Posted 13 July 2019 - 06:00 AM
As his command ship entered orbit over the target world, the attack shuttles immediately deployed. Troop transports filled to the brim with combat droids ready for immediate deployment once they reached the surface, interlaced with over a dozen special transport shuttles packed with his feral creations warped by both Sith Sorcery and the Dark Side. Mandalorians were fierce foes so the Dark Lord did a two prong attack with organic and robotic assets this time around.
In fact, this was a very special batch of feral predator eager to rend flesh from bone. He bred them for both massive size and muscle, a single dire wolf was bigger and more muscular than a standard human, a living breathing killing machine than he had toughened up though constant combat and drug regiments, so they knew no fear, no mercy. The jaw strength of these beasts, while it could not yet rend mandalorian battle armor, could easily crush and batter anything unfortunate enough to get caught in between them.
Batches of them were targeted on sections of little military importance, soft targets like civilian centers and medical facilities, where their vicious nature could do the most damage. A message needed to be sent to these pathetic wretches once and for all, and Daxton would be one to deliver it personally.
Encased in his signature purple and crimson reflective battle armor, he carried a repeating heavy las carbine in both his arms as he entered his personal shuttle. How many will he be able to kill this time before the fools would see reason, or were they too blinded by pride? For all their vaulted skill, they died just like anyone else when faced with the unexplainable force that was Daxton Bane. The sooner this planet was pacified the better, but it would be good to go into the field of battle and perhaps he woudl acquire a few more specimens for his experiments.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 08:18 AM
Location: Medical Frigate "Talia" - Passenger Seating
Status: Intact, but, space-minefields are no joke.
Her heart sat in her throat.
Gianna had learned a long time ago, mostly, through trial and error that there was no sense in over-thinking these situations. There was no reason to worry like she was. She could only do so much. She was seated across from, quite possibly, the most interesting looking Jedi she had ever met. His voice was a low rumble that soothed her aching heart. It reminded her to have faith, even if, his comforts were meant for the terrified med-tech that sat beside him. He barely seemed to fit in the seat he was taken. A tree, come to life, given the ability to move, and speak.
She’d never met a Neti before.
The flame-haired woman had always held an affinity for nature. She excelled in making things grow, in bringing life, instead, of taking it away. Her strengths lay in healing. Mending that which was broken. Body, soul, mind, and heart. Gianna had been on plenty of battlefields. This was the first one that left her unsettled. The Summit that she had attended at the side of a friend and many of the Silver Assembly had all but solidified what was to happen this day.
After long debates and hours of philosophical discussion…She understood. That didn’t mean she had to agree. She knew that this was the logical step forward. She knew, that this was the only way. That didn’t change the way she felt about war. Nothing would ever make her want to see two nations, titans in their own right, go head to head, in a battle that would cost…So very, very many lives.
If she couldn’t agree with the methodology—Gianna could do this. She could help who she could.
The pale-skinned woman picked up her comm hesitantly when they exited hyperspace. Carefully, she found the correct channel for the private lines on the Halcyon Storm and eventually it signaled that she’d been successfully connected. Neither the Halcyon nor their frigate was stealth-equipped. Perhaps, it was wasteful of time, but a few words couldn’t hurt. Just a few. Her voice would come through to John Locke brokenly. Fragmented. <<John? Can you hear me?>>
Static, or silence. Why wasn’t this thing working?
<<John…If you can hear this, please, be careful. If something happens in space…>>, she trailed off softly, quietly, while trying not to disturb those around her. They were nervous enough. The entire mission took all of their faculties to maintain calm. She had known him when his work swallowed him whole. When guilt, drink, and designs took him down a path she refused to let him follow. <<…I won’t be able to help. Promise, you’ll be careful.>>
<<…Eshan…It wasn’t your fault—>>
The line cut out as explosions rocked some of the fleet in either direction. Whatever it was seemed to shake the medical frigate down to its foundations and the words of safekeeping that the Neti Jedi had promised seemed to be on borrowed time. Gianna, a Knight, not a Master, struggled in her crash webbing after it happened. They hadn’t been rocked too hard but it hadn’t felt nice either. In the distance she could feel something...Something unfathomable. She couldn't explain it, but, her heart knew death. Someone, several someones, had died in ships nearby.
“Is everyone all right?”
Her comm was playing the speeches from the ground. The speeches from the air. Something had jammed it into looping the public channels and green eyes closed tight. If she had to listen to this the entire mission, it was likely, that she would lose her mind. Most of the passengers seemed all right, but, the crew of the frigate seemed stressed. Something about the shields?
Gia frowned. Now, was not the time for mechanical trouble.
