March of the Kingslayers

[Raphael Xandir]

Standing among the group, next to his father, Raphael watched as the so-called agent made a scene of his announcements. Falling behind him was the treacherous one, Mercy. Raphael’s silver eyes gazed upon his father face, analyzing the expressions. At last it seemed to come to his father, he finally realized the intent of his now former apprentice. This confirmed the young man’s many doubts about the women he despised.

Beginning to daydream as the speech droned on and on, Raphael plotted the many ways that Mercy could die at his hands. Torture was the main theme of his dream. Repeatedly stunning her till she passes out? Too easy. Poison? For a slow and painful death maybe? Slow and painful seems like a fantastic idea, maybe starvation and sleep deprivation?

"This is the most straightforward I'm about to get with you. So listen closely.... ALL of you."

Everyone’s focus seemed to snap back to the man front and center. What could this man be up to? As he began to discuss the state of the Sith and their supposed leader Tormentous, Raphael gazed around at the familiar faces. He wanted to know how each and every individual was taking the speech. It became clear halfway through, the true intent of this was to grasp for power. All of this vanity and egotistic showings of power was all so that he could gather the Sith and one place to demand loyalty.

Raphael scoffed at the thought of this man ruling them all. This elaborate scheme shouldn’t be how one takes power for another. Surely one should have to defeat the other to take the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. The young acolytes opinion of the agent began to dwindle as he continued to speak. First he allows such a snake like Mercy follows him and then he demands a title he has not earned? Who does he think he is?

To add to the destruction of his personal opinion the man began to belittle the revered Tormentous. Even though he had never personally met the man he knew his father followed him loyally and what a powerful leader he was. So much of Raphael’s training had the underlying teaching of Tormerntous, and so he respected the man that helped shape his father into the teacher he is today.

It was a much discussed topic on how the powerful Sith named Tormentous would soon return to take the throne once again and lead them. So why is this man trying to usurp his power now? Surely Lord Blood wouldn’t follow this pathetic man into the destruction of what Tormentous built. He should stay loyal to the man who will return to rain destruction down on those who have forsaken him.

Finally the extensive speech ended with a call to arms and a threat to those who opposed him….predictable. The eager Warvanus, moved forward first to pledge his loyalty.

Raphael prepared himself as he figured the pack would have to escape rather soon. There were a lot of individuals in this hanger, most of whom are already loyal to the agent. If they could just quickly move to a couple of Razorfighters, surely they would be able to get away with just a few bumps. Looking over at Lilith, Raphael recognized that the same thoughts were rolling through her head. He reached to his hip and tightened his grip on the pistol he had just acquired; he might be able to bring down a few of these traitors before they escaped. The young acolyte eyed Mercy; he knew where his first shot would go.

Suddenly, a nod came from Lord Blood in the direction of the man. The pair of silver eyes beamed into the side of his head, as Raphael was shocked at his decision. What was his father thinking? This man did not deserve the title he was stealing from Tormentous. His hand released the grip he had on the pistol, as he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

An angry look met the face of the agent as he too gave a nod in acknowledgement. Raphael didn’t trust him, and he would more than likely never be loyal to this new Dark Lord of the Sith but he is loyal to his father and the pack. The acolyte would do as his father bids and if that is to follow a man he did not believe in, then so be it.

[Dastan Imatari]

"I thought not." His blade deactivated with another bent bellow of energy. Almost hoping for someone brave enough to stand against him- his fury boiled that none had the guts to question him. That meant deep down- they knew this was for the best- or they were ignorant of the actual state of affairs in the Order.

Giving one last pass on the group- "Loyalty is for the strong, and the present," he hoped his spiel cut deep. It was meant to. "Sentiment is for the weak." Tormentous was a powerful leader- but he had been gone far too long to allow the faction to crumble any further. Dastan was the only one to work on a full takeover. He would earn his title. "That is part of being Sith."

He gave a brief nod to The Acolyte Warvanus as he stood forward. Good, a solid- if untested warrior looking to prove himself to those in power. The Sith Champion then looked over Blood and his group- He was sure that Lord Blood would be plotting his downfall already. A strict adherent to Tormentous, his loyalty wouldn't be won so quickly. This meant keeping him at arm's length. If Blood wasn't killed in the raid- he'd put him someplace he could keep a close eye on him and his followers.

"Get to your fighters, the crew will lead you to them. I'll be in your helmet radios for further instruction."

He then passed a look to each and every one of the non-force sensitive pilots. Veterans, all. Hardened ones. Likely the most skilled in the room. They'll really be the ones carrying the Sith Adepts in the flight if things go wrong. Each pilot had a wingmate, and were to follow along with one of the adepts in the room in triangular formations. If they suspected anything suspicious- they were to shoot down their Sith Adept without questions, and without mercy.

