Corellia

[Gren Sairdonga]

"As ordered sir."

 

Gren said. Throwing a quick boxer he turned and ran off the bridge. Eager to get back to his fighter. Within minutes he was blasting out of the hangar. Calmly he adjusted the E-Wings inertia compensator, power distribution and his seats reclination to his preference. Then activating his comm he began.

 

"Admiral. I'm on station awaiting orders."

 

Switching to his squadrons channel he called out orders.

 

"Sentinel's form up on me. What have we got."

 

For half a second he flew blind then his people reported in.

 

"Welcome back Gren. What we got is one massive furball. With us restricted to the outer limits cause they got their damned AS-Frigates running around. They're dieing though. Soon we'll be able to expand into the rest of hte battlespace."

 

Colan's voice crackled through the comm.

 

AS-Frigates... Anti-Starfighter Frigates... They tended to be an issue. But they weren't infalliable. Switching to a fleet wide channel he rattled out a series of orders that should hasten the defeat of the AS-Frigates.

 

"Alright I need all the B-Wings to from up well back. Your going to synch your telemetry with A-Wings who will fly in close enough to the AS-Frigates to get a lock then get the hell out of dodge. The B-Wings will fire from the safety of the rear covered by X-Wings. E-Wings. Reform as best you can and create a rolling furball accross the entirety of the forward battlespace. Create as much confusion and chaos as possible. K-Wings. Hold for now. Once we have some holes in their line punch through and begin making runs against anything big enough to trade shots with MC-90A. Concentrate on engines and shields. These rusty droids are going down today. Out."

 

Switching to the Joint Fleets frequency he rehashed what he'd just ordered his own troops to do. Only he made it a suggestion. Then back to his squadrons frequency he kept an ear on the fleetwide. If anything new occured he needed to know. Then matching action to words he dove into a dogfight spanning maybe three hundred fighters. Time to fly fast and shoot straight. He thought as his triple lasers shredded an Arach'tar fighter.

[BLACK1]

((Well over the three days. Let's pick this back up.))

 

As the Solo's followed orders and delivered their volley of brilliant green turbo lasers, Black watched in horror as his hope in the barrage dissipated along a shield system they hadn't noticed. Bringing his freighter out of the suicidal run, he pulled the fighters away to regroup.

 

What the hell was that!? Report!

 

"Sir, we're picking up an odd energy reading emanating from a couple ships spread out through the field. We think its where the shielding is coming from. We've got reports from the rebs that they've switched priority over to these ships."

 

Push our line to give the rebs cover. Pull the warships escorting our lower flank back to make room. Shift them three degrees starboard, twenty up in an arc and swing them back around. Tell me when those ships are down.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Within moments the rebs pulled through, amassing their fire in a bold check against the defending shield ships. With the shields down, the Solo's resumed their firing on the shield generator on the aft section of the station.

 

Alright boys, this is take two. Same formation, lower arc this time. They're going to know something is up this time, so bring in the Eclipse far outside their range ninety degrees starboard of Centerpoint and start picking off their caps. Give them something bigger and meaner than us to worry about for a while.

 

Black lit himself another crackling cigarette as his ship came out of the turn, straightening itself out for another attempt.

 

Well, bigger at least.

[Sgt. Slaughter]

”œSitrep.”

[Sakuda Iron demon]

Slipping

 

Sakuda watched the battle unfold from within Centerpoint, waiting patiently for his time. Patience is something he would need more than ever in what was to come. The resistance was throwing everything it had at the Arach'tar, but numbers seemed irrelevant, given that the moment Rev'Nullem took to the field, the resistance would be annhilated. Several Martyr class shield ships had been destroyed, creating gaps in the Zero shields. The shields could be redeployed to prevent a super weapon strike from destroying Centerpoint, but the station could now be boarded.

 

Sakuda issued orders to send specially selected units to the possible breach points, the most fanatical and devoted of Rev'Nullem's crusaders. In time, the Resistance may make it further into Centerpoint, but not without a bloodbath. It was... necessary that only the strong survive. The weak were not meant to see this final act, and the truth would defeat them, for it was an unknown force to them.

 

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

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

 

The ultimate mortal delusion, Hope, played out before Rev'Nullem. These fools sought to hold back armageddon despite the fact that their extinction was inevitable. Even if they did achieve victory here against the Arach'tar, they had no entity that could rival him in power. He was a god amongst insects, andhis victory was assured. The wager would be won, and the future would belong to Rev'Nullem. It was time to join the battle.

 

Unholy darkness, visible even in space due to the sheer number of ships and Centerpoint itself, coalesced into the dread form of Rev'Nullem.

 

The final reckoning has come mortals, prepare to be rent asunder and cast aside, for I am your reaper.