The higher ups on the ship seemed to be taking care of things and she leaned back in her seat for a moment. Part of her wished she’d taken her own ship. The Confederacy was more than fair with their intel but they had a tendency of treating the Silvers a little too carefully. As if, they pressed too hard, they might break. Gianna wished she could just tell them to be as they were. The old Grand Master had accepted them in the past with that alone. The rest…They just needed to have faith.
The frigate seemed to be moving along and the lights stabilized. They weren’t getting hit with anything. At least, not yet. Her eyes fixated on the tree-esque creature before her. “I’m Knight Aegis. Gianna. We’ve never met before. What should I call you?”
Small talk. Something normal, to keep the people around them from panicking. Her quiet form projected a sense of normalcy. Her aura was calming. It seemed to help.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 09:34 AM
Location: The Capital
Edited by Mig Gred, 13 July 2019 - 09:35 AM.
"You can't ignore your emotions, but you also can't let them control you."
Posted 13 July 2019 - 10:52 AM
The city was closing in below. War had already touched it. Fires burned through, lighting up the sky with a hue of red. In a way, it was beautiful. The reverse thrusters of the drop pod kicked in at the last second, reversing the descent just before it slammed into the ground below. If it hadn't of been Krest, it might of hurt someone with how abruptly it had changed.
His pod slammed into the middle of the street, cracking the ground at it's impact. Screams were the first thing that the aged Zabrak could hear. Screams of those terrified by the sudden destruction. Screams of those terrified by what could be within. The next sound was footsteps. Heavy armored footsteps. So they tracked my descent, huh. Krest had calmly begun to unstrap himself from the pods restraints. For now, while the cover was still attached, he was protected.
They didn't know who was in it. Why would the CIS send a lone drop pod into the middle of the city like this? Was it a ruse? A bomb? No one dared to step forward. Near the back, the young man watched the Mandalorian warriors inch closer, their weapons all raised and ready to fire at what ever was going to come out. He needed to be ready himself. He hefted his hunting rifle, aiming down the scope to get a better view from the vantage he had found.
He would help his vod.
The cover of the pod suddenly erupted, causing the young man to nearly jump from his perch in surprise. It launched quite a ways up. Then the blaster fire erupted. The Mandalorians close to the pod began filling the smokey contents of the ship with practiced rounds, all kill shots. They knew what they were doing. They weren't scared. The shots stopped as quick as they had started. What ever was in there would be dead for sure.
Then one fell.
The young man had barely caught it in his scope. One of the soldiers, their heads suddenly flew away from their body. What had caused it? He was scanning for the target, what ever enemy it was, and another fell. An.. Axe? An axe had cleaved right into his chest! "Wha..?" Fear gripped his heart as he saw another go down. The axe had disappeared. What was attacking? Gunfire erupted, and finally he saw it.
A lumbering man with ash grey skin. Wielding only an axe and moving at inhuman speeds. And strength. Another soldier was cut down, a brutal gash left through their armor. He had to be being shot right? Yeah, he could be shot. The young man would take the shot needed if he had to, for sure. But his vod could handle one person.
Within moments, his vod were all dead. Broken bodies, splintered beskar'gam, crushed helmets. This wasn't a man. It was a demon. The sniper sat in his perch, his head in his hands, eyes wide with fear. This wasn't normal. This wasn't happening. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the dead of his friends.
No, he was a mandalorian. He would fight. From this distance, he could kill this monster. Stop it from going any farther into the city. He got up to his rifle and glanced down the scope. The lumbering figure stood before his drop pod, pulling out a small pack. The young man pulled the trigger, and at the same moment the Zabrak stepped back, and turned his head to where the sniper was. The bolt hit where he had been a second later.
Impossible. He couldn't see him. Another shot. And again, the lumbering figure moved just as he pulled the trigger and the shot missed. No, this is wrong. Wait. Where's the axe? He was going to line up another shot when there was a flash of metal in his scope. The axe. It cleaved through his scope, and the last thing he saw was the ice covered blade of the Zabrak.
Krest let out a sigh as he held out his hand. It took a moment, but his axe returned, slamming into his grasp as he looked around. He had more to do here.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 11:06 AM
Tags: Xobos Yakieer, Adron Malvern, Voph, John Locke.
