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Much had happened since the opening shot had erupted from the Alliance battle line. The tactics of space combat were best left to the careerists among the First Order military machine, Castor had no illusions of his place in this battle. It was with this in mind that he stalked the bridge of the Ravager. Castor had seen the opening shot via live data feed from his position. Following it he felt a surge of raw power consume his mind. Despite physical distance he felt the pulse of Sieger Ren himself, a violent beacon of power and might. All the Ren were connected to the Supreme Leader in some way, even unconsciously. It was a result of their indescribably loyalty to the man, none who had not experienced it wouldn't understand - Grand Admiral Tregessar a case and point. Even as Castor watched the man it was evident that there was another reason for his allegiance to Sieger. Nothing sinister, but certainly not the same violent fervor Castor and his brothers and sisters felt. It was a good thing that the Supreme Leader didn't measure the worth of a man solely by the depth of his devotion, but rather their ability.
The Grand Admiral seemed a decent sort to the Knight of Ren however, hard perhaps, cold to a degree. Fitting that his talents lay within the void. Castor watched calmly, quietly - then there it was. A violent flash of light in the darkness of the Force. The battlefield here much different than that of station Triaxis, so much that it was jarring when Castor felt the presence of the light, unbidden amidst them. A few heavy steps to the nearest console and he could see his concerns confirmed. Hapspir had an unexpected visitor.
Castor stood, adorned in the Armor of his Brethren. Not unlike them all he too wore a helmet, dark mask concealing his appearance as much as aiding his natural abilities of the hunter. A twitch caused the corner of his lips to rise momentarily behind the mask as he observed the sensor readings. There had definitely been a ship there a moment ago, what was left of it he couldn't tell but Hapspir had lost containment in one of the sections, a grainy view of the hole now in the hull of the station displaying on one of the many monitors. Another threat had emerged from the void in the form of an opposing fleet. Decisions would need to be made, but until that time he was content to observe.
"Boarders!" The alarm echoed through the comms. Kiyron turned, adjusting his information to focus on the information. "Ventral hangar!" The communication was interrupted by a cacophony of weapons fire and explosion. Starship guns, by the sound of it. He pulled up the security feeds. Two dropships, approximately two score of raiders, in armor that he couldn't recognize. It wasn't First Order, by any means. Nor were the ships First Order either. He manipulated the cameras and zoomed in on the emblems.
That was odd. It wasn't one that he was familiar with on-sight, but he ran a secondary search through the databases to find one that matched. There was nothing. There was no way to tell whose these mercenaries were.
"Admiral," he called across the room, "Mercenaries have boarded the ventral hangar. See if you can't get some fighter-jocks to clear out their ships."
But first, he needed them contained. There were still Alliance personnel alive, albeit barely, in the hangar, which precluded him just venting it to space. No, that wasn't worth the sacrifice. They didn't have enough men to take over the ship. Not if the display was correct. He'd noted several of them having taking hits without any damage. Shields, if he guessed right.
No, this would have to be done tactically. He had no intention to use up the entire complement of ship's marines for this. His hands flew across the controls as he sealed the bulkeads around the hangar, as if it had been or was going to be vented. The extra durasteel would buy them some extra time.
"Second platoon and third platoon," he said through the comms, "Boarders in ventral hangar. Move to secure the corridors outside. Heavy weapons required. They're tough nuts to crack."
"Understood, colonel." The reply came back. As the Marines moved positions, many had heavier equipment than normal. Heavy armor, bolters, rotary cannons, and EMP grenades.
Two squads of them took position behind the next set of bulkheads away from the hangar, with two of the rotary cannons charged and ready to fire. The others carried bolters and heavy blaster rifles.
That would keep them pinned for a little while. Kiyron paused for a moment, syncing the ship security systems with his armor's computers. But first, he needed to make a call. Not through Alliance channels, but Mandalorian channels.
"Oya!" Kiyron said as he prepared to leave the bridge, re-configuring his rifle into an LMG with the explosive rounds. "Mando'ade, looks like the First Order's boarded the Excubitor. Some assistance in repelling them would be greatly appreciate."
With that, he turned and strode from the bridge, still relaying commands and information to the Marines around the ship as he received their reports. He prepared his armor, syncing it to Alliance transponders, and loading its weaponry. The din'uul was prepared for instant activation.
But it was his rifle that would the most helpful, initially. He wasn't using the largest caliber at the moment, but the explosive rounds make up for the difference. Kiyron hurried down the corridors, listening to the reports. Things had quieted down as they secured the enemy secured the hangar.
That was a design flaw, in his mind. The hangars should be more fortified and more heavily equipped than they were. Of course, that came with its own disadvantages.
"Disable ventral hangar door controls," Kiyron said as he passed a nearby computer technician. "Need to seal the enemy in there as long as possible." The tech nodded and got to work, cutting power access to the bulkheads. An alarm would sound within the hangar. Kiyron paused for a moment, but then hurried along, moving his way through the marines until he made his way to the first bulkhead past the hangar.
The wounded were carried back to the medical bay. Their injuries were substantial. The attackers weren't using blasters then, but something else. He frowned, but set his rifle up in the middle, between the rotary cannons and heavy blaster rifles, all of which were on automatic.
As soon as the doors opened and the first enemy stepped out, they would open fire. Several EMP grenades had been tossed close to the hangar bulkhead, primed to detonate on a trigger when they spilled through the door. Kiyron stood well back, out of their range. Better safe than sorry, as far as he was concerned. He had the jackknife pistols ready as well.
The man took a deep breath.
"Steady, marines," he said, voice flattened by the annunciator. "We'll beat the back. Don't your worry. For the Alliance!" The last word was yelled so that it echoed through his comms and through the hallway around him. The marines took up the cheer around him.
Kiyron smiled a fey smile beneath his helmet. Oh, how he had missed this.
"Boss, we got a full regiment! Looks like a fair number of eyeballs heading our way!" Rogue three said into the mic apprehensively.
Boss? They were entrusting their lives with some rookie who was possibly in for the slaughterhouse, a leader? He had never thought about it. That's why Rogue Squardon had been ideal in the first place. It was any pilots dream to eventually be leading their own Squadron eventually but not him. After seeing movement first hand, Jax realized that the best thing about being a pilot for the alliance was truly the thrill. He was one of those few souls would rather be in the brink of all the action than to be sitting in some office signing paperwork. Jax was simply a bird. A bird soaring through the stars with only his wings to depend on, without them what was he? Just this once he would lead for them for though. Afterall he was the one who needed their help, being cocky was not going to ensue any kind of win and those bombers needed all the cover they could get. The red blips were increasing in numbers rapidly as Jax cycled through his targeting computer, they were scattering from place to place making it impossible to make a direct target. These guys were good.... It was exactly what he had been hoping for. "Seven cut to the left, three break off. We'll have a better chance of scoring if we hit them head on!"
