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Junction Black Sabbath | Chapter II: Nurgle's Embrace

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Outer Rim
900 ABY
The world turned as it had a million years before, as the sun rose and set on its horizons and its people rose to work or fell to sleep. Under the enlightened freedom and protection offered to them by the Mandalorian Protectors, it had found a new prosperity unchained by the imperial yoke. Thereupon a world who knew peace parsed sparingly by the militarized imperials yet fighting for control, people lived lives capable of joy.
It was there, in the morning sky over New Junction, that a storm began to form. Lightning arced miles, and dread began to fill the sky as an artificial eclipse shadowed the Capital in violence. Above their heads, and citizens and soldiers alike turned their gaze to the sky and a new dawn - they would see the silhouette of a great harbinger of death. It formed from the aether, a ship out of nightmares forged from the screaming violent deaths of millions; and its name was the on lips of all.
Mors Mon.”, the Mountain in the Sky, Death’s Chariot.
Amidst shuttering and violent clouds that began to stir the air and form tornados in its wake, it began to ignite the world in an instant, brutal artillery barrage on everything beneath it. So instant was its destruction, thousands of lives turned to ash in only a matter of seconds - ignited tibanna gas cutting great swathes of death through the world. Death on a mass scale had come for this world, marked by the sudden release of five battlecruisers - Khan class destroyers setting out to destroy the various cities of the world.
It became immediately obvious, a fact so brutal there was no denial, that the Sith had not come here for conquest. Their shots didn’t target the military stations with priority, they did not surgically strike at the most important, critical locations, instead saturating the most heavily populated places in seconds. Emergency beacons, SOS signals, a thousand alarms silenced by the brutal and unequal aggression.
Now the world was under siege by a force unwilling to conquer, but to genocide and destroy. This was not the fight most had become used to - wherein they would fight for geopolitical dominance, but the blind and judased destruction of an entire world.


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Objective II - Nurgle’s Embrace

Streets ran red with the blood of innocents, tens of thousands, many hundreds quickly falling to the orbital bombardments, bombings, and assaults. These in themselves were destructive and consistent alone, but the assault persisted beyond the realm of conventional arms - as the dead began to rise and attack once more. As it had on Yavin, Felucia, and a dozen worlds before;
The Plague had come to Feriae Junction.
In the streets, riots began to take hold as local police units were quickly overwhelmed. Citizens ran from the carnage, from their loved ones turned infected, to the arms of soldiers and police units incapable of defending them.
Destroy the lives that remain as they funnel into corridors filled with death, or keep as many of the citizens alive as their world comes unfurled.

 

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He had been here a lifetime ago, though it felt far longer.

Boots disturbed the soft soil, scattering bits of rock and grass as He walked through New Junction's central park. Long ago, there had been a battle right here. No longer did the ground beneath His feet contain signs of that once terrible battle, too many hands had come to till the soil, to erect monuments where heroes and villains had spent their lives. But the Force retained the memory of such conflict, and if one concentrated they could hear the echoes of battle, ringing across time and space.

Pausing near a patch of ground unfettered by life, the Dark Lord of the Sith knelt reverently. He reached out with gloved hand to scoop up soil, letting the granules slip between His fingers. The sound of a lightsaber was in His ear, two voices whispered to Him from beyond the veil of time. One light, and one dark.

"Go back, you will, to the darkness you came from."

"
I think instead, Grandmaster. I will bathe the rest of the galaxy in darkness."

The Dark Lord withdrew His hand, the ache of memory pulsating in His mind. He'd been there that day too, not yet a Lord. The Jedi and the Mandalorians had made a pact against the Sith, combining their forces in a last, desperate battle on this very ground. The Jedi Grandmaster, Teferi Efreet, fought the Sith Emperor, Darth Moridin, until he met his hand at the tip of the Dread Lord's blade. It cut through his tiny body, blood spilling upon the earth, to the Dread Lord's great jubilation.

A voice again whispered, so faint it could barely be heard.

"I want... to go home."

Darth Carnifex opened His eyes, not realizing He had shut them as He listened to ghosts long forgotten. Men and women stood in a semi-circle at His back, awaiting orders. He turned to face them, His face a mask of shadow and simmering anger.

"Scour it clean."


