Like wolves encircling a pen of sheep, it was clear that all that remained was mopping up the last of the resisting elements, if the communications were valid.
With the demolitions teams having planted their explosives and reached a safe distance, the sudden burst of explosive fire brought a section of the wall down and opened up the way into Voss-Ka itself. As it appeared that the Voss and the League were rapidly declining in their morale and ability to fight by the hour, Vestille knew that his part in this operation was nothing more than clean up, sanitation; disposing of the last few dissidents that would no doubt rise up in resistance should they be allowed to live. To those men that swept into the breach, flamethrowers acting as the vanguard and sweeping any defenders that remained in an arc of blazing napalm that clutched to armor and flesh without discrimination, the entrance of Vestille and his men was more than noticeable since the bellowing explosion that brought down part of the wall. Things such as damage to structures and fortifications were no doubt commonplace at that moment on Voss but such things were easily replaced and rebuilt. As pockets of Voss and League alike were tightened and squeezed by various Imperial elements, there appeared to be a large pocket of resistance still unattended, hoping to load up supplies and try and make their escape. If they were allowed to do this, they would flee to the hills and try to lick their wounds, remain concealed and wait for the next best opportunity to enact their vengeance upon the Sith Empire. Whilst other elements were busy with their own assignments, Vestille knew what needed to be done; what the reaper was due. Order was to be delivered and maintained, even if it were to sit atop a pile of ashes.
With a wave of his hand, signaling his men to advance, they began to split off into squads and proceeded to where they belonged; where the fighting was heaviest. As they went through street after street, they saw the aftermath of the destruction that had been left in the wake of progress; destroyed buildings, bodies littering the streets, this is what they knew all too well. A sea of colors littered the floor as the men stepped over fallen son, daughters and parents alike. It was true, what they had said about the Voss and the League; they were willing to put up anything to defend their home, even a generation if it came to it and, from what it looked like, a generation had been made into nothing but dust... For what end? Vestille thought this, as he waded through the now somewhat quiet streets as opposed to earlier in the day; just what did this grant the Voss? Their liberty? Retaining their honor? To the man who had walked over battlefield after battlefield, he saw only a waste. Things perhaps would have been better for the Voss if they had just lowered their defenses and let the Sith take their land and leave the blood spilling and lives destroyed out of the equation. Try as he could to relate, however, the former Commander simply couldn't.
In fact, he didn't feel a damn thing. Whatever spark of empathy died just moments since its conception and daughters and sons soon became enemy combatants. And it was here that he snapped back into doctrine and tactics as the sounds of battle drew nearer with every step.
As the Imperial and Gravewalker troops alike moved in on the large pocket of resistance, formed mostly around one of the great spires within Voss-Ka itself, it appeared that this was the last ditch effort for many of the Voss and League soldiers that hadn't been killed or forced to surrender. This was their final resting place, to do or die. Encircled and no doubt having stockpiled as much as they could for their last stand, it was clear that they were expecting no mercy for the invaders and Vestille knew that there was none to be given. As his men joined the other Imperial elements and prepared their final assault, the former Commander positioned his troops to act as the vanguard once more; flamethrowers were prepared and raring to burst fire upon the enemy, the same could be said for the various supporting elements. As the suppressing fire came from the Voss and League troops as they hardened their position around the spire, Vestille knew that things were to end here and now. Enemies were to be removed from their heads quickly and efficiently; shows and examples could be made once the last willing combatant was dead on the floor... And so it began, with the thumps behind the wall.
As mortars still kept at the original landing zone started to open fire as per the coordinates passed along by one of his subordinates, the sandbag-protected Voss and Voss friends alike were suddenly caught under a blanket of explosive shells raining upon their position. Whatever heavy weapons were being poured upon the surrounding Imperial troops were silenced; either killed or suppressed by the incoming barrage. It was from there that the window was opened and the advance began, under the supporting fire of support weapons and regular blaster fire from all around. It was this overwhelming amount of Imperial firepower that kept the resisting Voss and their allies from returning any sort of retort; for fear that if they poked their heads up, they would suddenly find themselves riddled with blaster bolts and pulse rounds alike. This, of course, was all maintained and vital to the men that crossed the gap between Imperial and Voss lines, at the forefront being the flamethrower-welding Gravewalkers, utilizing their heavier, bulkier armor to provide them with more of a chance should they come under fire. As the fire seemed to cease and the Voss and their allies began to pop their heads up to begin returning fire, they were met with quite the sight... In the form of liquid death spraying over their fortified positions.
Whatever hope they had fell as the first stream of burning hot napalm washed over Voss and their allies alike. As the flamethrowers closed in and delivered the sentence on the spot, the sight must have been something horrific, terrifying to most; blasters were easy, pick one up and shoot and watch whatever you want dead do just that but to see your friends and brothers in arms flail and burn? It was clear that the remaining survivors panicked and tried to rush for the entrance, forcing them to leave their doomed comrades behind to their meetings with death, only to find themselves locked out by their comrades, who were no doubt locking whatever they could outside so they could prepare their last stand. As the enemy left their posts in their panic, the Imperials and Gravewalkers alike rushed in to take their place around the base of the building. The encirclement had been squeezed and left only a handful left within the building itself, locked behind a singular door. As the engineers began their due process of getting said door open, Vestille took in the sight of what his troops had done. There was no beauty in this, no sense of moral righteousness or self fulfillment, this was simply war. A grim business but one that the former Commander basked in. As Imperials and his own men coordinated alike, the door bursting open and the sounds of flames flicking through the air and making contact with their targets and the screams that followed, Vestille saw only one thing;
His time within the Sith Empire was to be long and prosperous, a return to roots. His calling had found him and would make him once again.
Edited by Vestille Thumahra, 05 July 2018 - 06:55 PM.