"Copy!" Rogues three and seven exclaimed together in unsion.
Jax's X-Wing peeled off at the given command, going for a wide sweeping arch in full throttle towards his targets with his two wingmen soaring in opposite directions to engage with their volleys of red laser bursts.
Tiland's eyes shot open as the ship rocked. His efforts in the Force were disrupted by the fact that they were crashing. He could hardly help with that, but he grabbed the side of the hall and wedged himself in with his staff. Metal shrieked around him and tore as violent ripples echoed through the Force.
But then, it was over as quickly as it had begun. He picked himself up from the wall and inspected his tea-satchel. They were all in good shape, fortunately.
"I'm unharmed," he added after a moment and tried to find his balance on the skewed hull. The ship was definitely in bad shape. Likely irreparable, in all honesty. But why had they stopped? It confused him greatly.
Unless they had just hit the station, which was his guess. Not the greatest thing ever, but it was enough that they could work with. Perhaps the Force had worked to their advantage.
Hex L-49 \\ FIV Ravager \\ Unforgiven-class Battlecruiser Faction: First Order \\ Enemy: Galactic Alliance \\ Status: In the vicinity of Station Hapspir In Vicinity: [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | [member="Castor Ren"] |[member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Zanza Hijikata"]
It was basically glorified escort duty. Follow the Old Man around, make no sure no one kills him, occasionally get tasked to do a special op for the powers that be. On a day to day, it was a pretty damn boring job, but at least it paid well. Then there were the times like this, when those same powers that be decide to up and start a war, and the 300-odd Helldivers that made up the company assigned to guard the Marshal of Shadowline found themselves tucked away on a First Order warship, wondering if there would be anything to do.
Cable scanned the group with him, some 12 soldiers lounging in a mostly vacated armory. They'd found their way to the place by following a line of First Order spacers, and had watched while the entire file, probably 200 men and women, received blasters, helmets, and armorweave flak vests. It was a scene being played out all across the ship, with personnel assigned to Security Department receiving the gear to help the large Stormtrooper garrison repel boarders.
As the last Navy personnel had left the Helldivers had occupied the space, just to have a place to sit down out of the way while they waited for orders. Though it was hardly his first time aboard one of the Supreme Leader's warships, Cable still felt out of place. With their mismatched armor and cavalier attitudes the Helldivers were known to butt heads with Stormtroopers, but neither could deny the others effectiveness in battle. Not that it was strictly a fair comparison, mind you, the Helldivers only recruited veterans, and their training was grueling.
"Heard there might be Mandalorians joining the party" one of the newer troopers mentioned. He sounded somewhat nervous, not a good attitude for a Helldiver to have.
Cable rolled his eyes. "Been watching too much holovid back on Axxila? Mando's are good fighters, make no mistake, but they rely too much on their armor and their reputation. Stick with the team and you'll be fine."
The new guy nodded, but even encased in armor he seemed unconvinced. "Yeah, and what about the Jedi? Suppose one of them gets onboard?"
Someone started laughing, and to Cable's surprise it was Captain Zaro. The Atrisian was a 1st generation Helldiver, one of only a few still alive from that planets grasp at Empire. 1st Recon they'd been called, and Cable had always heard rumors of specialized training to fight force-users, Jedi from the once mighty Galactic Republic in particular. Still chuckling, he raised his rifle, pointed at the top barrel, then the bottom. "Charric, Shattergun. You've got the mentalist training to resist compulsion, and you've got years of combat experience. Half the Jedi and Mandos are fucking fanatic teenagers with either a lightsaber and some sorcery or a fancy suit of armor who all think that means they can conquer the world. Use your weapon, use your training, and if you complain about someone we're supposed to fight again I'm gonna put you out a fucking airlock.
That shut the new guy up. It shut Cable up too, because Zaro almost never lost his cool. People showed nerves in interesting ways.
Location: Space Operations Center, Union-class Assault/Colony CarrierOcean Tide, near Station Hapspir Objective: Move to attack Station Hapspir and its defending forces Allies: Galactic Alliance & friends: [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Mirax Eygan"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"] | [member="Alyson Halle"] | [member="Zanz Hijikata"] Enemies: [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | First Order
The next few minutes seemed to last an eternity as the eruption of chaos within the allied fleet retreated under the calming influence of [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s and companion's battle meditation. What would have been clouded by the fog of war became clear, what would have been a harried task became a sundry chore. He felt as if they were running through the same simulation now for the dozenth time. They now knew the result, they were only trying to beat their old time from their last run. Inspired and augmented by the Jedi, his crews initially sluggish and chaotic response quickly coalesced into tightly knit cohesion and efficiency.
They would need it. Fighter pilots and defensive gunnery crews acted in synchronized concert along with the communication's jamming to try and offset the superior numbers fielded by the First Order. Onboard the Tide, shield operators successfully predicted most of their enemy's attacks and layered and prioritized shielding to best efficiently blunt and disperse the attacks even as their gunnery teams synced their fire to try and pierce through the Ravager's and Hapshir Station's impressive defences. Their thoughts and actions manifested in the space around.
Incandescent weapon's fire from the Ravager and the Tide lit up the black ocean around them. Word came in that the hyperdrive had been damaged in the jump, which Hopkins responded to by dispatching additional repair teams to the unit. Gir blinked in surprise at the agility displayed by the warship, noting a different paint job and several different weapon streams coming out of it that he was unfamiliar with. Whatever new weapons it possessed were impressive, with several of their attacks having already passed through the Tide's layered shielding and through its hull plating. Damage control teams of L1 Marinus droids were quickly dispatched to deal off the areas in preparation for repair crews to try and see what they patched up. He made a note that if he survived the contact, that he would have to review sensor data from the engagement to see what the First Order had modified on the battlecruiser. But whatever fascination he had held for the battlecruiser was dwarfed by that he held for the station. Their initial assault had appeared to be removing whatever stealth technology had originally incorporated in the design, scans from the Sowas, which had now moved to occupy lightly populated spaces above and below the plane of the engagement, revealed that it certainly wasn't a star destroyer, but a space station of sorts. Yet for a military station its size, it seemed to have an unusually low number of lifesigns onboard or onboard weapons for the matter. Curiouser and curiouser...Gir stroked his chin, even as he heard Hopkins give the order for the proton beam cannons to fire.
