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Mon Calamari


Nikolai Kolchak
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It was absolute darkness that began to plague Coral City, the local Alliance Forces and SaberCats forced to use Night Vision to separate friend from foe. The Deepguard droids stood a reinforced wall against the Rebellion, uniform in the plight of their Masters, unequivocal in their concept of death as they fell only to be replaced by others, unbothered by the meaning. They may have well been the living dead for all they felt. And yet, for the Rebellion, there was purpose and reason behind their own, intentions they lived and died for with pride and fear. The emotions were grandiose, flowing chaos across the unbeaten drums of their shared plight. They accepted their fate, for it was one soul for the many rather the many for one.

 

Mythos could hear the onslaught that chased after him, the clammering and whizzing of the mechanical oppressors on his heels as he panted in the darkness of the frozen tundra, the crunch and instability of ice beneath his hands and feet. Turning through alleys and side streets, Mythos made sure to correct himself and stay ahead of the Deepguard droids that pursued him, holding off just long enough to gather his company and face the threat head on en masse. It was the only way he would survive this day, and he held no intentions on losing any more than what was necessary. He knew this was war, but the idea of losing a single man sickened him to the core. Any sentient who could stand loss of life under their command were no better than what they fought against.

 

YOU WHO DEFY ME SHALL SUFFER WITHOUT MY FAVOR.

 

He heard the buckets echo in unison all around him, an uneasiness settling in the air as Coral City plummeted into complete chaos and fear in the encroaching darkness that followed, only the light of the night sky and the assault lending any light against the chill. Up ahead laid the edge of the Pleasure Sector and his men, the skidding of boots and lightning of his metallic claws scraping duracrete heard in the darkness before the towering Shistavanen let loose the first round of his refounded Scatter Rifle, sending the lead Deepguard unit down as Grenn and the others followed in suite amongst the others. Yet, what followed next sent chills down even the Colonel's furred spine.

 

YOU WHO DEFY ME SHALL SUFFER WITHOUT MY PROTECTION.

All across Coral City, the city grew quiet and cold, like the silence of a necropolis, as the Deepguard forces retreated. Some sounds of early celebration echoed across the battlefields, but for the Veterans of War, it was eeriely suspicious and frightening. Even for Mythos himself as he stood and gazed at the retreating Deepguard automations, his fist held up in the halt position. His eyes shifted in the dark, the presence of the air was colder than the chilling wind, and the voice that echoed in the darkness from the automations only made the moment colder. 

 

YOU WHO DEFY ME SHALL SUFFER WITHOUT MY MERCY.

 

It was so quiet. Only the beating of their hearts filled the vacancy of the noise that once pierced the veils of Coral City, and the breath they exhaled, like steam from the culverts that lines the streets. Even the Recruits and Militias could feel the unnatural presence in the silence, even as memories of Nyrys contemplated in Mythos' mind, the silent melody of ghosts that nearly drove the Shistavanen insane. He did not like it one bit, and it plagued his thoughts until screams began to echo in almost uniformed unison. Mythos grimaced. He had hoped what he felt in the wind was natural, but his gut knew better. The Sith were at Mon Cal and he knew the power they possessed at their disposal. Nyrys had taught him well in their last engagement.

 

"SaberCats,..." He spoke into the open comm within his helm, an ominous tone groaning from his coarse voice. "...Illuminate."

 

Across the city, the brave souls of the SaberCats Company grasped at their hips and activated the very tool that separated them from the rest of MoonCall and their glow ignited against the shadows of the encompassing darkness as the Lightfoils came to life. They may not have been as powerful as Lightsabers, especially in the hands of trained Jedi and Imperial Knights. But they had been trained in combat by the very Jedi and Imperial Knights they fought along side in the use of them, which made them deadly enough. Now only stood the question of whether fear of the unknowingly encroaching dead would set in or would they truly hold up to the faith Mythos placed in them. Darkness had fallen on Coral City and Mon Cal, more metaphorically than figuratively, and now came their true testament. Whatever forces the Sith would present, they held the numbers to combat it.

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A small blip on Mand’alor’s HUD registered a distant explosion within the burrows of Mon Cal city, and Hades began an analysis of its cause. The Combat AI had not registered any missiles inbound to the area, and it had not been within the Rebel Alliance’s invasion corridor. A series of new registration points displaying incoming fire from Anti-Aircraft fortifications manned by the Sith.

 

Terra leaned forward in her saddle, pushing her knees into the metallic plating of her Bes'uliik wardoid, flattening herself across the pommel as crimson flame whipped overhead. The Sith gunners were good, she could hear shriek of metallic explosion as one of Clan Agre’mor’s Bes'uliik’s exploded into guttering flame and warped metal. Not a word, not a cry from its rider as he died, blossomed into flame. The Bes'uliiks of Clan Agre’mor fell back into a spread formation behind the spearpoint of Clan Blackmorne’s Honor Guard.

 

Mand’alor winced. She had known its rider, Bev’ark Des’orin, a warpriest initiate who had braided his long auburn hair with the bones he had cast. His last cast had been of loss, and his prediction had come painfully true. She would grieve with Clan Agre’mor in blood of battle. She raised an armored hand in the snow-whipped air and pointed to the oncoming fire that lit up the eastern sky. Her gravelly voice echoed across the comms.

 

Oya… Bathe the aru’e chakaar in fire. Concussion Missiles.”

 

With a blink of a crimson eye, Terra selected two of the enemy emplacements, backtraced from their firing-points and angles. Two low-altitude, high-explosive concussion missiles entered the firing tubes within the Bes'uliik’s shoulders, their primitive computers programmed for distance-based detonation, instead of target-homing. There was little need to track a weapons-emplacement. Mand’alor knew such missiles would be overkill and might risk civilian populace, but she did not rightly care. They had spilled blessed blood and would pay in kind. If she had possessed Diamond-Boron missiles she would have used those. With another blink, she sent the missiles on their pathway to destruction

 

All six of the Bes'uliik’s of Clan Blackmorne's Guard fired at the same time, matching their Mand’alor with two missiles a piece, filling the air with the snap-crack of missiles breaking the atmospheric sound-barrier on their path towards the enemy weapon emplacements, obscured as they were in the snow.

 

Terra blinked into the HUD, bringing up a meteorological feature map, layering it onto her topographical display, searching for a pattern in the unnatural storm. She had been in enough battles where Sith had played their magika into the weather, and this abnormal pattern had such a taste. Seldom did the Sith strike themselves with their power. The assassin selected the very heart of the storm, and selected a preset for her projectile lauchers. It was a two-two stack, two Hex-missiles packed with the trihexalon chemical packed in a firestream cartridge to keep the weapon in a potent state, paired with two flechette missiles, a far more rudimentary baradium charge packed with shrapnel. With a smile, she sent all four missiles into the heart of the storm, set to low-altitude detonation. 

 

The Sith would taste of Mandalorian steel and fire.

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To the Death...

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“Get the kriff in!” 

 

Screamed the pilot as the old model U-wing was tossed around in the growing winds. She looked back at the instrument panel and threw the radar signature display onto her HUD. This would be time to fly by instruments only and she had not done that since flight school. She said a quick prayer and looked back to the medicos who were hauling some creature in mandalorian armour aboard before they slammed the side doors shut. 

 

It was time to Evac, and as the main engines were still warm she kicked them into high gear. Pushing her throttle to its red levels as she made a dash into the whiteout, relying on the radar to keep her away from any tall skyscrapers. 

 

In the back, Medical Chief Lian d’Alençon, wearing the light blue fatigues of one of the Tapani strike teams ran a line of saline. The golden flower and double headed eagle that were stitched onto his chest rig marked him as one of the lesser nobles of the princedom of Alençon. Likely a cadet branch. But he was skilled in his trade. He cut away the jumpsuit at Alliera’s forearm, grabbed the needle and expertly placed a PICC line into the Mandalorian. He attached the Saline to the line then hung the bag from one of the hooks on the ceiling of the U-Wing. He brushed away some of the carbon scoring from her helmet then sat back to look over his work. 

 

“You doing ok little one?” 

 

_______________________

 

Emma winced as the growing blizzard began to white out the communications array of the Rebel Star Destroyers above. Somewhere above them, the supercomputer was now receiving only 2 out of every 5 datapackets that were being sent. That would be ok for now, she was able to autonomous for short periods of time anyway. She brought the blaster up and began to direct a hideous fire at the door guards. 

 

They needed to get inside now.

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Alliera was about to pull herself back up and try and help Johan, but the cold, and more than the cold of what she had done. Alliera focused as she always did when it came to these kinds of missions, when the...whatever caused the freeze happened...she hadn't had time to evac Johan out of tunnel before it froze over...so she risked how many lives to save her fellow Padawan... While her mind was still somewhat swimming from the blast, she DID notice that the city around her was in MUCH better shape than a total sewer collapse would have allowed, so maybe there was some hope? They breached somewhere, because the evidence of a blast was all around them, and they got out... That thought bummed her out, if she had known a limited blast would happen, she would have focused it at the original breachpoint and tried to salvage the mission. Alliera's thoughts were like this, swimming on what she had done, and what could have gone different, until a U-Wing dropped nearby for what had to be their extraction. Alliera did what she could to pull herself into the trooper bay, with some help from the Alliance Troopers...well they carried her in, but she would never admit that to anyone. 

 

Alliera was quiet while the Medic worked, allowing her world to come back into focus as she was being tended to. "Singed around the edges and a few broken bones...I think. We were trying to get to a point to breach the Vault under the Shipyard building, maybe pull some heat from Master Kirlocca and the other Jedi, before long we were frozen in with the piles of osik when the Blizzard hit. I triggered the methane blast to at least save the pretty boy, I wasn't sure I'd make it..." 