Cypher sat in a Command Throne aboard the Prototype Destoyer 'Riptide' Laid all around him was a Holo-Ring that projected the Images of his line commanders imcluding one Captain Nade ( NPC). " The 'Bane of Tryanny' and the 'Invincible' are to escort The 'Veil' and provide long range fire in order to netrulize those mines." He ordered. He stood and began to motion for the six droids on board to fire the eight heavy cannons aboard the 'Grievous'. " Vice Marshall Rage, those orders were already carried out when we entered the syestem." Said Nade. Cypher felt sluggish. He had ordered that already. So why was he repating thar order. Then an explosion rocked the ship. Cypher fell foward and smashed his head on the rim of the Holo-Ring. At this point the images of John Locke, Voph, Xobos Yakieer and Adron Malvern replaced the images of the Line Commanders. " What the Hell was that?" He yelled. " It appears that a mine entered the Superstructure off the Bridge. Our Shields did not have enough power to neturilize them" a droid reported. At this point Cypher proceeded to stand. Rhe white tip of his hair was stained with blood. " Transfer Auxiliary..." He said before he Collapsed onto the floor. His head bleeding and his eyes closed. He had passed out
Edited by Cypher Rage, 13 July 2019 - 11:24 AM.
Victory Is Never Certain but I Shall Always Win
Posted 13 July 2019 - 11:56 AM
Location: Apple orchard a dozen miles or so out of the capital city.
Gear: 1 Spear, Clawed Gauntlets, Blaster Pistol, Utility Belt
Allies: Confederacy of Independent Systems & Company
Enemies: MCU-Mandalorians & Compatriots
Specific Tags: Scherezade deWinter
Talk of the Confederacy going to battle had not truly interested the Nightsister away from home at first. As a hunter it would be good to be in the field, but her desire to demonstrate her worth was not so consuming just anything would do. She desired to learn secrets of the Force and obtain technology, neither of which were furthered by demonstrating her aptitude for suppressing or slaughtering enemies. Dathomir had many well-trained combat veterans. Although they might need a few more to effectively use any technology Vytal secured for home.
All of that changed when news long in coming fell on her ears. Someone asked why Vytal didn't seem taken by the news given what happened on Dathomir. The Witch ceased turning an artifact over in her hands at the question. What had happened on Dathomir, she'd asked with barely restrained emotion. Being claimed as part of Sith territory did not upset Vytal on its own. In fact, the Witches and the Sith had much in common -- provided the clans' autonomy was left intact. However, that hadn't been the case, had it? One clan in particular had suffered. Not Vytal's own, but Nightsisters all the same.
The artifacts had been left behind as Vytal stormed into her leader's office and made it clear where she was going -- Tanaab.
And that was how a Nightsister ended up inside of a dropship as it plunged kimometers toward the surface of the planet. Vytal did not scream -- that would have been demeaning -- but her heart pounded in her chest from the alien sensation. She'd leaped from a hovercraft before. Skydived into an enemy stronghold. Watched as ships soared through the stars... But never, not once, had she ever been placed inside a small, metal box and flung at a planet.
When at last the hatch opened, Vytal's fingers clutched for purchase to drag her body into the open. Several deep breaths had calmed her spirit and restored communion with the Fanged God and Winged Goddess. She would not be found wide-eyed like uninitiated sisters beholding her first ancient monstrosity.
It was breathtaking to arrive to a planet so dramatically. Although it was slightly disappointing to find her drop unopposed. There had been 'intelligence' that the enemy -- Mandalorians -- were holed up in the city; but Vytal had assumed they would not abandon the entirety of the planet otherwise. Was this thing she'd arrived in equipped with some fort of cloaking device, she wondered. Slaughtering her enemies would help Vytal find her feet again quickly.
Alone, the pale Witch set off in the direction of another scheduled to drop in the area. The pair of them seemed to be drawn together by the god and goddess for some reason. Vytal might even look forward to their meeting. Scherezade -- a name the Sister could barely pronounce -- had knowledge and was an apt combatant of her own; amicable company to learn about offworlders.
By the time Noctura had arrived, the deWinter woman had already set fire to an 'orchard.' A strange word describing a place of hard, round fruits that served as a fair projectile if there were no rocks available. "There is much talking to offworlder combat," the Nightsister announced as she neared a Confederate ally. "Are your enemies so weak they are scared or led by your words? They should face us because they are worthy to be fought." Even on Dathomir you could jeer your opponent, but that was done before battle was engaged. Once the fighting commenced there was no longer any need for words. If the dead were summoned they surely had nothing worth saying; and only sought to welcome the living to join them in a cold, wet embrace. Vytal already considered the battle begun... and yet they had no enemies to fight. It rankled the Witch as she stood there.
Edited by Vytal Noctura, 13 July 2019 - 12:00 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 12:06 PM
- Allies: UCM and Defenders
- Enemies: CIS and Attackers
- Equipment: Atrisian Polearm, Living Fortress Armor coated with Slick, Slugthrower
- Interaction tags: Taozi Fuyuan, Aditya Fitz Kierke, Adenn Kyramud
- Post: 1
Posted 13 July 2019 - 01:22 PM
Allies: Gianna Aegis
Enemies: Hopefully No One
Location: Landing on Taanab
Death and fire occurred all around the frigate as it plunged towards the surface of Taanab. Already the war torn skies and battle strewn planet were plunged into chaos, and yet, on this one frigate there was peace. Tranquility. Nervousness and anxiety yes, but everyone knew their duties and were prepared and willing to carry them out calmly. Orn had never doubted they would arrive, but he couldn’t remember whether this incarnation of the Clans killed civilians and medics or not. Sometimes they held different codes at different times, and he could not keep track of them anymore.
