... It would be nice to see you."

 

It was clear that there were unspoken questions in Darla's mind.

 

"You can reach me on this frequency. If you want to."

 

She nodded to the holo recorder and then the image winked out.

[Lysander0301]

The mercenary squad cleared the explosion of the generator and made their way back to extraction. What soldiers that did stand in their way back were almost effortless put down, these proud Wookiee warriors cut down like grass against a scythe. Suddenly a cool and empty feeling began to creep into Lysander’s mind and body. His vision became blurry and he began his to free fall. Darkness was all around him and the ground quickly approached him. He landed like a meteor into the ground but the impact brought him no pain. Lysander stood up and surveyed the area. In horror he looked to the ground. It wasn’t dirt we stood on, they were stone faces each contorted in a wide range of expressions and emotions. Mountains burst from the ground all around him and they erupted with lava smoke and lighting. Spears of energy flew towards Lysander and pierced his body with ease. The faces began to speak in unison as Lysander started to become short of breath and was lifted in the air by the spears

 

“OUTSIDER!!”

 

“ Yes!!!!” “NO!!!”

 

“YOU ARE NO WELCOME!!”

 

“ Yes!!!!” “NO!!!”

 

“YOU MUST EARN YOUR KEEP!!!”

 

“ Yes!!!!” “NO!!!”

 

The spears began to twist and finally Lysander lost all breath and he struggled for air. He could feel is life force leave his body, this was it, this is how he would die. A bright light shown through the darkness. An angel with magnificent wings and a white dress floated towards Lysander. She kissed him on the forehead and he felt life breathed into him. “ Welcome home hunter” she said in an angelic voice as she touch his face. Lysander was brought to tears at her touch and once again he found himself falling. He outstretched his hands to grab onto the angel but failed to touch her. He turn in the air to see the ground, it was a forest with a band of mercs. He was on a direct crash course for a soldier in red. Just before impact he saw the mans face, his own face. An explosion brought Lysander back into the moment as he threw his helmet off. Breathing heavy as if he was just coming up for air after drowning, he wiped the tears from his face and walked towards the fiery explosion. “ Qat Chrystac” whispered the flames as Lysander stared deep into the flames.

 

 

From the bushes a morally broken Wookiee warrior watched in horror as the Black Sun fleet began to assault his grand city. Once again his people would be under subjugation. Rather than beg for his life as a slave, he has resolved to die a warriors death. With a defiant roar he charged at his nearest target, Lysander, like a bull seeing a muleta. Lysander raised his DLT but was to late as the Wookiee knocked the rifle from his hands and grabbed on to Lysander’s upper arm.

 

“HOLD!” Shouted Saint. Not only would shooting into the melee result in unneeded injuries but she wanted to test Lysander. To see what he was made of and see if he had what it takes to be a crusader.

 

The Wookiee began to tighten his grip on Lysander’s arm. Lysander scrambled to reach his side arm was the Wookiee tried to find purchase on his other arm. Pain finally shot through his body as the the armor cracked at well as the bones.

Lysander gritted his teeth as he did his best to suppress a scream of pain. Just as the Wookiee was about to grab onto the other arm, Lysander grabbed ahold of his side arm and managed to score three hits on to the Wookiee. However this was not enough as the Wookiee swatted the pistol away and tossed the red warrior a few feet away. Lysander landed on his back with a heavy thud. The staggered over to his foe and raised his leg as to crush Lysander skull in with a stomp. With a quick roll to the side Lysander evaded the attack and sprung to his feet. Pain again erupted from his arm as he rose to his feet. With another quick movement he unsheathed his knife and desperately desisted his stave for such an occasion. A huff of anger erupted from the Wookiee as it charged toward his kill and raise his fist back. Lysander went forward with a faint, only to jump back at the last moment to evade the Wookiee’s fist. In that moment with the Wookiee’s momentum Lysander kicked the side of the beast knee, which almost brought it to its knees. With this opportunity Lysander plunged his knife into the Wookiee’s thick skull. The fight was over as the warrior meet his death and fell to the ground.

