Jump to content

Mon Calamari


Nikolai Kolchak
 Share

Recommended Posts

Behind you. One eighty, Black, Hinderson new contacts. Priority one. 

 

The two selected riflemen with the precision of well trained stormtroopers set one foot back and pivoted themselves into a firing crouch. Their heavy barreled rifles beginning to spit crimson death onto the newly animated casualties. This was like nothing they had trained for in the  months of combat sims on Nar Shaddaa, but the solution was the same. Apply blaster bolts, maneuver, apply more blaster bolts. Until the enemy was eliminated. 

 

These walking dead would eat the precise firing of two rapid burst imperial issue blaster rifles. 

 

Calla engage either side of that door. High-Ex. 

 

A second later the shaped charge of two under barrel 40 millimeter grenades were launched on either side of the makeshift shield that the Necro and Cryomancer were using for cover. If that would break their concentration enough to allow the Imperial Remnant squad to spread out enough to engage the Sith from either side, they would have a chance. 

 

Rest Advance. Fan and flank.

 

Emma and the other three stormtroopers began to bound forward, keeping up a storm of blaster fire on the doorway and on either side of it. They were met by an icy storm, that was shocking in its intensity, and left the joints in Emma’s arms slow moving. Seeing one of the stormtroopers pitch face forward in a screaming mess from the creeping ice running up his shins, Emma extended her wrist, letting loose a galestorm of napalm that overwhelmed the storm of ice, evaporating it back into its elements, or at least for the moment. The remaining two stormtroopers and herself picked up their pace on the right side of the barricade. They would hit this from every angle they could. Hc and his man from the left flank, Emma and her two from the right. Calla and the other two holding the front. 

 

HC keep up fire, advance from the left.. 

 

The rest remained unspoken. She was down one stormtrooper and whoever was behind this door had already frozen most of the surface city, countless inhabitants, and likely soldiers. And was now raising the dead and making another icestorm. He was a priority target and He would not leave here alive.

 

Actions Taken, Two soldiers engage zombie threat, high explosive grenades against the Sith and his Doorway barricade. Flamethrower to take care of ice. One stormtrooper down, rest suffering slowed from ice attack. 

((2))

AVATAR.jpg.06683293db36532996ec51027b718fb7.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Battle over Mon Calamari, Round Three

 

Rebel Alliance

Defensive Actions

Heavy Brawler Escort |Chayaikir| continues Escorting |Forn| and |Grek|

Heavy Brawler Escort |Zeeland| continues Escorting |Anastasia| and |Phobos| 

Light Defensive Escort |Phobos| Escorts |Forn|

 

Offensive Actions       

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

Asset Denial Force [Surgical Strike] |Grek| Attacks |Sith Resurgent|: Ion barrage disables the task force (fast speed)

Precision Strike Carrier Group |Anastasia|

            Bombers Inbound on |Phantom’s Spear|: 4 hull damage (fast speed)

            Bombers Inbound on |Phantom’s Spear|: 4 hull damage (fast speed)

Destroyer Group [Railguns] |Akalenedat| attacks |Phantom’s Spear|: 6 damage (actions delayed by gravity crusher)

Destroyer Group [Turbolasers] |Forn| Attacks |Phantom’s Spear|: (8-2) = 6 shield damage, 2 hull damage

Destroyer Group [Missiles] |Bes’bev| Attacks |Wings of Glory|: 6 damage, attack evades capital/cruiser escorts

                                                                       

Fleet Starfighter Actions:

Interception (Forward Deployment): All enemy Bomber attacks are delayed, 1 damage directed to shields.

Interception (Focused Deployment) on |Grek|

Bombers Inbound on |Sith Resurgent|: 3 hull damage (fast speed)

 

Special Actions:

Fleet Command Flagship |Romanova| uses Advanced Sensor Upgrades: raises Global Combat Awareness by 1 (current bonus is +3).

 

Sith Empire

Defensive Actions

Heavy Brawler Escort |Black Bracer| continues Escorting |Wings of Glory| and |Red Dusk| 

 

All task forces withdraw, all ships except disabled |Sith Resurgent| are able to withdraw at the end of this round

 

Fleet Starfighter Actions:

Bombers Inbound on |Forn|: 1 shield damage, 2 hull damage (delayed speed)

Bombers Inbound on |Forn|: 1 shield damage, 2 hull damage (delayed speed)

Bombers Inbound on |Forn|: 1 shield damage, 2 hull damage (delayed speed)

 

Special Actions:

Heavy Brawler Escort |Black Bracer| (escorting |Wings of Glory|) returns fire on |Bes’bev|: 3 damage

No stealth ships are detected

Edited by ObliviousKnight

drayyy.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The lightsaber drove deep into the warped and pitted metal, sending crimson-stained sparks spinning and twisting across the darkness. Mand’alor pressed the blade deeper, putting her weight into the corroded lock, feeling the metal give way beneath as the lightsaber consumed it. Smoke curled, twisting and flittering like ghosts in the relative stillness of the exposed tunnel.

 

Terra’s three-hundred-and-sixty-degree camera pickup highlighted the warpriest’s erratic behavior. He twisted and moaned, chittering like a Chatheran Skeramore after an apoplexy. She pressed the lightsaber deeper, feeling the hooked grip beneath her fingertips, and twisting it through the ancient mechanisms of the lock beneath. She began to grow more annoyed with the man, and the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end. Her voice was harsh and carried a disciplinary tone to it that cut through the smokey air like a vibroknife through bantha-butter,

 

“You, Prelest, stand back with your mutterings, I don’t need your kriffing spittle raining on my neck.”

 

Mand’alor the bloody switched the crimson blade off and kicked the vault door, hearing the squealing and grinding of time-worn hinges protesting. She added another kick, an echoing thud of bootheel on metal ringing through the cavern and the door gave way. They were in.

  • Like 1

terr4.png.2ae600cabec48a50a70ba2c81013a2a3.png

To the Death...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Krayt's Fury let out another shudder as bomber wracked it's hull with high-yield explosives. The battle was lost. Most of the crew had already evacuated the ship, regrouping with the remaining forces and returning to Geonosis, where Lord Mavanger most likely awaited the news of this battle. Captain Jarvus had remained to coordinate the retreat, and now, with no allies remaining, the Fury finally began to gave out. A new klaxon began to blare, signaling that the ship had suffered a critical reactor leak. Another flashing light indicated that the hull's integrity was below 30 percent. At this point, even if he tried to make it to an escape pod, and there was a route still available to him, he wouldn't make it in time. He sighed sadly.

 

Fear of one's death was natural. Though there was no one remaining on the bridge to witness it, he felt ashamed still. He had served with distinction. With victories over Corellia, Kuat, Geonosis, he had served the Sith Empire well. His counsel had aided a campaign that would be remembered for generations. He had loved, laughed, and been happy for two years. If this was the end of his life, he would face it with courage. He keyed one of the communication panels, sending a final word of warning to the rebels. He would make them fear his death. They would always remember the day that the Rebel Alliance sealed its own fate.

 

"You will all face the storm that comes with this victory, and not one of you will survive. He will kill every last one of you."