Orn wasn’t even sure who the Mand’alor was, the Resurrector? The Undying? The Lost? There were so many in such a short span of time it seemed. The younger races, always so eager to make their mark on the galaxy with their lives, it seemed they never realized how little time they actually spent among the living.
The large tree being’s soft brown eyes turned to the redhead that spoke to him, registering her existence for a moment. She was a human, bright redhair, like several he had known throughout his many ages though their names were distant memories he could no long conjure without aid from another. “No, I do not believe we have been acquainted little one, but it is good to meet you now.” He smiled warmly at the young woman, waving his branches in greeting even as he patted the medic beside him in reassurance.
The ship rocked from re-entry, the air around it igniting from friction as the ship descended into the atmosphere. Some seemed nervous and cautious, but still the Neti acted as if nothing was out of place. He groaned and rolled his shoulders, the bark of his skin creaking as he shifted what passed for muscles and bones in a Neti. “I believe they intend to land us near the Forward Operating Base, but I feel I cannot stay there.” He mused, looking over the passengers. Once on the ground they would be safe enough, surrounded by their soldiers and armies as they set up a field hospital on the ground to triage wounded from the Confederacy.
But the Force did not call him there, no. It wasn’t his responsibility to help those that were already being helped. “I must go into the city. There are those who need me there who cannot wait. Where will you go when we land, little one?” The ship's landing gears began to creak as they extended, preparing to brace the amalgamation of steel and wires against the surface of the world.
Edited by Orn Pharr, 13 July 2019 - 01:23 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 01:23 PM
Posted 13 July 2019 - 03:56 PM
Posted 13 July 2019 - 04:21 PM
But he had to swallow that.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 04:30 PM
Location - outside adityas room
Allies - UCM
enemies - CIS
Stardust watched from the window, looking to the sky to see such a massive fleet over it...reminded her of the battle for the galaxy honestly seeing all those ships attacking one another while rushing the massive superweapon within space...
Instead now it was above the agricultural planet, sending down hoards and hoards of enemies...all for what? A example? What tactical advantage did they have attacking here? It was farm land and a hospital it would be like someone attacking imahalyan it didnt make sense at all! Least to stardust it didnt....
Glancing towards the room she saw aditya up and about...by the force what was this fething woman doing?! Turning star entered the room to go and chide her for being up and around before stopping. She listened to her and relaxed as she looked down and was quiet....she was...considered a daughter? For the twilek who had had parents since well hers died and had to learn everything from experience it was so...relieving. it caused her to falter a bit before she stood straight and approached
with all due respect, your in no condition to fight mother, besides weve got our orders
She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder
so I'll take a shot if that means you staying put
Posted 13 July 2019 - 05:16 PM
Location: Above Tanaab
Objective: Prevent escape from the system.
Events started developing at an astonishingly quick pace. Gerhard expected much more of a standoff than this, but soon after everything went into motion. Livia Maddox 's Fury Fleet had already began making an offensive run towards the nearby Halcyon Storm. The CIS' own ships had surged forward, tearing a path through the minefield. Chaos ensued. Shots had been fired. War had begun.
The Confederate war machine advanced. MSEC, however, had other objectives. The MSW Storm started making it's way towards the Halcyon Storm's task force, assuming a position at the rear of the formation, shielded by other ships from the advancing fury fleet. The Storm's Tachyon Beams had a significant advantage- their ability to fire arcing shots. This would be key to the ship being able to both avoid and dish out damage.
Manndorf did not stop pacing across the bridge of the Storm. Doubt started to creep into his mind.
"What if there's more?"
"What if it's a trap?"
"What if we fail?"
"What if there really are innocents on that planet?"
He quickly started pushing these thoughts to the back of his head. A commander could not hesitate. A commander could not doubt their cause. Especially when the stakes were this high.
In the meantime, a group of ships launched from Taanab's surface. Making their way towards the edge of Taanab's gravity well using the shortest route possible. Their communications array was broadcasting a message on all available channels: "We are evacuation ships! Do not engage!". Luckily, this did not concern MSEC. Their orders were clear.
"This is Eagle 7, proceeding to engage target, requesting assistance."
"This is Eagle 9, moving in to provide support."
"Eagle 12, providing backup."