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After HC-42's miraculous maneuver, the door was blown open. Gwal, Leep, and Sasha charged, their efforts to get inside motivated by the frigid blizzard that HC-42 wasn't concerned about. Then again, the other three had cybernetics, but were otherwise human, and susceptible to the freezing temperature's negative effects. 

 

As Deepguard droids and undead lizards continued to drop thanks to Emma's support, the four of them entered the building. By now, the freezing blizzard had extinguished enough of the doorway's flames (that had only minutes ago been blazing thanks to the multiple thermal detonations) for the squad to slip through. All in all, Leep's brilliant agility, marksmanship, and martial arts skills managed to pave the way for this, so as soon as they were through the door, Leep got a big pat on the back from Gwal and a hug from Sasha.

 

There wasn't much more time to celebrate the progress. Although most of the Deepguards in the area were either disorganized or destroyed thanks to the explosion taking out the nearest Overseer, there was still a heavy presence of undead lizards guarding the interior of the shipyard. And many were naturally drawn to the explosion that had rocked the whole structure and left a breach in their security.

 

HC-42 decided to contact Emma. "Emma Three Nine, HC-42 speaking. We're inside, but need reinforcements fast. The entrance should be safer to cross by now."

 

Sasha and Leep were still shivering. Gwal wasn't, but seemed bothered nonetheless. The frigid air from the outside blizzard was flowing into the shipyard's interior. It became obvious that they needed to buy time, and provide warmth. HC-42 could do both. 

 

The droid made a barrier of fire using his flamethrower. The three comrades of his squad were shocked at first. 

 

"I am creating a source of warmth. This will also protect us from Lizards, their primitive weapons are for close quarters for the most part..." HC-42 said reassuringly. The squad relaxed, and began holding out, now somewhat more efficiently thanks to the extra warmth.

 

The lizards struggled to get any weapons past the flaming barrier, and the blaster fire from the squad was quick to punish them for their failures. Hopefully this gave enough time for Emma to get here to help.

Edited by DroidsAreUnderrated
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The hordes of undead pushed deeper into the city, their rotting corpses pressing through the snow, pressing each other forward when the elements or defenses hindered them. The city was overwhelmed. The necromancer’s defensive measure was not designed to preserve. It was a spell, a sorcery meant to corrupt and destroy. With gnashing teeth and tearing claws and fingers, the swarm advanced, their cold deathly touch only amplified by the elements.

 

_________________________________

 

In the shipyards, the sorcerous powers of Inmortos painted him as a beacon in the force. He was the epicenter of the storm and from there he poured power into the storm, it’s power beyond his control as it ravaged the city and the seas beyond.

 

In the turmoil of the vortex overhead a pair of missiles churned through the chaos focused on the highest energy output of the storm: Inmortos himself. They were tossed by the winds and buffeted by the snow and ice that coated their hulls.

 

The dark lord sensed the power of the incoming weapons even before they became visible. His hands slowed their tracing of the intrinsic and profane as he redefined his focus. Staring up into the whiteout, the Sith clenched his fists in defiance. As the missiles began to appear as faint outlines in the flying snow, Inmortos inhaled deeply pulling any of the residual warmth in the air towards him. The missiles lurched and jolted as they closed in rising and falling on the currents of cold and colder; slamming down into the rooftop of the overgrown hangar, detonating on impact. The missiles erupted and the entire western portion of the structure, large enough to construct one of many of the Mon Cal’s massive vessels in, collapsed with a thunderous ground shaking rumble.

 

The weapons’ payloads were detonated in a fiery expulsion, launching them into the maelstrom. Their biological flesh-eating particles were detonated into the building and whipped on the wind currents of the storm dispersing them across the storm.

 

Inmortos stood there, the force a whirling vortex of darkness about him as. The building he stood in collapsed in plumes of dust, ice, fire, and snow all enveloped by the storm. Inmortos vanished into the collapse. The hollow building settled into the cracked ground.

 

All about the undead lizards tensed, pulling themselves from the rubble where it consumed them; grasping their weapons as they moved to guard their quarry yet.

 

Overhead, even without the fuel of the dark side to grow and power it, the storm was strong. It would be hours before it would begin to dissipate; but without fuel, it’s edge was lessened.

_________________________________

 

For minutes, the rubble stood unmoving. Then it shifted, subtly at first. Over and over again the duracrete slabs shifted and quaked, their rumbles shaking the grounds about the shipyard as a large slab that had been held up by a standing portion of the wall collapsed. In a sulfuric plume of smoke and ash, blackened spheres of cracking darkness erupted through the falling slab. Their smoke mixed with the storm overhead. The ground shook as the rest of the duracrete slab crashed down. In the middle of it, a hunched form crouched covered in snow and dust. Orbiting about this form were a dozen spheres of the same black energy of decay and entropy trailing smokey sulphuric gases and bathing the necromancer in a cloud that stood against the call of the biting wind. 

 

Slowly standing, the dark visage rose. His robes were ragged and torn, their deep black grayed by the snow and ash and dust. Burnt holes peppered the deathly cloak. Extending his hands out from the thick sleeves of his robe, Inmortos’ hands were pocked with deep and horrid burns from the hex missiles’ payload. Bones and ligaments were exposed against the skeletal hands, blood and ichor pooling and coagulating in the cold as it dribbled out of the wounds. Reaching upwards, the Sith Lord pushed back his hood. His face was ravages by the weapon, a large portion of his skull exposed to the elements. A swath of Inmortos face was missing from his nose across his right cheek and up along his temple. Ichor and blood flowed slowly down his face, bit at by the wind and the cold.

 

Half dead and frozen between life and death, the Sith Lord called his staff to his hand. With a thumping walk forward the orbs of destruction carved a path before the necromancer until he approached the edge of the rubble.

 

Turning his head to the sky, Inmortos let out a howl like that of a lich of legend. He called his lizardly warriors of death to him. Their muscles ground and churned against the bite of the cold as they snapped to lifely movement making their way across the windswept whitened battlefield towards their master.

 

And through it all, Inmortos hands started to move again, calling forth the deepest recesses of the force. He reached deeper than the most crushing depths of Mon Cal’s oceans and high into the sky. He drew the darkness from these unseen heights and depths, calling it, controlling it, bending it to his will. He poured this power back into the storm, his hands tracing runes of power and destruction into the storm.

 

The only things that kept the Mandalorian weapons from destroying Inmortos was the cold and the dark lord’s natural healing abilities. The frozen particulates dissipated across the city in the maw of the storm. Al they need do was be warmed by the world’s sun to renew their deadly quest. 

Edited by Leena Kil

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Kirlocca stood on the landing shuttle, directly behind the pilot with his eyes closed. "Master Kirlocca, the sensors are having a real hard time with the blizzard. I'm unsure if we can even mak-" Kirlocca placed his left paw upon the shoulder of the pilot. Within the Force he began to help him with guidance. 

 

<< I can feel them and the opposing forces. We are fine pilot. Take us at angle 3.5 Johan is in the most need of assistance... >>

 

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, he removed his paw and turned and walked towards the back where a group of commandos were waiting. He kept his mind somewhat focused on the pilot still to help him navigate to a better route down to the surface level. As he got back, he spoke plainly to the commandos. 

 

<< Upon landing, you will have exactly 4.5 seconds to disembark without being under fire. After that, the enemy will realize that I am not their primary threat. I suggest you take that time to get cover and prepare for them to be drawn into your position. Hold them.>>

 

The Wookiee pushed past the troops and towards the back landing ramp. Quickly he opened the landing ramp and almost immediately had the cold wind hit him along with the snow that started to enter the ship. One commando lowered his head in a slight nod. “We’ll see you on the surface.” Kirlocca gave a slight nod in return before he jumped out of the ship and began to fall towards the surface. He knew exactly where he was at, even as the wind and snow attempted to make things harder to see, the Force allowed him to know where he was headed. 

 

Landing next to a slaver, who was quick to turn and attempt to fire on the Jedi Master soon found the regrettable action ended with Kirlocca striking him on the chest with his full force, but also he put the Force into the strike as well. The result was the poor slaver getting thrown a good 10 meters away and hitting a crate of some sort. He most likely would have gone further had the crate not stopped his momentum of the hit. The hit brought the attention of the droids, who quickly turned and opened fire upon the Wookiee. Kirlocca quickly brought his lightsaber that he was given by Tobias Vos and snapped the blade to life. The orange hue made quick work of the two droids, both of which were unaware of whom they had even attempted to open fire on. More attention was drawn to the Jedi Master. 

 

Pulling the Force fully to himself as he could hear the engines of the landing craft making touchdown, the need to help the pilot was no longer needed. A quick flick of his wrist, the blade was sent flying in an arc completely controlled by the Force by the Jedi Master and made a terrifying humming sound as the culling blade swung through a few others nearby who had made their sights on the Wookiee. As he heard the sound of the landing ramp touching down fully, Kirlocca pulled the blade back and began to walk towards the location of where he could feel one of his padawans, Johan. As he walked, he could hear the sound of someone shouting “Not the Jedi, the commandos!” Clearly the first part of his plan had worked, since he was walking away from the main battle field and towards Johan. Finding a pile of scrap that had fallen down during a recent blast, Kirlocca could feel Johan underneath it. With a quick swing followed by a Force blast, the Jedi Master freed his padawan from a potential certain doom. Deactivating his lightsaber for a moment, he leaned down and turned in such a way to protect Johan from the raging wind. Touching his padawan’s forehead with his paw, he spoke rather loudly. 

 

<< Get up Johan. You are well enough to move, and we are a long way off from where we need to be. Stay close. >>

 

Kirlocca helped the boy up and activated his lightsaber once again. He then held onto Johan as he searched the Force for where the two needed to be. Upon feeling out the heat of battle, all while still keeping a hold onto Johan, the Wookiee used the Force to make a massive jump in the direction where the two Jedi were needed.