[Yue]

As the battle progressed and the causalities have started to form, what the impromptu commander of the Dark Watch forces had been waiting for arrived. A hole in the shields of center point had been lowered enough for entry to occur. This was the last gathered focus of the Arach'tar. They would not give way easily and any who were to step foot on Center Point were surely to meet hard resistance no matter where they strike. This was where the dead would prove there use. Before the arrival at center point, besides the legion hundreds of bodies had been given the gift of unending life. They would fight and strike down all that did not emit the stench of death and decoy. Their primitive urges had been reinforced as well as given minimum intelligence. They would fire their weapons and attack all who stood before them.

 

”œSend the damned into hell. Let them weak their havoc upon these out of place machines. Provide cover fire for the transports. Make sure our pilots doors are locked tight till they board. Re-arrange the warships to cover the imperial flank and reposition of destroyers around the rebel lines. We need to bring down the rest of the shields around Center Point to make way for the death star.”

[Deton]

He gripped his rifle in his hand and held it upward as if he was hanging loosely onto a pole. He wasn't worried, not in the slightest. He was perhaps the only person in the shuttle that didn't match the others but, that was ok in his book. After the courscant police, he wasn't too eager to jump into other trooper shoes. He knew for a fact that quite a few stops were being pulled for this op. Granted it had been a rare op, an op where people were turned down from going ,if only to continue to protect imperial held worlds.

 

He on the other as a Stormtrooper officer had been required to go, especially given his”¦ familiarity with the enemy. Though he doubted what he knew of their ship tactics would carry him well into his fight, he was sure he could find an underlying basic pattern.

 

He was surrounded be novatroopers on a Gamma-class assault shuttle. A rare treat to be sure, but one the Empire had felt necessary to make sure this particular cargo had no trouble reaching its destination. He had personally drafted up the imperial stormtrooper deployment for this mission himself. Especially after hearing that he was up against a bunch of gear heads. Not sure of the entire make, up, Stormtroopers on this op had been refitted to carry the DEMP 2 instead of the standard e-11. That way they would be covered on both sides of the spectrum.

 

He had then of course had those stormtroopers on the op each have to spend over 140 hours on a firing range with the weapons in order to familiarize themselves with them. As it was, he had all of the nova troopers in his compartment carrying the weapons as well.

 

He felt a slight jostle and knew they had engaged in some evasive maneuvers, yet still found himself not the least bit worried. After all how could he be? In space now were quite a few DEMP 2 each carrying forty Zero- g assault troopers. These men would make points to break into to allow for the insertion of nova stormtrooper teams.

 

Meanwhile en mass, Stormtroopers from across the galaxy would be pouring into every breech they could find. He was doing something quite special. He was finishing what the fly boys had started and he was doing it his way. With something beneath his feet.

 

He had remembered the massive prep talk he had been forced to give in front of thousands of men whom he knew he would be responsible for in one way or another. It had been short sweet and to the point.

 

”œDear Imperials. We regret being invading bastards. We regret coming to your galaxy. And we most definitely regret that the you just blew up our raggedy-ass fleet!

 

You had your chance to be afraid before you joined my beloved Corps!

You don't even know how lucky you men are! When I signed up from my backwater world, the recruiters gave us our weapons straight from logistics and you know what. They were three rocks per person and a metal rod. Only we had to share the rod. NOW LET ME HEAR YOU!”

[Gren Sairdonga]

"Seven, eight I'm on him bank port on my mark!"

"I can't shake hi-"

"Two full squads of tin heads forming up to try and break the right flank. Deep Flight. Dark Water on me lets break that party."

"One the Left flank is taking casualties! A damn anti-fighter frigate advanced into contact."

"Oop there it goes one. Looks like we owe those Bs and As a beer when we get out of here."

"-vy casual- comms are -lf jam- bu- we ma- to -unch -ole th-gh -e Ar-ar li-s. Requ- -port"

"Three marks at two ten. I need back-up"

"Two on me two one me I need helarghhhh!"

"Threes gone they just blew thred outta space holy shi-"

"Twelve watch your flight path. Stay away from clear space and those frigates."

 

Throughout the chaos of battle Gren flew. Where the fighting was worst he tended to thrive. It was the man he was. Many soldiers said one was closest to life when vying with death. But it wasn't for that that Gren flew into the hottest dogfights in battle. It wasn't that he sought glory, or was suicidal either. It was his men. Gren sought to protrct as many of his men as possible.

 

Barrelrolling hard starboard Gren barely avoided the laser blasts from the pursuing Arach'tar fighter. Suppressing a grin he flicked his etheric rudder hard, cutting throttle to swing the fighter in a near flat spin, as it spun around in a full sixty four hundred mil rotation he fired one salvo from his triple lasers. Blasting the cockpit off the pursuing fighter. As he came back around on his original heading he heeled hard starboard and punched back to full throttle. Regaining control and immediately tailing another Arach'tar fighter for a few moments before shredding it too.

 

"Gren we have a gap! Forard's squadron broke through but they're in hot soup."

 

Looping his fighter around he began snapping out orders as soon as he located the hole.