Soon enough, the three frigates had visual contact with their targets.
"Engage afterburners, ready Microjumps"
"Copy that Eagle 7, we are ready to close in"
The frigate's engines began burning brighter yet, their afterburners hurling them onto an interception course. They formed a classic wedge formation and opened communications to the fleeing ships.
"This is the Captain of Eagle 7, Manndorf Security Systems. We encourage you to drop speed and proceed with us towards the Lucrehulk- Class Battleship at these coordinates. If you wish the entire crew of this ship be provided a tour of the molecular world, attempt to fight or run. If you do that and don't yet have offspring, please provide us an escape pod with your DNA samples for reproduction. 3 minutes should be enough for this process."
With that, the frigates powered up their lasers (power settings to low) and began target acquisition.
Edited by Gerhard Manndorf, 13 July 2019 - 05:23 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 05:30 PM
Location: Taanab System
Objective: Support Allies and bring the UCM to justice
Allies: CIS + Allies
Enemies: UCM and Friends
<<…Eshan…It wasn’t your fault—>>
The dark-haired Admiral slumped down in his chair, face bowed as he reached out a finger, the single digit resting against the button as he pressed it again, listening to Gianna’s broken whispering voice one more time. John had heard of the mask of command, that face you put on so those who looked upto you couldn’t see your worry, your fear. It was the lie every commander told their soldiers, that it would all be ok, that everyone would get home to their loved ones in on piece. It was an essential piece of armour, for a commander and for his men. Only with a soft word, the single short message the redhead had riven it without even being present. For a moment John’s mask was gone, the pieces of his control shattered around him.
The planet had changed so much, leaving it’s indelible mark on the galaxy, a scar on the soul of a generation, an abyss in the soul of the Admiral. It was the planet where he’d seen on of the ships under his command boarded, the crew slaughtered as a warlord he’d never seen had driven the ship into the planets surface. John had heard about asteroid strikes wiping out a planetary population, who hadn’t, the horror stories of the past, but that kind of thing didn’t happen these days. They had the technology to stop it, it had been men like him who created that technology in the first place. Only…he’d walked the crater, the ground still steaming from the force of the impact. It was only one tragedy in a day that was full of them, a constant stream of images that John didn’t think that he’d ever be able to forget. But this…this crater that was on him, his fault. All the lives lost because of that monster, they were on him, he could have done something more, reacted faster, reacted differently. He could have done something…anything to stop it.
She’d never believed that though, not for one moment, the depth of her belief in him, in his better nature…that’s what had brought him back from the brink more than anything else. The man lifted his eyes to watch the dropship shaking, sinking into the atmosphere, safely. He hadn’t realised it, hadn’t lifted his gaze away from the screen to see how the crew had turned away, giving the man his space, unwilling to impinge on the moment as he watched the screen.
“Be safe.” Two words, no more. He knew she couldn’t hear him, the disruption of the war making communication with Gianna all but impossible as she sank to the planet but…the force was meant to be this amazing connecting energy. Maybe, just maybe she’d hear it, sense it…whatever the Jedi did, maybe some merciful god would hear the words and whisk them out across the void, make them true.
A breath, and then another the riven mask slowly healing, the cracks smoothed over, not gone, maybe not ever but…not visible either. No words were shared with the bridge crew, what could be said? The silence and turned backs were a gift beyond measure, but not one that could ever be answered. The silence hung in the air, not the sharp silence that cut into your soul, the silence that called to you to fill it. This was a different silence, the silence of the professional doing their job. Data flowed and reports bounced back and down the fleet’s communication, the silence of perfection…it couldn’t last.
As suddenly as the Confederacy appeared, the Mandalorian forces burst into the scene, ship after ship after ship tearing out of space. John had expected the Mandalorian’s to make a beeline to the planet, to their friends and allies that they’d left behind there. He’d prepared a rear guard…well primarily because you never knew what could happen. Who knew he’d gotten so lucky? The Mandalorian and Sith fleets that came crashing into the system were…well significantly more numerous than his rearguard for sure, but that was the job of the rearguard, to defend against attacks like this.