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White flakes of snow struck against the protective kinetic shield that covered the wardroid, turning the protective bubble almost white as the shield compensated for the sudden increase in projectile disturbance. She and the rest of the Iron Knights tipped their wardroids completely over, hanging upside down over the eye of the storm they pulled back and began their dive. Shooting after their Manda’lor’s missiles like iron rockets. The wind kicking between their stirrups sounding like an unearthly scream as they reached terminal velocity.

 

One of the knights beside her caught a turbolaser blast and disappeared in a jut of flame and expanding gas. But her smile was set, and her wardroid began to vibrate as they passed through the thermal layers of the storm. 

 

“Release munitions.” 

 

And a dozen heavy unguided bombs plummeted towards the center of the storm.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Mythos:

As Sabercat Company prepared itself, the quiet of the night was only broken by the distant sounds of battle and the constant, distant thunder of the sea. For millennia, the waves had pounded against the edges of this city, the reassuring heartbeat of a mother to its child. Even now, in the chaos and corruption that spread across the once pristine world, that heartbeat remained as steady as ever.

And then, faintly, a new sound crept in. It was so faint, it might have been mistaken for a tired soldier's ears playing tricks on them, if it had not grown louder with each passing moment.

 

Footsteps.

 

Thousands of them.

 

Then the screams joined them, as the encroaching horde found the homeless and the unlucky civilians caught outdoors.

 

The sound grew and grew, swelling from a faint whisper to a thundering roar that seemed unbelieavable. Wet snarls and broken shrieks became audible, punctuating the advance of the hungry dead.

 

Then they came into view.

 

Spread out at the city's edge, they'd been packed tighter and tighter as they caromed and careened down main roads and back alleys, heedless of one another, only focused on satisfying their hunger with the warmth and life that lay just out of reach. Now, they were a mob of limbs and flesh and bone and brine, dripping slime and seawater from grasping hands and teeth.

 

The Sabercats were the first to see them. All across the city, the undead howled in primal hunger and triumph as they broke into full sprints towards their prey.

 

HC-42:

Ordered to withdraw and fortify, the few remaining Deepguard within the facility had barricaded themselves in conference rooms and stock bays. The workers, exhausted but confused, milled about, having been disciplined too many times to not feel trepidation at the idea of stepping out of line. Their overseers had fled at the first sign of battle, but the assembly operators and machinists had been left uninformed, continuing their work in absence of direct orders not to.

 

Then, the first worker, a quarren who'd headed up the local union before the Sith takeover, stepped out of the assembly hangar. No reprisal came. No alarm sounded, no pounding metal feet echoed through the hallways as Deepguard came to take him away. Nothing happened at all.

 

Then another left his post. Then another, and another.

 

Fear turned to hope, and in a mass exodus the workers ran from their stations, carrying spanners, welders, and other power tools as they made their way towards the loading docks.

 

Seeing the droid and his companions barricading the entrance and fighting against...something...outside made the mob stop. A whisper started up amongst the crowd.

 

"Rebels?"

"..the rebellion..."

"...save us..."

"...here for us...

"...the Rebel Alliance..."

 

The whispers turned hopeful, even as the quarren ringleader stepped forward, cautiously.

 

He looked straight at HC-42.

 

"Do you fight for the Sith?"

 

Rose, Inmortos, (and general):

Apothos' mind was entrenched in streams of data and code, his thoughts mingling with the signals sent and received from his impromptu relay. A spiteful, childish joy surged within him as the droids barricaded in houses and businesses reported the undead passing through the streets, drawn towards those who dared invade his city.

 

Die in the cold and dark, you insignificant-

 

A wave struck him. A thrum like a god striking a great drum, it resonated through him, tearing him out of his rapport with the Deepguard network. Nothing so crude as sound or physical force, this resonation came from the Dark Side itself.

 

He'd felt this before. Deep beneath this very city. It was the echo of a death. He struggled and scrabbled to grasp the elusive, already fading sensation, but he understood enough to recognize that, like before, this echo came from a death that had not happened yet. But this was different. The last time he'd felt this, it had come as many had died almost simultaneously. Now, it was more...focused. It had more depth, more weight.

 

He followed the path of the echo, and it led to the center of the maelstrom that froze the air and churned the Dark Side.

 

Inmortos. He was sensing the death of Inmortos.

 

Or...was he? This echo felt tremulous, not like the clear, clarion call of mass death he'd felt once before, as if the premonition itself was hesitant.

 

No matter. Inmortos guarded Apothos' city. His shambling dead and freezing storm punished the presumptions of these invaders. Apothos would not lose such an asset now.

 

Even as he thought it, missiles detonated and destroyed anti-aircraft emplacements, drawing Apothos' attention to the Basilisks weaving through the air. Then the lead Basilisk, the one bearing the rider who had projected such presence before, turned and fired at the heart of the storm. Apothos, unable to reach that far with any real influence from the top of the palace, could only watch as Inmortos defended himself, sending the missiles careening to detonate off-target. The building collapsed, but Inmortos was not dead. Even so, the echo pulsed again, clearer this time. The moment of Inmortos' possible death approached. Whether the premonition was right or wrong, Apothos could not afford to chance it, not with the necromancer being the one to control those things running through his city.

 

Apothos extended his mind, searching for any tool that might serve his purposes, any mechanism that would accept his will and mechu-deru.

 

He found The Iron Howlrunner, hovering several levels below where he'd left it.

 

His mind slid easily into the Baudo-class Star Yacht, the vessel molding easily to the desires of its master. With a thought, it turned and flew off into the night, towards the collapsed warehouse and the still living Inmortos. With a device so attuned to him, so lacking in resistance, and with the air so saturated with the malevolence of Inmortos' storm, Apothos could control the ship even at this great a distance. The ship's sensors swept as it approached the necromancer, and Apothos started to give the command for the ship to slow and land, that it might pick up his fellow Krath and spirit him to safety.

 

Then it detected another Basilisk on an attack run.

 

Apothos commanded the ship to accelerate.

 

Bombs dropped, unguided devices plummeting for the warehouse.

 

The Iron Howlrunner screamed as its thruster shot it across the night sky.

 

With a resounding series of booms, the ship and the bombs collided in mid-air. A brilliant, orange fireball erupted in the air over the destroyed warehouse, the sheer heat of the explosion briefly driving away the chill from the streets around it. A mass of blackened, twisted wreckage fell from the blast, the remains of Apothos' once extravagant ship now a meteor that crashed hundreds of meters away, gouging a furrow through buildings and streets before exploding in one final, terrible inferno.

 

Apothos rage, primal and endless in the throes of the Dark Side, took on a petulant edge.

 

I just got that ship.

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HC-42 noticed a group of workers leave their post within the shipyard, and though he and the squad ignored the growing group at first, it became apparant that they were willing to join the fight as soon as the Quarren gave his inquiry. 

 

"Negative. The Sith are the enemy." was HC-42's reply. His squad members spoke up too. 

 

"Join us, and the Sith will never mistreat you or your planet again!" Sasha said.

 

Gwal spoke up as well. "The Sith took away our homes. You see our cybernetics? They replace what the Sith took from our very bodies. Even the droid has a score to settle with them. And I think you all have scores to settle with them as well!"

 

Leep was the last to speak. "These lizards are tough, but primitive. With your help, we could get rid of them even faster! And with that, you'll be that much closer to freedom!"

 

HC-42 admired the squad's enthusiasm in attempting to rally the workers to join. He calculated the working conditions and pay under the Sith Empire was substandard, so these workers, if brave enough, would be willing to help. 

 

The droid didn't wait for their answer, however. He was too busy gunning down every lizard in sight with his heavy repeating blaster. The fire barrier from his flamethrower was dying, so he needed to focus on keeping the hordes back.

 

He just hoped he'd get the support that he needed, whether from workers, Emma, or, the most preferable outcome, both.

 

 

Edited by DroidsAreUnderrated
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Space:

In the skies above Mon Cal, the battle raged. Jorus stared at the readout, the end already decided.

 

"There's too many of them. We can't hold...

 

What the heck is wrong with those cruisers!?"

 

"Sir...linked ship commanders displaying signs of misconduct and rebellion," the clinical, tinny voice of a medical droid came back over the speakers. "They were not sufficiently conditioned yet for a battle scenario. Further use could see them shutting down or going rogue."

 

All we need.

 

"Order them to-" He paused. A new blip appeared on his screen. Catapulting out of the starfield and dead center into the oncoming enemy wave, the bulky, scarred form of the Black Bracer reappeared. It hurled itself into the fray, short range cannons blaring as shrapnel and blaster fire richochet harmlessly off its shields.

 

"What the...

 

Commander of the Black Bracer! Report!"

 

"Praise be Varaka, it seems your planet is not a lost cause after all."

 

"What are you-"

 

"We're the first commander." A smug, eager tone laced the ship captain's voice. "It seems the Empire will not lose such a prize easily.

 

Through Victory our Chains are Broken!!!" The captain cried as the transmission cut out amidst a storm of blaster fire as the hulking warship careened into enemy lines, heedless of danger.

 

More blips appeared on Jorus' readout.

 

The Sith were coming in force.

 

"Get those cruisers out of here! Don't need them shooting our own!" Jorus grinned, his crooked, yellow smile taking on a malicious edge. "Let's see how these rebels stand up to a real scrap."

 

Heavy Brawler Escort: Hammer and Anvil

Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus)

Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP

Bulwark Mark II Black Bracer |20/30|

 

 

Destroyer Group (Missiles): Focus Fire

Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus)

Task Force Experience: Veteran, 3XP

Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser Moon Beetle |9/9|

Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser The Broken Bullet |9/9|

 

 

Edited by Krath Apothos
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Captain Jarvus stood on the bridge of the Krayt's Fury as it left hyperspace, looming menacingly above the planet of Mon Cal. It seemed they had arrived later than planned- Mon Cal was already under attack. He was arriving with the second wave of reinforcements- the first had only served to regain the footing they had lost. This trickle was dangerous- if they got caught out before Darth Mavanger's fleet could arrive in proper force, it would be devastating.

