Log:Sith Empire: Revanites
The Imperials take Bellam's Palace and discover a Revanite
OOC Date: January 25, 2025
Location: Bellam, Onderon
Participants: Merulia, Roan, Ban Iskender, Alys Zapal, Tytos Wrex, Bors Thul, Cin'cirad Rook, Tamsin Cas, Lynoriel Thrace, Aryn Cortess
S Battalion has arrived, and they regroup with the Sith unit and Shrapnel Platoon. Now, they all march up the pyramid stairs toward Bellam palace. At the top, its large doors have already shut, and turret emplacements were set ablaze when the Black Knight and his Nova Squadron went on a bombing run designated by the Acolyte Alys Zapal. What remained were the doors, both shielded and sealed, it seemed a nuisance that they were made to wait.
Behind them, the city is in turmoil. Random blazes of fire stretch out toward the sky, people scream, and blaster fire persists. In the distance, upon the coast, Imperial Walkers are being set down as the General prepares their mechanized forces. Their thunderous walks so impactful that the teams at the palace can feel the ground tremble with each step.
It feels as if the battle is already won, but it's the palace that has not received that memo. Their doors remain quiet, yet Imperial Forces come to a halt, and wait..
Among those assembled, Darth Kalus stands at the head of one column of troopers, cape swept to one side, gaze turned up toward the door though her eyes searched for something unseen, as if sensing. She could sense the uncertainty from troops behind her as they shift, waiting..
The Sephi in her Nightsister silks and that dark makeup moved forwards as the lightsaber at her hand came to retract, clipped to her hip while she adjusted the outer cloak she was wearing over the more traditional garb. With them sealed out for the time being, Darth Arcana moved forwwards, towards the palace, awaiting the actions of their agent within while her path brought her closer towards where Darth Kalus stood.
"How long do you wish to wait, or do we tear our way in ourselves?" she questions of the more Senior Sith, folding her arms at her chest. "They are likely preparing to dig in...or attempt to escape in personal craft, but our forces are certainly ready to intercept such flight."
Darth Durandus walked at Kalus' side, a half step behind the much shorter and slighter Sith Lord. He was robed in shades of black and grey, his silver mask wrought in the style of a minimalist human face, clean and unadorned save for a single teardrop etched beneath the right eye. The soldier had played but little role in the intensity of the battle to date, and seemed none too cautious at their present location before the last defended portal of the falling city; he had yet to even draw his sword.
Once again, Alys is nearby the ground forces. Her wayfaring helped, the airstrike clearing the way, but the blast doors remain active and shielded.
To everyone but her, anyway. She's inside, lurking in the shadows, watching the forces assemble. The massive beast makes her eyes widen, but she has to get the door open. She gives it a once over, finding the controls. She considers her options. She could open it with a little telekinesis, but they could just shut it again. Instead, her eyes lock on the power cables, trying to follow them back into the palace, hunting for a junction box where she can cut the power.
That should work.
The troopers around MX-8008 may shift with uncertainty, but a slight shift of the lieutenant's shoulder to allow him to look to his flank seems to draw a good deal of the movement to a halt. No doubt the stormtrooper had sent a sharp reminder to the troopers under his command to maintain their discipline and thus with a stamp of boots, they snap to their readiness. It is not the job of the Stormtrooper Corp to express anxiousness at the lack of progress in a particular mission milestone. Their only duty is to await the signal to continue and then get about their bloody work. MX-8008 turns forward again with his rifle clutched across his chest, waiting patiently for the doors to open and their advance to continue.
The Old Man, the Black Knight, was on the ground with Nova returned to base for refit and refueling - the elder Alderaanian called upon for his ground work acumen that had been honed long ago, with people whom he expects to see on the opposing line of the field.
Leaning on the intricately decorated cane worked in sigils and colors of The Moat Ancient and Noble House Thul, allowing some of the weight to be taken off of his knees. That being held in his left hand resting on the crimson sphere of marble shot through with streaks of dark blue.
His right was rested on the grip of a blade hung on his right hip, palm facing away from himself rather than towards. An awkward looking stance despite how comfortably he holds it.