Brilliant blue-white light surged out of the warship to drill into the station, with one beam boring directly towards the middle of the station, while the other barely managed to obtain a viable firing vector, aimed towards the far left of the upper hub near what appears to be a hangar. He briefly wondered what the effect would have been if they had been able to target the same area, but quickly dismissed the thought. Even against a target as large as this mysterious station, it was sometimes not the easiest to line the Tide up with its targets. The beams faded away as the proton beams began to charge again for a renewed assault but weapons fire from throughout the fleet began to converge on the station, with mass driver cannons on the Tercels, Protectors, and Liberte corvettes providing the most volume of fire, supplemented by long-range turbolasers, plasma energy torpedoes, hypervelocity rounds, and Firelance torpedoes from the rest of the fleet: the only ships which did not possess long-range weapons of a sort were the carrier corvettes, which already were attempting to vacate the battlefield. The sheer volume and brilliance of weapons fire directed at Hapshir Station brought an brief cheer to his soul. It seemed strange to consider both its simultaneous beauty and terrible destructiveness could be possessed by something so ethereal and ephemeral.
Yet that cheer was blunted as he considered the equally terrible power arrayed against him.
The Ravager's might was not inconsiderable, and Gir was thankful that he was he protected by meters of advanced composite armor and multi-layered shielding. He knew that in the initial jump that they would be pushing the Tide's legendary durability against a ship so large as the Ravager. He had estimated that they would only last a matter of minutes against the battlecruiser's concentrated fire, so he felt an initial relief when it seemed to only focus some of its firepower on the carrier. Under the jedi's battle meditation, the phalanx shield operators had been able to effectively layer their shields to break up the waves of enemy fire, slowly breaking apart and dispersing the weapon's fire before it hit the armor itself. At this rate, Gir was certain they would survive the engagement even if it meant significant hull damage in the long run. He was not so sure about the other vessels though.
Half of the Starstruck's hull to be darkened, even as flickers of its shielding attempted to ward of the Ravager's fire. One particular ray of light from a particle lance pierced the ship's shielding and produced a brief gout of flames from inside the craft. It seemed a small solace that the size and speed of the cruisers had thus far allowed them to dodge of the Ravager's fire. Yet he knew that evasion alone would not help them survive the incoming horde of warships arrayed against them. The artillery cruisers continued their run, changing from a parallel course to the station into a semi-circular route that would eventually see them with their broadsides turned towards the front of the Tide: if they lasted that long. The distance granted by their reversion point would undoubtedly evaporate as the First Order craft closed in on them.
Gir glanced at the position of his other vessels, noting that many of the fast moving corvettes and interceptors off his carrier corvettes were already nearing them or plunging into the dogfight ahead. One corvette, by folly or daring, seemed to surge through the thick of fighting towards the space station. He wonder what hot-headed pilot was its helm, and if he had a death wish. But any thoughts of the errant corvette disappeared as he focused on the trio of incoming Tercel-class Heavy Cruisers, who had formed a line abreast to overlap their frontal shields, with the smaller Protector-class frigates moving in unison to form a well-protected phalanx. Redundant layered shields that were overlapped would be difficult to breach. He spared a quick glance at his wrist chrono.
So it's a gamble to see who makes it where first...
Even as he considered that thought, the Tide continued forward, almost coming close to presenting its broadside to the station. It seemed that they would make it through the engagement unscathed. But that feeling evaporated almost instantly as he heard Hopkins take report that one of the corvettes had crashed into the station. Gir silently cursed as a new, or rather old, feeling swept across him. It's gone.The corvette must have been the one with the Jedi. His face contorted as he felt a mental anguish take hold of him as the weight of the battle seized him. Experience filtered and discarded some of those thoughts without hesitation, but the uneasiness of the future persisted and the quandary of what to do remained. He turned his head towards Hopkins.
"Tractor the station, let's drag ourselves closer to it. Prioritize shielding to the areas being targeted by the Ravager. We'll have to rely on armor more to withstand the station's fire."
"Aye sir."
As Captain Hopkins barked the orders, Gir flicked a switch on his headset, "Colonel Panib, I have need for you and your staff's expertise. The Jedi have crashed into the station."
The man's baritone voice came back strong, "Do we know if they are alive?"
"Not yet. Come to SOC. Captain Royce and I will be ready for you."
"Understood."
The blonde man turned his face towards Royce, "Do you remember Tannib?"
The other man blinked. "I do."
"It's going to be just like that."
The other man rocked back on his heels, "I'm not so sure about that..."
Impromptu Battle Group Ocean Tide
Union-class Assault/Colony CarrierOcean Tide Shield / Hull:990/1300 Hangar: 6 Cyclone Squadrons, 4 Typhoon Squadrons, dogfighting/attacking Hapshir Station Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station / Ravager
Tercel-class Heavy CruiserBlack Sword Shield / Hull:900/900 Hangar: None Actions: Overlapped shields, Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Tercel-class Heavy CruiserWhite Mantle Shield / Hull:900/900 Hangar: None Actions: Overlapped shields, Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Tercel-class Heavy CruiserGreen Lance Shield / Hull:900/900 Hangar: None Actions: Overlapped shields, Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station
Directorate / Law Enforcement Task Force Liberté-class Light Corvette Red One Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Red Two Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Red Three Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Red Four Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station
Liberté-class Light Corvette Blue One Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Blue TwoShield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Blue ThreeShield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Blue Four Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station
Liberté-class Light Corvette Gold One Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Gold Two Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Gold Three Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station Liberté-class Light Corvette Gold Four Shield / Hull:50/50 Hangar: None Actions: Advancing and firing on Hapshir Station
Summary of Actions
-Fleet regains composure under influence of Jedi battle meditation
-Word received of hyperdrive damage and minor hull breaches on Ocean Tide; damage control and repair teams dispatched
-Tide fires its twin proton beam cannons into Hapshir Station
-Targeting telemetry data transmitted from the Tide to all friendly ships
-Aside from carrier corvettes, all capital ships in fleet fire on Hapshir Station
-Drakken Artillery Cruisers take damage from Ravager; Starstruck experiences severe damage from particle lance attack
-Drakken Artillery Cruisers alter course
-Heavy Cruisers, frigates, and light corvettes advance towards the Tide as detailed in post
-Carrier Corvettes retreat after having launched their four squadrons of interceptors, which move to support Tide and the nearby dogfight
-Ocean Tide tractors Hapshir Station in order to close the gap between it quicker
-Tide's shielding optimized and layered to protect it against the Ravager
Location: Pantera-class Stealth Frigate "Nightshade", Sullust Orbit Faction: Order of the Silver Jedi Allies: Galactic Alliance et al. Enemies: First Order Nearby Allies: [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Jerit Kolomor"] | [member="Liuna Ondizi"] | [member="Dusaro Dresari"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] Nearby Enemies: N/A Post Tracker (* = current):1 | 2*
Lightsaber (standard)
Space suit (standard)
Blaster pistol (standard)
Kira was shocked out of her thoughts by an intrusion of the Force. She looked over to see Jerit watching her. The words and feelings were full of comfort and warmth. The armory seemed a little less cold. The Padawan forced a smile and mouthed "thanks" back to him. Am I that obvious? She was embarrassed at being read like a book, her emotions laid bare for all to see. Kira focused on her breathing and calming her thoughts. I can't let everyone see how weak I am.