 

"Defensive positions. Move to regroup with the rest of the Sith forces. Do not allow them to separate us, and victory may yet be ours. Lords of Mon Cal, The Warden of Kuat sends his regards. We will not let your holdings fall."

 

Lord Mordecai disliked that title- he thought it pompous to wield such ungainly accomplishments like a beacon, and despised others who did so. But he did not know the effect such titles had on the regular man- The greatest warriors of the era all had such titles. The Spider. Mandalore the Bloody. The Mad. For a common man to hear that such a warrior led them into battle was a great thing. He frowned. Their fleet was spread thin. Between the planets currently under occupation in the Outer Rim and this attack on Mon Cal, he knew he would need to be decisive in his victory here. They couldn't afford to be bogged down in a war of attrition.

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Barely awake after the blast, the fight with the droids and being (do to circumstances he could no longer recount) reburied Johan nearly swore as he flew through the air with his Master. "Where are we going first? to help some of the others or to stop what/whoever is making the blizzard?" Johan asked with a slight slur to his voice

"also, remind me not to give Alliera explosives with a yield bigger then a frag again, like EVER". He would have almost laughed at the absurdity of the invasion and partial failure of their plan (the distraction part DEFINITLY worked) if not for the lives he could feel weakening or flickering out entirely, even with his half trained senses. He took stock for a moment and realized as they began to return to the ground he realzed he had everything but a few blaster mags and 1 of his Thermal Dets still on him.

Edited by Johan Fae
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Finally, the Sith forces were arrayed for battle. Raven looked at her Imperial Knights who nodded their heads. It was time for battle. 

 

Taskforce Ensemble 1: Commanded by Raven Nasra

 

Rebel Alliance Fleet Command Flagship |Romanova|

KDY-Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer Misericordia |30/30|

Axial Weapon Upgrade

Pocket Dreadnought Upgrade

Advanced Sensor Upgrades

 

Rebel Alliance Precision Strike Carrier Group |Anastasia|

Taskforce Experience Veteran (2xp) (Experienced Gained at Kuat III)

KDY Pelta-class Frigate Thessalonica |3/3|

KDY Pelta-class Frigate Adrianople |3/3|

RSD Paladin-class Corvette Thrace |2/1|

RSD Paladin-class Corvette Corinth |2/1|

SSC Quasar Fire-class Cruiser-Carrier Constantinople |9/9|

 

Royal Hapan Naval Heavy Brawler Escort |Zeeland|

Task Force Experience: Veteran (2xp) (Experience Gained at Fondor)

O/C-Battle dragon class Cruiser: Victoria |25/35|

 

Taskforce Ensemble 2: Commanded by Mythos Von Howlster

 

Imperial Knight Expeditionary Light Defensive Escort: Suppressing Fire |Phobos|

Task Force Experience: Veteran (3 xp) (Experience Gained at Corellia, Kuat III)

Star Galleon-Class Frigate Clermonte |3/3|

Vengeance-Class Frigate Chartres |3/3|

Interceptor-Class Frigate Francorum |3/3|

Consular-Class Frigate Tancred |3/3|

Sphyrna-Class Corvette Guiscard |2/1|

Sphyrna-Class Corvette Dorylaeum |2/1|

Paladin-Class Corvette Yağısıyan |2/1|

Free Virgilla-Class Corvette Alexandretta |2/1|

 

Rebel Alliance Asset Denial Force [Surgical Strike] |Grek| 

Taskforce Experience Veteran (2xp) (Experience Gained at Kuat II)

Victory I-class Medium Cruiser Adun-Judith |9/9|

MC-30c Frigate Adun-Lilianna |3/3|

MC-30c Frigate Adun-Arianna |3/3|

RSD Paladin-class Corvette Belladonna |2/1|

RSD Paladin-class Corvette Foudroyant |2/1|

 

Rebel Alliance Destroyer Group [Turbolasers] |Forn| (Experience Gained at Kuat II)

Taskforce Experience Veteran (2xp)

Bothan Assault Cruiser Kothlos |9/9|

Bothan Assault Cruiser RedRennic |9/9|

 

Taskforce Ensemble 3: Commanded by Mandalore the Bloody

 

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Bes'bev|

Task Force Experience:  Veteran (2xp) (Experience Gained at Fondor)

IPM Neo-Kandosii-class Battleship: Nat’ah |25/25|

 

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Destroyer Group [Railguns] |Akalenedat|

Task Force Experience:  Veteran (2xp)  (Experience Gained at Fondor)

IPM Neo-Kandosii-class Battleship: Xaakzaamheid |25/25|

 

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Heavy Brawler Escort |Chayaikir|

Task Force Experience:  Veteran (2xp) (Experience transferred from removed TF)

IPM Neo-Kandosii-class Battleship: Oosterwijk |25/35|

Raven_Sig.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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The Phantom's Spear dropped in next to the command ship, the two Harrowers stacked together had a foreboding presence. The Sith Empire is Here. Their late arrival however meant greater risk, but Captain Harris sat lax in his chair. He knew nearly every ship to have ever left a dock inside and out in vivid detail. Strengths, weaknesses; their every capability. His experience in the scrap yards would come in surprisingly useful in his new position.

 

"Cardinal, Deploy a defensive net around yourself and our artillery, the Krayt's Fury and Phantom's Spear can cover each other. Captain Jarvus, Captain Harris, Point us at the action."

 

No small part of him thought Darth Tyra a fool, though he'd never say it. Her fleet was of.. Decent composition, but spread across the galaxy like this was a terrible idea. What was the point anyway? Why not put Trulalis on hold until the full strength of the fleet was ready?

 

At the end of the day it didn't matter, they were here now, and had to be ready for a fight. Thankfully the guns they brought gave them the firepower to compensate. At least, he'd hoped.

kahala.png.91259c682421c23e82bdf3466492cecc.png

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It was something straight out of holovid horror that was wrought this night upon Mon Cal. The Heroes seiged onward with hopes of Victory, of Liberation, only to have the horrific reality to swipe in and squash such dreams and hopes. Screams erupted across the silent city, the night driven darker by the blinding fall of snow as abled bodies struggled against frostbite and the undead. SaberCats stood as beacons of light for those brave souls who wished to aid in the liberation and those unfoul ghouls who hungered for the lives they once lived, the Rebellion's pride growing into nightmares.

 

As MoonCall's elite unit threatened to separate the Deepguard's from their hollows and free the homes of the oppressed, soon found themselves fighting on two fronts: against the hidden machines and the undead as they clobbered to claim life they could never succeed. Forms of both enemy and ally alike would find themselves in pieces against the unholy plight that pilgrimaged through Coral City, the undead claiming no true allegiance and only adding numbers to their growing masses. It was chaos, and it was beyond what Mythos could have imagined.

 

Strobes of silver would dim and reignite as fallen members became the enemy, and Mythos standing near it's center could only hear the howl of the wind, his gaze fixated on the tower above. He had arrived at the City's center, his intentions set upon the spire that housed the King and his captors. He grimaced and tossed aside the comm that echoed the screams of the fallen and the gnarls of the condemned. He stepped forward, the weight of his boot crushing the exoskeleton of a Deepguard unit as more appeared before him, his gaze shifting to the seven that followed him and then back to the Deepguard that secured the Palace.

 

"These Sith have no gall nor morale." He spoke with disgust, his memory of Nyrys and now churning his stomach at the concept that even death wasn't a formality to their desecrations. It was sickening. "We need to end this now."

 

Across the City, enmasses of SaberCats, Rebellion's Soldiers, Mandalorians, and Civilians continued their efforts despite the horrific death that awaited them. But that wasn't their care anymore. It was the fight for others to survive that begin to matter, fate being accepted as a price. Silver Blades took blows from Silver Blades, crimson and emerald bolts met both living and dead flesh, ancestors fought descendants, and brothers in arms fought brothers in arms. Even though both sides hungered to live, only one was perverse and defiled. Finally, the Mandalorians had their Holy Crusade, but not in the manner they had once prayed for. And for the Rebellion, life was meant to be cherished and fought for, not hungered and deprived of. Death was the ultimate sleep, and these poor souls could not find their rest.

 

Mythos unsheathed his jagged saber, his mask fixated on the enemy before him rather than the ones that surrounded him. If death wanted to claim him, it would have to chase him, right up to the bastard that claimed to command it. Eight stood at the gates of hell and presented themselves. And as the battle of the Palace commenced, only time would decide the victors. It was time to end this, to let sleeping dogs lay and the dead in peace. It was a firefight...

Edited by Mythos
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Jorus stepped back from the console as ship after ship dropped out of hyperspace, already calling out targeting priorities and adding their own fighter craft to the fray. Data and IDs streamed across Jorus' command display as each new ally took to the battlefield.

 

This was a fight they could win.

 

This was a fight he needed to win.

 

"No step back," he muttered.

 

Louder, he called out through the comms, "Officers of the Empire, this is Commander Jorus, head of defense for this system. I'll be coordinating the general formation and attack patterns, and I'll leave the finer details of butchery to your own disgression." Something the captain of the Black Bracer occurred to him.

 

"Through Victory, our Chains are Broken!"