Bors Thul kept pace at the flank of Darth Kalus that was not occupied by Durandus and it seemed that it would take nothing less than to be shifted loose his mortal coil to get him to abandon the position. It was his place as Alderaan's Knight of The Black, The Champion of House Thul, sworn sword to The Queen herself. Unflinching and unwilling to let his pace drop to lag behind.
No matter how much his knees protested.
Well, since she's brought up to a halt, with the rest of the platoon still with her, she turns and starts to look them over. Her head moving from side-to-side as she begins inspecting them. The remnants of Shrapnel nearby. She starts in over toward them, grabbing one of the people by the chest piece adjusting it, a slap on the pauldron and down the way. With the momentary break, she's checking the gear of her people and making sure that they're squared way.
<"You there."> She moves over toward the trooper with the communications backpack. She's in front of LR-1337, <"I didn't see you before in the fight up here."> Lieutenant TK-C1C4 glances from one side to the other again, then back to LR-1337. <"What's your designation and which platoon are you with?">
When the Sith arrived, they did so with, if not style, though there was something to that, but with substance. With fire and brimstone, as they once might have said, and much wailing. It was the sort of scene which might have sold millions in holovids. But, alas, this was no holovid, and Achlys simply walked, seeming inured to the destruction around them. Only the target seemed to catch their attention, as they awaited the next stage of the subjugation.
The forces on the other side of the door, the palace guard, have stacked up in columns and armed themselves with the traditional weapons of the beast riders. Sharpshooters have taken to the higher levels, and even the Duke has shown courage and leadership, remaining with his men. "What may come through those doors, we will stand ready. Our way of life, our traditions, our culture, our history.. is under attack. Foreign invaders wish to take what is not theirs? Then we make them earn it. Every rekking step. Every rekking stair. We will not so easily be snuffed out. Stand your ground, men. Stand your rekking ground.."
The power cuts out as Acolyte Alys Zapal manages to dislocate the wiring panel. Lights cut out. Silence within the palace follows.
From outside, the shield barrier upon the door shimmers out, and what lights survived the bombing runs of Nova Squadron, flicker and die. Only the flashes of war behind the Stormtrooper columns and Sith illuminate the immediate vicinity. A Sergeant from one of the companies rushes forth then to place a charge. "Brave lad," Kalus comments under her breath, her own lightsaber coming to hand.
The charge was in place, and the Sergeant trailed back, running as hard as he could before triggering the detonation. The blast trailed up the central parting of the door before its counter-part, the shaped charge, went inward showering dust and propelled rocks inside.
Before the Sith, the palace was /pitch/ dark. Not one light to be seen. For Aryn, and many of the veterans who had faced down the dark death at the corners of the galaxy, it felt familiar. A strange presence upon the air rippled, whispered.
Kalus activated her lightsaber.
From the otherside of the blast, the Bellam guards could only see smoke initially. But as it cleared, bright flashes from explosions accentuated the shadows of the trooper columns and the dark figures at their head. Then one crimson blade activated. And another. And another. And another.. and so on.
"HOLD YOUR REKKING GROUND!" Bellowed the Duke from the back. "FEAR IS THEIR WEAPON; IT SHALL NOT TAKE ROOT THIS DAY.. GOOOOO!"
Kalus points her blade, muttering to her side. "Into the breach..and the darkness take us.." She says to her Knights, lifting her blade and motioning the stormtrooper column forward.
A thunderous sound came from within, and what portions of the doors had not opened yet did so suddenly, and violently. A raging Kell Dragon the size of a tank swung its spiked tail collapsing a squad of troopers in a single swing. It roared, and Bellam troopers began to move around the beast to charge at the Sith and Imperials, eager to establish and hold the line!
LR-1337 smacks her plate armor with her fist in Sith salute to TK-C1C4. "LR-1337, S Batallion, sir!" Fist down. "You didn't see me because I am invisible, sir!"
LR-1337 sounds really excited to be here, and she stands ready with slicer kit in one hand, blaster pistol in the other. Within the Force, she practically glows with adrenaline, confidence, and eagerness.