Jyoti approached her, placing an arm on her suited shoulder. "Thank you, Master," Kira told her. "I won't disappoint you," she forced herself to say, unsure of how she would perform with such fear in her heart. A Jedi mantra repeated in her head, to still herself in the face of Jyoti. "May the Force be with you."
They went over a briefing of their battle plans for the boarding action to come. Kira watched from the sidelines intently, making sure not to miss a single detail. They would be assaulting a station, not with the intention of destroying it, but with capturing it intact. She didn't know much about war, but she knew enough to know that this was a risk. It could end with us all falling into the enemies hands, she thought, and that's if they are kind enough to let us live. The shaking came back. Kira tightened the muscles in her body to quell her fear.
With the orientation finished she made her way down to the transports to meet up with her team. And this Dusaro. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't recall ever actually meeting the man. When she got to her destination she spotted a man making his rounds and completing some final preparations for the boarding. This has to be Dusaro. He was tall, almost a foot taller than Kira. His skin was a golden color, the likes of which she had never seen before, and his hair was a blonde and silver mix. Human, but more... exotic. She wondered what sort of species he was. Kira was thinking about how to approach him and introduce herself, when the man came up to her and rid her of the burden.
"I'm Kira, Kira Novak." She held her hand out to shake his, a choice she instantly regretted as the tremors came back. "Yes, this is my first time, but I won't be dead weight, I promise you." I'm scared, I can admit it, she thought, but I can still do this. I must remember my training. You will fail, her other voice told her, creeping out from the shadows where she thought it was forgotten. She gave her head a shake to ward them off. "I've never been in combat before, not really. But I'm ready, I'm ready to fight the First Order, and defend the Galactic Alliance. I just need someone to show me the ropes is all." She hoped she would be forgiven for her lack of experience.
"Our mission is to disable the communication and sensor arrays, any idea on how we should do that? I don't have much experience with slicing myself. We do have these though," she pointed to her lightsaber on her waist. "It won't look pretty but it might do the trick."
Location:'The 'Excubitor.' -> Ventral Hangar Bay.
Primary Objective(s): Board the "Excubitor" and Assassinate Admiral Cathul Thuku.
Secondary Objective(s): Capture Alliance Personnel, Sabotage the Procurator X - Designate; "Excubitor."
Allies: The First Order, The Golden Company.
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, Cathul Thuku, [member="Kiyron"] .
Equipment: See Thyrsian Sun Guards NPC Entry.
Complement: Two Phaethon-Class Assault Transport's, Fourty Thysian Sun Guards (One Legion.)
Chaos erupted in the hangar bay as the two transports screamed in and fulfilled their grim purpose. Lives flowed away into the wailing river of souls that many proponents of the Jedi denied existed. The intricate lie they told themselves, "there is no death, there is the force" smacked of wholesale ignorance. They denied outright such beautiful displays as these, the work of the Sun Guard mercenaries.
Xenro appreciated the brutal, honest truth of the world. As he stepped from the ephemeral darkness and his spell collapsed, the second of two Phaethon transports returned to view in his wake. The Sith stepped down the ramp slowly, cradling his wrist. An alliance soldier, barely alive, struggled for air in front of him.
The Dark Lord knelt beside him, one hand gently placed on his cheek. "You fought valiantly," the rasping voice praised, "but you are free to rest, now."
The soldier's eyes rolled backward as the reddish orange glow around the skeletal fingers coalesced around his body. Air caught in his throat and his body spasmed, an alarming amount of blood spewing from his open wounds as an unseen force savaged him from the inside out. "With this soul, the debt is paid."
The body floated upward, a chalice of viscera overflowing onto the hangar floor as the darkness of the Force tore it apart and ingested his spirit voraciously.
The agonized sound of his soul screaming would haunt every being in that room for eternity.
Xenro strode calmly past the disturbing scene and into the mire of corpses. The stench of freshly spilled blood and charred flesh permeated the area, and anyone without a helmet would likely cave to nausea the moment they set foot in the charnel house Khonsu and his ilk had created.
"Such a masterpiece," the Sorceror praised. "Such wonderful tools to paint with."
His gaze moved over the carcasses strewn messily across the deck, and up to the ingloriously crucified man. It would be far less than three days before he walked once more. "Come," he rasped, fingers clenched around something tightly. He pried at it, twisted it in both hands, and wove it into visibility. The spirit in his grasp defied him as he made his way toward the body, until he pressed it firmly back into place. The corpse shuddered, slumped, then shifted.
"Go," he commanded, even as the air grew thick with a ghastly green glow. Smoke-like wisps spun in a circle, and with each moment, another dove into one of the fallen soldiers. "Find your former allies. Embrace them. Give them the same freedom you now have."
The corpses slowly shook and stood, and a guttural howl erupted from the officer. Xenro reached up and tore into his flesh, tearing away all semblance of humanity from his face. "There," he whispered as he peeled the guise of life from his work of art. Skeleton and sinew remained as the thrall flung its arms outward and bellowed once more.
Well, they had gotten someone's attention. Several alarms blared on the bridge as smaller ships began to break off from the main formation of Morro's portion of the Galactic Empire's invasion force. It didn't seem like more Mandalorians were coming in force, rather it seemed that Ra Viszla had other plans. A small team she had been notified of seemed to be intent on just flat out destruction via commando tactics. Smart in a battle this large with so much empty space.