 

Lysander retrieved his equipment and closed the Wookiee eyes. At least he went out on his own terms thought Lysander. The pain in his arm began to surge as the adrenaline slowly left his system. Even the simple swaying of the limb was painful, it had surely been broken. Lysander counted his blessings as he looked to the rest of the squad as a medic attended a fallen soldier. The zone was getting to hot and if they wanted to live they needed to move now.

[LiveDieLiveAgain]

The long sprint across the sands ended beside the crumpled body of their fellow mercenary, as the eyes of the strange, human-like creature Borsk had fought beside, her pale form and strange words a beacon of violence and murder, faded from the bright red of dripping blood to a color slightly more fitting the Soft-skins. The girl knelt next to their companion, while Borsk drew out his heavy LS-150, his medical skills more lacking than this ability to strip dance. Heavy blaster rounds tore threw the leafy boughs surronding them, an almost tangible cloud of fear, hate and confusion filling the air. While many of the furry monsters fled, as the cowardly creatures were want to do, others stood, a furious desperation to strike against any enemy, no matter how ineffective in the greater battle it might be.

 

Blaster bolts began to fly, heavy ammunition pounding into the ground and trees around them. Borsk shouted into the comms channel, his tone unnecesarily loud as he reverted to his normal, broken basic, "Kriffing hurry. Must GO!"

[ReignOfKarth]

The tall man before her leaned down, an expression of disgust and anger playing across his face, eyeing her terrified face and feeling her fear with a dark smile. Her fear distorted the girl's view of her trainer, his form seeming to grow and distort, eyes becoming flaming red and face becoming that of a monster, the buzzing of the lightsabers becoming a roar in her ears. She went down on one knee, as far as she could bend away from the power of the Sith Lord. His words stuck her, the world seeming to fade as a memory flashed across her mind with the strength of long reenforcement.

 

"I'm sorry, master." A small child knelt on the floor, legs splayed slightly beneath her, shoulders hunched and head bowed as she sat beside a shattered mug, its pieces splayed from the impact with the hard floor. A platter sat forgotten against the wall, while the master paced slowly before her, a stern expression on his face. "I didn't mean to drop it, it just slipped off. I'll be more careful, it won't happen again."

 

"It won't happen again? Weakness is a part of all those undisiciplined, all those who have not been trained to overcome their inner selves, to rise high above. I have spent my life as a paragon to those who would rid themselves of the weakness of mortal forms, and now, with you placed into my hands, I must pass this on to you. You reek of weakness, of uncontrolled and unaccepted pain. I will cure you, as through fire and torment, to be reborn in true power, the power to control oneself, to never accept vices or weakness. Lower the garment from your back."

 

"Ma-Master?"

 

The older man made no answer, but simply stared at her, waiting for her obedience. She slowly dropped it, the first of many tears dripping down her small face. The Master slowly paced behind her, carefully uncoiling a long whip in his hands. "Now shall I cleanse you." Screams and cries echoed through the halls of the small ship, a thick pattern of red marks growing across her pale back. Finally, the whipping stopped, scarce an inch of her back missing a red stripe.

 

The master knelt beside her, his voice now soft as he scrapped his fingernails across her bloody back. "Now you have taken the first step to being cleansed, to being freed from the weakness that consumes you. Through this pain, you shall be made strong. And this will be the punishment, and the cure, for each time the weakness overcomes you."

 

The memory was replaced by another, then another and another, dozens and hundreds flashing before her mind. Each was a moment of weakness or a mistake, and the painful punishment that occured.

 

Her vision returned, and as the words of the Sith played over in her minds, she dropped fully to her knees, the lightsaber dropping limply from her hands. Her shaking hands moved slowly to the neck of her clothes, slowly pulling down the back to reveal a carpet of faded scares, most places several layers thick, unable to ever fully heal. "I'm sorry, Master."

[Delta73]

The ARC churned through space filled with micrometeors of slagged durasteel and melted transparisteel. The shield arrays at the front and wings of the fighterbomber glowed bright white from the constant impacts, bright enough that Delta had to fly by sensor pings instead of by his own eyes. His HUD cycled the shield strength down from 98 percent to hover around 30. Battlefields were always dangerous, and one collision with an EV pilot later and Delta himself could be dead. At least it kept his mind off the brutal reality of what he had just ordered. His sensors told him that the land forces were already on their way, jammed pack shuttles filled with life to suppress the local population. He couldn't help but see the irony in it. A lifetime ago he would have done anything to stop an invasion of Kashyyyk, and now, he was compliant in it.