Then the door is blasted open and LR-1337 is firing!! Pew pew! Pew! And...dragon? Monster? Oh Force Spirits... LR-1337 is left right there staring at a...thing. A big angry spikey *thing*!
"Well," Merulia muses as Darth Kalus either chooses not to answer her, or simply needs no reason to now that the shield has come down. She makes to stride fowards, her hand reaching for her lightsaber when the great beast errupts through the doors and bellows its roar. A roar that might shake the hearts of men, embolden the soldiers...but for Merulia?
Well, she was born of Dathomir. She'd rode atop a Rancor, her first pet as a child was a Kodashi Viper.
Instead she steps forth, lifting her hands as the magicks flowed through her, bringing an eerie green glow to her as she spoke aloud to the creature.
"Heel!" she demands, as if the Sephi herself were some much greater beast, or the mistress of the creature. The troopers, the imperials, they were not the foes or even prey. But if they weren't it's foe?
Merulia's black-painted lips curled to a smile as she reached out to the creature's mind with every intent to redirect it.
The second red blade to ignite after that of Kalus was Ban's. The luminous scarlet sword began held out at an angle from his side, before being slowly and deliberately raised vertically before his face in an unhurried salute to those who defended the door before them. At the edge of battle's bloody eruption, his eyes went closed, and a palpable thrum of power rippled outward from the knight. Drawing a mighty shield before their front rank, he started a first walking step forward as the monstrous dragon ripped out of the embattled palace.
Ever one to seek the strongest foe, his masked head tilted to the slightest of angles as the massive beast started behaving.. curiously. A glance aside to the witch at her commands, and unseen a small smile tugged at his lips.
The doors begin open, only to peel outward with the charge of the kell dragon and MX-8008 does not freeze in the face of the advance. The palace's defenders may stream outward, their blasters spitting death at the Imperial ranks, but MX-8008 pushes ahead. Throughout the platoon it's clear that a command is given as the stormtroopers of MX-8008's platoon begin to surge forward. It isn't with wild abandon that they advance, but with cold-hearted precision. They march forward in order to maintain their accuracy without breaking their formation. There is no chaos among the ranks of the platoon, but instead an orderly advance. They suffer casualties to be certain, but they are acceptable losses. While MX-8008 and his platoon march into the meat grinder; they're sure to take some of the opposition's meat with them.
All hell breaks loose as the doors open. Alys, still in the shadows, moves. Her eyes are fixated on the Kell dragon, knowing that such a beast is a terrible threat. Granted, lightsabers and blasters can kill almost anything, but not before that thing eats somebody.
Too bad she doesn't know that the critter is mind controlled. By her own team.
Thusly, she blitzes out of the darkness, crimson fire in her fist, she lashes out at the dragon once before she prepares to lay about into the Duke's troops.
Ordered to engage, Bors merely moves forward enough paces to place himself a half meter outside of the range of Kalus's pointed saber. Right hand moving in a sweep that draws his blade in a fashion that were he holding a tall shield he'd needn't expose himself to clear the blade.
But he stands, cane flipped up to be held against his body like a riding crop and the bilari chain sword coming to be postured before him as a knightly salute to whomever takes his challenge.
There were always those who would attempt to fell him, or make him fail his charter. It was the way of things.
It was just a matter of the timing. So he waited, watched, inured against the strangeness of witchcraft and worse by his long years in service to The Throne.
<"That's what I like to hear!"> TK-C1C4 says, doing a once over of the kit and making sure it looks secure. Helmet obviously angling onward as she catches sight of the slicing kit, <"Stay Invisible, LR-1337. No getting shot, your kit could come in handy and I doubt many are rated to use it."> She's turning then as she feels the tension more then anything. The hard explosion, the moment of peace...
And then it begins. <"Troopers! Keep your spacing, watch your angles!"> As she says this, she's grabbing one of the people people from Shrapnel again, <"KEEP YOUR SPACING!"> She hit the trooper on the back and started to advance herself. She's doing her best to keep somewhat close to LR-1337 while starting to shout instructions toward the troops. <"Push toward Alpha, move right!"> Her helmet turning to taking in... What the hell is that? And did that lady just yell Heel at it? It took TK-C1C4 completely off guard, but she shakes her head and gets back into the fight.