 

Behind him, the alarms grew more frantic. The ship shuddered a final time as the ship's reactor self destructed, detonating the core and sending a chain reaction throughout the rest of the vessel. As the blast entered the bridge, Jarvus smiled. He would become a martyr.

mord_sig.png

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kirlocca helped move some of the soldiers out of the building as a low flying transport came in and awaited them to board. Once he was sure everyone was out, he picked up the Sith and carried him onto the transport and laid him upon the floor. He reached out into the Force to make sure that he was still alive, and also induced a stronger state of unconsciousness through a form of Morichro, and was only sued upon the mind to keep it from waking. Standing up, he saw Johan on the transport and the Jedi Master gave his apprentice a smile. 

 

<< For a first time in the real galaxy, you did well. You have much to improve upon, but you still did well. >> 

 

Kirlocca gave the boy a pat on the shoulder and then walked towards the main cockpit of the transport. He poked his head in and spoke very clearly. 

 

<< Take us up and out. The storm is dying and the Rebel forces need to get to the surface. >> 

 

Kirlocca lifted his head towards the skyline for a moment and wished to be elsewhere for just a brief second before returning to where he needed to be, which was by his padawan's side. He sat down and directed for Johan to do the same. 

 

<< We are going to be headed back to Nar Shaddaa to visit and check on Alliera. From there I suspect that our training is going to intensify greatly. >> 

 

((You can make a generic post for us boarding and then taking off.))

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Fearful mutterings mixed with a horrific gaze would be the be Prelest's response as he stepped backwards, the air around him almost suffocating, his vision waning on the urge to black out. Horror had filled his bones and fear had consumed his soul, all while stubbornness and ego refused to let him retreat. His prayers would only intensify as the moments passed and he stepped to the rear, until the moment the makeshift door would open and silence would encompass his hopeless words.

 

Inside the vault were numerous items that Apothos had gathered in his time as a collector, some valuable, some valuable only to him. But amidst the items were a pair of Lightsaber Shotos, pristine in condition, and eeriely captivating. As the rustled dust began to settle, an unsettling aura would fall upon the group, the kind that sends chills down your spine and causes one to be overtly cautious if retreat wasn't an option. And in the distance, where the Shotos were preserved, the click of a lock would resound.

 

Oni played with the Prelest's mind even more, the fear and egotistical his favorite of many flavors as he tightened his grasp upon the Mandalorian's mind. Moments seem to go missing as Oni pressed upon his mind, then minutes, finding himself in different locations within the vault than where he had been before, producing inward bouts of hysteria and involuntary ticks. But these were just moments of intended play, meant to weaken the mind and present possession.

 

And as his gaze fell upon the Shotos, greed would consume his thoughts, an insatiable hunger to possess the blades with no real personal desire to. Slowly, his hand began to creep outward into the abyss of the display, wanting to touch them beyond rationality. It was in this moment his mind became aware of his inability to resist, and in this moment, the point of no return. Oni's hold was almost complete.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

HC-42 realized just how challenging this would be as the icy storm began to slow his joints- this Sith Lord was truly a force to be reckoned with. Barely able to keep up a light jog as the droid advanced to the left as ordered, Leep was thankfully not affected as severely- his cybernetic legs had state of the art mobility. However, Leep, in the end, was also organic, and you could see frost building up on his skin. HC-42 could only imagine how uncomfortable that would be for the Caridian soldier, and could see that it affected his focus during the flanking maneuver.

 

HC-42 hoped the explosive grenades did their job in distracting Inmortos. As he and Leep struggled to outflank him to the left, HC-42 hand signaled for Leep to open fire at the Sith. Hopefully, this would give the droid enough cover to do what he was going to do next.

 

HC-42, backed up by Leep's fire, managed to get as close as he could to Inmortos, repeatedly swinging his electrostaff in the latter's direction. While he certainly wasn't a MagnaGuard when it came to striking speed, especially while slowed by Inmortos' Cryomancy, he was still quite formidable thanks to the programming he received on Charros IV. Leep's shots became less frequent due to his hesitancy to shoot HC-42 by accident, but Leep's fire was intended more for limiting safe places for Inmortos to dodge to then actually hitting the Sith anyway. Overall, duelling with the Sith up close would hopefully put enough pressure on him for Emma's troops to make their shots count. 

 

Actions Taken: HC-42 and Leep follow Emma's order to advance to the left. Leep fires around Inmortos while HC-42 attempts to duel him up close with his Electrostaff. 

 

Damage/Effects Taken: Leep is infected with Frostbite. HC-42 is substantially slowed by Inmortos' Cryomancy.

5jFXtwq.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

With his saber ignited still in his hand, Inmortos crouched beneath his makeshift shield. Duel explosions rocked against either side of the ice-held door, buffeting the Sith lord in ripples of destructive energies that threatened to send him tumbling end over end had they not simultaneously buffeted him, sandwiching him between in a vortex of noise and power. Instead they ruptured his eardrums, sending echoes of pain radiating intensely through the firrerreo’s cranium. The intensity of such a cacophony threatening to overwhelm him, but for the pure evilness of the dark side that coursed through his body. Such a frail thing. It was held together but by the sinews of darkness and the powers of death that he commanded. The closer he was drawn to the maw of eternity, the less entombed by mortality he was. The more he died, the more powerful he became.

 

And as his body was buffeted by the power of the blasts, his icy expanse ceased, remaining; hungering where it lay, only repulsed slowly by the licking flames. The Sith’s mind no longer planned. He no longer thought as a higher being, his mind ravaged by the dark side and assaulted by the soldiers of rebellion. He gave himself over to the call of the darkness, to the unnatural indomitable will  of those that sought to control him. He lashed out, calling on the powers of eternity, the winds of change rushing to his call even here in this that would be the tomb of all that attempted to stand against the power of the dark side. About the room, the wind howled in a gale force surge of sweeping power attempting to upend and hurl whatever and whoever was not bolted down. The dark side still had use of this decrepit servant. His loyalty had yet to be rewarded. Where he might fail, the darkness would not and in full display it shook the plating of the walls and careened bodies and debris, crates and tools about turning them into missiles of deathly intent. The end game of darkness was destruction and Inmortos was a loyal bringer of such sacrifices; his body a conduit of the darkest depths of depravity. And as the straightline winds tore against and through the hangar, Inmortos gave himself over to laughter, evil, maniacal, and crazed. It carried on the winds filling the room with his lunacy, his mind opened completely to the call and grasp of the powers of darkness.

 

In the depravedness of his lost mind, another spirit lurked, awaiting a chance to strike, to seize power and return from it’s shackled imprisonment. A dark presence cursed and bound not to Inmortos vorpal blade, but to another weapon that hunt at his waist, an ancient sword, carried by rampaging Sith warlords of bygone eras, still thirsting for destruction; for destruction was the true language of the dark side. It had once sought to claim Inmortos and been bested by the necromancer, but now, here, in the heat of this frozen battlefield, it fed off the powers of chaos, of destruction, of the dark side. Sensing Inmortos undefended mind, the spirit struck, lashing for control of the man’s physical form. The spirit had need of a vessel, that was all. As evil as the purity of the putrid dark side, the force bent to it’s will. And as it seized some of the control over the rabid ravaged mind of Inmortos, he drew the sword, his body succumbing to the will of the spirit. 
 