 

He felt himself shrug as he finally weaved through the micrometeor field that marked the previous location of a downed Wookiee Nebulon-B Frigate. He looked up to the reflection mirror above his head to see behind him. Smoke and fire covered a long stretch of the planet, cutting ugly furrows into the atmosphere. He listened for the constant commentary but there was nothing.

 

The voice was silent, leaving him to stew as he maneuvered towards the Kyber for refit and rearm, since the huge Sith vessel was considered the restaging point for high value targets in the fleet. And Grey Wing were just that. The rest of the starfighters were beginning mop up duty and were cycling through the hangers of the big ships in flights to refit, before returning to the skies for ground of picket duties.

Delta himself was exhausted, and needed a refresher and a long break from any battle mind force stuff, though he opened up enough to check on Tel on last time. She was alive, relief flooded him along with a wave of strange guilt that ate at his stomach like a pack of gundarks tearing into an unfortunate Ronto.

 

He brought the ARC to a smooth landing on the scarred decking of the Kyber. A few ships had tried to limp back to their base and had eaten it on the landing. A wreckage of a TIE defender was still being picked over by service droids. Looking about him, he counted as the remaining eight Uriel ARCs landed. Down two of the special made craft. He sighed and pulled off his helmet as the seals around the cockpit popped and let in a stream of fresh air. Pulling himself out of the chrash webbing, Delta walked slowly towards the bridge to give a battle report.

[Exodus]

The cockpit cracked open and hissed volumes of pure steam into the thick air. A single alarm echoed with emergency, before the source of it cut off alongside the power of the entire vessel. The surface of the machine was riddled with holes from heavy ammunition but the slithering black paint still washed the Lightbreaker whole. The dangerous quiet of these tall forests had been rudely interrupted as the Dark Lord punched through the atmosphere and viciously plummeted into the homes of his enemies. Dropships and tactical pods scattered like ants from the Kyber, loosening freely and ramming planetside, completely obliterating whole halves of established ecosystems.

 

Lord Exodus landed alone, his feet found the uneasiness of the terrain as he jumped from his ship. Darkness, fog, and the raw congestion of forestry was all that surrounded him now. Even the supremacy of his emerald eyes could not completely pierce the sheets of smoke that billowed above him, they blocked the war of metal and mind that waged itself in the stars. “..Tip of the Spear,” Exodus spoke low (Saint), his voice almost quieted to a snarl, knowing there were creatures nearby quietly listening to his every word. “If it is breath that you still draw, understand that our legions will share in this glory. We have come." The comm unit sizzled off, just as the words parted.

 

 

The Dark Lord reached between his shoulder blades slow, fingering the grip of his cold blade knowingly. There were eyes everywhere crawling from the dark, and now they drew dangerously close.

[Sheog the Mad]

Karema’s sneer turned to a frown of pity and he knelt beside the girl, seeing the broken pieces of life unable to be healed. As he placed a hand on her shoulder a voice echoed across the training room, a foreboding shadow of starvation that desired to devour all life

 

<>

 

A long droning alarm signaled the call to arms. Karema sighed and placed a hand across the fallen blade, resetting it to combat strength. They were going planetside.

 

 

The Lord of Madness had wasted his hunger in the void of space long enough. The Dark Lord himself was falling to the planet to whet his thirst for violence, and the Hutt passed the patterns of the battlemind to the planet itself. The Wookiee fleet was shattered and broken, it was time for the planet to face the true wrath of an angry pantheon of Sith. To all his brothers and sisters he uttered a suggestion of violence and destruction

 

<>

Each of the Sith commanders acknowledged the command without a word and a surge of hate-filled joy washed through the battlemind. As the battlemind descended into the lust for pure unadulterated violence, the Mad Hutt moved to his own ship. It was not often a planet’s populace would meet the Grandmaster of the Krath, an opportunity he would not pass up. He could not hold back his hunger. He would not be denied what had been stopped at Onderon.