Some of the troops hear TK-C1C4, but most of them are taken completely off guard by the appearance of the Kell Dragon. Even if it's not heading toward them, they clearly are taken off guard by its presence. Not to mention the still settling dust, the flow of blaster fire, the chaos and noise around them. <"Keep moving!"> She pushes one of the people further from the Kell Dragon, she didn't want to get close to it herself either. She sees the work or LR-1337 and nods her head as if in compliment to her shooting.
No lightsaber found its way into Achlys' hand, as the black robed figure moved away from both the Kell Dragon looming close, or the troops moving into engagement. Instead, they moved aside, not quite close to the wall, but away from the brightening lights of the sabers and blaster fire. They needed only the barest light to see, after all, and used such to their advantage. Though in her other life, Achys was every bit a Muun, that race of much mind and little emotion, in their heart of hearts, they were a Firrerreo, a race of predators, and they were now on the hunt. Their voice, modulated as ever, came across the encrypted comms. <<"The Duke has been barricaded in the throne room. I am following his thoughts. He is wondering where they are. And that they were supposed to be here.">> Who they were, Achlys did not reveal, but what information they had, they relayed.
Thrace doesn't deal well with people. Wild animals and man-eating plants on the other hand...
The Kell Dragon might cause others to run, but she just looks fascinated behind her helm. "Can we keep it?" she mutters the question to herself. "Not likely..." is the answer she gives back to herself. Given the doors are open there isn't a need for the demolitions expert to deal with that. So she instead draws her stunsaber and focuses on trying to control the situation at hand...with two swings at a time.
What palace guards emerged around the Kell Dragon were met with extreme prejudice. Most were gunned down in the trade off of blaster bolts, and for each that spilled upon the ground, the Stormtroopers advanced. Emboldened by the dangerous odds, the Stormtroopers begin to stomp as they march, a sound that can be heard over the chaos. However, as they reach the front rank, they move forward and begin following their leaders. Many of those at the front rank were not so emboldened, but caught off guard. A DRAGON!
The dragon was not calm, per se, but it was bewitched. Ensnared by the Dathomir witch, its mind sought the source of this power to create a bond. Onderonians believed there were no bonds that exist that are stronger than that of dragon and man. It may have been true, but this discovery would not transpire today. Out of the shadows, a crimson blade struck a critical weakness that made the Dragon cry out in anguish. Meru, who had forged a connection between them may have felt this pain conveyed through their brief connection.
There was no bewitching it now. It felt betrayed, hurt, and knew its life drained from its exposed side where more than meat tried to escape its muscle. Frightened, the dragon retreated for its master, spitting blood and barreling over palace guards that got in its way.
Filling the gap it made, Stormtroopers and Sith alike followed, coming into close quarters combat. The invisible barrier erected by the Knight of Tears warded off the sniper fire. Key figures, otherwise, might have been picked off were it not for him, but soon he (Ban), and everyone else on that front rank came into enemy contact. In the darkness of the palace, only fear and death existed.
Achlys' voice does not go unanswered. Kalus returns with speculation. <"Perhaps it is the beast riders he seeks?">
Kalus, behind her Knights now, wades into the combat herself and turns her mind over to the Force. She needed only it to guide her blade.
Oh she felt the pain, the sting of primal rage from a wounded beast intermingled with her own fondness for such creatures...and the audacity (albeit unknowing) on Alys part to interfere on what she was doing. They would almost certainly have some words about that later, the Nightsister instead reaching to channel that rage.
No way was she going to be able to calm the beast to rest now as fire and survival instinct surged through its veins. Instead she reaches out to try and redirect it.
"We are your kin, your family...They seek to slay you...fight, rip and tear with all you have..." she speaks, urging the Kell Dragon back towards its original handlers as she strides forth and finally brings her lightsaber to her hand.
