Behold, A Pale Horse! [T1 Dominion of Janara]

[Cyrus Tregessar]

[9/20]

The first ship to die was one of the escorts, a Nebulon B9, struck astern by a Particle Lance that punched clean through the ship, stern to bow. For a moment it hung there like a pig stuck on a roast, twisting in agony. Then it died, a gout of fire bursting from each end where it had been pierced, the plume of flame expanding until the whole vessel was consumed. The fireball lasted only an instant longer, before it too vanished in a pulsing flare as a new star was born, blossomed, and died in the blink of an eye, the tell-tale sign of reactor containment failure.

In a fire control center on the Implacable, the only eulogy for the 800 souls that had suddenly been snuffed out of existence was a low whistle and the muttering of two words.

"Nice shot."

Another escort was sunk, though in not nearly so dramatic a manner, before the remainder of the small ships broke off from their protective formation and boosted off in the direction of the Reserve Flotilla, and out of the range of the battlecruiser's big guns. The Belsar had evidently decided to die alone. Bereft of any long-range weapons, it continued on its course but began to launch all remaining strike craft. Shortly after the last had left (headed towards the Reserve Flotilla as well) escape pods began to follow, until finally by computer estimate only a skeleton crew remained onboard.

Throughout this the Implacable never ceased in her assault, staying true to the name. Briefly, Cyrus wondered if there was any benefit in capturing the vessel, but besides the remarkable engineering feat of fitting an entire wing of strike craft on a destroyer-sized ship, there was nothing exceptional about the old Protectorate design. Let the relics of the past stay relics.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post V
Objective Run The Perimeter.

Rausgeber's fleet began to split up. Although from a distance it would be seen to be a disorderly action, it was in fact, quite the opposite. The fleet had been organised and deployed in a very particular fashion. There would be one centralised destroyer, with two corvettes acting as escort, and three other vessels, varying from frigates to cruisers acting as support. The vessels would then patrol an allotted part of Janaran space, The idea was to maximise coverage, and ensure that nothing left the system. Government officials could be carrying documents regarding Janaran defences.

Military officials could be valuable propaganda. Either way, in the aftermath of a regime change on the scale and type, that it would be natural for many of those associated with the old government to escape. Whether or not they were guilty of anything or not wasn't up to men like Carlyle to judge. Rausgeber's job was simple. Secure orbit, and make sure no one but the allotted transports gets in or out. It was easy, but required constant vigilance on the part of the ships' crews and mission. ANd those who attempted escape should be returned to where they came from.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 17
103rd AKA the Bloody Banthas
[member="Sasha Starkos"] | [member="Jackson Mills"]

​

​

Fury of the Stormtrooper Corps could be felt and the souls of the Janaran Defense Force burned at their hands. Flametroopers from the 121st could be seen not too far beyond the ridge, as the 103rd swept through the countryside. Sand stained armor, armor that had borne the brunt of explosions, have survived round of fire, while others had been beaten so far that they scarcely clung to the man they were meant to protect. They knew their duties, and as the fires of death claimed more lives, Ranulph and his men continued to push forward. A small town appeared on the horizon, smoke billowed from what had been left of the main hall. Houses were charred and storefronts were broken, battered and scarred. If buildings could talk they would speak of the battle that had occurred. "Search door to door, and check for any underground tunnels," the officer ordered as he sent his men into the town and not far behind him the looming metal shadows of the AT-AT's began to crawl against the dirt.

He stepped over the broken fence line, his boots crushed the wooden material beneath their weight. His rifle shifted in his arm, as he came to the first solid door, a shop it seemed. Ranulph turned the flashlight on and nodded to Dmitri. The young man set a sticky explosive to the door and the unit cleared the way and prepared to breach. "Three, two, one - go!" The explosion was rather small compared the artillery fire they had endured on the beach. Smoke from the explosion waft through the air as white plastoid armor poured into the shop. Room by room they checked it, and all Ranulph found was a trap door under a carpet. "In here," he ordered as he stomped on the door.

Dmitri got to one end, and Grant another and together they pulled shined their rifles into the door way. And all they saw looking back at them were the scared eyes of the women and children. "Stand down, they're civilians."

"Right, we'll need to set up a station. Get word out to the Quartermaster," Viramontes said as she moved away from the group and began to radio for assistance.

"C'mon then, can't stay down there the entire day," Strovenko said as he asked down below, "have you a ladder?"