The spirit saw  through the eyes of Inmortos, he felt through the senses of the Krath, and his will tangled with that of the necromancer. As HC-42 charged, the tendril of ice grasping at the robot’s servos, the assassin droid shielding the dark lord from the bulk of incoming fire. Such fools, unwilling to sacrifice each other for a greater goal. Swinging his sword wide, his weapon clashed with the heaving electrified weapon of the droid, blocking some of the blows and redirecting the forceful strikes away from his core as the weapon burned and singed the Sith’s robes and papery flesh, knocking the sorcerer back beneath the bot’s greater strength. For each blow, each nerve that seized and cried out in pain, the darkness flowed into the recess hewn by the weapon and as the spirit-laden ancient blade crashed against the staff, Inmortos other hand, swung his blacked bladed saber downwards in hacking motions towards the droid’s head and shoulders, seeking to sever servos and sensors before driving the dark weapon inwards in a stab towards where the droid’s heart ought to be.

 

((2))

 

((Was ohysically buffetted by the explosive bladts of the grenades, eardrums rupturing and Inmortos’ mentality fraying against the onslaught of his mind, opening him up to the darkside. Inmortos unleashed a blast of winds afross the battlefield attempting to sweep his enemies off their feet and/or buffeting them with other airborne projectiles.

Giving himself over to the warrior spirit that inhabits his Sith sword, Inmortos clashed with HC-42, taking some blows on the extremities due to the droid’s superior strength and lashing back with his black-bladed saber at HC-42’s head and shoulders before trying to stab him in the “heart”))

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Johan helped pull several of the wounded onto the ships that had been sent for them, the rebels taking potshots at the slowly encroaching dead, and hoped on the one being sent to his master. He watched somewhat warily as the sith was brought aboard only taking his focus of of him when his master 'spoke'

<< For a first time in the real galaxy, you did well. You have much to improve upon, but you still did well. >> 

 

<< Take us up and out. The storm is dying and the Rebel forces need to get to the surface. >> 

 

<< We are going to be headed back to Nar Shaddaa to visit and check on Alliera. From there I suspect that our training is going to intensify greatly. >> 

 

"Thank you master, do you have any word yet on her condition? I did what I could but I didn't want to risk removing her armor in that weather and conditions and I don't have much experience with burns that bad or wide spread" Johan replied as he sat "And as hard as it may be, I'm glad for the training, if THIS is going to be my new norm, I need to be better". Johan frowned in thought "is it possible to control temperature like that without the darkside, and would it be possible to learn how to heal with the force?".

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kirlocca smiled at Johan as he asked some questions. His concern for his fellow Jedi should the Jedi Master much of his apprentice's character. Patting his shoulder again, he looked at the large ship, Misericordia as the shuttle slowly landed in the hangar bay. As the two Jedi walked off next to the Sith whom they transported off the planet, Kirlocca spoke to his padawan. 

 

<< There is no word on her condition. At least not yet. All that I know from the comm chatter was that she was on a shuttle taken back to Nar Shaddaa with a few others. >>

 

Kirlocca paused his conversation as an officer of the Misericordia approached them both. "It's been a real mess down there. Luckily you've captured this one here for processing. Unless the Jedi Master has a suggestion of another location, we want to take him to The Helvault, an prison made by CoreSec on Nespiss VIII. It's perfectly designed to hold such a man as this one..." Kirlocca looked at the Sith for a moment, remembering that the station was operated with a majority of droids, and the Sith's ability to use Mechu-deru had the Wookiee hesitate, but also remembered that the walls of the facility should also prevent him from doing so. 

 

<< That is fine with me. Keep Raven posted on his whereabouts, along with the Jedi Order. >>

 

Kirlocca thanked the officer and then directed his padawan to another shuttle that was preparing to take off towards nar Shaddaa.

 

<< Training within the Force is only going to get harder, but there are some things that you can learn to counter what you experienced her today. Such as Force Healing is possible, along with the ability to alter the environment. Such a road to mastery of those is a very long road indeed. And upon arriving at Nar Shaddaa, I will help you learn such things. >>

 

As he finished speaking, the two boarded the shuttle and took off for Nar Shaddaa, while the Sith, Krath Apothos, was taken on another shuttle to be delivered to a prison cell that resided for him on Nespis VIII, the Helvault. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Mand’alor stepped cautiously into the yawning darkness of the vault, switching her visual pickup to thermal, scanning for any sign of movement, finding nothing. They’qell stepped past her, raving lunacy on his lips, jittering with excitement. She motioned the rest of her squad back, as to provide sweeping angles of fire should droids or a trap be triggered.

 

Terra’s headlamp illuminated boxes and shelves filled with tools and refuse. There was the odd glint of bronzium, but it was far from the vast wealth she had pictured. Darkmetal teeth ground sparks into her mouth in frustration. There was an odd oppression to the vault, an unsettling feeling she had become familiar with, the raw darkness that invaded the mind. Her voice was filled with scorn as she spoke,

 

“Sith. Always kriffing Sith. Should have guessed it’d be the bastards who owned this place.”

 

It wasn’t near golden enough to be one of LAP’s, or filled enough with foodstuffs for that insane Hutt she had met. She watched the Prelast pick up two items from a shelf. They were cylindrical and dark. Her voice raised a pitch, filled with an immediate worry that caused her squad to step back

 

“Prelast, sto-”

terr4.png.2ae600cabec48a50a70ba2c81013a2a3.png

To the Death...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

They'qell's gaze shifted quizzically at Terra as her voice rang out, a eerie moment of silence draping the room following. But then he looked down, horror in his eyes hidden away from the others as the realization that he had picked the cylindrical Tonfas up. A voice began to echo in his head as frozen fear took hold of his form, a gutteral growl hissing in his ear as the voice denounced his existence. As he faded from this world, all he heard was an echoing laughter from within as darkness took over and his eyes glazed over black. Oni had claimed this form as his own and cast away the soul within.

 

Oni turned to face the intruders, his glazed eyes returning to their natural brown as he stepped toward them casually. In They'qell's voice, he spoke. "They seem harmless to me, Mi'lady Mandalor'"

 

Oni's plan was a simple one, take hold of the weakest and walk out with the stronger, no one the wiser with the access of They'qell's memories. That was, until his gaze fell upon this Mandalore draped in black, the familiar scent of old permeating from beneath her cloak. Darkmetal, the unofficial Insignia of the Alcazarin that he once belonged to. His grip tightened in anger at the patronage, the cursed metal meant to forever be buried. However was someone of her stature able to acquire what he himself buried on Almas? Haphaestus? No. He would never lower himself. Ki? No. She had disappeared with Nurgle and Cyrus. That only left the gifts he gave Exodus before he departed for Almas with Camik. And Camik was incapable of forging such metal. This farce was quickly coming to an end.

 

"You.... Where did you aquire that metal, child?" A deep gutteral voice spat in reserved anger as Oni pointed toward her armor. "You are not Alcazarin. You are undeserving, unworthy!"

 

Oni's eyes closed for a brief second, opening back up with a black glaze covering their entirety as the air around them became thick and foreboding. The Force around him became a vortex of power as he seeped himself in it and turned his frightful eyes to all whom he now condemned with utter insanity. Memories of their past meant to plague them, the deaths of both those they cherished and despised meant to haunt their thoughts and vision, to relive their worst moments in life without control. And within that brief second, Oni ignited the blades and attacked this Mandalor'.

 

"I will strip it from your form and return it to where it came from." Oni growled in disgust as the gap closed and he shoved his right blade forward and twisted the left inward for defense.

 

((1))

 

Actions: Attacked Terra and crew with Force Insanity while initiating close quarter combat.

Edited by Sith X
Link to comment
Share on other sites

With grimaces that reflected their disgust, the two soldiers finished their work with the reanimated remains of the dead and began to follow their commanding officer. They did not take two steps before one of the crates that had been picked up by the gale force winds dropped them both to the decking. 