As the Demented Madness descended towards the planet, the jewel of the Wookiees, Sheog could taste the delectable terror of the populace, and he passed it to his brethren as an appetizer of a greater feast of death. With a sigh, The Hutt pressed the landing ramps toggle, the side of the ship yawning like a tired Bantha. Air rushed forth as the descent quickened, blowing debris about the group.

 

<>

 

A wry smile crept over his twisted face as the treetops whipped past, The Demented Madness skimming close to the surface. With a tap of his staff, the Hutt used a mighty sweep of his tail to lunge his bulk from the ship. His uneven nostrils took in the spicy smoke of burning evergreens as he fell, he could almost taste the dying around him. It was so succulent, the defeat of primal beasts and their feeble rage.

With a tremendous application of sorcery, The Hutt landed beside the Dark Lord, his crimson eyes the only reflected light beneath the shadow of the trees. The Lord of the Krath was unleashed, unhinged, and truly given to madness. The hunger was consuming without end.

 

<>

 

A low and crawling laugh rippled through the fog, the shadow of the Hutt twisting with power of the Force. He was the eye of the storm, all life feeding into the currents of his insanity, a hunger without end. The trees around them began to creak and bend, branches snapping and shredding to splinters. Distant howls greeted them, the rage of the Wookiees was upon them.

 

<>

[Lord MacLeod]

A comm came in for the Dark Lord with a Imperial code to mark it. The message contained three words and carried an attachment with it. --For your attention--

[Raia Montar]

As the last ship exploded into nothingness around them, it took Raia several seconds for her hands to stop trembling in the wake of all that she’d just witnessed and pain she felt echoing through the Force. The hunger’s insistent call seemed to eagerly feed on it, growing stronger and giving Raia a headache as she continued to resist it’s call.

 

She didn’t want to look at the bodies and debris that floated by, but couldn’t help feeling drawn to them as the rest of the world seemed to go silent. The dead don’t stay that way, she thought recalling how she’d met her father, Jaina who’d also died, and witnessed a horde of dead zombies that had fallen at the hands of Raynuk, Draken, and Alora on Dathomir. Would these stay dead or would the cult find some way to use them against her family as well?

 

What must have been a Wookiee floated by, bumping against the shielding and causing Raia to jump. She almost could have sworn she saw it move, but dismissed it as her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be, or was that just something bodies dumped into space did? She’d have to ask or look it up later.

 

While she’d been in her reverie she’d vaguely picked up on the sound of Raynuk’s voice in the cockpit once more. As she focused more on the present, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the Ravenhammer had been given a new heading.

 

They were heading for the Bleeding Kyber.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperiën watched as the last explosion tore a ship asunder. She watched as distant bodies thrashed in the cold vacuum of space and slowly stilled, frozen and decompressed.A prick of fear caught in her heart as she watched a body float by the viewport. They were in a giant metal can with only an inch of materiel between her and such a fate. She shivered, and brought her knees up to her chest and locked them there by hugging them. She didn’t look away from the sight of carnage though and slowly expanded her presence in the force, like mama had taught her.

 

Fear, terror, panic, and pure gluttonous hunger rocked the force with its purity. She could feel her adopted father’s fear for her life, her mother's cool apathy, and Sheog’s hunger. Slowly, she siphoned through it, to listen for what the force had in store for her in this battle, until she felt it. A call, dark in its measure, beckoning her to the surface from the Dark Lord. She looked up to her companion, Raia, and smiled drearily as the ship came to rest in its berth on the Kyber. Telperiën unbuckled her crash webbing and crawled out of it and gave the older girl a long hug. Then she gave the droidy one too. For luck.

 

As they walked down the ramp together, she could see Ca’Aran leaning against his starfighter spaceship and his eyes were close as if he was resting. But the amount of sweat that soaked his hair told her that he had only just gotten out of his ship and pulled off his helmet. She waved and then ducked away to follow the call. She shot a smirk at Raia as she ran towards a troop shuttle and jumped through the landing hatch as the ship took off for the Wookiee homeworld.

[Delta73]

Delta jerked awake as he stood in the hanger bay. He caught eyes with Raynuck’s kid and waved at her. He was glad that she was alive and had not perished like so many others had in this fleet battle. He strode towards her and offered her a fresh package of water from the rations area that had been laid out for returning pilots. His eyes scanned for Telperiën but she was nowhere to be seen, or even more likely, didn't want to be seen.