LR-1338 shouts, "On it! Slicing into the system!" in response to one of the Dark Robed Ones saying that 'they' might be on their way. Well lets find out who 'they' are! Running through the firestorm and sliding on her knees to the wall, LR-1338 thuds into the stone and slots her kit into the port. "No power. Repairing." She pries open the panel and starts to work as blaster bolts fall around her like rain.
"Look out!" A giant, burly dude, LR-1337 dives in the way, taking a hail of shots like the hero he is. Did LR-1338 mistakenly call out that guy's com code? Maybe! Maybe the Force did it. Either way, LR-1338 is hard at work!
Ban Iskender strode forward in the wake of the rampaging Kell beast; as the boldest of the doomed Duke's defenders assailed him, his radiant red sword turned aside blaster bolts and clove effortlessly through weapon hafts. One of the bold beast riders fell to the ground as Durandus walked forward, the others were swift or sensible enough to hasten back, avoiding the edge and point of his sword. "Thy resolve is admirable," the knight's calm baritone stated through the mask. "Yet you cannot win. It is not courage to oppose me."
Alys hits the Dragon, then feels a jolt through the Force. Her eyes flicker out towards Merulia outside the door, and she suddenly feels a little guilty. She'll make this up to the Sephi Nightsister later. If she can figure out how to People enough to apologise.
That moment of distraction is enough for one of the guards to shoot her in the back. Center mass. She roars, whirling and charging. Her lightsaber flails once, twice, and hits only air. Her third strike, a thrust, cores the man through the throat, and when she wrenches her lightsaber free, the man's head simply falls off in a clatter of armor.
She roars in pain, fury and in challenge.
MX-8008 may have shrugged of a blast that left a scorch mark and melted crater in one of his pauldrons, but that doesn't deter him from continue his steady march into the breach. Alongside his company he maintains his position at the head of the marching column. They do at least adopt enough spacing to permit rows beyond the first to engage the enemy in blaster fire. On account of their inexorable march forward though they soon begin to find themselves immersed in the battle on all sides.
Keeping his pace to orbit and guard Darth Kalus, regardless of a lack for such on her part, Sir Bors continues to move forward into the face of defending forces and the threats of death itself. A blaster bolt catching the curved plate of his left shoulder, turning him while it screams into the ceiling to shower sparks down.
Huffing beneath his helmet and muscling forward to keep himself ahead of Kalus as the engagement moves forward when the melee is joined his blade sweeps to one side and then to high guard to re-direct strikes meant to bring him down.
It's his attention for those trying to pass and make it to The Queen that keeps focus and in particular he is forced to lurch, feeling his hip scream in protest to the motion. The powered blade of the weapon cutting a glowing trail that stops the would be aggressor short, even if it was not the intended strike for the Thul.
<"Thee should have adorned thineself in trousers of umber...">
Quipped aloud, distorted over the antique armor's vocalizer before he turns, earning him another hour in the ice baths later and sending the assailant to the ground in two parts. He shifts his weight - the cane in his left hand coming down to provide him a point of balance again... If not a curious visual for all sides considered.
<<"Forgive me, my Queen. Ere the winds of time have slowed me upon terrestrial matters.">>
<"MOVE!"> TK-C1C4 calls out again, grabbing one of the troopers and shoving them as she's moving along, trying to keep the troopers away from the Kell Dragon. It's not attacking them, and it's not looking at them, so it's best not to attract its attention.
<"You! Get your troops moving!"> C1C4 calls out again as she grabs the Sergeant by the Pauldron, shoving him forward, and shoving him right out of the way of a trio of blaster shots. The first couple catching her in the chest, the last through the eye of the helm. Her knees hitting the floor before falling face first.
The Sergeant she just grabbed was K-51R4. She grunts as she feels herself shoved forward, looking back just in time to see the Lieutenant drop. <"Uh... Woh. Uh..."> She sort of stumbles a bit more. She pauses looking down and taking some time to work out what to do. <"S... Suppress them. S-s-supressing fire!"> She calls out, but they don't seem to be listening to her much yet. Shaken for a moment, thrust into a position she didn't expect, she does start returning firing. That Kell Draogn was putting her teeth on edge.