 

 

Taskforce Ensemble 1: Commanded by Krath Apothos

 

Fleet of the Strands Heavy Brawler Escort |Black Bracer|

Veteran

Task Force Experience: 3XP

Bulwark Mk II Black Bracer |25/35|

 

Fleet of the Strands Destroyer Group (Missiles) |Red Dusk|

Veteran

Task Force Experience: 3XP  

Captor Class heavy munitions Cruiser Moon Beetle |9/9|

Captor Class heavy munitions Cruiser The Broken Bullet |9/9|

 

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Taskforce Ensemble 2: Commanded by Kahla

 

Sith Fleet Destroyer Group (Railgun) |Phantom's Spear|

Veteran

Harrower-Class Dreadnought Phantom's Spear |25/25|

 

Sith Fleet Artillery Battery (Gravity Crusher) |Eye of Sagittarius|

Veteran

Gladiator Star Destroyer Eye of Sagittarius |10/20|

Raider II Corvette HF-11302 |2/1|

Raider II Corvette HF-11303 |2/1|

 

Sith Fleet Precision Strike Carrier Group |Wings of Glory|

Veteran

Gladiator Star Destroyer Devout Cardinal |9/9|

Terminous Frigate Galvanized Spirit |3/3|

 

Terminous Frigate Crimson Crescent |3/3|

Raider II Corvette HF-11300 |2/1|

Raider II Corvette HF-11301 |2/1|

 

Taskforce Ensemble 3: Commanded by Darth Mavanger

 

Sith Fleet Destroyer Group (Missile) |Sith Resurgent|

Veteran

Task Force Experience: 2XP 

Harrower-Class Star Destroyer Krayt's Fury |25/25|

 

 

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Crimson eyes watched the blizzard from behind a façade of darkmetal, a cynical sneer crossing over the woman’s pale complexion. The cloudburst of unnatural snow and wind had dissipated for a moment, before intensifying. According to data-readings, the Hex had not detonated as intended, somehow the Sith had redirected the weapon to scatter its charge into the wind, a particularly difficult task to do alongside a Force Storm. She let out a hollow sigh, a scathing guttural thing.

 

Yet another Sith Master to kill.

 

Hades uploaded real-time Satellite imagery scans of topographical changes to her HUD. She could tell the entire complex had caved in on itself, but not to the exact details of where the Sith had disappeared to. Darkmetal teeth ground together, sending sparks against her scarred tongue.

 

With a blink, she selected the entire complex in a firing pattern, beaming the information through her AVATAR link into the Squad’s HUDs. Hades processed the information and autoassigned firing points to each of Clan Blackmorne’s Honor Guard. Sheol Wes’theran barked a laugh behind her white T-visor, her armored lekku twitching with excitement.

 

“You really have a hard-on for killing Sith bastards don’t you, Mand’alor?”

 

Terra rolled her eyes and gave the firing command, and to divert main power to weapons. The Empire had its POSTLJWK protocols, the Sith their machinations of Energy and storms. Force Users were to themselves as gods, but the Crusaders had killed gods before, and they were well versed in their tactics.

 

Each of the Black and White Basilisks began to hover and dart about like a swarm of piranha-beetles, their main engines replaced by intensity-repulsers. Then as one, from each of the discordant swarm came a hail of fire to join into the chaos of the storm. Fourteen Taim & Bak KX5 laser cannons stitched crimson flame towards the complex and its surrounding, joined with the blue fire of their H9-Dual Ion Cannons. Flares of light joined into the wind-whipped chaos to announce a torrent of concussion missiles, all streaking in jagged lines towards the Sith-held, collapsed ruin.

 

“Just… Die.”

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To the Death...

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Kirlocca landed with Johan and got both the boy and himself into a building rather quickly. Between the howling of the winds of the blizzard, Johan speaking and the general chatter of the soldiers inside the building, Kirlocca had to take a moment to recenter himself to everything going on rather quickly. "Master Kirlocca, I'm glad you're here on the surface with us. The weather is sure causing lots of problems for our sensors along with whatever damage to the population. We need to find a way to hold on longer to withstand it." Kirlocca gave a confused look to the soldier who addressed him. He turned to Johan for a quick second before turning back to the soldier. 

 

<< Do research on the planet you're liberating. Only about twenty percent of the population is in cities above the ocean. This weather is more of a problem for us. >>

 

Kirlocca walked away from the soldier and looked out a window towards the sky.

 

<< However, there is no way for the storm to be controlled and not interfere with the enemy as well, not unless it's all an illusion. And I have an idea. >>

 

Kirlocca turned around and began to walk out towards the doors. 

 

<< Johan, stay with this troop. Your sole job and purpose now is to learn. Reach out into the Force and see what aid you can provide. >>

 

There were no other words offered up. The Wookiee simply left the building. Stepping outside the wind knocked him hard for a moment, but having such a long experience of traveling world to world over his years, he quickly adjusted to what was presented to him. He reached out into the Force and could feel within it the very source of the storm. Taking a deep breath, he could also feel life energy swarming the skies above. Taking another two deep breaths, he allowed for a moment to center and prepare himself for the action he was about to take. Without much of a warning past that, the Jedi Master leapt into the air with the aid of the Force, catching rather quickly with his left paw a Basilisk that was passing by upon a run. It was one flying on the lower side, to which was not high enough for the Wookiee to perform what he needed to perform. Slowly climbing up the side of the hulking flying war machine, Kirlocca maneuvered into a position to push himself off the Basilisk he was holding himself onto and leapt onto another one that was starting to climb. 

 

The rider of this one looked at him, clearly within the Force, Kirlocca could tell was shocked to even see a Wookiee suddenly on the Basilisk. Using Telepathy, he spoke within the rider's mind. I’m just borrowing the ride. Leaving now in fact. With that said, he leapt onto another Basilisk that was taking a better angle that he needed. With the wind and the cold snow, Kirlocca almost wasn’t even able to fully grab ahold of the passing Basilisk. The Force was with him though, as his paw was able to grab at the last second. Because of his late grab, he had to quickly adjust before he made his final push off, this time was a direct descent. 

 

The Jedi Master landed with a loud thud upon the roof of a building. This building was one that the Force was calling him to. Quickly, he stood up and withdrew his lightsaber, igniting the orange blade, Kirlocca drove the blade through the roof until it came close to the hilt. He then began to cut through the roof of the building where the Force was moving him towards a connecting current and most likely a clash of blades if his senses were indeed being moved by the Force.

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The screaming fireball of Nok Morliss’ ship was enough to draw Inmortos from his fervor. Even as the whitened surround of the city’s cold grasp ensnared and shrouded the world mere feet in any direction across the city, the vastness of the explosion tore over it all. The heat of it erupting in a cosmic inferno that signaled above the storm-swept chaos below that the battle was far from settled.

 

Allowing his fueling of the storm to cease, Inmortos regarded the maelstrom that he had breathed essence into. It, like the undead that surged all around him now, had taken a life of it’s own. It would be several hours before it would dissipate from the intensity it now bore down upon Mon Cal and Coral City. The Sith lord’s glowing essence within the force faded some as he breathed a sigh of relief. Such a conjuring was a signature weapon of the cryomancer and yet the act drew a price from the caster. The Sith’s skin was frozen and blackened, in places by the ichor that clung clanily to his ice cold skin; in others by the frostbite that had taken hold of his exposed flesh. Coupled with flayed flesh that exposed some of his skeletal features beneath from the biological weapon of the Mandalorians and Inmortos was a visage of the reaper himself.

 

And yet, over the howl of the storm, another howl pierced the winds. They were almost indiscernible against the blizzard until too late. The bombs and ordinance of the Mandalorian onslaught erupted in explosions across the surface of the shipyards. They sent billows of flame and duracrete into the wind, crating the ground and punching holes in buildings. All about Inmortos the hellfire of the children of Mandalore fell.

 

The dead surged still, unaffected by the incoming doom. Those that were caught fought to pull themselves forward, the pain meaningless. Only the truly valorized were halted in their undead singular aggression.

 

Around Inmortos those that were not cut down by the assault were felled by the necromantic powers of evil. The Sith Lord tore the essence of life from their bodies forming them each into swirlibg vortexing spheres of deconstructive power that whipped with fury and frenzy about his frail form. They swallowed the bulk of the debris that sought to tear at his flesh and render him into countless pieces.

 

And even then, a pulse of light side energies radiated across the darkness that clung heavily to the world only shadowed by the dark powers Inmortos had come to recognize as that of Apothos.

 

It would do no good for the Nemodian to fall. This world was his to command and Inmortos had many resources still to harvest from here before he tired of the sniveling lizard.

 

As the onslaught of bombing ceased, Inmortos waived the remainder of his ubdead kobold-lizards off, directing them to find they that were assaulting the shipyards and end them, to swarm the tower up and down and to not cease until death was all that remained.

 

Inmortos threw himself into the press of undead. He was carried by their writhing bodies and hands quicker than any mere mortal might be able to traverse. With a glance and a thought, Inmortos directed his chaotic carriage towards the spire from which Apothos called down his dark machinations.

 

The battle surged greater here. Blaster fire and the screams of the damned and doomed pierced the howling winds.

 

At the entrance to the tower formed a band of rebels. They were fools. They would die as fools.

 

The snow crunched underfoot as Inmortos approached slowly; the ice beneath a hidden temptress awaiting a foolish surge of physicality. The wind whipped the snow, icy razors of pain and suffering to exposed flesh. Only the dead did not surge, withdrawing at a mental break issued by the black robes being of death and darkness.

 

A wolf and his dogs. That is what Inmortos observed before him. With a blink of his eyes he surveyed not their physical forms but their souls. The towering wolfman would make an excellent addition to his retinue; but first, he needed to be broken.

 

Some men used the lash. Some used affections and awards. Others used tortures unspoken of in civilized society. Inmortos was different. Those ways were so uncivilized and wasteful. The answer was simple: death. The dog would be broken by his death, reincarnate a subservient soldier at Inmortos’ beck and call.

 

But Inmortos was not devoid of manners. Even death had some manner of decorum.