At first there was no reply so he asked again, "c'mon, we're not gonna shoot - do you have a ladder?"

Then after another few moments, a small voice answered, "n-no, we haven't any ladders and the door outside is stuck."

"Right." Strovenko acknowledged as he shuffled around the frame, "there's another door sir, on the outside."

"I heard it, Corporal. Alright, we'll send a few around back to try and pry it open, in the meantime let's get us a ladder."

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpeA9nU6b60[/youtube]​

​

Objective: Tour the Academy of Janara
Post: 3

Morro’s thoughts turned to love and emotional stability, wondering if she would ever find such elusive things in the First Order, or if she was destined to be the other, the anomaly, the token alien with a good racial pedigree. At twenty-six years it was not as if she were very young anymore by Chiss standards. Since most of her race matured earlier, her friends, both men and women, were married with children by now.

Then her thoughts drifted to her father, perhaps the memorial tapping into that primal need to grieve as she often did. It wasn’t as though he died in naval battle though he might have if he’d lived long enough; he succumbed to the cardooine chills. As a young Chiss he had not been vaccinated for it, a fact that the family found out about only later.

Commander Morro found it difficult to cry, perhaps a genetic trait encoded into her DNA, but hot moisture pooled in her tear ducts at the thought of losing her beloved Nluzz'acuaw'nuruodo, nickname Zacuawn and pet name, Za. It seemed achingly unfair to not be able to see, hear or take care of him as they both grew older and he into old age. Perhaps it was why Morro enjoyed the vastness, emptiness and sublime silence of space where nothing or no one could be taken away from you.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 18
103rd AKA the Bloody Banthas
[member="Jackson Mills"]

"Steady lads, steady, don't you bloody drop me," Dmitri griped as his squadmates held him up. "You said it was a door, sir, this is not a door it's a bloody mess."

"Just do you as you're told, Corporal." Ranulph responded as he held the man steady. "Not our fault the bloody ladder broke." Viramontes wagged a finger at Ranulph. "Fine, c'mon then do you have him?"

"Ye, just a little more, sir I almost have him."

"Right, hang on, GRANT!"

Grant the man from New Habat, the man with the sizeable plan. His rather large frame towered over them for the moment and he motioned for his officer to hand him Dmitri. On a count of three they switched and now Grant adjusted his hold on the Corporal and lowered him just a bit more. "Do you've got'im?"

"YES! Pull me up, pull me up. I've got the kid and his dog."

Grant pulled Dmitri up with the help of Ranulph and Viramontes. The three Stormtroopers fell into place piled at the base of the store with a young boy and his dog. The boy hugged on the Stormtrooper and then hugged his dog. "Thank you sir."

"Aye, don't fret it lad." Dmitri told the boy before collasping on the ground for a moment.

Ranulph patted Grant on the shoulder. "So glad you're with us."

"Of course sir, for the Order, now then whats this over'ere?"

The lieutenant turned and looked over at a building that looked to be some sort of religious site. "Not sure, but the engineers look a bi-" An explosion rocked the site, Ranulph's first instinct was to throw his body on the boy and his dog. Armored men and women shoved civilians to the ground and covered their bodies as debris flew forward. "Bloody 'ell, what... what was that?"

"The soldiers must've left us a gift," Ranulph surmised as he got to his feet, "you alright, son?"

"I'm okay sir," the young boy added as the dog wriggled free and began to bark. "Hoppa, shhh."

Dmitri and Grant stood up as Viramontes took off for the site. "Viramontes, Viramontes!" Ranulph shouted, "Grant stay with the boy, Dmitri, get Strovenko." He then got on communications with his second squad, "Mills, this is Tarkin, we need you to get to the town."

"102nd, do you have a medic to spare? We're up in a town behind the forest off the ridge. We've just had an explosion, we've got wounded."

"Aye, 103rd. We'll send someone now."

[member="Kayla Wylen"]

 

[Kayla Wylen]

Objective: 3
Post: 6
Allies: [member="Ranulph Tarkin"] | [member="Jackson Mills"]

Quickly after landing Kayla was met by one of the troopers, which she greeted with a nod. She pointed out the station in which they had brought the wounded and without hesitation she started moving, talking to Brumsfeld as she did. "I will do all I can to get them back on their feet, or at the very least make sure they make it through." There was never a second worth wasting and so she moved with purpose. They needed her.