While the war raged around, perhaps above, perhaps below them, Achlys did not engage. The battle was only window dressing. The true target lay ahead, and Achlys moved, unerringly, moving in straight lines of mind and will, as they pulled the shadows around themselves. Whether that would preserve them from the lights which now had been raised would remain to be seen. Faceless, voiceless, it was towards the still open doors of the throne room that they were headed.
Thrace might be wielding a stunsaber, but she can use it just like a lightsaber when it comes to deflecting shots from bolts. The tall figure swings around to send one bolt screaming back towards the guards that were shooting and then twirls back around to return the next incoming back to sender. She really didn't feel like exchanging robes again in this whole messy situation.
Darth Kalus follows her Knights into the fight, finding herself confronted with several foes. She avoids danger by ducking, or holding blade up to outright redirect the blast intended for her. When she goes on the offense, it's direct and concise, concluding the conflict in a single elegant pass of her blade. Her target is disarming her foes, or simply removing their ability to fight. Her first foe falls when she splits their weapon and cuts their chest simultaneously. When they fall, another lunges at her and she has only a split second to angle her weapon up, allowing them to impale themselves upon the blade. When she draws it free, embers spark from the flaked clothing, and she grunts, shoving the falling body aside, swinging at another foe only to observe them retreat.
When the lights cut on, the palace forces are blinded. Stormtroopers have the advantage and continue to pour in, gunning down guard after guard. There are no formations inside the marbled great hall.
Further in, the Kell Dragon is laying waste to retreating palace guards, cutting them off from joining the throne room. In a matter of minutes, the great hall has fallen. Stormtroopers storm the palace stairs, going to higher levels to search out the corridors and chambers.
Those in the main advance push toward the throne room, a final line of troops await them, dealing with both a Kell Dragon that's gone 'rogue', and the Imperials closing in. Fifteen (15) remain.
Darth Achlys has made it into the throne room and discovers the Duke inside. He is not by himself, a figure with a violet lightsaber out has him cornered at the throne seat. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAFE GUARD US!" The Duke screams.
"Against our own kind? -- Stupid. Against Mandalorians? Of course, but not Sith." The masked figure continues to hold the Duke hostage, but their head turns as if something draws their attention.
There was no dancing blade from Merulia, no Sith-trained skills from the Nightsister Sephi who'd been uplifted from her little isolated deathworld. This was all the way of her Sisters, her Mothers, her tribe. It wasn't a rancor, but the Kell Dragon was urged forwards where those that had once held it 'tamed' now found themselves feeding it.
The Witch moved forwards, but the great beast was lost in its fury. This might well be its last 'dance' thanks to Alys lightsaber strike in its flank...but either she would tend to it later and nurse it back to health...or it would at least eat well for its last meal.
The path to the throne room should be cleared swiftly, or at least reinforcements kept back by the roaring beast.
Perky, bouncy, optimistic LR-1338 is starting to sweat as blaster bolts fly about her. Access denied. Access denied. ACCESS DENIED. "What kind of ancient Old Republic software are these barbarians running on?!" LR-1338 punches the panel, shouts in pain, and sucks on her knuckle as she starts running droid agents into the system, "C'mon... Open up~."
Alys keeps moving with the group, her pain sapping her focus, but fueling her strength. She swings her lightsaber once, whiffing entirely. She pivots, sweeping the blade across the guard's torso, dropping him to the ground in a hiss of melting plasteel and a death rattle. She inverts her grip on her lightsaber, thrusting it back at a guard that slipped up behind her, but he simply isn't there. Her senses are failing her, the burn of the blaster wound filling her mind.
The tromp of boots announces the continues march of MX-8008 and the platoon that accompanies him. Their numbers have shrank since the initial assault, but given that the rank-and-file has marched nearly shoulder to shoulder through the engagement zone as though taking part in a rather spicy parade? It's truly a wonder that there's any of them left alive at all. The stormtroopers do precisely as they're intended to do though. They march forward and act as the shock troops of the Empire, bringing with them cold-blooded determination and hot blaster bolts to eradicate resistance to the Imperial cause.