 

"All fighters hit the gap, lets make it big. K-Wings adavance and begin your runs. B-Wings keep any AS frigates away from it. A-Wings break through and begin through and cause chaos. X and E will create a rolling dogfight throughout the area and provide cover for the bombers and transports."

 

Suiting action to word Gren cut a path straight through to the hole in the enemy line, restraining a whoop of joy. This was it. This was the begining of the end of the Arach'tar.

[BLACK1]

Sitting in the narrow escape pod, Black let his mind go blank as the daunting prospect of his upcoming actions attempted to shake him. In nothingness was calm, and in that calm he could see himself, monstrous as he was, steadfast before the storm. He had reserved this place of calm for only the direst of situations, where the stakes were far greater than life or honor, but for everything. Outnumbered, out gunned, very likely outclassed. No, to hell with that. There was no such thing as outclassed in his book. As his autopilot took the freighter past the designated point, brilliant green light from the Solo's breached the great station's defenses. The moment reports came in that the strike was true, the escape pod let loose, sending the Emperor on the calculated trajectory through the escorting squadron of fighters and into the crumpled decks provided. Seconds after jettison, the freighter exploded in a brilliant hue of oranges and reds, quickly snuffed by the harsh reality of the vacuum.

 

The latch popped open and for a moment there was the calm. The chaotic battle outside, the series of flashing lights and wailing sounds that gave warning to the station's crew, even his own heart pounding like a jackhammer inside his chest grew silent for just a second. Perhaps this was it, the challenge he had looked for his whole life. There was always another battle, another warrior to defeat, another chance for death to stare you in the eye and for you to stare right back at it. It was kind of depressing, really. To know that there may never again be a challenge as great as this one. One final drag, one final moment of additively necessary bliss, and all calm left. Shooting out the pod like a predestined bullet he soared through the air, his heavy form landing with a detached metallic clunk.

 

The final reckoning has come mortals, prepare to be rent asunder and cast aside, for I am your reaper.

 

The voice struck through the pulse of battle through his mind, and from the first word Black knew who it was. It was the same piercing red eyes he had stared into at Ilum. The same being that cut through his Death Star with but a wave of his hand. With the massive briefcase in hand he began to walk, laughing maniacally the whole way out of the hanger.

 

Reap this.

 

Black ensured the message was loud and clear by rudely groping his crotch. Though the so called god was not visibly present, the mandalorian was fairly confident he understood what was trying to be conveyed.

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Shot after shot, the Imperial line laid down all it had at the enemy. The Eclipse had started picking off ships in order of size, striking key points on the largest ship on the field, then moving to the next. The Eclipse was to cripple the ships, then let the capitals move in to mop up. For now, the order was to focus on the fleet itself, shooting at only the station's weapon systems with a handful of capital ships. Imperial fighters remained on the defensive, protecting their capital and warships from enemy fighters. A fleet wide order was given to switch priority to ships that began to glow with a blue aura the moment they were noticed. With the aid of the Rebels, the Arach'tar fleet would soon fall.

Edited July 28, 2008 by Guest

[Nhagathul]

As simply as she was not there, she was, waiting for his own struggle to tighten the noose around his neck. They always struggle. Be it for ignorance or pride, every action done out of these ideas tightened the knot. This day the noose was around the neck of Rev'Nullem, and it was both his ignorance and pride that pulled the knot ever tighter. She did not hold a physical manifestation such as he, but all that could feel the raw torrent of the force knew of her immediate presence.

 

Interfering with the gambit, I see...Do you not have faith enough in your beliefs to let this...superior war machine live up to its name? Or do you feel that you must use your power to ensure victory? But then, who is it that will win? You, or your beliefs? My understanding is the wager was over an idea, not the contestants themselves. Come now, Rev'Nullem...let's see what your idea can do...

 

Where he was, she was. Where he would move, she would move, and every step of the way she would be there to thwart his attempts at influencing the battle. This was to be a battle between life and machine, no a god and his toys against life, and she would remain to ensure it was so.

[Onderin Starlisk]

Onderin watched grimly as the battle progressed. Slaughter's report put him in the loop, and, combined with other status reports and sensor recordings, he pieced together the tactics and goals of each of the three war machines represented in this great battle of the fates where the Corellian system had been.

 

He felt the dark wash through the Force as the great being Rev'Nullem appeared, as Onderin had known he would. But the allied fleets of the galaxy had an answer, and a moment later he felt the terrible energies of Nhagathul as they came into play.

 

"Stay clear of Rev'Nullem," he told the fleet. "We need to push through and get our boarding parties onto Centerpoint."

 

And indeed the Arach'tar fleet was stumbling in their goal to protect their modified station. Onderin didn't know what they had done to it, but the one who could allegedly fire the weapon was long gone, and they must have made quite some modifications to make it serve them. But that wasn't his concern right now, but that of those who would board it and attempt to shut it down.

 

Just a little longer....