For hours she and a handful of troopers tended to the wounded without the sky'tri taking any kind of break, there simply was no time to take it slow. Priority was on stabilizing those who were in critical condition but with the limited medical knowledge of the ones assisting her she let them look after the lesser wounded, allowing her the space she needed. Another reason was the fact she preferred to be in solitude as she applied Force Healing to those who desperately needed it. It required extreme focus and a clear mind on Kayla's end and distractions would only take away from that.

Throughout the stress and desperation that almost drowned the room the Disciple of Ren was a beacon of serenity and peacefulness. After the many years of Ren instructors trying to force out the Dark side out of her before realizing the benefits someone like Kayla brought she had learned to endure large amounts of mental pressure and it had become her greatest strength. Able to shut out everyone around her she focused on the wounds of the stormtrooper in front of her while her eyes were closed. Nobody watched her as the sky'tri's hands began to glow as the healing process slowly took effect.

After some time Kayla sensed the man in front of her would make it through, smiling lightly behind her mask. When she opened her eyes one of the troopers stood next to her and he shook his head a little as though he was a bit flustered. "Hm, there was an explosion in a town, behind the forest off the ridge. The 103rd asked for a medic there." The woman got up and nodded at him. "Unfortunately not everyone made it, but the ones that did are no longer in critical condition. I suggest to wait to transport them away for a little while longer, however." With a salute she was sent on her way.

Without missing a beat Kayla took a small sprint the moment she stepped out of the station and spread her wings. Kicking her feet off the ground once more she took off to the coordinates she was given. It did not take long to arrive and the moment she landed she immediately saw the site of the explosion and made her way over. "I am here to answer the call for a medic. I am Kayla Wylen."

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Objective: Tour the Academy of Janara
Post: 4


As she wiped away the tears with the back of her gloved hand, eventually pulling out a white, cloth handkerchief from her pocket to dab at the corner of her eyes, Morro recalled a memory of when her father was alive. So clear in her mind the vision was; it was as if it happened yesterday.

She and her brother were probably nine or ten, crawling around the floor with toy figurines of Ssi-Ruuk attacking each other. Za was in the kitchen arguing with her mother, but yet as he saw the children from the kitchen, playing in the living room, he took his glass of scotch and crouched down onto the rug, still in his white CEDF uniform and began to indulge them, acting out the role of the largest, most frightening Ssi-Ruuk they had ever seen.

Why this memory came to her, she wouldn’t know. There were many like this - a sea of images that she could pull out like a holopicture in a frame.

He loved his children more than anything, she thought with a wistful sigh. Maybe even more than his wife.

Morro read every single one of the Chiss names on the plaque, taking her handkerchief and tying up the blue blossom flowers so that they were in a pretty bunch upon the marker. And then she turned around and continued on the gravel path to see where else it led.

 

[The Major]

Post 7
Objective 3
Janara, strike supported City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
Lady Maria would like the First Order too

"Ready the tank-blaster!" Barked a noncom as he motioned for a member of his squad to emplace in a specific window to take a shot from before adding some of his own fire at an attacker who was prepping a thermal detonator. His last mistake was dropping it activated at his feet...

Comms keep begging for the skytroopers to hold on. Just another moment. Breakthroughs were achieved. Any moment was the Calvary would be here. Now the JSF was using the left flank again, as now a whole other company was thrown into a three pronged assault.

The man holding the heavy blaster sights for the IFV, and exhales.

!KRRRRIIIIISSSSHHHHHH!​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUih-OUiwAw​

Rubble. Darkness. Burst eardrums. The El-tee watches, awestruck, as her anti-tank gunner writhes up in shock. His bottom half had blossomed open like a cracked can of First Order official red kidney beans. One can hear his choking moans, blood splashing from the vent ports of his white helmet.

Crashing back into reality, she jumps into the heat for the launcher, and attempts to clear a jammed lock now singed to crispiness.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"​

Wallows the fallen man, clutching to his officer because it was all that was left.​

"Grenades! Move your backsides!"​

!BANG!​

"Ahhh. Ahh. Hah hah! I'm still here! I'm still here you karki-- BBIZZTTT." THUMP!​

Abandoning the weapon, she tosses her stock of explosives over the rampart, nearly tripping on gore as she moves to the main entry way just in time to see the barricade explode along with two of her men using the adjacent windows.