 

Vitals peaked then dropped to flat lines. Another cruel sacrifice to the darkside. She was now down three soldiers. Three good men. Three good servants of the Alliance. But Emma could not divert her attention even for a moment. Because HC had done more than accomplish his orders. He had completely distracted the Sith from the threat of the three blasters at his rear. A successful flank, even if it could possibly end the droid's short existence. Still, in her neural net, Emma was thankful. 

 

Stun. 

 

The order was necessary. They were effectively within close combat range, and though the soldiers were steady in their aims, a single misplaced blaster bolt could prematurely end the career of the Battle Droid who was now locked in melee with the Sith Lord. And Stun did not hurt droids after all. Though the winds whipped at them with the strength of a hurricane, the soldiers knew what to do. They were trained for this. In unison, fingers flipped switches on blaster carbines and she did the same with her heavy blaster pistol. The two stormtroopers dropped to a crouch to better protect themselves from the winds. And then...

 

Engage. 

 

A torrent of bright blue waves cascaded towards the Sith Lord. He was exposed, and the AVATAR with her men would take full advantage. 

 

((3))

Actions Taken:

Two Stormtroopers killed by flying debris

Advance to finish flank, shoot a whole lot of stun at the Sith Lord. 

  • Like 1

AVATAR.jpg.06683293db36532996ec51027b718fb7.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The duel between Inmortos and HC-42 got brutal quickly. Having indeed scored some blows on the Sith Lord, the droid had indeed succeeded in giving Inmortos a run for his money, so to speak. However, he also knew how angry this Sith must be by now. And if HC-42 knew anything about the dark side of the Force, it was that the more angry they got, the more dangerous they became. 

 

Sure enough, Inmortos' counterattack surprised HC-42, and even his computer-sped reflexes couldn't prevent him from sustaining critical damage to his shoulder. It could have been worse considering the Sith's main target- his "heart-" which HC-42 barely managed to parry. 

 

As HC-42 saw Emma's troops approach Inmortos as well, he decided, now that he was close enough to the Sith Lord, to use his flamethrower one last time. Putting it on full blast, he exhausted its fuel by blowing scorching flames toward Inmortos just as his electrostaff was locked with Inmortos' two weapons, hoping to set the cursed being on fire. 

 

Leep, suffering from Frostbite and seeing his comrade damaged, could not be blamed for his sudden fit of rage. He was barely compelled to follow Emma's order and set for stun. The agile fighter jumped into the air toward Inmortos, propelled by his cybernetic legs, and fired his stun shots toward Inmortos' face, screaming as he did so. As the volley of stun shots from Leep raced towards the Sith Lord, HC-42 knew that the success of putting Inmortos down depended on whether any of these attacks succeeded or not. Time stood still.

 

Actions Taken: HC-42 barely parries the attacks on his head and heart, and shoots an intense stream of flames toward Inmortos as he does so, exhausting its fuel. Leep obeys Emma's orders to set for stun and jumps toward Inmortos, firing several stun shots aimed at Inmortos' head. 

 

Damage/Effects Taken: CRITICAL DAMAGE TO HC-42'S LEFT SHOULDER. Left arm functions compromised. 

 

 

Edited by DroidsAreUnderrated
typo
  • Like 1

5jFXtwq.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The darkness howled, it’s gutteral animalistic cry escaping Inmortos’ ichor dripping maw as much as the wind howled tearing the building apart at it’s seams from the inside. In an instant, two more lives were snuffed from existence. Their deaths only fuelled the unnatural fervor of the deranged Sith monster clad in black.

 

The spirit within the blade wrestled for control, it’s power tapping that of the dark maw and empowering the sorcerer’s frail body in grotesque and unnatural ways. Yanking back on his weapons, even as the spitting stream of fire began to pour forth from the metallic assassin’s clawed hand, the man that was Inmortos gave himself fully over to the dark demented dreams of the dark side. No more were his petty aspirations anything when overcome by the pure intensity of infathomable darkness.

 

Death was all around them, the spirits of the dead beckoning they that would join. Their ethereal claws grasped for the next to fall. They whispered on the winds, shrieking cries of endlessly  eternally unsatiated desire. They cursed the blaster bolts turned less lethal. They cared not who died; all they hungered for was another to add to their ranks. Theirs was the will of the dark side, wanton destruction at whatever cost. Any attempts to enlarge their ranks would they support. Sacrifices must be made! 
 

Leaping with force imbued energy, the flames of HC-42’s attack scorched the fringnes of the man’s robes about his feet. He arced upwards, driving his glimmering Sith blade towards the leeping Leep in hopes of impaling her head on his ancient blade even as she unleashed a bluish cone of energy against his face. It burned. It stung. The grasp of the weapon raced down every nerve within the necromancer’s body. Inmortos’ momentum carried him tumbling over the top of the flame-spewing assassin droid, landing with a wind-spewing thud against the decking just as the onslaught of stun bolts erupted from Emma and her entourage tearing through the air towards where Inmortos had been, betwixt they and their comrade; but there no longer.

 

The dark being’s hands twitched against the power of the blast. Stunned for but a moment, he lashed out from the ground, his saber and sword slashing viciously at the droid’s lower portions in an attempt to dismantle him by will of force alone. The power of the darkness coursed through him, amifying his pain, turning it to power, drivig back the effects of the stun blast. The withered wizard’s only reprieve was his vicious cries of agony that spewed incesently from between his chipped and blacked teeth. The flames that singed about his ankles only added to his pain as he righted himself to his knees so as continue his flurry of maddened strikes even higher on the droid midriff. 


His blistering skin was of little consequence beyond the pain that fueled his cries. As they caught on the wind and careened about the room, the darkness joined with the pain of the cries. It twisted and attempted to corrupt and destroy, trying to wither flesh and age metals and electronics anywhere it might touch.

 

He was a servant of the darkness. His life did not matter. All that mattered was that destruction served a sufficient sacrifice to the darkness.

 

((3))

 

((Turned himself over to the full authority of the dark side and the malevolent spirit seeking to possess him. He lept clear of the majority of the array of stun bolts, stabbing at Leep’s face midjump before being struck in the face by a bolt and falling to the ground on the other side of HC-42, leaving the droid between he and Emma & Co. Inmortos’ robes were ignited at the bottom edge, burning the man’s skin, the pain fueling his dark side power. From the ground, Inmortos slashed viociously and crazily at HC-42’s legs and midsection, righting himself to his knees, all the while screaming in pain; the dark side carrying on his voice in an attempt to prematurely age and corrupt whatever heard it/it touched.))

INmortal.png.21510619089900f7b766da6301ba2b37.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Prelast changed then, and the darkness in the vault seemed to rush in and concentrate about the Warpriest like vapor condensing on a cool glass of Padberen Lager. The Mandalorians turned as one, staring at their former friend as the man’s stature and expression changed visibly. Terra’s shout was tinged with both desperation and fury,

 

“Back and away, the way we came!”

 

Her men began to obey her barked command, but a voice came then, one that was clearly not of her former Warpriest. The Hades Combat AI painted They’qell with a signature of crimson on the HUD, transmitting it as a high priority target. Terra’s darkmetal teeth grated together, showering sparks upon her scarred tongue. The Sithling was talking, but making little sense. The Mandalorian slipped Shadowlord’s lightsaber back onto her belt, dragging her duel Flechette pistols from their holsters.