"M'am several small ships have disengaged from the Alliance and been redirected towards us, a squadron of advanced fighters are on the way too."
"Well at least we could take a little pressure off," she sounded lighthearted, but honestly she was gripping the captain's chair as hard as she could without causing the durasteel to groan underneath her crushguants. They were 5 ships. Sure, a starfighter screen would help deter them for a time but with antiques like the Bes'bavar slowing them down there was no telling what would happen.
"Tell the TU5KS to move in to intercept those corvettes. Tell them to make targeting us a living hell and make sure our starfighters are keeping theirs away. We fight today, but we don't push our limits." The commanders of the three Tu5k-class assault corvettes began zipping about, making sure to keep the Chargers within range of their sensor jammers, taking pot shots with their turbolasers when they could. It was obvious that the First Order starfighters were superior to the antiquated Pruudi fighters that made up the bulk of the starfighters for the small band of Mandalorian Mercenaries but Mel had faith that Dorn would keep them busy enough.
A bright light in the distance signified the destruction of a First Order ship.
"Ma'am, update on Aryn's crew. The ship they boarded has been destroyed. They're moving."
"Make sure to keep tabs on them. We don't want to accidentally blow them to the Manda."
It was cold out here in the inky black of space, but the body of his war droid gave him such warmth. He patted the metal sides and whispered into the console. Engines exploded as the semi-sentient droid beast flew through space. There was no sound in space, but the aural sensors of the pilots could pick up the sound of its engines roaring through the stars.
"There is our prey..." Its beskar claws shuddered open as it flew straight into a TIE Raptor. It was much smaller than a typical starfighter, insignificant on most capital ship scanners and just small enough to register as large debris on a starfighter. But when large debris hurtled at you as fast as a starfighter there was little you could do. Heat engulfed Dorn. He felt like he had been thrust into a forge. Heat warnings blared up in his HUD. Purple smoke filled the space where the TIE had once been but was quickly distorted as chunks of solar array followed the path of Dorn and his droid. There was more than before. He watched as ships moved as if in slow motion towards the Shriek-Hawk Task Force.
He sucked his teeth. That's where this new TIE came from.
Several flew overhead, his aural sensor picking up their iconic scream. Two barrel rolled in response to his assault on their squadron. Lasers flew past him and bounced off the beskar plating of the Basilisk war droid. It retaliated, turning its gun covered head and firing all ten of its shockwave generator rods in unison towards the fighters. Photoreceptors flashed red as they spun around the concentrated mass of yellow energy. It seemed they had a fight.
Dusaro was for the most part, satisfied with the armor. It had some limitations mobility wise which could become a issue if he was not careful, but it was fully sealed and good enough protection. In short it would work well enough for this job, but he was not fully confidant yet. Though the fact that he still thought of these missions from time to time as 'jobs' and not 'missions' brought a amused grin to his face, shaking his head lightly at the fact. He somehow doubted that particular habit would ever fully die from him.
"Good to meet ya'z Kira." Dusaro said with a grin as he accepted the handshake. He noticed the trembling, but his expression and not even his eyes showed that he noticed. So it was her first mission as a Jedi then eh? She sure knew how to pick 'em too. She said she was ready, but Dusaro knew better. Kark, he had not been ready the first time he had a mission go south when he was sixteen. No one was ever 'ready', they just managed to survive. Not that he was gonna hit her with any harsh words like that, it was just how it was in his mind.
"If ya wanna be helpful, don't worry about being helpful. Learn to survive in it first. Unfortunately, the only way to do that is a practical crash course and you have been not so cordially invited to a nasty little spat out in space." Dusaro said with a grin, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "We have demolition experts who will be taking care of it. If it is a proper military ship though, it would be able to withstand lightsabers and even the low grade explosives i am bringing along. My Job will be leading the team in general, but we both will be supporting them as only Jedi can. Ya know, blocking blaster bolts, using force on things. That kinda stuff. To start out with, focus on blaster defelection. Watch people's backs and call out any enemies you see approaching. If you know how to shoot a blaster, i would suggest keeping one on hand to toss a few return shots yourself. Help suppress the enemy and that kinda thing. If we run into any enemy force users, i will take point. If i need help i will ask, other wise help keep the squad safe. We can't have both of us get tangled up in a fight with a Sith and leave the squad vulnerable to a surprise attack."
After going over all that, Dusaro rubbed his chin, nodding after a moment. "Yeah, that covers about all of it. Stick close to the squad, keep them coverd from blaster fire and suppor them with the force in any ways you are capable of. Nobody said a Jedi's life was always glamarous." Dusaro said with a broad grin, rolling his shoulders while his helmet rested under his right arm. "Any questions about it while we are on the way there?" He asked, knowing she was going to be nervous on the eve of her first real battle. Talking helped most of the time in his experince, so he aimed to keep her mind occupied and off of any dark or 'gloomy' thoughts.
Mirax felt as if she was about to faint. Every passing moment was as if she were engulfed into a stupor that equalized with a whirlwind, or a torrent of fire. There was no reprieve, either. Mirax felt unhinged and shattered. At best, she felt confused. The Light side of the Force beckoned, and yet, Mirax felt alienated when it came to its grasp.
So many dangers. So many temptations. Her focus shot outward, reaching to the cosmos . . . hoping that she would feel a tendril of something far beyond her usual attempt. An attempt, yes - not a miracle.
She could sense the visual of someone glancing back at her. Tiland Kortun. She knew not, his name.
Location: Arriving at the Excubitor Primary Objective: Assassinate Admiral Cathul Thuku Secondary Objective: Capture GA personnel, sabotage Procurator. Allies: First Order, The Golden Company, [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Khonsu Amon"], [member="Xenro"] Enemies: [member="Kiyron"], [member="Cathul Thuku"] Equipment: See signature + G-11F
Almost the moment the warriors had decimated the first wave of Alliance crew, an alarm blared, replacing the sounds of death, and the Sun Guard's rail-cannons., firing over and over. At each of the three main entrances to the hangar, the power shut off, the arms that locked each heavy bulkhead swinging into place under their own weight. The massive doors had become dead weights, temporarily barring the path for the First Order intruders. It didn't bother her in the slightest, the blast doors were merely an expected and typical obstacle in the boarding process, one that the agent had planned for extensively. She found the Alliance had a tendency to underestimate the Order. It boggled her mind as to why, perhaps all of those Jedi had some sort of a God complex. Whatever the reason was, if they thought these textbook responses to the invaders were going to work they had another thing coming.