Dastan has worked hard for this, and he wasn't about to let some coward shoot him in the back, or tuck tail and run. He had plans in place for those who thought they were more cunning than they were.

Chaos wasn't suited for the Sith Order, so Dastan instituted control. Not like most Sith who'd wait to stab someone in the back, he was marching straight up to the castle. Unafraid to show his face, and quick to take swift, calculated action.

--

Finishing up, one of the commanders of the fleet approached Dastan, and began briefing him on the state of the craft, and everything was ready. He gave a final word, and the commander was jogging off to his own shuttle- headed back up into the atmosphere where the Naga Battle line hovered.

The fighters were all lined up in two lines facing each other- slightly angled toward their destination- the other end of the hanger's wide doors. They began to slide open slowly. Red lights began spinning and blinking around. A single 'blip' was heard to alert everyone of the fleet's status.

Dastan lastly gave a look to Mercy- "If you'd like to take to the skies, you've got a fighter with your name on it beside mine. Otherwise, get in touch with one of the dropship crews. They'll be landing shortly after our raid on the gun emplacements."

With that, he was off. If she had questions, she could easily talk via communicator. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit of his sleek fighter- and hopping into the ejection seat. Familiar to his usual Razorfighter, but newer feeling. The dials and readouts were much more modern, with better technology, and the stick even felt a little more firm and responsive. All the specific Razorfighters were tagged with gold and red tail stripes- that way they were easily recognized as being in the same wing.

on everyone's radio it was heard-
*"Takeoff will begin in 90 seconds. Razorfighter squadron, nicked- 'Dauntless', lead by the Sith Lord 'Dastan Imatari- Dauntless 1."*
An unfamiliar, but clear voice. It was likely from the flight controller in the hangar. This gave everyone a quick moment to get situated before getting into their designated fighter. A crewman would help them to their fighters if they were unsure where to go. Dastan's engines powered on with the flip of a button, and his hatch began to slide shut- with a dense click and hiss as it did.

Another 'blip' was heard over the loudspeaker. Then their ears they would hear that same voice again-

*" Fighters out first, followed by 'Decimator' squadron of attackers, and then dropships. Clear skies right now- Launch is 'go'. All Glory to the Sith."*

With that, Dastan would be first out- followed by his four tails.
Warvanus would be first behind Dastan. He would be followed by his wingmen, 'Magnet' and 'Blades'
Mercy would be next if she chose to fly- followed by 'Squint' and 'Triple'
Then next in line would be Lord Blood, his two wingmates- 'Fang' and 'Twin'.
If Fox were to pilot his own craft, his wingmates would be 'Dozer' and 'Snout'
Then Raphael tailed by 'Squeeze' and 'Hunter'.

Pulling the landing gear in- his craft hovered and accelerated down a short open 'runway' tailed in a wedge formation by four other black fighters with Gold and red streaks on their tails. Like a loud scream, the fighters began their launch, one by one. Though As Dastan lead the 'v' formation, his four tails broke off in a hard climb, and seemed to disappear in the clouds with streaks of white following them. . . Dastan was alone out front- and the others would fall in somewhere behind him- all in their small triangle formations.

Dastan's voice would be heard as they all got airborne.
*"This is going to be the first of three easy steps. We're heading to the Dark Citadel. There are a series of bunkers outside of the citadel itself, they could prove a little difficult for our dropships. So we just need to disable them, and clear the skies of any resistance. Our bombers will take care of making an entrance for the drop crew."* He left it at that for now, and if needed- would give them a better heads up as they closed in on their objective.

His cockpit was quiet, only some slight air-noise from the engines and atmosphere. The ground below almost a blur, at their heading speed it would be difficult to make out individual markers beneath them. Though they only had a little more to go.... Before the Dark Citadel would break into view from the horizon, and air raid sirens would begin to wail. The turrets would be set up in bunkers and towers surrounding the citadel in two tiers. The first tier would be regular turbolaser turrets. The second would be more turrets with both turbolasers as well as missiles. In between, however, would likely be where fighter resistance would show up in a swarm of sith starfighters- typical short range defensive craft.

Though as this would be going on- The Naga Battle line would be moving in slowly, positioning into an aggressive formation, alongisde the Vigr fleet- that was slightly smaller in size- but double the fury. It was a mercenary fleet, so their systems were much more expensive- meaning their craft and equipment would be better on average. Naga would be tailing the Harrower fleet- making sure they weren't going to turn tides- and the Vigr fleet would posture forward a bit- unafraid of being the speartip for this motion. They would want to surround and strangle the Citadel in a show of force- to show their superior number.