 

So the Alcazerins yet lived.

 

That order had faded from galactic memory after the purge of the Scorpions under Lord Ar-Pharazon. The Mandalorian had been there, in thick of battle against that order, slaughtering her way across Chandrilla and Almas. She forced a laugh across her burning tongue, her gravelly voice stained with a mocking resolution.

 

“Who do you think slew Hephaestus? Who bathed in the rotten blood of Nurgle? Who devoured the Archserpent?”

 

She smelled him and tasted him then, that scent of Mystwheler Lavash and stale wine. Why was she thinking of him now? Vothe Kyrik, the man whom she had run to after the dissolution of her bond to the Sith. The taste of his lips lingered for a moment before being torn away in a rush of foreign emotions. Death and torture. The Mandalorian winced within her buy’ce, stumbling backwards, gasping a breath of the stale air.

 

The emotions were too raw and had all the subtlety of a Wookiee swinging a hammer. She had experienced something similar before, a glimmer of memories long silenced by torture. Ar-Pharazon and Antilles had used a power of a similar vein while dominating her mind. She had been broken by insanity far too often.

 

Terra breathed out, hissing between her teeth, a sound of snarling hatred. She pushed the memories down, burning them within her hate and malice. As she tarnished the memories of Vothe with hate, they began to fade, to be locked away with all the rest of herself that she hated. Her HUD camera display showed that Hans, Sheol, and Anders had stopped outside the vault with their head in their hands. Only the two Chiss stood resolute against the Sith’s mental onslaught, and they dragged their comrades to safety besides the door. Chyphosis provided a covering-fire arc from the vault’s broken doorway as his sister tended to those affected by the Sith’s mental weapon. Hades bounded down the hallway, coming ever nearer, the rasping of beskar on stone echoing down the hallway.

 

The Sith’s twin blades flashed into life and Terra felt a burning lance across the flesh of her side as she twisted away. The Darkmetal had caught most of the blow, but the lightsaber had burnt the skin and nearly touched the muscle. Pain raced through her nervous system, speeding up her heartrate. She continued to backpedal, her eyes darting across her HUD. Vothe’s sardonic voice chided her

 

“You let him get too close.”

 

…No shit. Got to keep range.

 

With a blink, Terra ignited her jetpack in a quick burst as she leapt away from the Sith, angling her arc towards the yawning vault door. She brought up the two pistols, bringing in the trigger-slack as she followed the targeting reticle on her HUD. She found the crimson target easily, painted as it was with crimson light, and finished the smooth pull of the triggers, feeling them snap crisply. She fired twice with each pistol as she propelled backwards, spinning a web of both armor piercing and explosive tipped flechettes to ensnare and destroy the Sith.

 

Chyphosis Her’kerik, fired his T-21 Light Repeating Rifle towards his former warpriest, with teeth gritted in anger. He had watched the death of his children, again, at the hands of those that called themselves Peacekeepers, and it had stirred his rage. He had grown up alongside They’qell in the ranks of the Crusaders, but he could not allow the man to continue to live as a possessed demon. A stream of crimson bolts leapt from his rifle to speed towards the Sith who had formally been his friend.

 

((1))

 

Terra and the majority of her squad affected temporarily by Sith Insanity. Damage taken from lightsaber swing. Terra retreats and fires flechettes at Oni, alongside blaster fire from one of her squadmates.

terr4.png.2ae600cabec48a50a70ba2c81013a2a3.png

To the Death...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Excellent." Oni managed to get out before the Mandalorian and her cohorts began their own assault. So this is the one who had did the duty that had been entrusted to him. She was the reason he was the last. His sinister smirk broadened to a manical smile as he reached out into the Force and grasped at a nearby crate, flinging it in between them and letting the flechettes and crimson bolts encompass it's form in his retreat. 

 

Flinching as a few crimson bolts and the heat of the explosive flechettes covered his retreating form farther into the darkened room, Oni reacted as naturally as he could against the harm that his new form had endured, the practioner of the Forlorn Veil no longer capable of feeling pain as his opposition would. He removed the piercing darts from his arm and thigh and observed the burns that melted some of his exposed flesh, dusting the remnants of the flame into ashes. "I really must thank you then. If you hadn't destroyed them, I would have."

 

In the cover of Darkness that Oni had retreated, a vile consequence of coincidences began to occur within the shadows. Hushed whispers and chantings began to unfold from the four corners as he ignited his blade, it's silver hue hauntingly crying for vengeance as a symbiance of ethereal attacks began upon his opposition. Then Oni stepped forward and draped his hand down his face as he stepped into the light once again, yet, Terra would know the visage he wore well. Standing before her was none other than Vothe Kyrik.

 

Voice and face in unison, Oni spoke from the Veil. "You did a great service for the Sith Empire. Let that debt be paid" Outstretching his arm to his side, a volley of Lightning connected with a nearby paneling and traversed it's path in her direction.

 

((2))

 

Actions: Deflected most of the Flechettes with a sweep of the crate. Following Actions are found here: Necromancy Guide. Due to Renunciation of Mortality, Oni is incapable feeling pain. Attack action to NPCs are Haunted Blade. Used Death Masque to take on visage of Vothe Kyrik. And Attack action on PC is Pivoting Strike found here: Fulgurmancy Guide.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Out of hyperspace, a cluster of Lambda-class shuttles dropped back into reality. Polished, pristine, and well-maintained, the vessels had clearly not seen combat, but they exuded the pride of the Imperial Remnant in each gleaming sheet of durasteel all the same. They descended in a trailing line to the planet's surface, before coming to land at one of the still intact spaceports in Coral City, where the fighting had been heaviest. The ramps lowered, and troopers marched out in precise lines, followed by workers and hover loaders bearing relief supplies.

 

The ship that had lead the formation dropped its ramp last, and rather than a line of troopers, a man in a polished durasteel breastplate, silken clothes, and polished but worn leather boots descended to the spaceport unloading area.

 

Sir Edelmor Tarko, knight of the Empress, representative of the Imperial Remnant, surveyed the workers as they maneuvered the hoverloaders bearing the electronic components and medical supplies the city so desperately needed after the horrific battle. His nose detected the stench of corpses. Old corpses too, not just the freshly dead. This city had seen dark powers.

 

A low but rising stream of curses erupted from one of the workers as his loader tilted, and the crates slid and tipped precariously. A hand wave, a thought, and the power of the Force sent the loader back into position. The worker frowned for a moment, unaware of the invisible aid, before pushing the loader on wayit's way, falling back into pace with his fellows.

 

"Diligence comrades. These people need our help, and our Empress has done us the service of liberating them. Now let's make sure that the sacrifice meant something."

 

He activated his lightsaber, the sound and glow drawing the attention of the workers more than his words had.

 

"For the Honor of the Empress!"

 

"For the Empress!" came the resounding reply.

 

He deactivated his lightsaber as the workers went about their business. Edelmor had always had a knack for reading others emotions, a knack that had originally gotten him into trouble. Now though, he could sense the invigorated spirit of his men and women, and could see the new spring in their step.

 

Hope was contagious, as was passion. The city needed both right now.

 

Edelmor began helping to unload one of the crates.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Duel ruling for Emma, Droids are underrated, and Inmortos:

 

First of all, I would like to say that the posts themselves were very well written, and each of you should be proud of what you have contributed to the quality of our narrative on the site. I cannot understate the value of posts that are enjoyable to read rather than being focused on showing off or being intentionally misleading and ambiguous. That being said, there are some technical and tactical issues to address. 