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Shev Skirata

You can come in warm, or come in cold.
He heard the screams. He knew them so well. He had heard them nearly every night in his dreams since Yavin. His disruptor carbine was up and charged in a moment. The table in the tap-caf he was sitting at was on the ground as he headed for the door.

"Get behind blast doors!" He shouted at the people, "Hurry, find bunkers anywhere, just get away from the..."

The windows shattered from the force of an explosion on the street. Dead things began crawling from the hole and Shev knew it was too late for most of the people. He opened fire anyway. Chest and head shots ended most of this batch but he knew their would be more. So, so many more.

He rushed out into the street and picked a direction. The Mandalorian helmet the only thing keeping him together. While he had this armor on, he was a warrior, and warriors didn't have time to give into fear.

"I should have stayed with the ship." He said to himself as He made a combat run toward the next group he could see. Again, he opened fire. And in the moment he knew there wouldn't be enough ammo.

Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
 

Arrival
Avel Som had only just arrived on the planet on a passenger shuttle. He was delivering a package. It was a small, but apparently valuable package. It was worth the travel. He would be able to get Darkwing some good treats with it. He reached up and affectionately scratched the head of the ebon hawk on his shoulder. Darkwing gave a happy, quiet screech in return.

It was then that hell seemed to break loose. Screams echoed through the city along with the sound of gunfire and blaster fire. The lanky man had no idea what was going on, but he did know one thing: he was absolutely certain he had seen the flash of unmistakable armor go by.

Mandalorian!

The thought of being near one of those despicable monsters filled Avel Som with rage. He knew all too well the blatant destruction they were capable of; he had witnessed it first-hand on Rishi. There, he had tangled with them, giving them a run for their money, until they had let loose a blasted dragon of all things. He certainly hoped that dragon wasn't here now. But he knew he had to do something. The Mandalorians were a blight that needed to be exterminated. "Time for some monster hunting, Darkwing." The hawk screeched in affirmation.

Avel Som pulled his Homesteader and ran, Darkwing taking to the sky to give him directions. Both were solely focused on finding the Mandalorian (and any others they might come across) and opening fire on the abomination.

 

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So the dead were still the main weapon of choice?

Alina stepped amongst the hoard of the risen, her glowing eyes just watching. They avoided her, for one reason or another. She just.. Studied them. Were they infectious? Were they controllable? Were they the very type of undead Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf hated? She doubted the last, as the Sith as a whole were using them, but part of her just wanted to confirm, if only to ensure she was on her Master's good side.

And, well, there would be plenty of Anima to harvest among the civilians that did still live at least. She would make good use of that energy.
 

Shev Skirata

You can come in warm, or come in cold.
His carbine bucked against his shoulder as he moved through the urban hellscape. Already the sounds of screaming and smashing glass rung out like iron bells declaring an end of life itself and echoed within the comfines of his helmet.

Sweat ran down his spine along his undersuit and he could not say whether fear or exertion was the greater cause. He only had time to move and fire.

He saw a large bird circling in the sky blocks away as if a carrion bird had found the corpse of this dying city and chosen to stake its claim.

He continued. Step after step. Blinding blaster bolt after blinding blaster bolt. He fought on agaisnt a screaming tide of death. One being alone in a galaxy of trillions upon trillions. He feared this would be the last of kind of tide he would see as rivers of black decaying blood formed in his wake.

Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru Avel Som Avel Som
 
Sahan-Banner-test.webp

The Rampant Hunter

The last vestiges of Feriae gleamed off the golden metal of both armor and ship as Sahan looked over the city. "Sith. It's a good day for some pest control. Go wild; no need to hold back here."

://: Haha, Yesss! :\\: Gold shouted in glee. The Basilisk droid slammed into the ground amidst a horde of zombies. Morte flesh scattered as the undead were crushed. The droid ship then began firing laser and particle cannons like mad, mowing down the reanimated bodies with delight.

Sahan continued to hover silently in the air, scanning the environment for quarry that was more alive.

 
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Location: New Junction - Feriae Junction
Objective: Scour the City
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Allies: Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
Relevant Enemies: Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr Shev Skirata Shev Skirata

Star-hot orbs of searing fusion plasma lanced through a row of hapless security officers as they made their last, futile effort to hold the line against the mobs of charging infected. Within moments, five officers were incinerated, reducing their bodies to little more than strewn about limbs and mangled, scorched masses of what had once been intact flesh. The remaining officers were forced to either take cover or search for the threat looming from above, but doing so left them vulnerable to the hordes of ravenous infected. Thus, within seconds, the zombies were overrunning what was left of the officers’ lines, fangs, claws, and other sharp protrusions ripping and tearing into the survivors of the jet trooper’s airborne assault.