Clad in her dark armour, she rose to her full height, moving away from her covered position. It was an act that probably would have been a tad grander had she been a little taller, but nevertheless it showed her confidence in facing this new obstacle. Walking slowly towards the Eastern blast door, she once again activated her commlink.
:: "They've sealed the blast doors, so we should be safe for now. Take the time to capture any Alliance crew not too injured to move, and deliver them to the gunship. I'm going to work on their surveillance" ::
Arriving at the bulkhead, she saw that power had been cut remotely. The thing was a hunk of junk, and restoring power to the door would take time they just didn't have. They would have to breach it, using explosives to force the two sections of the door apart. It would be messy, but it was the only way through. Thankfully, the blast doors were a double edged sword for the Alliance, as it allowed her group to think and prepare for whatever onslaught waited for them on the other side. The first step was that figure out exactly what that was. Turning away from the door, she made her way to the back of the hangar, moving at a jog. 20 seconds later, she had arrived at the entrance to the hangar bay control room, a structure sitting in the centre of the hangar from which the various ships and fighters were directed. The room itself looked over the hangar, and the stairs leading up were barred by a locked door. She moved around to the side, where a room sat adjacent with a wide window.
Shattering the window with the dark glove of her Shadowtrooper armour, Emilia climbed the stairs swiftly, wrinkling her nose in disgust when she reached the visceral scene at the top. A well aimed quarrel from a railgun had penetrated the thick glass of the control tower, skewering the controller and pinning him to the wall behind. Emilia looked away, focusing instead on the array of instruments before her. She didn't kid herself that there was any possibility of restoring power for the doors from here, instead working to hijack the camera feeds. Navigating through the ship's numerous cameras, she found the one for the Eastern blast door. On the small monitor she saw the Alliance marines, and the traps that they'd set. She grinned, they had no idea what the Security Bureau was capable of. She rummaged in her pocket, producing a small disc, one that with a little slicing help from her would replace the crystal-clear feeds in the hangar with nothing but white noise. Admiring her handiwork for a moment, she spun on her heel and dashed down the stairs back into the hangar proper. There wasn't a moment to waste. As she arrived, she saw the two gunships depart, each one laden with the wounded and forgotten hangar crew, forsaken by their commanders on the Excubitor. Once again she keyed in her comms.
:: "Alliance defenders outside each blast door. Assume defensive positions, they're not getting us that easily." ::
Wasting no time, as the maneuver had already taken longer than she'd liked, she grabbed a breaching charge from one of the Sun Guards specialising in explosive ordinance. He looked at her, annoyed, perhaps he was frustrated that he wasn't the one who got to blow up the door. No matter, he'd get his chance. Raising her wrist datapad in front of her, she grinned happily to herself. This was something she'd been itching to do since donning the dark armour. With the tap of a few buttons, the black plates began to fade, melting into the background of the hangar as the cloaking device activated. One moment, she was there, and the next she was gone.
Almost totally invisible, and hidden from the pervasive sight of the cameras, Emilia strolled the the Eastern blast door, placing the charge for twenty seconds. The trap was set, and now the marines just had to take the bait. Breaking into a sprint, she ran full pelt back to thee cover of the boxes and crates, diving dramatically behind them. A few seconds later, the charge detonated, buckling the plates of the Eastern blast door.
:: "Hold your fire." :: She said quietly :: "Stay hidden, wait until they're close." ::
She could feel the fear spread throughout the ship, and she could feel a few unlucky souls become one with the force. Luckily they were secure deep within the vessel, they had a smaller chance of dying, those on the edges were not so lucky, getting blowno ut into the void of space, suffering through their blood boiling, asphyxiation, and freeze drying. These men and suffered horribly, she reached in the force, even as the ship veered out of control, to help ease their suffering. Nobody should have to die like that, it was an insult to their honor and heritage. Nobody deserved to die like that.
Alyson was not concerned with her own safety, even as the ship abruptly crashed through large station. She had come to terms with her death a long time ago, she knew that her death was inevitable, she would die when the force willed it, no sooner, no later. Coming to terms with that was a critical part of Jedi training, for the fear was among the greatest people had, and therefore, it was very easy to fall to the dark side unless that fear was dealt with. Even though their chances of dying in the crash were low, due to the numerous safety systems on any respectable vessel, their chances of dying afterward were much higher.
Alyson was knocked about by the crash, but she used some force trickery to help lower the impact on her physically, she was not injured, but that did not mean the crash did not hurt, it hurt like hell. She had the wind knocked out of her, and her whole body ached after being knocked to the ground. She could soldier through it, she had been through much worse on Merides. Running 15 kilometers in a 50kg suit of armor chasing down a retreating army was not an enjoyable way to spend your day.
Alyson stood up, regaining her bearings. She knew exactly what had to happen.
"We should get moving, enemy forces will be moving in if they have any sense in them."
En Route To EXCUBITOR (2 posts)
Allies: [member="Kiyron"]
Enemies: [member="Khonsu Amon"] [member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Connor Harrison"] [member="Xenro"]
Kiyron said:
That would keep them pinned for a little while. Kiyron paused for a moment, syncing the ship security systems with his armor's computers. But first, he needed to make a call. Not through Alliance channels, but Mandalorian channels. "Oya!" Kiyron said as he prepared to leave the bridge, re-configuring his rifle into an LMG with the explosive rounds. "Mando'ade, looks like the First Order's boarded the Excubitor. Some assistance in repelling them would be greatly appreciate."
Some might be curious as to why a Shard, and an Iron Knight, no less, would have access to a Mando comms channel.
The simple answer was, another Shard friend of his, a fiery little fellow by the name of [member="Goran"], was, in fact, a Mandalorian. Sure, it was on the out and out with the current Death Watch leadership over a quirk of, well, not genetics exactly, being a silicon-based crystalline lifeform, but whatever it was that passed for genetics among Shards, but in its crystalline little heart, Goran was still a Mandalorian.
The little Shard preferred to communicate over Mando battle nets whenever possible, on the grounds that they were more secure than average. Or at least that was his excuse. Eralam secretly thought it was because the little bastard liked being obstinate. The security protocols were a pain in the ass.