Dastan realized that the number of sith were drastically smaller now- and each life counted. Each life he could convince to turn coat and join him would be rewarded. This show of force was to illustrate that total obliteration was indeed possible.... Normally he'd slaughter everyone and instate his own people- but quantity mattered to Dastan, despite the Sith Way. He wouldn't be giving any fleet signals unless he had to- or unless they were moved upon by any defensive fleets in orbit.

---

Ahead the citadel came into view. A huge structure of a castle- central building surrounded by a spiderweb of walls and defense turrets. Above the citadel hung a shadow of a defense fleet just above- to which Dastan's two fleets would be converging on- still waiting for the Harrower fleet to rip from hyperspace- and define it's allegiances.

As they got closer, little silver sparkles began rising from black rectangles opening up in the innermost walls- Sith Starfighters mobilizing.

*"All right. Citadel's straight ahead. Your fighters have Ion cannons to handle the shields on those turrets before you can launch missiles at them effectively. Fire at will- keep open communication with me and your wing-mates in case you get tagged and need to eject. I'll patch you to ground forces to work out a pickup. I'm heading straight in to draw their fire. Glory to the Sith."* he said sharply over the comms, Jamming forward his throttle- shooting him to full speed toward the citadel as the fighters came better into view, and the turrets were almost in range. His back pressed into his chair, and his stomach muscles tightened to resist the G. forces applied.

The turrets opened up with large repeating red bolts streaking across the sky. The fighters would reach the group shortly after to make the Sith Attackers' job more difficult.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus inwardly would smile as Dastan continued to speak. Nobody was going to defy him. In Warvanus’ eyes to do so would corrode the already stagnant and rotting Sith Empire. Dastin had his loyalty something he would prove, he was not ignorant of the way things worked. Warvanus was not in a position to plot his own machinations, not yet. He had no power base, nor did he have just cause. Right now his focus was forging his own name in the Empire. He bowed his head to Dastan. When told to head to their fighters he took it as being dismissed. He was led to his fighter by the crew, Upon arrival he met his wingmen the ones called “Magnet” and “Blades”. He gave them a nod and they discussed quickly a few details. He glanced near the ladder to the cockpit and saw his newly acquired armor was waiting for him by his fighter. He quickly donned it and stored the mask in the fighter. He then climbed into the Fighter and strapped in.

Inside the fighter he looked at the console, it had a standard configuration gauges and everything hummed like a finely tuned machine. Warvanus smiled and put on his flight helmet. “Take off is in 90 seconds” the engines already hummed as they were being primed. His hands flew across the controls hitting switches and turning dials, getting the ship ready to take off. As he was finishing his pre-flight checklist he opened himself to the Force. He raised his mental defenses *Force Shield* and extended his senses The Force would work through him. The Cockpit slid shut and locked, the familiar hiss could be heard and he heard the crews giving a go, he saw Dauntless 1 launch, and Warvanus hit the switch that activated the repulsors and once he was hovering the switch to bring up the landing gear, and another to fire the engines came alive and he pushed the throttle forward and the ship was off right behind Dauntless 1. Behind him were his wingmates. Once they reach altitude Warvanus had gotten a feel for the bird. He could hear the humming of the instrumentation and the engines. He brought the weapons systems online ready to topple the old regime and instill the new one.

Dastan’s voice came into his comm. As he took position behind the new Emperor.
“This is going to be the first of three easy steps. We're heading to the Dark Citadel. There are a series of bunkers outside of the citadel itself, they could prove a little difficult for our dropships. So we just need to disable them, and clear the skies of any resistance. Our bombers will take care of making an entrance for the drop crew.”

There was a bit of silence as they made their way closer to the target. Warvanus felt like he had reconnected with a piece of himself. He was back in the skies. He was a good pilot even when he was still Kell Sangros but now he had the Force and this would make him an exceptional pilot. His reveire was interrupted with another comm. From Dauntless 1.

“All right. Citadel's straight ahead. Your fighters have Ion cannons to handle the shields on those turrets before you can launch missiles at them effectively. Fire at will- keeps open communication with me and your wing-mates in case you get tagged and need to eject. I'll patch you to ground forces to work out a pickup. I'm heading straight in to draw their fire. Glory to the Sith.”

“Glory to the Sith” he repeated back and immersed himself in the currents of the battle and the Force. He saw Dauntless 1 go full speed and shortly after came a swarm of fighters.