Ten left.​

Her repeating blaster expert, the most reliable man of the platoon, throws down his hulking blaster on the railing, bipod held by sheer weight. Opening fire into the new entrance as security forces sprang in with their own fire, grenades explode amongst friend and foe alike. and a green lightsaber hisses on, deflecting a parried bolt into the head of the automatic weapon specialist. He falls, dead. And the officer in charge of this hold out rolls and lays flat behind the fallen man. Grasping at his blaster, impacts rain upon his corpse as the armour proves to be resistant.

"AAUUGH! AAAUUGHHHHHOOOooooo." ​

"Not Me! No! Please not me! Help me! I'm right here! I can move -I can move if you help me!"​

"Oooooooofffhhhhhh. Oooooo. . . ooooo. . . . . . . . ."​

Six left.​

A buzz and slash of green.​

Five left.​

To the left comes the presumed Jedi, lusting for more bloodshed as all Jedi always have. He's locked into the officer laying prone on the floor. Already springing with inhuman speed to cut her down, his saber prepares for the downward stab.

!BURAAAAL!​

A potshot hits the jedi on the side, and he tumbles over the ledge with something akin to surprise on his face. The Sargent responsible for the defense collects his officer, pulling her to her feet while pushing her back into the hallways, when a JSF solider currently blind firing in the general direction of the hall from a building across the street inadvertently sends a shot just at the right angle through a window looking into the hallway, striking the noncom square in the back.

Sliding backwards and away on her rear end, the officer moves away from the man who kicked his boots quietly into the floor, trying to beat away his pain as the his last breath passed his filter.

Four left. . .​

"Displace!" She screamed.​

And so the remaining troopers did, picking to hunker down in whatever area seemed appropriate while one covered the stairs. Frightened, they were ready to fight to the last man -room to room. Hardened, the officer drew her blaster pistol and aimed for the stairwell, ready to fire at any shadow that touched the corner of that wall.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 19
103rd AKA the Bloody Banthas

​

Ranulph and his men were pulling people out of the debris, when [member="Kayla Wylen"] arrived. The Stormtrooper nearly fell over at the sight of her, "I..." he looked down at the men on the ground, "yes, we did. Seems the Janarans left us a gift the engineers just entered the building when it went off." He explained all the while trying to comprehend who or what he just saw. Ever grateful that his helmet concealed his actual facial reactions. Grant managed to move a beam, as Strovenko and Dmitri worked to get an engineer onto a stretcher. The town shook a moment as the AT-AT's began their walk across toward the capital, scouring for any enemies to shoot. The soldier knelt down and put his shoulder against a fallen statue, "can't move it, c'mon, c'mon."

The Statue had come to rest atop of a few pews that at the moment were crushing an engineer's leg. Grant came over and put his hands under the statue and did his best to lift. But it was to no avail, "lads, lets go, move this, we've got to move it."

Viramontes came over, stepping over blood, debris, and ash. Her boots slipped between the soot and ash while trying to get some coverage on a solid surface. Between the three of them, they manage to get the statue to move just enough for someone to pull the engineer out.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post VI
Objective Run Security

As the fleet began to depart, Carlyle realised that this was it. The war was finally over between the JDF and the First Order's insurmountably larger and more effective military. Even with pockets of resistance, the fleet now hanging in orbit would see to the destruction of any enclave's of resisting forces. Order had been restored successfully to Janara, there would be no way now that any fleet of any size available to the Galactic Alliance would now be able to break through the defensive formation. It was simply too strong, and now too entrenched.

There was something quite ironic to all of this for Carlyle. He found the whole process of managing to supplant a democratically elected planet on the edge of Galactic Alliance territory, an idea that was a little too bold for his tastes. He could not help but shake the feeling that this would end poorly for them. Would the Alliance allow such a bold political manouvere to stand? Would they let the First Order keep these holdings? They'd gone to war for far less than that. The pettiness of the Sullustian politician who had been at the armistace signing told him that much at least. But given the plan had so far gone off without a hitch, what sort of resistance could they expect?