 

Critical Analysis

 

Droids are underrated, I wasn't able to find any reference to your flamethrower on your character sheet, or backreading three posts. We require that equipment used in duels is listed on the character sheet, and while we allow some leeway for recently acquired gear, being thorough is the best practice. Furthermore, for NFUs we do have progression systems, and a flamethrower is more than what a starting player would have access to. Currently NFUs can either run shooty grunts or have access to NPCs underneath them, and you kind of draw from both tracks, however the rules have some outdated references to multiclassing so I did not let that affect the ruling.

 

Inmortos, the use of Implements of the Old Hatreds is supposed to reduce the caster's ability by a rank, but it read like if anything Inmortos's power level increased in the posts that he was using it. Failure to control the spirit in the sword would lead to a necromancer's soul be supplanted by the outsider, their body now under the control of the once bound spirit, and the PC wiped out completely. The level of mental focus and spiritual power did not in my opinion reflect someone who was simultaneously trying to keep a spirit imprisoned and casting and using augmented physical movement. I also felt like the pressure of DaU was so strong that Emma was able to act with very little in the way of attacks directed at her. 2v1s are always rough, but I felt like the tunnel vision here was critical to the outcome as there wasn't enough of a push against Emma to justify a victory on that front.

 

Emma, very solid posting, both tactically and in terms of following rules and performing character level appropriate actions.

 

Result: Emma wins, Inmortos and DaU are considered defeated, Emma gets first post. I will leave DaU's fate to Emma's discretion, whether he is too damaged to fight or completely destroyed (for three days) as Emma has won priority to lay out the narrative.  

NYRYS.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Advance

 

The two soldiers and Emma walked forward, their rifles and pistol following the flying dark lord until he landed, bright red lightsaber and sword held aloft. She did not need to give the command, and thumbs switched rifles back from blue stun bolts, to the red gave way to red death. 

 

Eliminate

 

There was no emotion in her command. If she could hear the thoughts of the stormtroopers who had just lost friends and comrades, she would have listened to pleasured cries of rage. But emotion or not, the stormtroopers did not cease pulling their triggers until the power packs were empty and the tibanna gas cylinders in the buttstocks were white with discharge frost. 

 

The winds ceased as suddenly as they had been summoned, the ice turned to water vapour, and the dead returned to their slumber. Emma sighed. A human expression, but she was a human replica droid after all. 

 

The air was thick with smoke and the cries of the wounded, but the Sith Lord of Mon Calamari, its tormenter and slave master. Had met Imperial Justice. And woe to his followers as they were hunted down around the city, the grey white of imperial armour shown as liberators to a populace who had hated the Empire for six generations. Who streamed out of shacks and buildings to hug and embrace those in white armour alongside Alliance marines in their grey flak jackets. 

 

The Alliance had won here today. 

 

But there were other pressing concerns for Emma, and she crouched down next to where HC had fallen, running a thin hand along one of the many burn lines which still arced with severed circuits and wiring. 

 

“Shut down to preserve core integrity, we will get you patched up in no time.”

 

Soldiers, medical, and technicians were already on site. It might be a bit before the droid was repaired, but it would be done with the same imperial precision that had ended the Sith Lord. 

AVATAR.jpg.06683293db36532996ec51027b718fb7.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Inmortos' last attack had completely taken Leep out of commission, but HC-42 didn't get much time to worry about that- he was already sidestepping desperately to try and avoid Inmortos' swings at his midsection and legs. He wasn't quick enough. By the time Emma and her troops finally blasted the Sith Lord away, HC-42 had lost both his legs, and was barely functioning. When Emma arrived, HC-42 wanted to speak to her, but before he could, he was directed to shut off. 

 

30 minutes ago, Emma Three Nine said:

“Shut down to preserve core integrity, we will get you patched up in no time.”

 

 

HC-42 was hesitant to follow this order. He was one of the few droids who had joined the Alliance by choice. He was about as independent as was possible for a machine. But would he remain so, in the event he shut down to do maintenance? Would they also find it necessary to enter his databanks and erase his memories? Would they find it necessary to change his purpose altogether? Could HC-42 even trust those who promised to fix him?

 

As HC-42 pondered this, one of his sensors suddenly caught an awful sight- the corpse of his comrade, Leep. Inmortos' attack had killed him. Leep probably knew this was going to happen, but he leapt to HC-42's aid nonetheless. Perhaps this was evidence that even if he couldn't trust those in charge, he could certainly trust his comrades to know what was right for him- and Emma was one of those comrades. 

 

"Yes, ma'am..." he muttered, and just like that, all power in his body shut down with a single command from his central processor. HC-42 was down, but not permanently. And certainly not in vain.

 

The efforts of HC-42 and his squad had, more or less, turned the tide of a particularly grim battle. If it weren't for them, the shipyards would still be under the control of the Sith. And thanks to other equally impressive feats by the other Rebels, the Sith occupation had been forced to retreat by now, and now the Sith Lords had one less among them. It would be an understatement to say that this was a disaster for the Sith Empire, and, hopefully, not the last one. 

 

But more importantly, it taught an important lesson to HC-42, a lesson very few droids in galactic history truly learned- kinship. Never had HC-42 had friends until this battle. And although the battle had indeed cost Leep, it would only make HC-42's bond with Gwal and Sasha stronger. The last thing that went through the droid's head- other than his shutdown command- was that he desired to see them again. 

5jFXtwq.jpg

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Bloodsteele medical fleet had it’s hands full offering rescue, reclamation, and medical services to the populations of Coral City and outlying settlements. Still, a near constant stream of ships carting supplies to the surface and the worst cases to the medical bays of the state-of-the-art Imperial fleet continued day and night. A curse like that of the Sith was not one to be undone overnight. There were dead to be offloaded by the thousands, their rotting sea-soaked flesh promising to unleash unknown toxins into the air along with their already rotting stench. 
 

Imperial engineers worked equally as hard to find the streets beneath the stacks of dead, sending the bodies to incinerators across the city; ones that still functioned at least. Other bodies were carted back to be dumped into the sea from whence they had come.

 

And yet, there were still dark essences within the city that needed purged. The machinations of Apothos brought havoc upon any machine that joined with the tainted citadel. Taking advantage of the chaos that the essences of the vanquished Sith had left behind, the criminal elements that had taken ahold within the city fought back against the freeing forces of the Rebellion. Pirates, drug dealers, anarchists and criminals of every kind sought to solidify their control on the now broken and free’d world. Some faded into the shadows. Others took the opportunity to make names for themselves. Some sought to side with the conquering forces and others did not. 
 

It was through this mess that the aged Imperial navigated, meeting with scum and slime, brokering deals and gathering intelligence; the power of the Imperial Remnant carried within his demeanor. Putting pieces together, Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak sent Imperial Stormtroopers to cleanse dens of iniquity and purge strongholds of evil. Moving with authority and poise, Kolchak carried the banner of order into the chaos as surely as he carried the authority of the true Empire. 
 

Returning to the shipyards at the end of another day’s work, Kolchak fetched his own food from the makeshift cafeteria set up there to provide for the rebel rescuers so as to not sap resources from the populations they were helping. Kolchak’s guard, four identical veteran stormtroopers, stood watch far enough away from their leader so as not to be underfoot, but close enough to intervene should trouble arise.