 

From within the depths of his cowl, held in place by ice and ichor, he licked his lips tasting the souls of those he was about to vanquish. Summoning the dark waves of the force, he enveloped himself in the swirling vortexes of it’s power.

 

Drawing the hilt of his saber from his sleeve, Inmortos clutches the haft of evil before him like a dark priest might carry his sacrificial blade. His staff clattered to the ground beside him. With a deathly hiss the blade erupted. Instead of bathing the blowing snow in a hue of red or any other color, the blade did the opposite. The denatured crystals within created a blade of infinite blackness that drew light unto and into it, shadowing the world about the wielder. Frigid mists radiated from the sorcerer obscuring his form and winds seemed to radiate from him in an outward direction. With the hum of the blade, evil seemed to break free of his chains and an unholy roar of phlegm and blood surged forth from Inmortos. It was a call of animalistic and mythical power. It was a call of the ancients. It called for battle.

 

((Pre-duel set up between Mythos and Inmortos. The weather and the undead mentioned here are environmental hazards from the battlefield, not NPCs.))

Edited by Leena Kil

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

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It was chaos as Mythos, Grenn, Altos, and the others fought to get into the central Spire. These veterans of multiple wars were well versed in strategic engagement, but found it hard to move the line. Even with the Colonel at the head, using his skills as a Marshall combined with the skills of a Shistavanen, could barely keep the enemy at bay. Deepguard units laid at their feets, collecting snow and freezing against their coolant fluids, Mythos' jaws laying sliced and his teeth riddled with metal as more showed up. Wave after wave rolled from the steps of Palace to replace those that fell to the Rebellion, endless hordes gathering at front and rear. Tomas looked up at Mythos as he handed the Colonel his scatter gun reloaded, hopeless fear meeting the Shistavanen's gaze as he glared down at the man. This only enraged the beast.

 

Another line of Deepguard units fell in almost synchronous timing as Mythos and the others peered over their wall and let loose another volley of pellets and blaster bolts, more encroaching in an endless tow as Mythos threw his gun back to Tomas and shot out into the open field. The emerald and crimson bolts illuminated the snow as the Shistavanen drew down to all fours and raced to meet the enemy, attempting to push past the gates and away from the wandering dead. He would not rest, nor would he perish, until this line sank into the bowels of the Palace and Mon Cal was liberated. He refused to fail again. Claws lashed out, his jagged blade decapitating, as he pushed forward with ferocity. And behind him as quick as they could, came the seven that followed him into the depths. And as Mythos stood past the gate, blood and saliva salivating from his torn gums and heated claws steaming in the cold, it grew eeriely quiet even amongst the undead as the Deepguard stopped coming.

 

The air had smelled of death and decay for awhile now, and the air howled of it's unnatural cold. But now it became putrid beyond remorse, the unnatural cold still and silent, and for a brief moment, Mythos once again questioned his own sanity as he removed his helm and took to sniffing the air in disgust. Then came the sound, his ears twitching upon the top of his head as it came louder, shifting in the direction it shuffled. And so he turned, the three marking across his visage narrowing with his eyes as he looked into the darkness and saw the unholy. With the crunching of his bipedal feet, he stepped to the rear of his confused men, placing his arm and blade in protection as he caught sight of the Sith.

 

"I leave the King in your capable hands." He spoke with a grim tone, his confused men looking at him with worry, unable to see what he saw at the moment. "I will handle things from here. Move out men."

 

And so they did, rushing off into the Palace ahead and soon the sounds of blaster fire once again rang in the air in the distance. But Mythos stood at the ready, one final shot in the scatter rifle at his feet and his blade extended to his side. At first his mind wandered to Nyrys, questioning if she had finally come to embrace her death at his hands. But this one's scent was different. It smelled of death, of chaos, no purpose to it's existence save for it's enjoyment. Nyrys had held a scent of revenge and blood seeped hands. He knew her reasons for her fall, no matter the hypocrisy. But this scent held fumes of remorse nor of life. It stunk to its roots of death, and Mythos knew this was the one who had robbed Mon Cal, his men, and the poor souls he ensnared of resting in peace. He was a blight upon this world, and to the Galaxy as a whole. He held no qualms about ridding them of it.

 

"Come on out of the shadows, Sith..." He groaned out of his throat, the hoarseness of his deformed vocal cords straining to overcome the howling cold. "Let these old eyes see you better."

 

((Pre-Duel set up for Mythos and Inmortos, sent NPCs ahead to attempt rescuing the King. Duel will be PC vs PC, no NPCs. NPCs will be controlled throughout duel separately from Duel Posts like so))

 

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

 

Once inside the Palace, it didn't take long for Grenn and the others to encounter more of the Deepguard. Altos began hacking into the Palace's mainframe in order to locate the King's whereabouts while the others began engaging the enemy, laying suppression fire down. Confused my the Colonel's actions, they went about their job with intent while the rumors of Mythos' mental breakdown at Chandrila plagued their minds. Had he fallen prey to it once again? They could not tell. But they had a job to do, and would fulfill it whether he had or not.

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Inmortos stood there, his guttural cry sending the wolfman’s dogs running. All about the two that still stood, like a fluid pulsating wave that defined the amoebous edge of their battlefield, the hordes of undead surged against a seemingly invisible barrier, held back by a mental tick issued by the necromancer himself. They would not surge, would not move towards the Shistaven as long as their master deemed it so. If one were to come to close however, they would not be controlled outright. Such was the power over the entity known as death. The only place about them that was not a mass of moaning hungering dead was the spire of Apothos tower that Mythos had sent his pups into as if it would protect them. 

 

His shouting voice fell to a hiss, Inmortos regarded the sole soul that lingered before him. He was an alpha dog; a dog that bore it’s fangs in defiance of certain doom in hopes that it might intimidate this unknown foe.

 

Today, this dog would learn it’s place.

 

Today, the dog would be put down.

 

Blinking once, the man whose soul was as cold as his flesh, concentrated the power that flowed through and around his body. He called forth the forces of death and timelessness that were heralded by the cold and directed them with an unblinking glare of cruel disdain towards the wolfman. He sought to convey an unnatural chill even more frigid than the arctic winds and snow that flew about them; to shatter the dog’s focus and disrupt his aim, causing von Howlster’s muscles to seize and tremble resisting the will of their owner. With a glance, the Sith Lord showed his power. He had not even moved from where he stood, his blackened blade crackling against the blowing snow.

 

But to freeze the mutt was not enough. This dog had bore his teeth to a superior and needed to learn his place. Inmortos knew enough about the ways of life and death to know such a challenge could not be left to stand. 
 

With a skeletally knobbed hand clenching his wicked saber, Inmortos used the other to gesture menacingly, drawing a single undead forward, a rebel of unknown background or breeding. The only known was that this interloper he had fallen to the scourge and been absorbed amongst them. With a clenching of his fist, the undead crumpled to the ground his soul manifesting in the dark man’s palm. With a twist of his hand, the dark waves of the force destabilized the soul of the rebel and Inmortos sent it careening forward towards the wolf. A wraith of the fallen rebel surged forward with a scream, charging towards the rebel leader, unable to recognize his once ally or stop his advance. He would only stop when he reached the Shistaven’s location, the destabilized soul going to implode in upon itself. It was akin to a fragmentation grenade in reverse and would seek to draw deepguard, snow, ice and anything not bolted down upon itself with lethal velocity.

 

Accompanying this shattered soul, a trio of undead surged forth from the mass, commanded by the will of the necromancer. Animalistic beasts in a shambling rush, they sought to claw and gnaw and tackle, bind and ravage the wolfman to the frozen ground. Inmortos pressed their corrupted minds to the point of breaking, all it took was a touch of their mind by one who understood death. Tearing past the dark man clad in his deathly robes, the dead charged for Mythos.  And still, he stood.

 

((1))

 

((Powers are drawn from The Cryomancer’s Guide and from The Necromancer’s Guide. Both are linked here for perusal. I tried to include some description of the power’s potential effects in the post.

 

ACTIONS:

 

-Glare of Cruel Disdain directed towards Mythos

-Used Soul Shatter on an undead to seize it’s soul and destabilize it, sending a ghostly figure of the former owner towards Mythos’ current location. This is fragmentation grenade for a sorcerer. The only exception being that instead of exploding, this implodes upon a point of singularity  

-Gravetide used to send three undead surging towards Mythos to try and take him down, the dead coming from behind Inmortos and passing by him to go towards Mythos))

 

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Mythos glared upon the hooded figure with his own disdain, his fist clutching his jagged blade with animosity and rage. These Sith were all alike to him, hiding in the shadows, using their mystical powers like the Galaxy owed them something, selfish creatures with no remorse for the lives they affect. It was pitiful. It was disgraceful. It was pathetic. He was a warrior of peace, a being of sacrifice, and he cared little for what awaited him in the afterlife, so long as his death was in the service of others. Yet, with this Sith, he would not go quietly. He saw this being of Death. And he would not be enthralled. He would force this creature to destroy him first.

 

With each step that he drew closer, his snarl only grumbled more. Like a rabid dog protecting his pack, he watched and waited, giving the man the opportunity to converse his sentiments before he lunged. And yet, he spoke not a word, instead giving a glare of his own from beneath his cloak, a glare that sent shivers down Mythos' spine and froze his form in place against his will. Mythos glanced from his legs back to the being before him, noticing his hand raising as he fought against his hindering, feeling the stiffness of his muscles and skin, his anger only growing in the moments that past. No. He would not be controlled. Whatever magicks this Sith had enthralled upon him would not work. He refused. 

 

And then came the attack, Mythos watching in horror as one of his SaberCats came to the forefront, watched as his soul became the weapon, and grew furious as the soul was lunged in a screaming horror toward his former Commander. It was almost too much to bear for the Shistavanen and as the memories of Nyrys flared in his mind, he roared a chilling howl, breaking free just moments before the soul imploded and riddled Mythos with shrapnel. Mythos was able to react, using his armored forearms to protect most of his vitals as the shrapnel littered across his form, slices forming across the rest.