[Cadio Sikaot]

Abaord the Paragon Cadio sat in the command chair watching and waiting. Reports flew in one ear and out the other. None of it mattered anymore. The ships were a futile attempt to keep the Arach'tar busy while the strike teams went in to destroy their ultimate weapon. This battle wouldn't be decided by numbers or ammunition or strategy, but on pure will power and determination. This battle was the end for one side and the beginning for the other. Now it was time to sit and watch.

 

"What's the status of the shield ships Captain?" he called over his shoulder. A young man of perhaps twenty four came forward with a printout of what he had asked for and as he looked it over he sighed. "Continue to concentrate fire on those shield ships and have out analysists look for weaknesses on these ships. There has to be a way to bring them down quicker and more effeciently."

[Sgt. Slaughter]

”œFive, four, three”¦”

[Moon Knight]

Time to move in.

 

ShadowFett gunned his ship's excellent sublight engines and made a dash for the huge opening the Rebel superweapon had made. He had to say, it was an impressive weapon. Maybe it wasn't a Death Star, but he couldn't see the jetiise using a Death Star anyway, and this weapon was capable of inflicting a much more tactical amount of damage. It was far more useful than a Death Star, unless you wanted to blow up planets....

 

The Mando'ad piloted the stealthy ship through the remains of Arach'tar vessels that had gotten in the way of the superweapon, hugging debris to further conceal his presence. Picking a deck a few below where his sensors placed a Rebel infiltration unit, he slipped his craft into a suitably large hole in the structure and engaged a docking claw to keep the ship secure.

 

Making sure he was totally armed, Moon Knight departed, his black armor melding with the shadows of the darkened corridors and his night-vision visor array coming to life. He activated his penetrating radar device that effectively superimposed on his field of vision the forms of living creatures even through walls and ceilings, and also quickly tuned his communications array to descramble the code the Rebels were using, effectively using their commlinks as eavesdropping devices so he could hear their chatter.

 

Not only would he see Arach'tar coming from rooms away, but he could shadow the progress of the Rebel group and work his way occaisonally through maintenance shafts and working lifts until he could more or less join them. It was unlikely they would know he was here until he chose to reveal himself, but his maps of the station were likely outdated, and the Rebels probably knew where they were going--and how to attract the ire of whoever was in charge of the station. That was Fett's target.

 

And Fett always found his targets.

 

Oya.

[Exodus]

• Bloodless

 

”œ”¦Lhi dralshye'raj.”

[Deton]

Advancing through the halls, he felt a strange shutter run through him, long before the station seemed to shutter. With screeching noises that reverberated through out the entire station, he heard what could only be the sounds of heavy impact blasts. With out warning his comm. Channel erupted into shouts of surprise and screaming.

 

He paused as the sudden sound of screaming took over his comm. A desperate broadcast came in over his channel as an imperial pilot suddenly found himself surrounded in a way he shouldn't be. The attack of the rebels devastating as it had been to the station, had done far more than they had perhaps anticipated.

 

He raised an hand forcing his team to stop which quick relayed orders to the suppression squad. The pilot not a stormtrooper himself just a member of the navy was suddenly stammering over his mike, and everyone else in broadcasting range.

 

”œB-bb BODIES!”

[Moon Knight]

((Well, this is exciting. ))

 

ShadowFett's first skirmish with the Arach'tar was the most difficult. They were interesting hybrids of machine and flesh, and their armor was tough, though not nearly as tough as his beskar'gam. Even their metal bits were hot, so his infrared visor wouldn't distinguish flesh. However, there were obvious density variances between the two substances, and his penetrating radar told him what he needed to know.

 

He started with an assault rifle, finding the chinks in Arach'tar armor for the first time. Their anatomy was considerably different than that of most biologicals he had fought, but the truth remained that joints tended to be less armored, and he quickly and efficiently analyzed where the best place was to blast the shabuir to bring them down.

 

There were a few close calls during this learning process, but Moon Knight rose to the challenge and revelled in the difficulty. New combat scenarios against new opponents in a challenging skirmish were the absolute best ways to improve or get killed. A hit to the buy'ce really helped keep one alert, and Fett took a couple of those before clearing the room of Arach'tar.

 

The following pair of fights were quick. The Mando'ad was aware of the room's occupants before they were of him, and he made the shots he had before they reacted to his presence count, now that he had factored in the imperfections of their protection. During the first, only one return shot had been fired, and he managed to clear the second room without even that--partially since he had employed a concussion grenade to incapacitate most of his opponents before opening fire.

 

Time to close with the Rebels, Fett thought, finding a lift and taking it most of the way to the Alliance troopers' location. He would stay a deck or two below until they were closer to the command station. He was decidedly amused by the difficulty they seemed to be having with bringing down Arach'tar, which had mobilized against them. That was the weakness of numbers that the Mandalorian didn't have to deal with.

[fuzzy_ewok]

In the battle between Light and Darkness...

 

In the shadows between Good and Evil...

 

Between the Ebb and Flow of these great forces...