 

[Kayla Wylen]

Objective: 3
Post: 7
Allies: [member="Ranulph Tarkin"]

The reaction the stormtrooper gave Kayla was one that did not surprise her in the slightest. His helmet concealed his facial reactions but the small stutter was enough to understand what he thought of her sight. Often was she greeted in this way, the set of wings and her height often enough to provoke it. In time she had learned to shrug it off when more pressing matters were at hand and so she kept a neutral face underneath her mask, simply listening to what he had to tell her. "Is there any building we can bring the wounded to? It would make it easier for me to attend to them. Do you need help with getting the people to a place they can be treated or should I immediately get to the wounded?" A small barrage of questions was sent his was but it was necessary to know the answers.

Turning her head to the group of stormtroopers working hard to free the engineer she made her way over. By the time she was there they had lifted up the statue and the sky'tri carefully pulled him away. She was not the most powerful and her brittle bones caused it to take a bit longer, but that way the engineer would be sure to suffer no further injuries. "He's out," she told the trio who held up the statue, the signal they could lower it again. Kayla then turned her head towards the engineer. "I cannot say how bad the damage to your leg is right now, we will need to get you out of here first, but I need to make sure you are not too badly hurt otherwise. Does anything hurt or feel numb?"

After a quick checkup it seemed the only damage done was to his leg. It was only a slight relief, but every bit counted. "Could you perhaps help me lift him onto a stretcher?" Kayla had turned her head to the one who had greeted her before and asked him yet another question. "From the looks of it there are no casualties. Now it's up to me to make sure it remains that way." Getting up she watched the engineer get placed onto the stretcher and followed it as it moved to wherever the wounded were to be gathered.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Post 3
BYOO

Kyrel walked the streets, by him were numerous dead bodies littered through the streets, as he kept walking towards his objective. The objective was to deal with a Jedi led a cell that deals with selling numerous weapons and arms to the local resistance. It was Kyrel's mission to deal with them alone and so he would, a few blocks ahead would be the base that he had gathered was the enemy. He walked in a purposeful stride all around him was bodies of resistance and Stormtroopers, and kept moving his anger slowly building. The sounds of TIE Fighters and cannons roaring was heard all around as he kept up his advance.

He finally reached the building, where a couple of guards posted raised their blasters, a slight look of shock and fear adorned their faces as they looked at Kyrel, Kyrel grabbed his hilt and activated it the crimson blade coming to life, before they could even fire he made short work of them by separating their heads from their bodies in one swift strike. He then proceeded to move through the dark halls sensing the presence of the Jedi, through the darkness, he slaughtered patrols of guards as he felt himself coming closer to his goal.

He then emerged in a dark hallway where he found a male and his Padawan a female, the Jedi that he was hunting, he emerged from the dark by activating his blade once more, the blade illuminated his surroundings as he started walking forward slaughtering all in his path to reach the Jedi.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRRPCjr1Ito

Post 1
FIV Concordia
Reverting to realspace at Janara

Natasi stood on the bridge of her flagship, her dark eyes surveying the mottle of hyperspace as the ship hurtled beyond the speed of light towards Janara. She had not been scheduled to oversee the operations there, and in truth she was not overseeing the operations. She was conducting an unannounced inspection, to test readiness and compliance. More than anything, it was to send the subtle message to the First Order military establishment that Grand Admirals and Supreme Commanders were brave and valiant and efficient, but that nothing escaped the attention and oversight of the Supreme Leader's government or his chief minister, Grand Moff Natasi Fortan.

Her eyes glanced to one side, catching the countdown signal, and she clasped her hands behind her back. Moments later, the countdown timer ended, and the ship reverted to realspace, flanked by escorts from the 2nd Fleet, AKA Battlegroup Nebula. "Who do we know in this area?" Natasi asked the communications officer. "Isn't that Rausgeber's ship?" She indicated the one she meant on the tactical display table. "Hail it. Admiral Rausgeber," she called genially, her clipped Galidraani accent sounding very posh and sophisticated. "I'd like a status report, please."

She muted the signal and glanced at her comms officer. "Get Mors on the other line. Same question."

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective 4
Post 5

Dresden didn't have to turn around to know there was a gun at his back. He could see the fear in the bartender's eyes, that bone deep terror peculiar to those faced with the prospect of imminent violence despite never having experienced it firsthand.

Plus, there was a mirror behind the bar. So that helped.

The former merc didn't so much as twitch. His hand was already on the grip of his slugthrower, held in a shoulder holster. The large caliber pistol wasn't an assassin's weapon. It wasn't quiet or subtle. It was the weapon of a dangerous man looking to make himself a little more dangerous.