 

“Raia!” His voice carried a tiredness that came from the mindmeld as well as a tinge of almost fatherly worry. “Are you allright? I was quite worried about you, those ships came out of nowhere. This is no place for you kids to be, I’m truely sorry you had to go through that.”

 

He looked her over visually before deciding to not wave over the medics. She didn’t appear injured, though her soul sure could be. It wasn't right for any kids to be here in this fight, but yet here they were. It reflected poorly on his character to easily care about his own kids or friends kids and not give a damn about all those wookiee kids getting murdered down below. Bad morals probably, but Delta shrugged it off. He would think of that later, for now he was more concerned about those he cared about not the kids of the enemy. He looked at Raia again, his bright blue eyes searching her face.

 

“Are you hungry? We can go eat at the commissary if you are.”

 

He didn’t ask about Telperiën, she was fulfilling her bloodline, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He fervently regretted not sending her to the Jedi Order when he had the chance, his regret showed on his scarred face for a moment as his eyes searched the hanger another time for Tel and his face returned to its smile as he looked back at Raia.

 

“Sorry about scaring you with that whole thing in the Last Call, I shouldn’t have done that.”

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

The Black Sun crew of the drop shuttle Zioness Valtoro laughed as she was finally revealed kicking and punching by one of the Sunners who had seen her climb aboard. They were big men and women, all at least two heads taller than herself and brawny. But there was one thing they did not know.

 

She hated being laughed at.

 

Good, use that, lust for it, consume it as it consumes you.

 

The voice of the old warhammer of the sith whispered in her ear. She clenched her fist as their laughter continued, her eyes darkening as one of the men grabbed his canteen of liquor and took a long gulp. His eyes turned on her and she glowered at him. Before he could make a biting comment she held up her hand, palm towards him and slowly mimicked making a fist. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke the words of a curse that she had seen only several times before. But had used on her enough to know its power and intricacy.

 

Azagrath ensfare asfelt ezgarth

 

His laughter died in his throat and his eyes bulged. His breath came out a wheeze of air, the veins on his neck and face growing dark as the space that surrounded the dropshuttle. The other passengers stood silently, realizing their fate would be similar if they continued their laughter. Their fear was palpable in the air, tasting of bitterness and sweat.

 

Azagrath ensfare asfelt ezgarth

 

She whispered the words again, pulling the force in a string that surrounded the man, leaching off his body, his muscles were eaten by their self made acids and his very blood turned to poison in his veins. Such was the power of the Nightsisters of Dathomir. Seldom seen and seldom used. Save on their own people. The same curse that had taken her brothers. Her body shook with the effort, her face dark and eyes a wicked yellow.

 

The man finally collapsed in a pool of blood that had spilled from his eyes and ears in dark crimson waterfalls. Leaving her with all eyes in the dropship on her small diminutive form. The tension in the shuttle was finally cut by the voice of the shuttle pilot who was blissfully unaware of the sudden despicable violence that a nine year old girl had just committed upon a relatively innocent man.

 

“ETA two minutes to drop, ground fire flashing towards us, buckle up gents.”

[Zalis Krales]

Zalis took a long moment to make sure that the assets she requested from the agents were secured before she left her tactical station on The Marie. Making sure she was still red with what she needed, she took her own personal vessel, The Supremacy and left to join up with the The Bleeding Kyber, where Delta was sure to be. Or at least the tracking reference she had for him was located on the ship. As she made the transfer, she walked somewhat rather confidently through the ship towards Delta, even though the ship belonged to the Sith, and the last one she interacted with she blew off. But there was no time for regrets, that galaxy was moving forward and waited for no one. The flames of war were beginning to spread. Her own motivates held nothing personal against those that she helped murder and kill. It was just good business.

 

Finally finding the man known as Delta in his old clone armor standing near a man and a young girl in the hangar bay that she had just landed in, she slowed her pace as she approached the three, only to be greeted by a smell that was unpleasant and unfamiliar to her. Hold her nose, she spoke rather bluntly not caring for the audience around her.

 

"Something or someone smells like they tried to bathe within Thala- Sirens milk..."