 

Seated at the end of a folded out table and bench, Kolchak sat with his back straight, ever the military man, and spooned what could only be described as slighty-tastier-than-gruel gruel into his mouth. The better foods were being used to feed the truly working amongst them, the medics and engineers who now fought to save the city. As he sat, Kolchak flipped his finger through a holopad feed, reading reports and briefings about the state of their mission s here and about the galaxy. There was a lot to do and little time to be doing it.

kol2.png.1d12933059e161bb1d4824942dd151d8.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Deep within the bowels of the sea, an ancient hunger grew in glee with each death, pouring it’s own powers into the darkness that had taken ahold above. Every death, fight, tear of pain, and howl of loss shimmered in the waters of Mon Cal before slipping beneath the surface. The darkness topside was being beaten back by the forces of good, receding like the tide to surge again with the pull of the night. Even there, the darkness lurked in the shadows, it’s touch light and nearly unnoticeable to all but the most discerning.

 

And still, if one were to still themself and allow the force to speak to them they might here it, a dark chanting over and over again:

 

“Uşaqlarımın yanıma gəlin”

 

Wherever chaos broke it’s bonds, tempers flared and a dark laughter seemed to whisper in the background, gone if one turned to give attention to it. It was as if a dark wraith floated on the shadows, gone with a glance or a breath.

 

“Uşaqlarımın yanıma gəlin”

Current Storyline: CLEANSING THE DEPTHS


Location: Mon Cal

 

Participants:

Beth Andromeda

Edelmore Tarko

Lok Skyshatter

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Edelmor Tarko strode through the city, eyes roaming. Everywhere around him, the order of the Empire was being established. Each squadron moved with purpose, unaware of their part in the grand whole, yet each fervent in their desire to do their duty.

 

He paused at an intersection. The Sith curse would require further purging, and so the presence of the Imperial Knights would be required. But for now, he had a spare moment, and so he chose to indulge himself.

 

He closed his eyes, and extended his awareness. His empathy spread from him, touching lightly on the minds of the troopers, workers, and locals, all hard at work setting their cracked and cursed city aright. Each was a portrait of a thousand colors, shades of emotion playing off themselves in a swirl of meaning. But together, that was where Edelmor sensed the Empire.

 

Unity. A desire to bring order, peace, and happiness. No guile could exist here. No corruption could stand in this purity. Facets of it existed in each mind he touched, and when taken altogether, the feeling was a symphony of light that overwhelmed the differences of its component parts.

 

This was the Empire. This was what he fought for. This was the Empress' will.

 

Sensing a few stares directed at the strange old man standing in the middle of the road, Edelmor ended his indulgence and walked on. He'd been informed that one of the commanders of the relief effort had taken lunch here at the shipyards, and Edelmor thought it best that he offered his services and cooperation, though he did not know who he was meeting or even what rank they were.

 

So it was that he broke into a grin when he saw the rigid back of the man at the table, bedecked as only a Vice-Admiral would be.

 

"Nikolai!" he called out. "I'd heard they'd taken you off pirate hunting duty and condemned you to a higher rank! You have my deepest condolences my friend."

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The old Imperial stiffened, his back straightening even more if that was possible as someone called him by his first name. That was a rarity in and of itself, still that voice...

 

A rare smile creased the hardened lines of the cyborg’s face, “Mister Jola,” he spoke the name forcefully, his tone betraying the smile on his face before he spun around and stood in one fluid motion from his seat at the end of the bench. “Ven vun runs out of pirates, he iz forced to become, civilized.” he responded with a thick accent, his smile fading as he stepped forward to embrace his old classmate. He waived his hand, sending his guardsmen back to their posts as they had tensed with the unexpected arrival. Serving a man of Intelligence, they had to be hyper vigilant and all too often quick to the trigger with unexpected interruptions.

 

Stretching the Imperial Knight out to arms’ length, Kolchak looked the equally gray and grizzled Edelmor up and down, “Vat hole zey pull you from? Last time I heard you vere serving Empress az Knight! Vould love to have you vith me az ve stomp out criminal underbelly of Mon Cal. But vere are manners? Come. Zit. Try some . . “ he gestured to the table with an empty space across from him and shot a judgmental glance at the porridge-equivalent he had been working, “Imperial Navy’s vorst grub. Zit iz full of vitamins minerals to strengthen and preserve troops. More flavorful iz reserved for refugee.”

Edited by Leena Kil

kol2.png.1d12933059e161bb1d4824942dd151d8.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Nikolai's accent was like a warm breeze from his memory. It had been so long since he'd heard it, but it instantly cut away the years since they'd seen each other as if they hadn't even happened.

 

Edelmor sat down across from the Vice-Admiral even as a soldier dropped a fresh bowl of the sludgy foodstuff in front of him. Leave it to Kolchak to keep his men efficient and alert. He dipped a spoon into the slop and took a mouthful. His face twitched as forced it to keep from grimacing, then he broke into another smile.

 

"A soldier will fight long and hard for a good meal and a bed to sleep on," he said, quoting an old imperial general he couldn't recall the name of. "I guess we should be thankful we give the troopers cots." He kept eating, swallowing another two spoonfuls before he spoke again. "In truth, I'm here because of what was done to this planet." His expression turned serious. "I'm sure you've picked up on it. It lingers in the air like a stench. The...sorcerers who ruled here corrupt everything they touched, and where such a taint is, the Empress sends her knights." He took another spoonful, pausing before continuing. "But, if you'll have me, I'd be glad to be of what help I can. I don't have anywhere specific to go just yet, and if I can help out the soldiers, I'd consider it an honor."

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Are you telling me this Exo-Suit is supposed to help me somehow?”

 

Beth grimaced at the technician who was tightening a strap to the light exo that was now covering her, the breastplate made out of a solid durasteel as were the thick struts that traced down her legs and arms. 

 

Spoiler

juHAdYG-IAKbrFqaV_sKCfrZ6W7Q3LaM6f-KOdRwJBuVchKu4LB--BrHw8SeoD8ylttXenYtOMTar86xa5_5KfPTntnE6lMZiTWR11YFYjh75pQIdYmkMzbGUZg0lR_YT5lkIioR

 

He nodded, pointing to each hardpoint in turn as he listed them off. 

 

“Micro 20 milimeter grenade launcher. Capacity thirty. Right Arm.” His hand tapped a solid line that went from the launcher back to the backpack looking device on the rear of the armoured suit. His hand went to the other arm. “Repeating cannon. Energy from the backpack just like the launcher. This suit allows you to carry your normal loadout too and specialized in dexterity. You can move faster than a ATPT on overdrive.” 

 

Beth grinned and pulled herself up straight as the U-Wing settled down. 

 

“You will have my full performance review. Don’t worry, I’ll only break it a little bit.”

  • Like 1

Andromina

Rebel Alliance Fleet Command - Lieutenant

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kolchak worked unemotionally at his soup-stuff as his friend spoke, setting his spoon down only when his bowl was empty. He nodded. They were all there because of what had happened to the planet. It was more than a tragedy it was evil incarnate; but it was not an evil the Vice Admiral could feel like his friend spoke of. He was not gifted, or cursed as some might look at it, with that sixth sense. Instead he rooted evil out like a trained hunting dog. 
 