Warvanus pushed his throttle forward increasing his speed. He switched to the blasters as he picked a fighter and pursued it, the fighter coming into his target briefly, he pressed the button that would fire bolts at it, though the fighter moved at almost last minute, it was not a direct hit but it took out a wing and the fighter spun out of control.

“One’s on your Six” one of his wing mates reported. It must have been Blades. He pushed the throttle forward to get more speed and gained a little distance on the fighter. Though, the fighter was taken out by his wing mates.

Warvanus’ danger sense prickled as he moved the throttle sharply to the right narrowly avoiding an enemy missile. Warvanus pushed and the razorback fighter moved forward he found himself underneath the fighter but still at a good distance away he pressed the trigger and the fighter erupted into a fireball. Both wing mates were now behind him, following him as he zig – zagged through the fury of battle. He was getting closer to the citadel. As they continued the approach the wing mates broke formation, as another swarm of enemy fighters sought to meet them. Warvanus smiled as he immediately got one locked and shortly thereafter another fighter became a fireball.

Of the 8 fighters that sought to intercept them, between Warvanus, Magnets and Blades they had taken out half of them real quick and effortlessly. Another fighter flying too close to his wing mate clipped him and collided both exploding. Warvanus wanted to laugh. “Was this the best of the citadel’s forces?” He scoffed, they deserved to die. Each wing mate broke formation each taking on a fighter while Warvanus went for the lone bantha pup. He fired and the pilot avoided the shots. “A Challenge” he thought. He moved the throttle to the right and then up and looping over the fighter he found himself behind him. His target locked beeped indicating he had a solid lock, a quick trigger press and the fighter was no more.

“Magnet you got a bogie on your six” this was Blades.

“I’m on it” Warvanus said as he brought his fighter to be behind the enemy fighter, he could not get a shot in without risk hitting his wingman. He could feel the experience behind the enemy pilot. he switched to Magnet’s private frequency

“When I say I want you to bank hard right” He told him

“Acknowledged” he said he knew what he was about to do. He was an very experienced pilot afterall.

“In 3……………………………..2……………………………1……………..NOW” Magnet obeyed and the minute the ship banked he fired at the enemy craft and the ship erupted into a collection of fire and parts. He switched back to the set frequency “Good job Magnet” he said he rarely gave praise but when he was in the heat of battle he was a different person almost as if he was a happy kid in a toy store with an unlimited flow of credits.

The trio flew on, now approaching a pair of the turrets he switched to ion cannons and opened fire the bolts hit the shielding and soon after the shielding for the pair went down, switching to missles he locked and launched. The turrets erupted in a gulf of flame.

Once again his danger senses pricked his mind. Looking at his radar 3 more craft had pursued them , Warvanus turned the throttle turning but not moving in a left or right direction he had turned the fighter to the side as a pair of missiles narrowly missed him on both sides.

“We are on it “ his wing mates chimed in. Leaving Warvanus to approach another group of turrets and like the others met their end in a blaze of fire. He kept his approach and shortly after he resumed his course that his wing mates were in behind. The three of them formed and flew in a triangle formation. These pilots were good. He wondered if he could have them assigned to him permanently they were earning his favor in this little operation of theirs, and now wondered how the rest of the team was faring.

[Slade Xandir]

[Keeping it short, just to keep it rolling]


As the proceedings went, Blood kept his mind open, moreso to see how the situation would play out. Despite the internal hell he was facing for siding with someone who just slathered a sticky tar of indecency on his Sire, Blood knew all along there was doomed to be some rise above them, along with his incapability to be he who headed it. But regardless, the Chosen One was anointed by their silence, and in their passive pact, Dastan was their new Messiah. If Blood wanted to take him down, then he would have to learn, and learn fast.

Blood tried not to show his judgement show, especially not to his pack. He would keep his head out of the cauldron of Ego and Vanity for just this once, only to see how far Dastan would aim to strike his name in blood across the galaxies.

_________________________________


Almost in a slideshow of mummified dreams, Blood commenced this opperation as apathetically as possible. It was nothing more than actions, every bit of detachment stemming from the void that echoed in his mind. He had so many questions, and so little leads to find answers to them. If he could get a trail that led to where his Sire was, he would press him for advice on his standing in this situation.

Boarding the vessel, the Dragon Master sat in the cold pilot's seat, allowing a certain sect of seconds gallop past as his charges and assigned crewmen got on board. Raphael and Lilith both had comfortable seating, and Fox went to be on board with one of the men Dastan applied to his pack. Fox and Fang confirmed their ready for departure, and wordlessly confirming, Blood retracted the ramp, sealed the hold, and powered up the jack-of-trades vessel. Flicking the switches for the engines, the thrusters turned downwards, levitating the chic ship, and behind Mercy and her two flankers, Blood pursued with his own two. Almost naturally, he found an easy place between Mercy and Warvanus as they trailed Dastan.