 

Zalis did her best to put her hand down off her nose before she spoke directly to Delta, ignoring the other two for the moment.

 

"All targets of interest were taken without too much damage, except for Ittummi. But it only held a command center and a food processing center. We can do without those. I still have no word from anyone on the status of Okikuti, which holds a mining facility. I am very interested in that city's current state."

[darth shadowlord]

Draken partially withdrew from the battle meditation, it was time to go planetside. He stood up and walked from the room after leaning over to kiss Alora farewell. He strode back to his ship and opened the hatch to find Krakis waiting for him and looking very annoyed at having been left behind.

 

"Sorry Krakis, I wasn't sure of the situation, You get to come with me this time though, we go to battle."

 

Instantly Krakis's ears perked up and he growled low in his throat then batted at Draken's leg before head butting him. He laughed and walked back to his armory to pick up a blaster and a couple of thermal detonators. Then he checked on Shadow who had curled up on their bed and he shook his head. "Why am I not surprised." He chuckled then motioned to Krakis and the two of them left the ship and headed deeper into the hanger. As they did, Draken recognized a ship that had just landed and walked over to see Raia talking to the insufferable bounty hunter that they had seen at the Last Call.

 

"Hello my apprentice. Care to join me planetside? The battle changes."

[Raynuk Montar]

What remained of the defensive force of Kashyyyk had been eviscerated by the unrelenting force that had crashed upon the planet by the Sith and Black Sun fleets. There nothing left but scraps, all of which the starfighter wings could easily handle without Raynuk's presence. Upon having heard from the Bleeding Kyber that the Dark Lord had himself descended to the planet below, with the Gluttonous Center of the Battlemind having soon followed, the Wolf was not about to let his trinity brothers have all the fun without him.

 

He made perhaps a sharper descent into the planet's atmosphere than was needed, turning the Darksoul into yet another descending ball of fire and flame as the atmosphere burned against his ship, only unlike all the other objects that were raining destruction from space, Raynuk was in control of this one. Eventually he leveled out, bringing his small ship to tear across the sky of Kashyyyk low; low enough that he needed to weave in and out among some of the taller trees that rebelled against the grip of the planet as they stretched upwards. Normally that would have served as an annoyance, but Raynuk took it as an opportunity to quite simply blast the clusters of buildings that ringed those trees with the Darksoul's twin cannons. By the time he reached the location where he sensed Exodus and Sheog, Raynuk had destroyed four such clusters, leaving them aflame in the trees, or blasting away at the trees themselves until the buildings fell. He first did a flyover of the Dark Lord, examining the immediate area before looping around, and setting the auto pilot to return the Darksoul to the Sith flagship, tracking onto the transponder from the Ravenhammer.

 

Usually Raynuk was not one for bold and theatrical entrances, but sometimes he simply couldn't resist. Still feeling the adrenaline, and more important the Sith Battlemind on his own thoughts, he removed the Katarn helmet that had served him decently in the space battle, popped the hatch of the Darksoul, and simply jumped out of the cockpit, angling to land a few meters behind the Dark Lord. His impact with the ground sent tremors rocketing out around him, landing in a crouched yet kneeling position. Slowly his head rose to meet the figure of the Dark Lord, a wicked grin spreading.

 

"My Lord, " he greeted Exodus with the same grin, and glanced at Sheog as he slowly rose from his landing back to his full height, giving the Hutt a nod of respect as well. "Master Sheog... Victory is ours, now shall we show these savages the depths of domination, absolution and control that only a Sith Trinity could bring to bear? "

[Exodus]

The Hutt crashed hard into the uncultivated pastures, injecting an elephantine amount of driving force onto the battlefield. The kinetic oppression alone would fracture a whole man into dust, and the waves of pressure splintered the natural world around them, thundering in every which direction. Exodus counterpoised his own balance with fleeted footwork, the black cloth trappings that covered him blowing fierce against the traded wind. The stampede of the native Tree People could be heard now, their marched footsteps magnified to the level of a furious horde. The Dark Lord could not help but smile wickedly as the adrenaline of war beat harder than a drum inside of his chest. Exodus sniffed the atmosphere, and took a glimpse to the thickening miasma above them. “..Not quite Master Hutt, the wolf approaches,” Exodus returned his focus to the treeline, intuitively counting the seconds before the enemy blitz. Just mere meters outside of his own position, the Wolf pitched harshly from the skies and into the bothered terrain with his own aggressive rendition of an arrival.