 

Chaos finds a home.

 

It's name, is Ewok, Fuzzy Ewok (aka, El Presidente Politburo Chairman Willet Wollie of the UEER (United Endorian Ewok Republic).

 

And in the final battle against the Arach'tar for the fate of the galaxy, even this force of raw chaos and savagery has to take a side: for the good of all, for what is right and decent.

 

And for the chance to blow some seriously large **** up. REALLY big explosions- like woooah! Cool explosion BIG!!!

 

Naturally, the remains of Endor's Ewoks could not ignore this siren call and the chance to do something to indulge in their expansive pyromaniacal tendencies. The fact that these primatives were taking on a force of pure technology was just an added, and rather unappreciated irony.

 

Emerging from hyperspace on stolen rings, akin to the kind used to transport Jedi fighters during the era of the Clone Wars, the Ewok's rather wooden and primative fleet emerges.

 

As a means of challenging any naysayers, the Ewoks long ago built their own fleet from scratch- chopping down some of Endor's huge trees, gutting them, and fitting them with rocket engines and weaponry.

 

How they managed to stay space worthy, much less avoid ingiting remained a mystery for some of the galaxy's best ship designers and physicists.

 

The fleet lines up and the engines ingite, sending the entire Ewok fleet forward in a furious charge, their guns (and in some cases, overgrown crossbows and slings which have questionable merits as weapons in the vacuum of space) firing.

 

"YUB YUB COMMANDER!"

 

[Translation: We charge for the Glowpoint and will aim to knock out the powery glowpoint thing! For the glory of the Ewok Commintern! We will conquer!!!]

[Onderin Starlisk]

"Sir, new contacts emerging from hyperspace," came a report from the sensor officer.

 

Strange, Onderin thought. He had thought that the entire Imperial Navy was here already. Unless the Black Sun had decided to join in, he couldn't imagine what was still arriving. "Report," he said.

 

"The incoming fleet is....wooden," the officer reported with a frown. "That can't be right." He leaned over the board, turning a few knobs and toggling a few switches. "I'm sorry, sir, but there must be something wrong with the readings."

 

"Admiral, the new fleet is sending out a transmission," the comm officer reported. "Switching to audio."

 

"YUB YUB COMMANDER!"

 

"Dear God..." someone muttered.

 

"Can I get a translation?" Onderin asked, a sense of eerie disbelief settling over him.

 

"They're attacking Centerpoint, sir, in what appears to be a suicide run," a protocol droid that happened to be nearby spoke up.

 

The Admiral raised an eyebrow, then stretched across the expanse between his location and that of the incoming ships with the Force. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, then felt the primitive minds of the crews of those ships, bent on annihilation of the Arach'tar fleet and of Centerpoint station. "The sensors are correct, Lieutenant," he said. "Those are Ewoks, and they have spaceborn, wooden ships. May the Force save us all."

[Gren Sairdonga]

The starfighter battle was at a peak. THousands of starfighters already dead. Thousands engulfed in massive dogfights. Amongst the most heated of them. In a now rather large gap battled Gren.

 

"Punch it Three. Four more marks attempting to break into the heav line."

 

"I'm on them boss. Sentinel's Seven and eight on me we're taking them."

 

Performin g a barrelroll to bring him out from under the guns of a Aratch'tar pilot Gren sluiced around in a roll that brought his own forward. Letting forth a trio of laser fire that burned through the cockpit and part of the left wing of the craft.

 

"Lead! The Arach'tar hole is broken! We have a clear uninterupted flightpath through to the station!"

 

At Colan's voice Gren couldn't help but grin. They'd done it. They had broken the enemy fleet. Switching to a channel that took him straight to Onderin Gren thumbed his fighter around to take him clear of the rolling maul.

 

"Admiral. We've made a hole big enough to slip all the transports through. Requesting permission to go in with one of the assualt waves?"

[Sakuda Iron demon]

In the breach points where alliance and imperial soldiers gathered, the hunters watched. The invaders thought themselves powerful for dispatching a few Garanin-Kor, expendable warriors who were weak from the aging of their biological flesh. The Arach'tar, however, were above all hunters. While their fleet tactics revolved around the superior firepower of the Infinite Machine, in infantry tactics the Arach'tar relied on skill and cunning. The counterattack would be merciless and devastating.

 

From concealed access points throughout the station, foreseen to be useful by the iron priests, crusaders led by Iron Demons struck out in ambush amidst the core of the boarding forces. Sowing panic and terror, the crusaders dispatched enemy with flame, blade, and a withering hail of angry metal. The iron demons moved with balletic precision and grace, dancing a dance of crazed death and religious ecstasy amongst the intruders. The burning flames of the righteous consumed the undead abominations of enemy, reducing them to ash.

 

Using comm. tracking and listening technology, the Arach'tar were quickly capable to locate and pinpoint the leaders of the boarding parties, and the Arach'tar were quick to target them. A pair of Iron Demons fell upon the one leading the white soldiers(Deton), working in tandem to weave a complex pattern of bladework while incinerating the troops around them.