“Open,” the violent shaking of the ship as the first wave of Mandalorian attacks came tearing through space. “Get me the flagship right now, helm bring us around, the fleet is to redeploy to meet this new attack.” The cyborg glanced at the holographic image of Adron Malvern who appeared by him, the hologram absorbing the red lights of the ship’s alarms giving the man an almost demonic feel. “Exarch, the Mandalorian’s have arrived and opened fire on us and well…we could use some help here.” John’s gaze flicked to the screen as data propagated as fast as his sensors could compile it. “It looks like they’re being supported by a Sith Armada…I’ve fought this one before.” Vanessa Vantai, the first naval commander to leave a scratch on the Hyperion. John had forced her to retreat once, but now with such a disparity in numbers. “The Sith will be using a weapon designed to pierce your shields. It’s a sensor, it picks up wavelength of your shields and matches it. In effect your shields no longer exist to the weapon. We lost a lot of ships before we figured it out, anyone engaging the Sith needs to keep changing their shield frequency.” He started to hold out his hand before remembering EX wasn’t there, the droid waiting at home for him, “It’s a pretty simple algorithm,” as he spoke John’s fingers started to fly across a keyboard, lines of code dancing for a moment before he forwarded it onto the Exarch. “All we need to do is keep changing the shields to a random frequency so she can’t keep up, that program ought to do it.” His gaze flicked towards the main screen, “They opened fire first sir, no warning, no negotiation no demands.” So much for their speeches about protecting innocent lives, opening fire without a demand for surrender, Dark eyes flicked over to the hologram, John knew the job of the rearguard, to hold the line for the main fleet when called on, as they were being called on now. “We’ll hold them back as long as we can, but I can only hold them off for so long before they get past us.” Not really a member of the Confederacy forces John wasn’t sure if he should salute or not, settling on a nod before turning to his crew. There was nothing else he could say, the enemy commander had superior numbers and had already shown their willingness to do anything to win.
“General Command to the taskforce, we will reorient to the rear now, and form up to take up positions against the Mandalorian forces. The Umbara and Lothal-class ships are to move up to support the rest of our front line. Carriers, pull back towards the Exarch’s forces, all ships are to start a slow retreat, keep them at range.” He took a deep breath, eyes flicking to his personal screen, “Tactical target the Mandalorian Flagship with the Tempestas and the rest of our main weapons. The Artillery and Battle cruisers are to engage the secondary target while the star destroyers will engage the tertiary target. Support cruisers are to move up and provide support to the Halcyon. All ships are to begin withdrawning from their forces, matching their pace.” As long as they could stay at range the taskforce could work against the Mandalorian’s superior numbers, he just had to keep them there as long as possible. Orders given John didn’t have much more to do than to trust his crew and hope for the best. The man’s gaze drifted across to the planet, the centre of all this fighting as the Halycon's weapons came to life, joining the task forces as they sent a veritable storm of firepower streaming towards the Mandalorians. Light designed to shut down weapons, light designed to ill, metal and missiles to punch a hole in your ship. All of it concentrated down on 3 targets. The dance of war and death in the heavens just beginning.
Sorry Gia, things have happened in space.
Reorienting to face new foe.
Halcyon firing all weapons bar the Garuda at the Hellwolf
Tenchu-Kais and Artillery cruisers firing all long range weapons at the Sundari
All Star Destroyers firing at the Defiant Mantis
Edited by John Locke, 13 July 2019 - 06:22 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 07:20 PM
Edited by Beth Cadera, 13 July 2019 - 07:23 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 07:22 PM
Location: Outskirts of City
Enemies: Fleshbags, but especially beskar-clad fleshbags
Commanding: Bee-Wan Tribe
Clanker’s drop pods would arrive late, not because of any tactical reasoning, but more so just due to the controversy spawned over what he was having them load up. Eventually he ‘persuaded’ the fleshbags by surrounding them with tens of his brethren and they worked swiftly enough with their meat-driven joints. Once the Bee-Wan Tribe loaded up their vehicles and then themselves, about 1000 droids strong, they were thrown off the Dread Queen toward the planet.
The trip down was, so to say… stressful for the fragile squad of B1 droids. They had stuffed the whole tribe into 50 pods, 20 a piece, with droids stacked on top of each other. The vessel shook, the sound of explosions and lasers and thrusters just outside, sometimes seemingly just inches away. But the B1 droids, who tended to be prone to panic, were silent during this descent. Praise be MS-0. The thought was never communicated aloud, but Clanker had no doubt that this was what was going through each and every one of the tribedroids’ circuits right now, because it was what he was thinking as well. The vessel heated as they hit the atmosphere, and in thirty seconds the thrusters flaired to life and they slowed to a full halt before the ramps dropped and the natural light flooded in.
From the space vessels came nine hundred and sixty droids approximately 5 kilometers from the city, each armed with a spear and a small round shield, all stained with red, black, yellow, and blue warpaint. Two vessels had been shot down on entry, may they be rebuilt in a new life. Luckily, none of their vehicles had been destroyed: 10 metal catapults rolled out of the pods, a number of droids riding passenger on them. Clanker had requested to land slightly further from the city than the rest, away from the initial fighting… not because he was afraid or being cautious or cowardly, but because he had grander plans.