 

 

• "Lord Diresto, Lord Quietus. These creatures parlay with our mortal enemy, show them no mercy."

 

The treeline suddenly broke wide open, and from every direction. Out poured an incredible tide of warmongering beasts, all covered with heavy pelts that varied in brutish strains of war paint. Screams and roars of the Wookie Horde bellowed with a force to wake the sleeping dead, and the sound of it alone was enough to split the untrained ear. It would take them ten running strides each to overrun the Trinity, but Exodus knew the sound of rolling metal was not far behind them either. Their berserker state was not a temperament to take lightly, their onslaught would come unpredictably and with the reckless abandonment that only a True Sith could appreciate. Zveris was now firmly clutched in his right hand, the cold blade outstretched towards the ambitious Wookie swarm.

 

 

.. And the ten steps were up.

[Delta73]

Delta looked up from the young dathomiri in time to see Zalis, his long time partner and friend approach. He grinned at her and knelt down next to Raia, showing her how to open and prepare a fleet issue MRE before she would be inevitably dispatched to the surface. The heating element kicked in with a pull of a tab and thirty seconds later the young girl would have hot Friesian scalloped potatoes and bread to eat. He placed the not too hot package into her hands and gave her a smile. “Eat up, your master approaches, and from his face you this is the last meal you are likely to have for a while.” He felt protective of the young girl, the daughter of a friend, and a fellow survivor of almost sacrifice on Dathomir.

 

He stood and grinned at Zalis, “Well…the one who smelled it dealt it you know.” He checked the readout on the inbuilt datapad of his Katarn MKIII armour and flipped its display up to show her. “I dropped a MC-80 class star cruiser on the village of Okikuti. So oops. Well done on the rest, we can grab as much resources as possible to finance the fleet building, and then we will be good to finance the bribing and construction of facilities on Thyferra. I have agents there who will begin the conversations shortly.”

 

He mockingly bowed to the Krath Sith Lord as the man approached, Delta's hands on his belt near weapons in case he tried something again. “Count, pleasure to see you again.”

[Alora]

As Draken stood, giving her a farewell kiss, Alora rose a few moments later. She too stood and withdrew from the merge, only keeping a light hold of it. For what she needed to do, she couldn’t have anything but a light touch with it. She had to feign being a lightsider and if she had the strongest darkside presences within her mind she wouldn’t pull off her rouge. She followed behind Draken as far as the hanger, not needing to get anything from the Grand Duke.. She sent a mental touch to Shadow, feeling her disgruntlement at being left behind, especially since Krakis was raring to go. Once Shadow was older, then she would become just that… Alora’s shadow. The cub was not even half of the male panthers size and for a battle against Wookiee’s it was not a good idea to take her. As she strode through the hanger towards a dropship she saw Raia with the bounty hunter. She grinned at the teen, giving her a wave and light touch through the Force. Alora would catch up with her after the battle. She was positive Raia would love Shadow when they ‘met’.

 

Reaching a dropship the Sith Mistress entered and headed toward the cockpit to speak with the pilot. She sat in the seat behind him and buckled into the crash-webbing. It wasn’t long before they were underway, leaving the Bleeding Kyber behind. Once they were through the atmosphere and rocketing towards the tops of the wroshyr trees, Alora instructed the pilot to fly low to allow her to jump out at a more secluded location from where the other Sith were fighting. With a location picked, she headed back into the dropship and waited until the ramp was lowered. Gathering the Force to her, the Sith Mistress stepped out, only dropping from a two metre height and landing lightly on her feet, knees bent to reduce impact. The dropship took off to a more ‘populated’ area. Immediately she stretched out her senses to feel where the nearest Wookiee’s were, also noting where the Trinity were. Touching one of the Wookiee’s minds, her right eyebrow rose. Theatrically waving her left hand across the front of her body, her crimson and black robes disappeared, Her violet eyes became green, her flame coloured hair became brown, her robes took on a light caf colour, her tunic and pants became green. She didn’t have to disguise her whip which was looped at her side or the fact she had two sabers on her belt, since they both fluctuated between crimson and silver she would lock them on silver. Picking out the Wookiee’s location she approached cautiously.