 

Invoking the Infinite Machine with vox systems pumping out ancient chants, Pure Ones swarmed the rebel position, acting as suicide bombers and bounding into the middle of rebel formations before detonating. Occasionally a group of Pure Ones would work as a group to take down a wolf spider in a concentrated wave of disintegrating explosions. The Pure Ones were true automatons, with no blasphemous flesh to mar their perfection, the ultimate tools of the Infinite Machine, if slightly disdained by the Arach'tar for their lack of skill. They would continue to come at the enemy until they were no more.

 

Deeper in Centerpoint, a hunter who thought himself skilled(Moonknight) suddenly found himself facing a trio of Iron Demons. Slapping away his rifle with ease, two of them slammed him against a wall while the third made a trail of giant craters in his inferior armor. Drawing its pulse blades, the Iron Demon prepared to skewer him like the pathetic piece of meat he was.

 

The Dark Lord of the Sith's arrival had not gone without notice. Years ago, an entity from this galaxy had sought to stall the invasion of the Arach'tar, and a trade had been made. The invasion was delayed in exchange for a rare and uniquely powerful technology. The entity had called them pariahs, the soulless. While Rev'Nullem abhorred these abominations, he had the foresight to see their usefulness. And so a select few penitent Iron Demons were remade into true monsters, the Void Demons, separate from the very fabric of all existence. Five of these consummate killers moved in silently on the Dark Lord, passing by soldiers in plain sight, concealed by the men's minds inability to admit such horrors existed. Rending a hole in the Force wherever they traveled, the Void Demons converged on the Dark Lord like hungry specters, ready to snuff out his evil light with true darkness. Focusing pure oblivion into baleful energy, they unleashed an onslaught of nothingness at the man thing, already growing more powerful as they fed on his presence.

 

Arach'tar hackers, continuing to exploit the research from the Mechis III salvages, overrode command of several frigates, including the Prometheus, using their fire to support the Arach'tar against the boarding parties.

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

 

Well if it isn't the little brooding psychobitch, did you finally get bored of pulling the legs off of insects? This isn't your concern, so why don't you go back to your little games of self-desiccation and petty mind games. I will not be denied my victory.

 

Through sheer force of will, Rev'Nullem reached out with his mind and plucked a star destroyer, spinning it like a drill before launching it at Nhagathul's head. Almost as an afterthought, for sheer amusement, Rev reached into the mind of the creature leading the new arrivals, and turned him into a capitalist supporter of the free market and industry.

 

Sakuda could not help but feel a sense of cleansing as he watched the battle unfold. This was surgery, excising a lethal cancer with precision. The cure was near, but the patient had to survive first. It was almost time.

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

 

The Ewoks, having arrived as some kind of joke on the part of fate, had a problem. The problem being that their wood ships could not detect the still partially active Zero shields. Without warning, their ships shook violently and were rocked off course as they entered the fields, areas of space in which motion death occurred. Ice traveled through the ships, freezing everything in its reach.

 

OOC((Sorry everyone for the horrible delay in my post, I've been very sick and physically and mentally exhausted, since my sickness prevented me from getting any sleep. Additionally, several of my writing assistants bowed out so once again I had to rework the story without their characters.))

[Deton]

”œResistance has been far to light, keep you guard up, chances are there is an ambush up ahead.”

[Yue]

Among the numerous vessels that have fought to fight back and destroy the Arach'tar numbers dark watch has waited and performed its job with out exception, but has of yet to achieve their true goal. They have dispatched their undead legion upon center point. They have infiltrated and turned into an infestation of decay. This however was merely only half the of the plan by the dark figure who stood at the bridge of the Coffin.

 

Silent as the battle raged into the second half of destruction and reckoning for the galaxy the two men who lead the Dark Watch battle grouped observed and said nothing. On occasion the paler companion would speak on its master behalf. Not much was said though as the group performed flawlessly as it assisted in the take down of shield ships and the boarding of center point. The only sign of life of the hooded leader was his blood plagued eyes that shined a vibrant glow.

 

The left hand of rebirth turned to his creator and spoke words that did not make sense in the environment of battle.

 

”œYes master. It is time.”

[Gren Sairdonga]

Gren was still waiting for an answer when the question got changed completely. Without any seeming hit or attack upon it. Centerpoint's surface seemed to erupt in many little explosions. Balls of fire, quickly extingiushed by the vacuum of space. Swearing Gren pulled his fighter around. If he was going to board now he'd need his heavy combat suit. Completely airtight with a vacuum survival rating of several hours. He would need it, not for the vacuum of space. But with whatever just happened who knew what atmospheric conditions would be like within the battletorn corridors of Centerpoint.

 

"Sentinel One this is Viper One. Bombers report all Anti Starfighter Frigates disabled or destroyed."

 

With a moment given to a sigh of relief Gren snapped to work.