He slipped in and out of the situation at hand with seamless swivels between 'here' and 'not here'. He kept in formation just as they aproached the designated planet of bombardment. Once they burned through the atmosphere and broke into the planet's personal circle, they would travel, which they were, to the citadel. The very citadel he had just laid his visit to a week or so prior, simply to ensure his Master's work was being completed despite his lack of appearance. This mission went against every shred of loyal bind he had tied to Tormentous, but his presence and mentoring was what held him on that free leash. Without it, the Hunter was a unbound man. Such proof of it was him applying his arm's pressure increase in tilt to his own speed stick, the thrusters shooting him forward.

"Yo, S, a pack'a air-weights, shadowing. Stay mind on 9 till we send ya the green." Fox spoke to Blood until he radio'd to the other accompanying ship in their 'pack'. "Twin, do a dub and peck em with me and Fang till they flop."

Confused, the pilot of the other ship responded "Wait, what? What the hell is a dub? Peck what?"

Almost out of the blue, Mercy spoke up to clear the confusion that Blood had no patience to explain. "He's saying 'double back and get their attention so Blood can have some room to breath'." Hearing her voice pulled him back into the happenings, and Blood imagined himself leavng her personally to rot as he sped towards the first goal- The Turrets.

Slipping into his own current of swift airtime, Blood flew in a diagonal tilt to the towers that held the turrets. Imagining himself against the scaly neck of his personal mount Wrath, he put himself back in the regal mind that he made himself to be. As if he were looking down on the battlefield like a god of the entire scheme. Wrenching his grip towards himself, the ship pointed it's nose into the skies, and gained him view of the happnenings. Once he was away from the fray of tangled dogfights, the Hunter could see the battlefield much more clearly. And once specific tower was not as attentive as the others, focused on attempting to bring down a single ship that was wrapping up something with other Sith Forces. Like a predator, he piloted the ship into a near-untrackable angle, and dove. The intense pressure pushed him into his seat as they neared the overhead of the distracted turret. Just as they were een, his gloved fist smached across the ION RELEASE button, sending the triggered weapons down across the turret station, and as he pulled up and away, the massive outage happened just as he timed himself out of reach for the Ion's influence.

A deeply released breath steeled him as he went to repeat the manuever with otther towers, detemrination to see this treachary done with as little time spent, as possible.

[Raphael Xandir]

Scoffing the bold claims from their new Dark Lord of the Sith, Raphael eyed him. He had hoped he would make contact and question the young acolyte, it would give him an opportunity to speak out on this madness. Raphael was too weak and young to challenge the veteran Sith members here. If only he were stronger, he would of easily opposed this insanity. Looking over at his father he wondered the same thing, why didn’t the loyal follower of Tormentous speak out?

A lecture on loyalty came next as the topic to speak out on. Raphael believed loyalty to be earned, and this man had not earned it from him yet. Tormentous had taken time to earn each and every member of the faction’s loyalty, yet they repay him with this idiocy.

With that the group dispersed to move on the castle, taking a citadel without its king. Seemed like a lot of preparing for something that should be rather simple for the Sith. Lilith moved to head with their father on the Infiltrator, while Raphael snuck away to see some action in one of the new Razorfighters.

LATER
-----------

Raphael walked past a conversation between Mercy and the new leader. He overheard them speaking about her being up in the skies with the rest of them. This was a perfect opportunity. In the midst of the madness that would be an aerial attack, the acolyte could have his chance to take the traitor out once and for all.

He quickly moved passed the pair as the agent departed for his own fighter to lead the attack. Raphael climbed the ladder of his fighter, keeping an eye out for which one Mercy would choose. Plopping into his seat, he acclimated himself with the load out on the dashboard. It was almost identical to the one on the simulator, so he felt comfortable enough to take this into action.

Starting up the Razorfighter the hangar began to suddenly switch into overdrive with crews and fighters moving all over the place. Out quickly went most of the Sith, followed by a few fighters behind them. Raphael was the last one out as he began his ascent out of the hangar. Pulling up his landing gear he noticed a pair of fighters too was tailing him. This would make his elimination of Mercy all the more challenging.

LATER
-----------

As the citadel could now be seen over the horizon, his hands tightly gripped the controls of the ship. The ships went into overdrive and fighting engaged above the bunkers. Ion cannons reined down on the terrain below and the defensive fighters soon followed as a dogfight ensued.