 

And yet, this was nothing new for the former Marshall. Wounds come and go. But the spirit of the warrior ran deep in his veins. In his past, he had dealt with rogue Jedi, criminals of the Alliance, and even a Sith that left an scar upon his back that would never heal. This being would be no different. As the air began to clear, the onslaught of the undead trio rapidly approaching, Mythos took no bother in removing the shrapnel from his wounds as they began to heal, and instead took to the offensive; headlong into the approaching undead.

 

Removing three spherical devices from his coat, he tossed them into the air as mounds of smoke began to bellow forth from them mid air, his blade slicing at the trio of undead in passing, his intent to cleave them in half as his gaze at the Sith became savage. As smoke began falling around them and the canisters fell to the ground with a dotted clank, Mythos took a chapter from his encounter with Nyrys and used the bellowing smoke as cover. When he reemerged from the smoke at the Sith's rear, his jagged blade lunged forward, Mythos' form low and balanced by his free hand.

 

((1))

 

Actions: Mythos took the brunt force of the Soul Shatter under the assumption that it imploded before connecting with him after willing himself free from the Glare of Cruel. Not sure on Soul Shatter due to the wording in the Guide and that fragmentation grenades usually explode around the target than in connection. If I am wrong, then this is a learning experience or I can correct, depending on Inmortos' preference. Left damage to the Undead up to Inmortos, as well as Mythos' attack to his character.

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The billows of smoke were enough to obscure the sorcerer’s vision, if but for a moment before the winds of the storm began to carry them away. It was enough. As the whispy necromancer’s eyes searched for the signature soul of the wolfman, he moved forward, his blade held at the ready. Such a dog was not worthy to die by such a hallowed weapon, but if he wanted to play these games Inmortos would not hesitate to smite him in whatever way became necessary.

 

And then he struck. Inmortos barely caught the soul-bound canine’s surge out of the corner of his eye as he scanned the battlefield. On instinct, the sorcerer spun, his singularity-fueled blade whirling in the snow and smoke as a surging blast of wind erupted from the Sith lord’s very being. The chaos that followed was immediate. 
 

Inmortos blade tangled with that of the wolf’s, his foe’s physiciality a power that Inmortos could not hope to meet head on. The surge of wind from the Krath raged towards Mythos, sucking away heat in the air and attempting to drive the warrior back by the power of the force, the power of nature’s life-claiming fury. 
 

Allowing the wind to throw him back on the waves of the force, Inmortos flew backwards towards the spire of Apothos, landing with a clatter on the frozen ground.

 

The dog’s blade had been parried in part by the saber and Inmortos flung away from the brunt of the injury by the dark winds of the storm that he commanded. And yet, the wolf’s blade had not entirely missed it’s mark, tearing a gash in the dark lord’s swirling robes and tracing a track of blood and ichor across the Sith’s thin-skinned hip.
 

Blade still in hand, Inmortos righted himself to a crouch, his robes still swirling about him in the tempest he drove towards his foe. With his free hand, the Sith touched the ground, the force surging forth from his frozen hand into the ground sending erupting spines and spikes from the frozen ice-covered ground outwards from his location in every direction, snares of certain destruction should the dog charge him again powering upwards and outwards in a shielding ring of destruction.

 

And still, he glared at his foe. It would not due to let the beast from his site again. Inmortos’ eyes simmered with hatred and pain powering his unholy gaze of cruel disdain as he sought to stare into the rebel’s heart and soul, to freeze it in place and lock his musclebound body in a statuesque pose of pain.
 

“Stay down dog.” he hissed, his voice billowing out on the steam of his breath. 
 

Never again would Inmortos allow such a lowly mortal to touch him again. He would see to it that this dog was frozen solid. From that crystalline statue, he would draw forth the dog’s very soul. Such a powerful essence would be used to build his temple, his entombing monument of eternity. The dog’s soul was worth more than his body. After this battle, the dog’s body would be too frozen to be of much use in the ensuing battle. 
 

((2))

 

((ACTIONS:

 

Tangled Inmortos Stillblade with Mythos weapon to divert the brunt of the attack while simultaneously using Darkness Reigns to blast Mythos with a surge of icy wind and blowing Inmortos back to create space between the combatants. Some damage was still taken from Mythos’ blade.

 

Landing, Inmortos used Maw of Inevitability to send a surge of icy spikes erupting from the ice and snow covered ground outwards and pressing his Glare of Cruel Disdain in a renewed surge.

 

NOTE: Inmortos as a cryomancer and necromancer is not directly seeking to deal direct damage in a conventional sense, but is seeking to entirely shut down his opponent, freezing him and hindering him until he can no longer stand against the powers of entropy and death. ))

 

 

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Johan blinked at the sudden departure of his master before he turned to the equally stunned soldiers.

Johan took a minute to think. He may not have been much help controlling the blizzard except perhaps in a small area around him or fighting in these conditions, but... he cast his senses out into the city, pushing with a bit of difficulty through both haze of the darkside blizzard and the weak shuffling and... hungry? presences rising from the ground and water and and a idea came to him.

"Err... hows comms?"

"Short range with a headset or helmet is a bit spotty but long-range is fine" the sergeant said.

Johan looked around and realized the building they were in has a small store, and they were only about a squads worth in there, he could make this work, with the rebels help.

"Get on the comms and try to contact and groups near by, ours or even any civilians, any that need to move I'm going to try to lead to us, tell them to move through buildings and take it slow, and avoid the Things in the street, I haven't seen one in person yet but there is something very, very wrong about them. we're going to use the same method to try and warn anyone with hostiles approaching"

"Sir!" the sergeant said and Johan blinked. it was easy to forget that he wasn't just regarded as a farm boy anymore, they saw him as a Jedi, and respected him like a relatively low ranking officer. He got to work, slowly leading a few small groups of civilians and Rebels into the shop, directed them to barricade the windows and create cover inside in preparation for an attack, a small groups of what he learned over radio to be KRIFFING RISEN DEAD was not terrible far out and may make there way here, he managed to warn several other groups to avoid or prepare for there own assaults' as he waited for the blizzard to let up or his master to contact him. 

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Battle over Mon Calamari, Round One

 

Rebel Alliance

Defensive Actions

Heavy Brawler Escort |Chayaikir| Escorts |Forn| and |Grek| (capitals escort 2 TFs of cruiser or lower size)

Heavy Brawler Escort |Zeeland| Escorts |Anastasia| and |Phobos| 

Light Defensive Escort |Phobos| Escorts |Bes’bev|

 

Offensive Actions                                                                                    

Rebel Alliance Fleet Command Flagship |Romanova| Attacks |Sith Resurgent|: 6 damage

Destroyer Group [Turbolasers] |Forn| Attacks |Sith Resurgent)|: (8-2) = 6 shield damage, 2 hull damage

Precision Strike Carrier Group |Anastasia| Attacks |Red Dusk|: 2 x Bombers Inbound (2 x 3 damage)

Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Bes'bev| Attacks |Red Dusk|: 6 damage, evades capital/cruiser escorts (delayed speed due to Gravity Crusher)

Destroyer Group [Railguns] |Akalenedat| Attacks |Phantom’s Spear|: 6 damage

Asset Denial Force [Surgical Strike] |Grek|: Puts on a light show

 

Fleet Starfighter Actions:

2 x Starfighter Rush against |Wings of Glory|: 2 x 3 damage to corvettes or 2 x 2 damage to frigates

1 x Bombers Inbound on |Red Dusk|: 2 damage

 

Special Actions:

Fleet Command Flagship |Romanova| uses Advanced Sensor Upgrades: raises Global Combat Awareness by 1

Veteran Heavy Brawler Escort |Zeeland| (escorting |Forn|) returns fire on |Phantom’s Spear|: 3 damage

Veteran Heavy Brawler Escort |Chayaikir| (escorting |Grek|) returns fire on |Sith Resurgent|: 3 damage

Veteran Heavy Brawler Escort |Chayaikir| (escorting |Grek|) returns fire on |Red Dusk|: 3 damage

 

 

Sith Empire

Defensive Actions

Heavy Brawler Escort |Black Bracer| Escorts |Wings of Glory| and |Red Dusk| (capitals escort 2 TFs of cruiser or lower size)

 

Offensive Actions

Destroyer Group [Railguns] |Phantom’s Spear| Attacks |Forn|: 6 damage

Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Sith Resurgent| Attacks |Grek|: 6 damage, evades capital/cruiser escorts

Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Red Dusk| Attacks |Grek|: (8 – 2) = 6 damage, evades capital/cruiser escorts

Artillery Battery [Gravity Crusher] |Eye of Sagittarius| Attacks |Bes’bev|: 8 damage (delayed speed)

Precision Strike Carrier |Wings of Glory| Attacks |Bes’bev|: 2 x Bombers Inbound (2 x 4 shield damage)

|Undetected Ship| Attacks |Akalenedat|: 6 damage (delayed speed)

 

Fleet Starfighter Actions:

1 x Bombers Inbound on |Bes’bev|: 3 shield damage

1 x Bombers Inbound on |Romanova|: 3 hull damage

1 x Interception (Focused Deployment) on |Red Dusk|

 

Special Actions:

No stealth ships are detected

Veteran Heavy Brawler Escort |Black Bracer| (escorting |Red Dusk|) returns fire on |Bes’bev|: 3 damage

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HC-42:
The quarren ringleader listened in stoic silence, eyes narrowed as the squad gave their rallying speech.

 

Then he nodded.