 

"All bombers are to concentrate firepower on the largest enemy cruisers and battleships. Engines then bridge. Starfighters are to spread out and stamp on the enemy fighters and provide annoyance assualt on enemy ships."

 

With that Gren arrowed straight towards the Justiciar, he had a bunk there. Stored their was also some Antarian Heavy Battle Armour. What he could achieve in the cockpit of a starfighter was done. Now the battle was with blaster rifle and sword. Sending a quick order to the Justicar no sooner had Gren landed then a flight of Assault Shuttles were being loaded with troops. They were equiped with survival equipment designed for Station fighting. Where an bad explosion could see men and air vented into the vacuum of space. It would work to protect them just as well from fire Gren supposed, providing oxygen and protecting from anything but major heat. His armour and weapons brought to him by an sweaty ensign Gren was ready.

 

Quickly changing into his armour Gren got on the comm to Admiral Starlisk.

 

"Admiral. Whatever just happened on Centerpoint has probably left hundreds of our troops in jeopardy. Requesting permission to lead a team aboard to evac anyone ilequipped and continue the battle."

[Onderin Starlisk]

From this close to Centerpoint, Onderin could survey the situation, but he didn't understand what had happened. Someone or something had damaged Centerpoint pretty thoroughly, though he doubted the machine that had stood for millenia would fall so easily. And indeed it seemed to still have power.

 

He got a call from Gren, who, like usual, had a request that was the best thing for the ground troops in the field. "Granted, General," Onderin replied. "May the Force be with you."

 

Meanwhile, the battle beyond was being won, the Arach'tar forces being pounded back. But nothing was certain until Rev'Nullem met his match.

[Nhagathul]

In the sheer nothingness of space, Nhagathul remained still and sullen as the star destroyer spun towards her, letting the makeshift weapon pass harmlessly through her intangible form. Her brow furrowed at his frivolous attempts on her life, her muscles grew tense as anger steadily grew.

 

Really?

 

In the next instant a brutal arc of untainted power jumped from her body to his in a brilliant display of violet light, far surpassing any display of light on the battlefield. Hers was not a world of flesh or form, but of the immaterial. Over time flesh decays, even the strongest of metals rust. But the soul, the soul was something unaffected by the passage of time. It took much stronger forces to act upon the soul. Her soul she struck out, pushing the violet bolt with all her might.

 

You thought you could take away life from my galaxy, Rev'Nullem? You are just as arrogant as you always were.

 

The Truth, in its mind crippling purity, began to creep through the thoughts of the misdirected. She had cared not for the wager, knowing the outcome from the start, but when Rev'Nullem had decided to bring her into the fray, she had decided to show him the most powerful weapon any believer could wield. The Truth.

[Gren Sairdonga]

Shrugging his shoulders when permission was granted Gren boarded the lead shuttle. Nodding to the Commander of the Strike Team, an young Toprawan, Gren had been surprised when he saw the man. He had recognised him from home. Gren switched to the Company wide frequency.

 

"Alright lads listen up. We will be making an hostile entry into Centerpoint. Our mission is to secure an LZ. And get medical and survival gear through to the troops already onstation. Once we have evaced as many of the wounded and properly equiped those still able to fight we'll push these rusty can openers back to whatever hole they come from. Watch your mates. Don't wander and shoot anything mechanical that moves too much."

 

Nodding once again to the Commander who got on the line and began giving his more formal more complete briefing Gren got onto the main starfighter frequency.

 

"I need a four squadron escort. From the Justiciar to Centerpoint station. It'll be dangerous and chances of getting attacked are something well over one hundred percent. Who wants in?"

 

It took about three seconds for names to come in. Sentinel. Viper. Hellfire. Corellian Vengance. Fitting. His own wing volunteered for a job that would likely leave them well behind enemy lines, escorting dead and wounded instead of in the real fight. But it was still important. Still a vital part of the battle that needed to be done. And it would likely see mroe action then the real fight if only because the enemy would see shuttles and jump on them.

 

Bracing himself as the shuttles shuddered into movement he watched as they flew out of the hangar and into the chaos of battle. Four squadrons of battleworn E-Wings forming up around them escorting them into the very heart of the chaos.

[BLACK1]

Traversing the nearly endless halls of the station the Emperor had begun to grow uneasy. Half an hour on board and he hadn't encountered any resistance. His left arm had begun to grow sore from carrying the massive case for such an expended period of time but he ignored his muscles' painful cries for relief. He was a warrior, such trifling pain was nothing. Stopping at a crossroads of halls Black studied his choices. In front of him and to his right there was nothing of note. Simple halls, nothing more. But to his left there was something out of place. It wasn't that there was something out of place causing him to question that path, but rather it was an absence of something that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. A familiar nothingness plagued the path, how he knew this he couldn't be certain. A single panel of lights flickered once, as if a sign that it was the correct destination. The Emperor gave a gruff sigh as he reached into his chest pocket, pulling out both a cigarette and his soft bronze lighter. He reinforced his grip on the case before turning down the lacking hall, cobalt blue smoke in his wake.