It didn’t take long to figure out which fighter was Mercy’s as he Raphael closed in on her position. The two fighters named “Squeeze” and “Hunter” had checked in before they arrived at the citadel, they were following the acolyte tightly. Raphael took up a position directly behind Mercy, lining up his shot in between her guardian fighters.

*”What are you doing!?”* Huneter called out through the communication transmission.

The two fighters in sync, closed in on Raphael’s fighter. They were mere inches behind him just in case they needed to take him out. Defensive fighters flew in to complete another row behind Raphael’s, as they opened fire on the trio. To the right of Raphael’s fighter, Hunter had been hit by one of the shots and smacked into his causing his to smack Squeezes’, a chain reaction.

All three ships were heading down as they had been blasted out of the sky. Raphael continued to press button on the ship, somehow hoping to salvage the situation. Squeeze and Hunter’s fighters smacked the ground as they released their ejector seats. The acolyte tried to maintain altitude before he started making a nosedive right after him.

The cockpit hissed open as the ejector seat was sent rushing into the air. Raphael’s body slammed into the seat as his fighter went down in a fiery blaze. His seat glided down to the surface to meet up with the other two pilots that had ejected as well.

*”Fighters down! We need pickup as soon as possible!”* The transmission was sent over the open communication line.

[Kroxata Akhoi]

“The Harrower battle fleet and Naga have both been seen changing course deeper into Sith territory, they no longer protect our boundaries which means they are getting their orders from someone else. I have pulled back my fleet to keep the city safe, I am expecting another revolution to occur Dreadlord…”

Treachery? Defiance?! Treason?! Once again the Sith were under attack, the threat being their own blood that dared challenged the rightful Lord, all the high ranking members of the Dark Council were either imprisoned or killed either by the hands of the Red Cauldron or by bounty hunters distributed throughout the far corners of the galaxy earning themselves quite the reward money. This threat had come from one Tormentous considered an ally, the first person he looked to was Slade, or Lord Blood has he has deemed himself , to be the main corporate with his clear disfust with the Dreadlord statue of leadership. He did not feel anger or hatred, merly disappointment. He approached the very edge of the throneroom to the large viewpoint that overlooked the Citadel’s underlings, the Force was telling him of danger of a coming bad omen that loomed over the Zabrak’s mind. The snow storm began to gently lift, the mountains that protected the city from the harsh conditions became more visible the longer the day went on, Grand Admiral Lidmor came to stand beside his long time friend, trying to figure out what exactly Kroxata had set his sights on. “Kroxata, what do you see?”

The Dreadlord does not initially respond, he continues to stare out into the open until finally his frozen lips opened, “Lidmor, order our garrisoned fighters to deploy and have the bunkers prepare for an assault.” “My Lord are you seri-” “Now Grand Admiral!” the officer’s mouth opened slightly but no words came out, instead of slightly bowed his head storming off to the main command table at the very centre of the golden chamber room issuing as many orders as he could all at once. The hidden ground to space turbo lasers pushed themselves from their concealed spot buried inside the giant walls of the inner sanctum, the outer sanctum had many small emplacements of E-Web Heavy blasters with a long line of anti ground and aircraft towers to protect the bunkers that stood around the very edge.

Air raid sirens shouted all around the city, he could sense the fear running so thick within his city, the barely audible screams and panics brought shame to the ruler, having a kingdom full of scared children was an insult to his master’s promise land. He stares back to the mountains seeing small specs gradually grow bigger and bigger in size, Lidmor rushes back to the Dreadlord “My Lord the Harrower and the Naga fleet have just arrived back into Ziost space!” Kroxata did not flinch or even have a look of astonishment “Then it has begun…” A small squadron of fighters dive over the mountains diving deep into the main high lines and outpost towers closing the gap between them and the citadel. The garrisoned fighters seemed to proved useless against these highly skilled pilots the closer they reached the more aura’s could be felt, a group of Sith, Sith that had much power over the Sith military to bring forth both battle fleets.

“Do not allow Graden to engage the fleets, there is no point destroying our own, in the end there would be no victory, we would both lose. Get to the lower levels and await further instructions. No Sith blood must be spilt today.”