The thick cybernetic Imperial smiled sharply at his friend, “Vith your ability, ve have dilemma zat could use your type ov attention. Many soldiers may be lost without ze skills of knights. Sources indicate smuggler continue to bring in contraband to city. I known vhere zey have taken shelter.” Kolchak stood, grabbing both his own and Edelmor’s finished dishes and took them and deposited them in a receptacle. “Ve vill find available soldiers to accompany us. Zeizmic charges are danger to entire city. If accident occur, ze city vill zuffer. Ve must utilize utmost caution.”

 

Stepping outside with Edelmor, Kolchak’s cybernetic eye whirred and clicked as it moved and focused taking in the bustling world about the shipyard and makeshift Imperial Command Post. Making their way towards the armory, Kolchak’s guard waited outside as the Knight and Imperial navy man went inside.

 

Within, the Vice Admiral read the display log before stepping into the fit out room where a woman was being outfitted with a mechanized exosuit. “Knight Edelmor, zis iz Templar One. Some of greatest combatant to zee combat for ze Alliance and Empire against pirate and Ziith.”

 

”Commando Andromina, Zis is von ov ze Empress’ Knights. I am Imperial Naval Intelligence Officer Nikolai Kolchak. Vould you consider accompanying us to ze undervorld to root out smuggler compound vulln ov explosive contraband?”

 

kol2.png.1d12933059e161bb1d4824942dd151d8.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hades, her basilisk continued bounding down the hall, called to her like a faithful kath-hound. The scraping of its beskar claws reverberated through the hallway like the distant echoes of thunder. It nearly drowned out the screams of her men as they were attacked by unseen assailants.

 

Terra’s HUD displayed the frantic as the squad began to reform further down the tunnel, setting up a firing line twenty meters to her right. It looked as though they were reacting to the stings of piranha beetles, slapping at their armor under which welts and ragged lines of torn flesh were beginning to appear. Chyphosis retreated to join the rest of them, his blaster rifle deemed at the moment ineffective against such an opponent.

 

Mand’alor drew a line across the scorched and ragged tunnel floor with her eyes, painting the line in amber for the squad to form up on. Hans and Shasa took to a knee, propping their heavy weapons against shattered granite pillars. She signaled Anders to approach on her right, where his LJ-50 Concussion Rifle would apply the most damage, and he ran a few steps forward until his firing line would encompass the Vault door.

 

More words from the former Prelest and Terra watched her opponent’s move. He appeared unharmed from her initial assault, which didn’t surprise her. Sith were a resilient lot.

 

Spast.

 

A changing face and They’qell became Vothe in a flash, and the sight tore into her soul for but a moment. There was a rending in her heart, and the bubbling joy retreated into the darkness, consumed by her anger and rage like the stars fell to the Maw. Something was trying to play her heartstrings. She had been a Sith’s marionette before, and she had no intention of becoming the slave of another.

 

She had enjoyed the man, desired him even, but had she loved him?

 

Hate began to form deeper in her heart, subsuming the jaded feelings she had for Vothe. No one would use those she cared for against her. An azure glow alight the world.

 

The lightning leapt like a Stingmaw onto her, ripping into the systems that were more exposed to electronic interference like a Krayt into a Bantha. Terra was plunged into darkness as the lights inside her buy’ce overflashed, and the system began to reboot into safe mode. Contact was lost to all of her squad, but not to Hades; the AVATAR-link remained strong.

 

Double-Spast.

 

The Assassin leapt into a backwards roll, dropping both her flechette pistols to the scarred ground. They had proven ineffective and were of no further use. She ripped off her restarting helmet, casting the buy’ce to the ground in a clatter of darkmetal. Her armored boots scraped as she came up into a shooter’s stance, her blonde hair whipping into the air about her face. She could feel the coolness of the air now, even as damp and dank as it was in a sewer, it was cooler than the insides of a helmet. She was close to the back wall of the sewer now, a few paces. The pain from her side was nearly overwhelming from where the Sith's lightsaber had charred her, and she dropped to one knee, turning a cry of pain into a bark of laughter. 

 

With a shrug, the Mandalorian flung her plait of hair behind her back and gave the Sith a wry, cruel smile. Darkmetal teeth flashed in the low-light, reflecting as crimson as her eyes from ever-bleeding gums. With one hand she calmly flicked a grenade off her belt, while the other raised her slugthrowing rifle by the handle to the full extent of its single-point sling.

 

Anders shot then, sending three glowing rounds from his Concussion Rifle at the Sith, while Terra tossed the grenade, of simple fragmentation design, in an arc towards the Sith’s head. Transitioning her throwing hand, she brought it to steady the rifle, letting loose a three-round burst aimed for the Sith’s center-of-mass. The maneuver brought a fresh wash of pain from her side, and she began to cough. Hades let loose a roar of static-afflicted voices as it loomed above the firing line, crimson light spilling from its photorecpetors, it had come to its master's call, and was ready to attack. 

 

((2))

 

Is temporarily disoriented by death mask, loses HUD and direct control to lightning attack. Most of squad is distracted by the wraith attacks, and reforms at distance. Three rounds from a concussion rifle, a frag-grenade, and a further three rounds of slugs inbound.

  • Like 1

terr4.png.2ae600cabec48a50a70ba2c81013a2a3.png

To the Death...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Days have passed since Lok had arrived at Mon Cal to aid in the relief efforts after the Rebellion's victory in reclaiming the aquatic world. When he had first arrived with the Alliance Core of Engineers, Coral City was merely ashes of it's former self, the dead littering the streets and it's foundation on the brink of collapse back into the sea that surrounded it. But with determination and the influx of workers that arrived in troves, the clean up was well under way.

 

Near one of the city's foundation pillars, a being in a pressurized suit climbed up from a flooded aquaduct, nearly ten more climbing up after him as he released the suit's seal and breathed in a breath of fresh air. Lok looked around, and smiled, the local areas beginning to look less like a war zone and more like terraforming as rubble had been hauled off and scaffolding littered the many homes and buildings in the area. He sighed and set the helmet aside as he began unzipping the suit, a rumble echoing in his stomach.

 

Lok had been spread thin most of the past few days, his crimson Imperial Armor locked away with his other gear in a chest at the tent. He had spent most of the first days removing rubble and aiding in the sanitation of the war torn corpses and necropothy. Then he spent the last few helping to stabilize the foundation. With a spray of cold drinking water, he drenched his face and combed back his blonde dreadlocks with his fingers as he sat off to the side amidst the workers as they took in the relaxing break and the fresh sea air. Stabilizing Coral City was still a far off realization, but they were working hard at it.

 

Delving into the Force as he took the breather, he let the moment of somber wash across the city as the wavering energies found respite through his use of the Force, revitalizing the weak and weary along with the worn out and dreary. The Darkness that stained this place was encumbersome, knawing at the minds of everyone with doubt and hopelessness. And Lok had his part to play in keeping up the morale. His presence may have been a portion of rejuvenation, but the Force had became a necessity against the tides of the lingering Sith Magic.

 

And yet, there felt like something darker awaited a perfect storm. Almost as if Coral City had not seen the last of those who robbed this place of it's life force. He wasn't able to tell if it was the remnants of the Sith Magic or if something darker lurked in waiting. But he could feel it's cold chill nibbling at his spine. Whichever it would be revealed as, it was his due diligence as an Imperial Knight to stand against it. It was his oath, not as a Former Jedi, but as a Knight of his Empress. Even if Kyrie had fled from her own.

  • Like 1

lok.png.faf496ee2d04fddd9910c977022a82fb.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

 Share

×
×
  • Create New...