Now, ordinarily Eralam wouldn't give one single solitary kark about what happened to a bunch of Mandos. He had worked with them before, and he had worked against them. He respected them somewhat for their skill in battle, but rather loathed the way they got all uppity every now and again. He understood the whole warrior culture thing well enough, and knew well the thrill of battle. If they stuck to that and just outright admitted that killing people was pretty fun, which is why they did it so much, that would be fine. It was when they tried to justify their cantankerous ways by cloaking it in religion or rhetoric that they got annoying.
But, in this particular case, the Iron Knight was inclined to cut them a little slack. Firstly, because the battle all around him had severely ruined his day. This was supposed to be a quiet check on some outlying Network posts, and here he was dodging turbolaser blasts in a Force damned mail ship. Secondly, last he checked, this was GA space. The Galactic Alliance was not his favorite governing body by any means, but even he would have to concede that, if there was a battle going on in GA space, they were probably not the aggressors. That left that role to the First Order.
If they were the aggressors, that meant that they were responsible for the interdiction field. If they were responsible for the interdiction field, they were responsible for ruining his day. If they were responsible for ruining his day, then he was obliged to kill a few of them, purely for the sake of balance. The Shard had no illusions about singlehandedly turning the tide of the battle (if it needed to be turned, he neither knew nor cared), but he was willing to bet he could at least inconvenience someone as bad as they had inconvenienced him.
"Last call station, this is Old 97," he replied to [member="Kiyron"] over the freq he'd squawked on. "Be advised, I am sierra mike on your location, time now. ETA 05 mikes. Please advise tactical situation, so I know who to kill."
"What's going on, why are we diverting from course?" asked Thule of the pilot.
"Frag-o for you from the K.T." the pilot said, before activating the message they'd received from the commander.
"Lieutenant Dallows and the rest are going ahead with the mission, but your unit is being diverted, Thule. One of our carriers, the Red Veil, is getting boarded and sent out a distress call. There's a VIP onboard, Lily Kuhn. Do not let her fall into enemy hands."
The message ended.
Raph frowned. The Alliance seemed a lot more concerned about the potential loss of this asset than of the loss of a supercarrier to boarders, or maybe the boarders weren't trying to capture the carrier at all. Whoever this Lily Kuhn was, he had never heard of her. But that didn't change his new mission.
"How long until we reach it?"
"Coming up on the Red Veil now, sir. Dead ahead."
"Kill," Raph nodded, using the word as an acknowledgement. "Dock as close to the bridge as you can, we'll use an external airlock."
In short order, Raph conveyed the new mission to his team and they prepared to dock. Once the seal hissed shut, the door in the center of the troop bay floor opened and they poured inside the supercarrier, moving with methodical speed and precision through hallways and around corners on the way to the bridge.
It didn't take them long to meet up with the elements of the carrier's marines. They weren't SpaceOps, but they were fighters. From what Raph gathered, there was some sort of Ren or Sith who had gained access to the bridge and sealed it behind them.
They arrived at the bridge's sealed blast doors and with the help of one of Raph's tech specialists and the access codes from one of the Red Veil marines, the doors slid open.
"Pop smoke and breach!" Raph ordered as he and several other marines lobbed their laser-inhibiting-gas grenades into the bridge. The bluish smoke clouds that billowed from the grenades would sap the energy right out of blaster bolts. They could still leave bruises and burns, but bolts passing through the smoke would not have enough energy to penetrate flesh deep enough to kill, much less armor. Which was why Thule and his team of SpaceOps marines used sonic carbines in conjunction with the grenades.
Raph dashed inside the bridge, eyes scanning for threats from within his helmet.
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, [member='Coren Starchaser']
Enemies: The First Order, FIV Executioner[member='Sieger Ren'], [member='Xiomar Ren']
Objective: Assassinate Supreme Leader Sieger Ren, Disable the FIV Executioner
Aryn's focus was intense as he flew with purpose through space towards the Executioner. Getting past the first collection of ships had been difficult enough, numerous fighters alongside them had split off to cause pursuers to fray, or had been shot down by laser fire as the cloud of starfighters drew nearer to the immense capital ship. The Y-wings which split off helped, as they separated from the majority of the other starfighters to launch their payload of ion torpedos at the larger destroyers, the ships at least had a much harder time focusing on the starfighters as they continued towards their target. But still, the push through the blockade was exacting heavy casualties. Aryn felt each and everyone, he had linked himself to all of his pilots in the force, even those who did not feel it flowing within them, and as their lives were snuffed out, he felt the connection violently cut in two. He forced himself not to linger on any of it, instead keeping his mind to their objective, the immense flagship ahead, progressively drawing nearer.
He heard the sound of Coren's voice through his helmet then, briefly turning his gaze to spot the Rassilon flight to his right. He found Coren's signature easily, it was strong, and he latched onto it with the same ease that came with so many of those connections that Aryn formed. He bolstered himself through the force flowing through Coren's, through the eagerness of the other Jedi and his cocky attitude, it pushed Aryn forward as he rolled his X-wing to avoid the incoming fire from a few turbolasers on passing destroyers. The flashes of green flew by, and Aryn narrowly felt each before they reached him, ducking and maneuvering away from the shots as he drew ever closer to the Executioner, shifting his ship to its side as he began to near the port-side hangar.
He could see that the shields of the hangar were still active, and they would likely not be able to get through so long as they were up. Carefully, Aryn took his ship in a wide berth, feeling as the last two members of his flight were snuffed by the Executioner's own defense turrets. Coming around, Aryn's X-wing flew straight on towards the hangar bay, rolling to the side as he fired upon the shield generator beside the hangar, a pair of proton torpedos launching as well as they struck the shield generator, temporarily snuffing it and giving them enough time until he figured the back-up would be engaged. "Oh I feel it, Hangar's open, let's get in the-"
Aryn was cut off in his response to Coren as he saw an unexpected flash of green come from the top of the Executioner. He rapidly ducked his ship to the left, but felt a sudden rocking as one of his S-foils was blown clean from the ship. Rapidly, the ship tilted downwards, and Aryn needed to fight with all his strength to tilt it back up enough to even barely reach the hangar. As he did reach it, the bottom of his X-wing slammed hard into the hangar itself, tearing another S-foil clean off and badly damaging a third as his starfighter skid and dragged along the floor of the hangar, leaving a visible indent as it travelled a fair way into the hangar before finally coming to a halt. Aryn coughed and groaned as he crashed, starting to try and work the canopy off his cockpit with a struggle. At the very least, he'd gotten on board.