The fighters swerve and maneuver in very skillful ways, clearly they had all be trained to be expert in their field of work compared to the standard pilots that were only prepared for pirates and large frigates. One by one they exploded into balls of fire crashing into the city below before finally reaching the Citadel, the turbo cannons sent blast after blast hitting heavy impacts of small energy novas to try and disrupt the formations, with the smaller more rapid fire lasers began unleashing barrages of crimson bolts. The cannons would be too heavily plated and the shielding would make it difficult for even the fighter’s missiles to break through, the lasers however were not as protracted, some erupting into flames leaving small dents into the giant walls that boxed the Citadel into a corner, the many Sith troopers tried to frantically shooting their rifles to try and get a lucky hit but all proceeded to take refuge inside the walls to wait for this attack to end.

~~~Aboard the Maul, Naga-Class Dreadnaught led by Admiral Graden.
~~~Overhead the planet of Ziost

Graden’s cybernetic arm tapped against the armchair of the command high seat, looking out to the oncoming fleets, his cybernetic eye twitching ever so slightly. “Lieutenant bring up a direct transmission, I must speak with this commander.” “Yes sir.” Graden clears his throat standing to his feet, he quickly brushes off his long black trench coat with one arm behind his back seeing the hologram appearing to him. “Commander of the Naga Fleet and Harrower, we both know the actions you are committing is high treason and is punishable by extreme torture and then public execution, but I believe even the Dreadlord and I both understand, the more we fight the more the Sith Empire will lose, whatever your intentions or motives are, to weaken ourselves even more would be an open invitation to our own demise by the hands of opportunists like the Alliance and the Empire. I will not be the first one to strike, so make your next move very carefully…” He ends the transmission immediately sitting back down with a sigh of irritation, “Raise shields to 70% power and have our frontal cannons ready, relay the message to the rest of the fleet and order them to not engage until provoked, I repeat DO NO engage until provoked.”

[Dastan Imatari]

Blue holograms of Graden would show up for Admiral Naeus Colonicus of the Harrower Group Fleet, and Admiral Bardac Fadaratah - Naga Battle Line fleet, relay his message, then cut off.

Naga and Harrowed group would send imminent replies.


-"This is Admiral Neaus Colonicus of the Harrower Fleet. Deactivate you weapons and surrender. We don't want to cause unnecessary casualties to possible future allies. We can posture all day- but know that your fleet is nearly surrounded." Colonicus' response was more of irritation and quickness. He didn't want to be here. The Order of the Sith were an irritation to him- the force, and it's adherents were mad zealots. The commander of the fleet was a patriot, but he wasn't a psychopath.

-"Admiral Bardac Fadaratah, commander-Naga Battle Line. The difference between treason and patriotism is only a matter of dates. Today you see us as traitors. Tomorrow, you will be seen-" he then stopped himself from making a long drawn out speech, "by the cleanup crew as a pile of viscera- and flaming durasteel if you do not lay down arms. We outnumber your fleet, and within reach of the gravity well, you don't have many places to go. Admiral Graden, deactivate your weapons or you will be dealt with accordingly." the response was cut short. This one was one of words, and many of them. An admiral of long tenure, and a hardened man of experience- though also one who had a penchant for a comfortable life after retirement. He believed in the moves he was making.

--

Several fighters tore through the skies, plasma filled the space with red lances dancing at all angles. Smoke and fire tore across the views in downward angles with sparks and flares aplenty.

Dastan's craft zipped through the first line of defending craft- Rolling to pass cleanly. Direct approaches were a death wish- but Dastan had the force to give him better reaction time than even some of the more experienced pilots. After passing between a squadron of enemy fighters, Dastan squeexed tightly on a weaponized spire- sending ion bolts in rapid succession to take down the shielding of the turret. His first pass wasn't enough- these things were heavy duty. As he passed over, he yanked back on his throttle, and swung his craft up and around for another pass.

Immediately taking on a few tails- Dastan had to divert his attention to the cannons- and deal with the new problems. Leaning aside, and looking over his shoulder- he could see a fighter just to the right of his tail. His Radar picked up a second tail- but he didn't see in his brief look. Likely overtop and behind the one he saw. Jinking his craft to the left, rolling and pulling hard on his stick, he went into a circular diving pattern. Making side-loop, he pulled his craft up, and got a glimpse of the other fighter who was tailing him. The smaller craft were faster, but nor mote maneuverable than his. He still had the one tail, but the other was in his sights. It would take some maneuvering - but after a few seconds, he managed to swing onto it's tail. Thankfully, he knew these things didn't have shields. He'd use his regular cannons.

Swinging his craft's nose, the red lances made a diagonal pass across the smaller ship, seeing the craft spark and puff smoke, it was disabled. Thankfully, his nose was closer to pointing at the cannon again- so he flipped his ion cannons and let the tower have it again- finally seeing the shields stop rippling, he knew he was 'in'. Flying past one more time, he knew he still had to deal with the one tail he picked up earlier.