 

Jaina Jade Skywalker crept across the walkways, running from cover to cover until she caught up with the Wookiee’s. “Looks like you can do with some help... “

[Sheog the Mad]

As the overlarge Hutt watched the Warrior King fall from the sky in a way far more gracefully than himself, he gripped the handle of his alchemical axe, Armalite, in the chubby palm of his left hand. It was a hefty weapon, crafted in a mixture of soul-energy and Sith steel. The edge of the weapon smoked in the fog, turning the vapour into crystals of ice, giving form to the living weapon’s potency. The smell of the alchemy in the air brought back the nostalgia of its creation, the hallowed ground of Hoth. The murder of his fellow apprentice and the anger of Ason at the Hutt’s avarice. It had been only hours after its forging that the bearded axe had taken the life of the great Krath master. A whispered malice sprang to life as the mighty Hutt began to swing the broadened head, the smoking blade prepared to claim life once more.

 

...Beastflesh will suffice for now. Memory it will bring of the destruction of Kiralocca…

 

The demon swirled down the shaft of the axe, twisting as an emerald serpent. The veil of the Force was beginning to bend, the clutches of hunger devouring, at the epicenter, a wound in the Force at which centered was the Hutt. The Master of the Krath spoke in response, a muttered utterance to his brothers and demons alike. His eyes became as coals, stoked bright with hunger and greed.

 

<>

 

A hail of quarrels fell upon them as rain, uncharged of plasma, rods of sharpened steel. To the Hutt’s wrinkled hide a few stuck, driving a low growl from his deformed lips. The earth beneath them trembled as the Hutt brought it into his consciousness. It tasted of rot, generations of forest succumbing to entropy and time, to the devouring lust of worms and beasts. Whithered branches and deepset roots sprang from the loam with a cracking anger, betraying the rage of the planet, corrupted to the will of the Sith. Blasterbolts and quarrels dissipated upon the raised earth before it settled once more

 

The roaring of the Wookiees increased as they approached, and the onslot of ranged fire decreased, the weapons ineffective. Three Wookiees emerged from the fog at speed towards the Hutt, and Armalite met them where they stood. The Axe bit flesh, shattering what it froze before passing through. The foremost Wookiee was cut down immediately, his flesh turning to frozen strands that entangled his closest ally, driving them both to the churning ground to be devoured. The third Wookiee fared no better, the arching tail of the Hutt snapping sinew and bone with a swing that sent the corpse tumbling to disappear into the fog and the oncoming ranks of raging Wookiees. The Mad Hutt could taste the thrill of battle from his brothers and he bolstered it with his own insanity. A twisting smile contorted his normally handsome features as he prepared for the wave to come.

[ReignOfKarth]

Celora tightly gripped the handle of her lightsaber as she waited within the hull of the dark shuttle. When she had crumpled to the floor in the training cell, she had not seen the disdain for her broken self she had expected, nor a cruel beating, but a sort of acceptance, an awknowledgement of suffering endured. Now, though, she had a chance to rebuild, to be the iron fist, instead of being under it. She had been ordered by the Dark Lord to reenforce a detachment of Sith troops struggling with a Wookie counter attack. It would be her first real taste of combat under the Sith empire.

 

Hesitantly, she turned to the Vermandois, "I heard that nothing's worse then dying on the first day. So, uh, don't let me die, ok?"

[Zalis Krales]

Zalis couldn't help but roll her eyes upon seeing the holodisplay that Delta showed her of what had happened.

 

"Delta... Actually... I don't know what I expected..."

 

It was a slow realization that such a requested to have things taken without any damage to the goods was a little bit of a far stretch. Letting out a sigh, she shrugged her own shoulders as she let that disappointment die out.

 

"At least this hairball infested planet doesn't have any must have resources for us. Thyferra will be a much bigger target for resources for us... Whose the girl?"

 

Zalis choose to ignore the other male, who looked like he was intently focused on something that was beyond her. Although she was not blind to Delta's own movements towards his belt where his weapons were at upon the man's approach.