"They're coming in!" Adler Four barked over comms, "Take evasive action!" Adler Squadron began to scatter, either moving to avoid fire, or in order to allow for proper gun coverage from the approaching X-wings. "Three fighters coming from point, three." The pilot barked, relaying the information to his colleagues.
Adler Squadron was pinged, Adler's three, and two were damaged by the manoeuvre, while Adler one recieved a blast on the wing. Captain Kell took one right to the stabilised. "Alright boys, pull her out, pull her out!" He snapped, "See if we can push 'em right over to one of those escort corvettes. Regroup and get ready for another pass."
"We won't last long with this X-wings buzzing us." Adler Five chimed in, "They'll see we're outnumbered and pull something, we need to-"
"Cool it Fives." Kell growled, pulling the young, erstwhile pilot into line, "I'll hold 'em off, you pull back and rendezsvous."
Pox's eyes widened behind his helmet, and the young lieutenant peeled in, turning to engage the fighters head on. Adler Six pressed out, and now ran at the X-wings, a flanking manouvere coming in from starboard. The space before the fighter glowed green with warm plasma bolts. "You go Cap." He said, "Don't worry about me." . Between gritted teeth, and with dogged determination, he resigned himself here. "I'll hold 'em off!" He growled over comms. "Rest of you form up!" He paused, twisting the knob on the music player, hoping something good came on.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IeqtAB1WgEw
He was blessed with the sounds of CK and the Moonshadows. It took two beats for Vlannem to reaquaint himself, "Alright, Stormie, hold tight, they're bound to try and get behind us!" He informed the pilot, before accelerating hard, and now locking onto targets. "Come on you scumbags." He snarled between gritted rows of yellowed teeth, "Come on and show us what you're made of."
Jarck’s concussion missiles blew up Varas’s proton torpedos directly in front of her eyes, almost blinding her.
Like a fireworks display she’d witnessed from her mother’s memories - a festive celebration in the Fountain Palace, where Tmoxin stood at a stone railing overlooking a vista of cliffs and still, unrippled water. They all wore special glasses so that they could see how the colorful, spider-web bursts appeared with the backdrop of darkness and not against the white glare of the Seven Moons. Her mother was twelve, possibly thirteen?
She swerved hard, the Silencer taking damage to the right wing as she banked violently left, the sleek vessel shuddering with the velocity of the turn. This meant that the opponent behind her firing the TR-20s quad-cannons may have been in the direct line of fire of the Red Squadron X-wing, but Varas could not tell as she was concentrating on controlling the fighter and sure enough to her dismay, it began to frantically spin. Cannon-fire nicked the same left wing and threw her into more of a death-swirl.
If there were larger ships around, Varas would have crashed into one for certain. Luck had it that she barely missed an unsuspecting TIE fighter screaming by. Unlike the mock fireworks of lasers before which seemed like a child’s make believe at this point, the vulnerable clone felt her stomach sink, not sure that the Silencer could withstand the barrel rolling, but she concentrated upon the Force to help, not right the ship, but at least slow the spinning so that her own hand could fumble at the throttle and the right controls to set her upright again.
As stubborn as his daughter was on trying and failing ad nauseum just to spite him, she regretted breaking off formation from Kyrel. Even if she would be tailed, now on the outer flanks of the formation, she checked her radar for her patriarch and Master and sent him a telepathic missive, not sure if he could hear: “I’m coming back to you, father. I will not fail you.”
Enemies: First Order l [member="Kyrel Ren"] l Vlannem Pox
Allies: GA
Directly Engaging: [member="Varas Kyrel"]
The bolts of the Red Squadron's X-wing went above Wedge's vessel, thanks to his positioning above the TIE-fighter- and the fact he shot down below the trajectory of the bolts. He outran the impact of the bolts by more than a hair, but not much more than that. To everyone else- it appeared to be skill. However, in reality- it was luck.
Each bolt hitting it's target elicited a certain range of emotions to Wedge, a feeling of euphoria only compounded by the lust for revenge. The TR-20 shot past the TIE fighter that was spinning, towards a more opportune target. As he passed, time slowed. Wedge's head towards Varas' out of control ship. Wedge was wearing his trademark skull-adorned helmet with the face shield, displaying target data and providing a Grim-Reaper esque image to anyone who happened to get a good look at Wedge as he passed.
Wedge stared at her for a moment, and watched as the pilot was trying to regain control. He would leave her to ponder his indifference, and perhaps leave the visage of the skull in her mind. If she survived, she'd remember. If she didn't- he didn't care either way. She was out of the fight for the moment, and that was all that Wedge needed to push on to a better target. Death was relative in combat. Dismantling an opponent to where they couldn't fight was good enough, especially in a dogfight such as this.
Wedge pushed on- flying after the formation that was heading to the Alliance command ship. The TR-20 screamed past the debris and chaos of the fight- intent on nothing else but destroying the enemy.
Location: The Crimson Dawn Wreckage, Hex-L49 Allies: GA | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Adora Namadi"] | [member="Baiko no Kaho"] | [member="Listralli Namadi"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Dorn Skirata"] | [member="Davon Karr"] | [member="Dagon Namadi"] | [member="Karsan Calnov"] Enemies: First Order Ship: N/A
Aryn had never really liked space, it made him uncomfortable.
He was a creature of his own senses, taste, touch, smell, hearing. They were all more important to him than anything else. Cramped into his armor in a vacuum suite he was deprived the experience of...well everything that was important to him. His lips were permanently furled up in a snarl as he clung to the side of the turbo-lift shaft, propelling himself upwards in a hope of reaching the section of the CrimsonDawn that would be easier to find an exit of.
The Togorian did not attempt to use mag-boots, mostly because floating was easier at this point.
"Keep moving forward." He told one of his men as they moved through the now bent and broken Turbolift shaft. The chaos of the battlefield was no doubt thriving all around them, but most would be avoiding the wreckage of the now derelict Star Destroyer. He frowned a moment, then dragged himself clear of the wreckage.
It was the first open look into space he'd had since boarding The Crimson Dawn, and in the distance his HUD was able to make out the flaring specks of starships and explosions as the battle continued.
The Orar Hadn't been the only vessel that had come to this fight, and Aryn spotted the vessel he was looking for only a few seconds after they exited the former bridge tower. He yanked Baiko out of the turbo-lift shaft and pounced off of the metal, dashing through the Abyss and heading towards the pick-up vessel.
"Next time." He growled low to Baiko. "We go to the Swamp."