 

At the end of the hall was a flight of stairs descending lower into the core of the station. Again, Black couldn't help but shake the sense of foreboding that seemed to follow him like a dark rain cloud, but his training forced him to push the thought aside, work through the fear and accomplish the mission. His heavy boots sent a metallic echo through the narrow stairwell, the grated floor offering little in terms of stealth, but he didn't really mind his overt movement. After the extended period of no resistance, he was eager to fight. The base of the stairs revealed yet another hall running perpendicular to the previous one.

 

The split second he turned the corner Black reacted before he thought, dropping the massive case and drawing his chain axe one fluid movement. He had stumbled upon none other than the Dark Lord himself just as his attackers sprang. Utilizing the motion of drawing the massive weapon to its fullest, Black thumbed the switch to propel the spinning teeth and continued the flow, throwing it some thirty feet toward the assailant closest to the Sith. Before the weapon struck Black had already drawn the twin pistols, sending shot after shot of precisely aimed depleted uranium rounds at the chests of the other four aliens.

[Sgt. Slaughter]

In less than a second, training became action.

 

Many of the Rebel boarding party were knocked off their feet by the explosions, Slaughter included, their leader losing his rifle as he fell. Right away, he rolled off his side and went for his sidearm, an automatic pistol configured to fire booma-based rounds. When he brought it up to unsafe it, he found that an Arach'tar warrior was just above him, charging deeper into his squad to blow itself up in the midst of his men. Before Bruce was even aware of having discharged his weapon, he sent three rounds into the thing's neck, chin, and forehead.

 

The rounds worked as advertised, delivering a devastating EMP charge into the thing's metal body, literally toppling the warrior. He found that he had to roll aside, least he found himself crushed below a heavy load of inert metal.

 

Despite the loss of a number of their own fighting machines, the Talons recovered with astonishing speed. Several other soldiers were caught in predicaments similar to their Captain's, but most of them managed to survive due to quick reflexes and the point-blank range at which they were firing. Their few surviving Wolf Spiders immediately adjusted, bounding forward from the rear whilst spitting deadly fire from their automatic weapons and venomous curses in their ultrasonic language. They met the danger head-on, fire and debris””the harvest of their skills””licking the edges of their shields.

 

But the torrent of firepower they unleashed paled in comparison to what they did for the squad. Just before their surroundings turned to fire, Slaughter had been glancing occasionally at the holographic map of Centerpoint Station along the bottom of his goggles. It was clearly outdated, as witnessed by the sudden attack, but the Wolf Spiders began relaying probable points of attack by picking up faint sounds and communication signals that indicated the presence of ”œfilthy blasphemous tinheads”

[Exodus]

A backwater cool swept into the halls; none as close as a tacit sound made itself known. A powerful sculpture sat hunched over atop his victims while his bloodied hands dripped a profuse red. The drips fell and became more. At first it trickled and pooled into one another like whittled quicksand, and then soon accrued what was a curvaceous meld of blood; no more ovular in shape than a mirror. The surface of the liquid was so reflective, he could almost”” he could almost see himself in it. His mouth opened, but just a tad in awe. He squinted and looked closer, as if there was a secret behind this reflection as if what he saw couldn't be true. He leaned closer, it was”“

 

”œ”¦No, he is no more.”

[Gren Sairdonga]

From the cockpit of the Assualt transports Gren watched Centerpoint grow bigger. Few believed the size of the space statiom until they saw it. Gren had been one of them. Unknowing of the reality of this most ancient of weapons. The reasearch he had done and the tactical data he was reading over nowe didn't give him much confidence. Kilometers of corridor, rooms and chokepoints. Followed by the chamber of the glowpoint itself. Large enough for a small city.

 

"Ho for the day combat was simply taking up a blaster or yoke and shooting up your enemy. These days its all about who has the biggest piece of metal that blows the most up."

 

Turning he looked at the Cmdr of the troops he was taking in. Toprawan. Like him. It seemed with word of his exploits many Toprawans, some Antarian Rangers like he had been, had rushed to join the Alliance.

 

"Too true Lt Colonel. Too true. We must adjust to it though."

 

"Sir thirty seconds till ramps down!"

 

One of the pilots yelled back to him. Looking up Gren saw an E-Wing vapourising one of those Arach'tar fighters that had been about to make a run on the transports. From where they were he could see the hangar they were going for, even the flash of laser fire inside it.

 

"Alright power up the clearing cannons. As soon as we land clear that hangar of anything not organic and anything not friendly. I'll be at the rear ramp. Soon as we hit the deck I want it down and cover going out."

 

Nodding one last time to the pilots and the other officer he made his way to the rear door. Making final checks on his weapons and armour. They had given him one of the ion blasters. Specially designed for this war, but Gren also had his own blaster pistols. Just in case.