Leaving that particular street behind, QK-2510 flew deeper into the city, observing the ongoing violence from the safety of the skies as the raging infected hordes—now unbound from another security cordon—tore into innocent and militant alike. Thus far, the scouring of New Junction seemed to be proceeding without incident, albeit with the exception of a few isolated pockets of Mandalorian resistance.

And yet, QK-2510 knew instinctively that even small numbers of Mandalorians could inflict far more damage than their numbers might imply.

Thus, QK-2510 quickly shifted course upon catching sight of a descending Basilisk in a few klicks in the distance. In doing so, she swapped her fusion pistol for her slugthrower combat rifle, before slotting a magazine of explosive Thumper rounds into the receiver. However, rather than charging the Basilisk (and the hovering Mandalorian close to it) directly from above, the jet trooper dipped down low until she was flying just above the streets. In that regard, the strand-cast hoped that her approach might be concealed by the tall buildings surrounding her.

Then, when the Mandalorian and their Basilisk might least expect it, QK-2510 intended to strike.
 
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Pull the Trigger
Something was odd. It seemed as if corpses were being reanimated and attacking recklessly. What have the Mandalorians done? Avel Som thought to himself. Darkwing had relayed to him that it seemed their Mando prey was also fighting against the horde, which made him wonder if they had done some kind of experiment that had gotten out of hand. Well, there was only one remedy: take out both zombies and Mandalorians.

The thin man continued after the Mandalorian, beheading any of the dead that stood in his way. Unfortunately, the horde was slowing him down. Making a split decision, he figured it would be easier to take down the one Mando first and worry about the shambling corpses second. He ramped up his nervous system, boosting his senses. With his speed and agility heightened, he took off, darting through the streets.

His quarry was just up ahead and seemingly preoccupied. Avel Som pulled his revolver and aimed two shots at his enemy, one at the neck below his helmet and one right below his cuirass, aiming to get them between the armor plates. He would then follow up with a slash of his sword aimed for the Mandalorian's throat.

 


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"Fascinating. The risen dead are truly magnificent."

Nefaron had always had an interest in Sith Sorcery and the gifts it offered. But he had always retained an analytical mindset, a belief in certain universal concepts that drove all creatures. But to see one's own family rise from death and seek to spread their vile plague to those who they once loved so dearly? He couldn't have manufactured a more brilliant weapon. But alas, the endless tide of the undead lacked the ability of the living, once they had cleansed the world of all who opposed the Sith they were little more than rotting monuments to what once was. Nefaron did not envision a galaxy of the dead, but one engulfed in fear, where peasants and Dark Lord alike understood the most basic of the force's gifts.

They needed fear. Without fear life was meaningless.

Still, the ongoing assault on Feriae Junction provided Nefaron with further opportunities for research and experimentation. He had long been silent as he carried out hidden experiments on Anoat, but he felt now was the time to stretch his legs as it were, and see the progress of the ongoing Sith campaign. He stood on the roof of a partially collapsed building, hordes of the dead passing through the streets on either side. Battle rages across the dying world, the Mors Mon casting a dark shadow across all those who clung to life. While not particularly hungry for glory, the Corpse Lord had come for a reason, to test his own weapon on those who managed to resist the tide of undead. He also sought to capture as many promising beings as he could for retrieval and transport back to his toxic world, he had stumbled onto a new scheme and he required as many strong-minded warriors as he could get his hands on. The Mandalorians who desperately attempt to defend this world made for perfect subjects, far too important to be left to be little more than corpse fodder.

Nefaron turned, two mutilated humans knelt before him. His Corpse Legion had very quickly proven to be a useful tool. All but insane and fervent servants, Nefaron had come to see this accidental creation to be a great asset. Though far from quality soldiers, their numbers and willingness to face death made them excellent shock troops.


"My children, your time has come. Gather your warriors, take to the rooftops, and follow the flow of corpses. Let them wash over my enemies, but take heed of the warriors clad in vibrant armor. They are to be brought to me alive, they will experience enlightenment. The rest you may put to the blade."