 

"Qorik, Petaf, go get the emergency generator switched on! Anyone from maintenance, get to work on resetting those doors! If we can close them an inch, I want the option. Mal, you keep saying you're a wiz with electronics. Start disassembling those droids the rebels were so nice to scatter all over the place, and see if you can salvage any of their weapons. As for the rest of you..." He turned to look back at the rebels. "Where do you want us sir?"

 

HC-42, consider approximately 50 workers, armed with power tools you'd expect in a ship manufacturing facility, to be under your control.

 

Mythos NPCs:

DG-RY1 was special. It knew that it was special. Why would a Deepguard Overseer be selected to control security in the Royal Palace unless it was special?

 

Commander, intruders detected.

 

DG-RY1's contemplation of its own excellence was interrupted as the alert reached it through one of the several Overseers under its command. They were also special. But not as much as DG-RY1.

 

Understood, DG-RY1 replied. Analyzing...

 

Analysis complete. Squad of insurgents attempting to illegally access palace mainframe. Bring up list of high priority targets.

 

Most likely target == [King Halargo]

 

Current location of target == [Sublevel 3, Enhanced Interrogation Chamber]

 

Formulating combat solution...

 

Enhanced Interrogation Chamber == [Watertight]

 

Deepguard == [Underwater Functional]

 

Solution formulated. Do not interfere with their unauthorized access until they have accessed the King's location. Console will then be overloaded remotely to prevent additional access. All units hold position until I give the order. If you encounter the insurgents, defend yourself, but do not leave your post to assist other squads.

 

Once they are in Sublevel 3, seal all chambers. Ensure that Enhanced Interrogation Chamber is completely sealed.

 

Once all preparations are complete, and the enemy is in position...

 

Flood Sublevel 3.

 

DG-RY1 was proud of its plan.

 

After all...it was special.

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As Apothos' mind turned back to the matter of controlling his Deepguard, his fury at the loss of his prized ship basking the balcony in eddies of dark emotions, something caught his attention.

 

A thud. Practically imperceptible in the howling wind, it must have been loud to catch Apothos' notice at all.

 

Then came the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting.

 

 A surge of fear rippled out from Apothos, and in those ripples he saw what he had missed. A wookiee.

 

A Jedi.

 

He kept still. It did not appear to have noticed him, but that would change soon enough, once the warrior-monk had time to focus. But with the roar of the storm and the whirling veil of snow, Apothos had what he needed perhaps to turn the situation to his own advantage.

 

Briefly, a memory of his former, weaker self appeared in his mind's eye. Trapped in an arena, two snarling, slavering howlrunners creeping towards him. And he recalled the lesson he'd learned that day.

 

This world is mine. If I allowed you to have it, Jedi...I would be Nok Morliss. But I am Apothos.

 

So let us see what that really means.

 

With a thought and a push from his mechu-deru, the smaller mechno-chair detached from his larger, Emperiax Walking Throne, and began to creep along the balcony's edge, a small machine walking through a blizzard, its luxurious design keeping its servos muted and its steps smooth. Another thought from Apothos, and the small mechno-chair began charging its capacitors beyond their designated safety limits, the will of its master overriding its core programming.

 

His own throne turned as he did this, bringing Apothos into direct line of sight with the wookiee. Well...sight might have been an exaggeration for a blind man in a blizzard...

 

He raised his hands. His body was alive with fear and adrenaline, and his anger was slowly fading to be replaced with something new. Joy. A fierce, savage joy. Live or die, he was going to enjoy this.

 

He attacked.

 

Lightning crackled out of his fingers in a torrent of white-blue energy, directed at the figure silhouetted in the swirling currents of the Force stirred by his emotion, his Dark Sight allowing him to see his opponent even through the snow, though much further away and the wookiee might disappear entirely. The Jedi had such quiet souls.

 

Summary: Apothos took advantage of not being detected to detach his smaller mechno-chair, began overcharging it with his mechu-deru, and then fired a blast of lightning as his final act.

 

Move ((1)) in duel between Kirlocca and Apothos

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HC-42 admired the Quarren's own leadership skills as the latter had organized the rebellious workers as efficiently as possible. But when the Quarren asked for orders for the rest of the dozens of workers helping, HC-42 realized he was no longer merely commanding a four-individual squad. He was, whether he was ready or not, the leader of this entire shipyard uprising, comprised of approximately fifty workers. Hard workers, at that, but since most were armed exclusively with shipyard tools, they wouldn't stand a chance against the remaining Deepguards. No matter- the Deepguards that remained had barricaded themselves, awaiting reinforcements. HC-42 doubted those reinforcements would arrive, given the pressure the Sith forces were under. 

 

"The rest of you get into hidden positions among the shipyard, do your best not to be spotted by the lizards. When in position, wait for my signal to attack them. They outnumber us, but they're primitive. I'll take out as many as I can with my squad, hopefully distracting them long enough to get into your hiding spots undetected. Listen for a deep, loud electronic roar. That will be from my vocabulator, and will signal you to attack the lizards."

 

Sasha, Gwal and Leep nodded at the droid's orders confidently. "Good luck." Sasha said to them.

 

HC-42, Gwal, Leep, and Sasha then moved out, and soon found the horde of lizards. HC-42 counted about eighty of them left- a significant number advantage, just as HC-42 calculated. But while the Lizards outnumbered the workers and the four rebels, the rebels blissfully outgunned them, and the workers' tools, while much less effective than blasters, still gave the workers an equal shot against individual Lizards. If HC-42 and his three squadmates could take out as many as thirty Lizards, the workers would have the advantage. It was a steep amount of Lizards to kill, but HC-42 had faced equally challenging odds when fighting the Deepguards at the entrance. 

 

The shipyard battle against the dozens of lizards started with Sasha's sharpshooting. As soon as other Lizards quickly noticed one of their comrades abruptly being gunned down, they looked in the direction of the fire and, as expected, charged in the direction of the attack. HC-42 almost missed fighting the Deepguards. At least they were smart enough to fortify and not be distracted so easily.

 

HC-42's heavy repeating blaster had already claimed about eight lizards in the twenty seconds that passed since the Lizards all charged. Gwal, Leep and Sasha's combined firepower ate up about twelve more. HC-42 made a binary sound that sounded like a low scoff. These reptilian zombies were as stupid as they looked- charging into the blaster fire as if their courage was enough to save them. 

 

The remaining lizards eventually took the hint, but their reluctance cost them another twelve lizards. The 56 remaining lizards soon began a flanking maneuver that had HC-42, Gwal, Leep, and Sasha surrounded. HC-42 and Sasha continued to blast lizards around them, but it quickly got close quarters. Leep and Gwal had no problem with this- Gwal's brutality claimed the lives of three lizards, with his own bare cybernetic hands. Leep took out another three using his blaster kata that he demonstrated against the Deepguards. The time had come for the workers to enter the fray.

 

HC-42 let out a blood-curdling synthesized roar, the binary message simply translating to "attack!" For a few seconds, everything was still- even HC-42's squadmates were intimidated by the sudden noise. But then everything was in motion again, as 50 determined workers sprang out and began beating down the lizards with every conceivable tool that could do harm to these lizards. A few of the workers had in fact managed to salvage some Deepguard blasters. The four man squad continued blasting away Lizards, trying to mow down as many as possible to make the jobs of the blasterless workers much, much easier.

 

While this was initially a calculated move, the resulting chaos quickly devolved the scene into a massive gladiator fight, only with occasional blaster shots instead of occasional arrows. It became a bloodbath- none of the lizards survived, as being surrounded by carnage eliminated any safe chance of retreat. The same applied to the workers- thirty-two of them were dead by the time the lizards were wiped out. And the four man squad itself had casualties. HC-42 was undamaged, as was Leep, but Gwal had been ganged up by nearly ten lizards, and was knocked unconscious after three devastating blows to the head. Sasha had a broken arm at the end of it too. The costs of war became clear to HC-42 quickly, but he needed to focus. So he got on his comlink, contacting Emma.

 

"Shipyard secured. We need reinforcements and medics, fast..."

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Mand’alor’s crimson eyes narrowed as she watched the missiles fly and cause their devastation. The storm almost immediately began to dissipate, the winds ceasing their howling, the frost fading from her armor with the rising heat. Movement began to scatter light across her HUD as Hades began to highlight a surge of enemy forces in a bath of neon light. With a blink, Terra brought one such specimen into magnification and its rotting jowls, dead eyes, and shambling nature immediately disgusted her. She spat a string of words into her commlink, a ward against the evil that she saw.

 

Necromancy.

 

The Assassin had not seen its use since the solstice of the Hutt Dark Lord, when Krath prominence in the galaxy had been unquestioned. She spat again, but an alarm echoing through her buy’ce brought her attention to one of the video-feeds that came from viewpoint of Anders Lok’a’rokin, once of her honor-guard. Every member of her squad had a POV camera that fed into a monitoring feed that was passed through the Hades combat-AI, and now through the man’s eyes, Terra saw an all too familiar form.

 

A hulking mass of muscles coated in fur, leapt from Anders’ basilisk, onto the armored side of Hans Bre’tsar's wardroid. A cacophony of curses and shouts of alarm began to assail Terra’s ears. The human's distraught, but determined voice spilled into her ears.

 

“Mand’alor it’s a…”

 

The Assassin sighed

 

“Wookiee... Jedi!”

 

The sigh became deeper, and she placed an armored hand on the lightsaber hilt that had belonged to that Wookiee’s friend, Kitt Fitt. She watched as the beast leapt down towards the devastation her men had wrought. She keyed up her comlink, and spoke through gritted teeth

 

Vod, meet Kirlocca, Jetti Master, and ally. Do not engage, for now…”

 

She emphasized the latter words with particular, cynical meaning. With a press of her knees, Terra brought Hades away from the Mon Cal shipyards, towards the site of an earlier explosion. Alliance intelligence was scrambling for information about the site and possible Jetti involvement, and since they were occupied, she would make herself useful.

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To the Death...

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