The catapults rode, rickety and all, as the droids marched behind them in a strangely disorganized manner. Once about a kilometer from the outskirts, Clanker radioed in. “Situation report?” Listening intently to the rushed reports, Clanker would have smiled if he was a gross fleshy organic with teeth. “Catapults, forty-seven degrees from north, a seven-hundred meters out.”
The excited droids moved swiftly, and within a minute the siege weapons were all pointed in generally the same direction with lines of droids behind them. Clanker, being the chieftein, skipped the line and stepped up onto the catapult himself, a circular repulsorlift pack attached to his back by an automatic arm. And then, without further delay, they launched with a thwang! The ten B1 droids simultaneously were tossed into the air, and the battlefield became small under them… and then, just as quickly, quite large again.
“Roger roger!” Clanker provided as a warcry, coming down from above and throwing his spear at a Mandalorian combatant (Karsan Calnov) that passed below Clanker on the ground before the droid’s repulsorlift pack slowed his descent, but not enough that he wouldn’t lose his foot upon landing. The next wave of droids came quickly, a comrade of the Bee-Wan Tribe crashing next to Clanker head-first, becoming scrap. “Thank you, my brother, and praise MS-0 for this gift.” With mechanical precision and no hesitation, Clanker picked up the surviving leg of the droid and attached it to himself, using some slight cover on the ground to avoid fire. Now whole again, Clanker wanted his spear back. “Roger roger!” With his cry echoed by other surviving Bee-Wans, the droid army would begin a fast approach toward Calnov and similarly nearby Mandalorian forces while crouched behind their shields in turtling formations, even as more machine comrades rained in from the sky above.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 07:41 PM
Objective: Launch and Strike
Location: Halycon Storm
Tags: Nyx N1X3
It was a scene that Keira had grown familiar to during her time flying with the Empire. Klaxons roaring, all the pilots rushing to suit up and attack. A fine, albeit chaotic, thing. Keira thankfully had her old flightsuit, most of it at least. Her outfit now a mixture of the stereotypical Imperial black and add ons of everything she didn't have when she captured on Rhen Var. A fine little bastardization of what the Imps up north wore.
Though, unlike most instances, Keira was fairly calm as everyone suited up and prepared for the carnage. She was excited, of course, hadn't been enough chances to fly like this. And those that she did get hadn't been all that eventful, Csilla was fun though. Though she couldn't help but wish she got a medal for that one...damn Imps. Only giving out medals to the boring ones. Do you know how much good spice you can buy with a shiny medal? It's enough, that's how much.
Her squadron, the Void Mastiffs, had been put aboard the mighty Halcyon storm before entering into the void. The mercs had been on their best behavior too, Keira especially. Rare, rare indeed. But behavior mattered little, was all about the thrill of the hunt. After finally hooking herself into her suit, all nice and snug. She began to run over, shouting over toNyx N1X3 on her way out.
"Come on, Bolthead! We got Mandos to fry!"
With that she went and loaded into her Ginivex-II, zipping out into the void. Though, unlike how she usually approached it, she stuck close to the giant this time. The giants in the void could duke it out with their giant guns today, once the opening appeared she would zip in and begin the carnage.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 07:56 PM
Posted 13 July 2019 - 08:16 PM
Objective: Launch and Strike
Location: Halycon Storm
Tags: Keira Cerdulan
Nyx stood patiently in the dress room awaiting her squadron lead to get suited up. As a droid external attire was completely unnecessary despite her rough female equivalent frame design. All the same, she preferred to join the rest to avoid setting herself apart from them. It was difficult enough to overcome the fact that she was a droid. Many sentients looked down upon her for the fact she was not birthed from an organic womb or egg. Ego, however, was not an emotional state Nyx had opted to emulate in her programming despite observing the quality in countless bi-pedal species.
To the nanosecond this mission had proceeded without incident and on schedule. In fact, Nyx was quite pleased with the performance of so many inefficient species coordinating their actions so effectively. She made a note of this in her memorybanks for the report sent back to the Ministry of Secrets once the engagement ended.
Gently glowing red eyes followed Keira as the woman suddenly darted for the door. The energetic and reckless lead used a colorful moniker en route. Bolthead? Were Nyx a less experienced droid she might have taken that name literally; as things were Nyx wondered why she'd opted for that one among so many available. There were no bolts protruding from Nyx's cranial unit.
Banter aside, Nyx followed Keira at the pace the squadron lead set. The many sensors and gyros within Nyx made the sound of her metallic feet only slightly louder than an organics -- though there were plenty of boots thundering across decks and down corridors for it to be lost. "Set a new record, Blue." Nyx tried playing off the woman's name to keep the banter going as they prepared to enter battle. Socializing was critical to making connection with organic lifeforms, and Nyx enjoyed the learning opportunities. And... friendship.