He didn't bother drawing it. He fired twice, through the holster, through his jacket. The bullets slammed into the man's chest, pulverizing his heart, splintering his sternum, and exiting out the other side in a shower of pink mist. He dropped, instantly.

Now, Dresden drew.

"Anyone else?"

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post VI
Objective: Report to Grand Moff Fortan

"Admiral Rausgeber," The Comms Officer began, "Grand Moff Fortan has entered the system, she wishes for a status report to be handed down to her immediately sir." The officer reported, preparing for Carlyle to dictate his report, and have it instantly transmitted to the Grand Moff. The admiral straightened himself, and stood on the bridge, where he knew his visage would be projected. He was attired classically, in his cape and Galactic Empire inspired uniform. He stood tall and bold.

"Grand Moff Fortan, a pleasure." Carlyle began warmly enough, he bowed a little, a show of imperial courtesy and proprietry, "Janaran space is ours. We have supremacy over the Planet's orbit, and command control of the skies. Anything that attempts to subvert troop movements below, will be met by our TIE squadrons." He paused, "Any attempt to circumvent our defences here, both from resisting units on the planet, and subversion by the Galactic Alliance's navy would be a fruitless gesture." Carlyle informed the senior politician, "With the void ours, Janara's fall is imminent your grace."

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 20
103rd, 10th Company, 3rd Platoon.
AKA the Bloody Banthas
~ Finale ~

​

​

Ranulph took a moment as he watched the engineer get moved to a stretcher. His helmet's HUD relayed to him the status of the town, and as he turned to meet with the winged woman, the Stormtrooper answered plainly. "We were going to set station here," he then gestured behind them. "We'll have to make use of that building there instead across from the shops." The modulated voice echoed a bit, it'd been damaged in the battles.

"We can move our wounded. It's alright." Perhaps it was out of fear, or perhaps it was the old xenophobic Tarkin blood that had begun to brew but he was a little weary of the woman. Still, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Third squad moved in, shuffling about with the Engineers from another unit, perhaps the 39th? He wasn't sure, the patches were too muddled for him to make it out at the moment. So he'd have to wait until he had a good look at them. His helmet's HUD should identify them he thought but the programming might have gotten bobbed with artillery shells when they hit the beaches. "Let's uh, let's get communications set up over there shall we?"

They weren't meant to stay in the town, they were meant to meet up with the 121st but the explosion changed that. And with the AT-AT's stomping by the lieutenant was sure that the Janarans would either surrender or be defeated completely. One way or another the conflict would end in the First Order's favor. "We got lucky our men weren't further near the blast radius and that our armor has held up so well." A credit to their Engineering Corps or whoever designed them, Ranulph was sure of that.

Slowly, stations began to form. Made from the debris and what could be salvaged around the town, white armored men and women worked to get the civilians food and water. The 102nd had completed the beach sweep and were sending the 107th on to help the 103rd. Ranulph managed to get on the line, as the screams of TIE Fighters soared overhead. "Stormtrooper IN-2908 to HQ and Fleet COM. The beaches have been secured, the ridges are secure. Army is moving in behind the 121st and 39th to complete our lock on the ground, we'll need more medics though we've taken a number of casualities." He paused a moment to shuffle up to let others get through. "We're located in..." He looked for the towns name but only saw a damaged sign so he did his best, "the town of Argonne, not too far away from the landing zones. We're running low on supplies, we found a lot of hungry civilians as well. IN-2908 out."

Ranulph Tarkin may be a man with a set of numbers within the armor shell of a Stormtrooper, but as he got off the communications lines and headed over to their makeshift kitchen formed out of an old café he asked them. "You any food?"

"Enough I think," the Janaran remarked, "but we'll need more."

"Right, don't worry. I've put in a call and with luck we'll have food here soon enough, do you need any help?"

He was more than the set of numbers, more than the blaster that was now slung over his shoulder. "Okay, no I got it, alright now where do you want me to put this?"

For now the battle was over, but Ranulph suspected that this time of rest would be short for there were never a shortage of enemies for the First Order or its Stormtrooper Corps.


[member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Kayla Wylen"]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 2
FIV Concordia

Natasi absorbed what Rausgeber was supplying to her in terms of information. "Almost anything the Galactic Alliance does is a fruitless gesture," Natasi responded coolly as she studied the display in the context of the Admiral's discussion. She turned away from the table and looked into the camera so that she could be seen by [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]. Her dark eyes stared at the man for a moment before she nodded. "I'm pleased to hear of our success here. Grand Admiral Mors and yourself -- all our forces -- are to be congratulated."