Darth Durandus continued to stalk toward the last line of defense desperately thrown before the throne room. Once again, his sword came up and was swept down in a swifter, sharper salute, before a trio of the Duke's last defenders fell in as many seconds. The professionalism of the troopers at his back was trusted to deal with the remainder, and the Knight of Tears sought violent entry to the court of Duke Vendam Drake.
The nature of the politics is well above him and is a matter for the Lords and commanders of the conflict. While sorcery and blaster fire rain all around, Sir Bors keeps his pace - the click of his cane against the ground emphasizing his steps.
Too old for this, man. Far too old.
But what else would he do? Tend a vineyard in the shadow of the mountain fortress cum estate of his house? Quote poetry while doddering about the grounds?
<"Harken thee, knave! Weary is the heart that must lament the waste of talent on detritus what confesses to be a task."> Pointing the tip of his sword at one of those who dares approach Kalus, head being rocked to one side by a stroke of the rifle stock when he finds himself a tad too slow to get clear.
<"Misfortunate that I am bereft of confections with which to inflate for personal delight in the novelty of the motion!"> The poor Onderonian's head jerking back at the fashion of address, attempting now to put a trench knife into a joint of Bors's armor - only to have it slapped aside by the cane in his left hand, followed up by the bilari being pushed through their sternum, slashing the inside of a lung that begins to flood, <"I am left only one recourse and it is to put boot to backside in hopes thine brethren see the logic of surrender.">
The soldiers backpedal and fall interrupted by one of their fellows being impaled through the gut, the combined weight pulling they and Bors down to the ground in a confused mass.
<"Zounds!">
The Sergeant has the rifle tucked into her shoulder as TK-51R4 keeps advancing with the rest of them, having stepped in for the Lieutenant that's been killed. She sees the Witchy one trying to keep the Kell Dragon alive. She knows her best bet is to try and appease as many of them as she can. That's the best chance for her survival. Shaking off the shock she regathers, and calls out, <"MEDICS! Help her get that Kell Dragon some drugs. The rest of you lot, go! We got a throne to take and glory to hold!"> She shoots the first one, the rifle moving off to the next. The Second shot catching one in the arm and spinninghim to the ground.
Achlys did not reveal themselves, though, if this figure was indeed sensitive to the force, the could sense a presence now in the throne room with them. A moment to consider the blade, before Achlys sent her will towards the weapon. or, perhaps more specifically, the wrist of the hand which held the weapon. Their will, however, was thwarted, as the force wound around and past the figure and simply would not allow itself do be bent to Achlys' will. So, she remained, awaiting the acknowledgement to come. There was no anger in their heart, no rage to fuel their actions. The darkness had found a deeper root within the dark robed figure.
Thrace is probably too distracted by all that is going on. Dragons, explosions and all of that mess. She's used to going to tropical planets that just want to kill you and collecting things that were definitely going to be mixed up to kill others. "I need to hire a shield." she mutters again to herself as she swings the stunsaber to try to hit the guards. Once the battle starts to calm, she looks towards the Dragon and there is a thought, but she decides against it given things. For now she simply tries to help clean up the remaining guards and make sure nothing escapes.
The last of the guards are crushed and consumed by the Kell Dragon, their parts chomped on as the dragon endured the musings of the Nightsister it had bonded with, and the troops helping see to its wounds. It seemed content now that the battle was coming to its close.
As people poured into the throne room, they're witness to the exchange of power between the two figures. Darth Achlys' power resonated like a gust that displaced the dust within the room, casting the figure she intended to target, but its will was redirected, and cosmic energy met cosmic energy, generating a small vortex of unseen 'magic' that was cast to the side in a demonstration of power. Those attuned to the force could feel them. Rather than retaliate, the figure retreated enough to take the Duke by the 'scruff' of their neck and cast them down the stairs of the dais to land before Achlys and the others.
"Your battle is over, victory at hand. The Duke bends the knee. -- I am /not/ your enemy." Their lightsaber deactivated, and they pulled back their hood, revealing an older man's face. "Long have we waited for such a day to pass. When our paths would cross. I am Blaine, herald of Darth Revan and her Revanites. -- The 'True War' is upon us. I have the honor to escort you, my Lords. If you will have me."