As they approached their vessels, Nyx triggered the ramp to her Locke & Key Scythe-class fighter. The onboard computer immediately adjusted its configuration and performance profile to that of Nyx. While the ship could be flown by organics, she had purchased several components and integrations that could only truly be utilized at their optimum performance levels by a droid. The inertial dampening, artificial gravity, and environmental systems would operate at reduced settings as such comforts were unnecessary.
Once Keira was set, Nyx followed the woman's lead in lifting off and powering out of the hanger. The chain of command would dictate what death-defying antics the Void Mastiffs would participate in this battle. From what was apparent from the feel of the larger vessel before departure, and now visually witnessed outside of the fighter's canopy, Nyx anticipated an interesting and educational opportunity lay ahead.
Edited by Nyx N1X3, 13 July 2019 - 08:19 PM.
Posted 13 July 2019 - 09:12 PM
Location: The Fortressa
Naedira was pissed.
Not because of the war, the long travel, or the stiffness in her limbs. She was angry because the Knight Commander [Alkor Centaris] had seen fit to put her in time out. The wording hadn’t been so basic, certainly, but it had the same effect. Stay back. Work with the medics. He insinuated that somehow, someway, her talents could be best suited to evacuating? Even some of the Jedi were on the field. In fighters. Taking the battle to the Mandalorians. But here she was—On the Fortressa, safe as houses.
She simmered while she walked down a long corridor that led to the communication hub that the Knights used to keep track of progress and battle plans. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight braid while her lithe form was wrapped in the Obsidian Strike armor. At times like these? She never took it off. Voices came through the public channels. She couldn’t help but grimace at the strange, almost rehearsed, rhetoric that seemed to be floating up from Taanab. The hypocrisy was beyond reproach…But that wasn’t the point the Confederacy had come to argue.
The Mandalorians, from what she had read, were no longer deemed fit to maintain the space they had claimed. Either the Mandalore had become unhinged, or, her war dogs were no longer following her commands. It was a mess to suss out the details to be honest. All she knew for certain was that Confederate allies had been harmed. Placed at risk. That meant their people rose. That meant war, and war, was exactly where Naedira was effective. It was the duty of a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less.
Her plans to use the communication hub to reach out to Centaris were halted when she felt something immense. It was hard to explain. Wings of blackbirds flickered at the edges of her eyes as something so profound gripped her chest that it became difficult to draw breath. It reminded her, vaguely, of the Vicelord. Of Darth Metus when he actually let loose and wrath poured from his core like the inevitability of gravity. This was similar, close, but still very different…
Different enough that she knew it was not their Vicelord. It was not either of the Exarchs. It did not belong here. It was the difference between the taste of bitter steel and cream, with the oddness, of two moons hanging low with the sun in the same dark sky. It was primordial. An open threat. A clear terror that she had not felt since…Coruscant?
Naedira turned around, pivoting hard, while slamming the emergency alert codes into her holo-comm. The Fortressa erupted into a frenzy of alarms, flashing lights, while she headed toward the anomaly rather than away from it. She kept in contact with those that monitored security and tried to suggest anything she could think of…“Check for breaches. Unauthorized docking. Anything!”
Switching modes, she hailed the Veil, and tried to get in touch with Adron Malvern. He was the senior most member of the Confederacy currently available in space. “We have a problem on the Fortressa. Something, someone, is here. Darkside. Not ours. Investigating. Engaging.”
Several decks down found her moving with a team of three armed Magnaguard. They were not her first choice. She preferred to have her brothers and sisters of the Knights at her side. They were strong alone, certainly, but stronger together. The closer she got to the anomaly the more her vision seemed to swim. It wasn’t dizzying, not like spinning on a pod racer in circles, but moreso, as if she were being crushed. As if the very air was being forced from her body. It was physical.
It wasn’t just in her head. Not a trick.
When she finally made it to the point of origin, she saw a hulking form surrounded by crimson clad soldiers. She focused, drawing on her own connection to the Force, to try and use it as a shield. A likeness, so that she could see, think, and access the situation fully. Her teeth were chattering. Not from cold. From fear. Fear—That she never allowed. That she never saw coming. But, it hit her like a speeding light rail regardless. Naedira breathed in deeply.
“You should not be here. Go back the way you came.”
To her credit—Her voice did not quake. It did not quiver. She almost sounded like a Knight Obsidian that had stared down monsters, the undead, and all manner of creepy crawling things. Almost. Her hood was down. He would see her eyes, her face. She was so much smaller than this Sith, his stature so great, that being dwarfed was the only way it could be described.
She was a mouse. Standing before a mountain, wrapped, in a hurricane.
Edited by Srina Talon, 14 July 2019 - 02:45 AM.