He began to climb in a spiral. The enemy craft took up after him, trying to match the flight pattern to get a shot. He jammed the throttle forward, and his jets burned hard. The spiral pattern began to open up- and the smaller fighter still followed- but they began to fall back due to being unable to handle the same speed to maneuverability of the Razorfighter. Just as the distance began to increase, Dastan drew back his throttle, and yanked the fighter's nose out of the spiral to cut the 'circular' pattern they were flying in half. He was heading straight behind the enemy fighter's location now. Trying to keep Dastan from his tail, the enemy maneuvered a bit outside the loop again, bit it wasn't enough. The razorfighter retreated to the craft's behind and let loose his cannons.

Another enemy down- Dastan headed back for another figure 8 pass over the spire. It's shields disabled, he let fly a salvo of missiles. The first two were direct hits- but the cannon was still in operation- however bent and aflame. It wouldn't survive another pass.

Dastan had picked up a full squad of fighters. Placed into a hard situation- he began defensive maneuvers. Just as the enemy swung on his tail, Dastan's wingmen dropped from the clouds like raptors after a kill- letting fly their red lances- claiming all four enemy fighters. Dastan's wingmen attempted to flee to the skies before being caught by another few enemies- though their dogfights didn't last long. The enemy 'Sith Starfighters' just weren't able to handle the weapons of the Razorfighters. Again, the four black razorfighters retreated to the clouds...

The spire blew with a large cloud of spark and flame as Dastan passed over one last time.

*"Everyone, handle the last few spires, and we can land just inside the walls, and march up the main road toward the Citadel."* He dodged his nimble craft around another smoking spire of deactivated anti-air defenses as he zipped through the sky.

*"Keep me updated. Looks like we lost a full squadron- Dropships on their way for repurposing. The attackers are almost here with their bombing run."*

In the meantime, Dastan would help by trying to keep the skies clear of the enemy fighters.
--

After a few minutes, Raphael would see a dropship- a wide boat of a craft hover past a building and drop down toward his group. It opened a sliding side door, to reveal a young sith acolyte- probably no more than 17, and a group of Sith soldiers decked out in black armor with bits of gray jumpsuit showing at the joints.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus’ starfighter was advancing towards the citadel he was trying to keep close to Dauntless 1. Dastan had given Warvanus good wing-men, they had been invaluable during this skirmish. He would make a note to request they if they survive that is to be transferred under his command. He could use top notch pilots under his command. “Time and place for everything “Warvanus chided himself.

He kept his focus on the mission at hand. He gazed at his stores list, he was still fairly loaded. All his instrumentation was looking good. The amount of enemy fighters was definitely fewer here. Though, they came upon turrets and Anti – Aircraft missile placements, one of which was now showing as a blip on his radar. He knew that at a certain altitude that they would be ineffective. However he needed to take it out for the troopships and the rest of his squadron.

Warvanus pushed the throttle downwards bringing the Razorcraft into a dive lowering his altitude. He had the missile placement in his sights he pressed the trigger unloading blaster shots , the placement erupted in flames, he pulled back a bit on the throttle bringing the craft a bit higher and then pushed the engine throttle forward giving it more thrust, and more speed.

The comm. Channel erupted to life from Dauntless 1 “Everyone, handle the last few spires, and we can land just inside the walls, and march up the main road toward the Citadel.”

He was approaching one of the spires now he hit the comm. “I got one in my sights, it will be down in a couple of minutes”

With that he flipped the switch on the throttle which switched to the missles ,he hit another switch which armed them. When he was in range he unleashed a pair of missles which found their target and the spire erupted in a mountain of flame. He then pushed the engine throttle forward more giving the craft more speed, he was making his way to the citadel to land and unleash War.

He hit the switch to his comm. To his wingmen “ Cover me, I am going to land inside the citadel walls, and once I land, go help the others , May the Force serve us well” with that he ended the comm and began his approach to land within the walls of the citadel.

[Slade Xandir]

Blood kept his task up, not paying attention to any other than himself. if he didn't, things were going to get hot and hurtful, and not on the regards of his enemy. He wasn't an expert at flying ships, and the only way of succeeding was to imagine himself into a situation where he was atop a flying beast, giving it commands. This ship was his Wrath, but more compact, and speedier. More agile, less drag.

How do you like it best...?

Blood swung himself out of the fire of following pursuers with increasing grace. It was a crack in his belief that he was less than experienced in the pilot seat. He savored his own surprise as he skirted past the sides of defense lowered turrets, maneuvers leaving his combatants unable to place a single shot on his almost invisible ship.

He continued to drop ions on the final number of turrets, his accuracy breathtaking even up to the final tower. And the second he had finished, he doubled back to assist with pulling attackers off of the squad's ends.