The Grand Moff folded her arms over her midsection. "Tell me about our casualties, Admiral. How many dead and injured? What about on their side?" She inclined her head to look back into the camera. "Give it to me straight."

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post VII
Objective: Say Bad News

"Casualties have been grave ma'am." Carlyle reported plainly. He did not dither in his assessment, "The Janaran Navy was more advanced than what Central Command figured." Carlyle informed her, "We have some severely damaged vessels, and a few corvettes were entirely destroyed during the push to break them. However, their forces have faced near annihilation. They held off well initially, but their fleet is scattered. There is no feasible way they could push a breakthrough, or some kind of other escape."

Carlyle briefly paused, before beginning to elaborate on the situation on the ground, "Our forces on the planets surface also sustained casualties. The Janaran Army was dug in and had extensive defences on the planet. Forces there did not receive the adequate air cover required thanks to the better than expected navy. However, their command staff has collapsed, and the government capitulated. Most of the military surrendered. But some pockets of resistance still remain on the planet."

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

[10/20]

Admiral Itsel Kahalen had been serving in some manner of Imperial Navy for decades, first as an enlisted spacer, then as a warrant officer, and finally as a line officer where she had risen, if not particularly rapidly, at least steadily enough that superiors had noted her competence and resilience. Her appointment to command Battlegroup Mors had not been some incidental personnel shuffling, it had been a deliberate choice by Central Command. She had thus far endeavored to prove herself worthy of their favor.

In the oversized CIC of the Implacable her presence was everywhere. Unlike many of the more senior officers, she tended to avoid staying by the command table, instead she paced the room, observing even low-level watchstanders and operators, taking in information at an almost personal level, while still keeping track of the bigger picture. She could be a tyrant at times, especially when it came to dealing with mid-level officers who thought they knew better, but the enlisted loved her for sarcastic and blunt manner, and her regular concern for the well-being of even the most junior spacer. When a single ship could have the population of a small planet, being able to put together names and faces could go a long way.

She was pacing the 'pit,' the sunken section in the middle of the CIC where most of the low-level operators worked, observing the fire control correction process, when an aide pulled her aside to inform of the arrival of the Grand Moff and relayed the message. The Admiral repeated the question, incredulous. "Status report? We're in karking combat, that's the status."

That was the message, more or less in it's entirety, that was sent to the Concordia.

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But the truth was the operations in question weren't likely to last much longer. Another volley of 24cm depleted-baradium slugs battered the hull of the Belsar, penetrating deep within more often than not. Even from a distance the dim glow of internal explosions could be seen by strike craft squadrons that had pushed in to try and catch some easy kills. They moved no closer, orders from the CAG relayed the impending doom of the command carrier. The chance to bullseye a dormant laser turret wasn't worth the risk of getting caught in a reactor failure nova.

The engines sputtered, flared once, and then died completely, followed shortly by a geyser of flame from the most prominent of the entry wounds visible on the hull of the ship. Almost as if on queue, a final round of escape pods jettisoned, the last of the skeleton crew, most likely. As the last of the pods drifted off, and the last lights went out on their parent vessel, the Implacable finally ceased firing. There were other, more worthy targets in Janara still.

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Post: 4
BYOO

Kyrel moved swiftly as he advanced upon his foes, the few soldiers that were there were quickly trying to stop his advance, but failed as Kyrel kept blocking the blaster bolts with his saber hand, and in the other kept slamming and choking them with the Force in the other, when they were finished the Master approached him and said nothing as he activated his green blade and attacked Kyrel, Kyrel blocked his first blow and moved into a dance of attacking and defending, the dark hall lighting from the frecious duel the two were having with one another, it lasted for more then two minutes when Kyrel used his rage to disarm the Jedi's weapon hand and decapitate him.

He then moved onto the Padawan who screamed in anger and shock at her Master's death, but attacked Kyrel just the same, this time she was more sloppy then her Master, and for the Moment Kyrel toyed with her, allowing her to get a few strikes in before on one fell swoop decapitated her. After his work was complete he walked out, and managed to set some explosives around the base, blowing it to pieces as he looked for a way off planet realizing his job is done