"Yes Master, we obey!"

The two bow briefly before rushing back into the ruins, returning to their warbands. While their religious fanaticism had its uses, it was little more than a game to Nefaron. If they sought to serve their "Corpse Lord" then he was more than happy to let them. If they triumphed, he would have strong warriors to break and mold into his own tools, and if they failed it was little more than disposing of broken instruments. There were countless more on Anoat ready to replace them. Besides, they were not his greatest weapon.

Nefaron removed one of the canisters attached to his belt, twisting a cap on one and tossing it onto the street below. An orangish gas began to flow from the canister, the undead continued on unbothered. But soon enough, screams began to erupt from barricaded homes and deep basements, those who had taken shelter in their homes and waited for the dead to pass by now experienced their greatest fears, the effects of Nefarons Mind-Breaker Toxin on display. Some would continue to scream and thrash in their barricaded homes until they went completely mad or ripped themselves apart. Others spilled out into the street in a desperate attempt to escape the phantoms of their mind only to find very real monsters ready to tear and rip into their flesh.

Nefaron chuckled. Magnificent indeed.


Tags: Open

 

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Feriae Junction
Equipment : Beskad, Claw and Fang, Beskargam with Railgun
Objective : Evacuate whats left, kill everything else

Feriae Junction's once beautiful city had become a nightmarish hellscape. The Sith bombardment had murdered many thousands. And then the dead had begun to rise. Tuur watched this all from the bridge of her command ship. Despite the danger, she was not going to sit idly by and let this happen. Despite the threat of the Mors Mons looming above, the young Alor ordered the Desert Claw to enter the battle. The warship loomed over the city, and began its drop, under Tuur's orders.

Tens, then hundreds of battle droids dropped to the surface. The B-12s immediately went to work curtailing any marauding dead. Their own weapons and maneuverability made them an offensive nightmare to match the horde, and they knew no fear. Nor did a fallen droid add to the army of the unliving. Tuur might be young, but she was wise. Tactically sound, she had sent in the automatons.

As the Alor flew down to join the fray, she linked her HUD with the battleship, and the Clan Rodarch network among the droids, unifying them all under a joint command. What one could see, all could see. And that allowed the warship to provide extremely accurate support fire. Transports landed and disgorged Infantry Battle Companies who immediately set up a temporary medivac facility. They then formed an inner perimeter for the safe zone.

Tuur joined the ranks of the battle droids on the outer perimiter, mowing down the dead. Her forces quickly established a safe evacuation zone below the shadow of their battleship looming above. The young Alor broadcast on an open frequency, that even civilians would pick up. "Clan Rodarch to all friendly forces in this vicinity, we've got an evac zone set up. Anyone left alive wants to head this way, quick smart."

She switched to a Mandalorian military frequency, speaking even as she fired her railgun in support of the B-12s in her vicinity. "Vode, this is Tuur Rodarch. Send the civvies our way. Desert Claw up there will take any requests you have for fire or drone support. Run fast and shoot straight!"

If the damn Sith wanted a fight, they'd get one. Her troopers would secure the landing zone for evacuation shuttles, while the huge number of battle droids she'd sent in would keep the perimeter clear of hostile undead. Tuur wouldn't be commanding from afar, she would keep the perimeter secure.

Frens : Shev Skirata Shev Skirata Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr
Not Frens : Darth Empyrean Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Avel Som Avel Som Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru QK-2510 QK-2510 Darth Nefaron Darth Nefaron

 

Shev Skirata

You can come in warm, or come in cold.
His quarry was just up ahead and seemingly preoccupied. Avel Som pulled his revolver and aimed two shots at his enemy, one at the neck below his helmet and one right below his cuirass, aiming to get them between the armor plates. He would then follow up with a slash of his sword aimed for the Mandalorian's throat.
The hoards of the infected "zombies" just kept coming. The acrid stench just barely began to taint the breathable air that filtered into his helmet. He never removed his armor, not in front of another living being. Not for the last decade had another creature seen him without it. It was significant. He had spent decades on the armor, improving, tinkering with functionality, adding systems and software. Nothing in that made it perfect, but it did make it something he could consider as much his body as any other part. Most Mandalorians had a similar feeling about their gear. He hadn't believed that at first when he had first left the covert on Contruum. He had been little more than a child when he left Mandalore. His earliest memories had been sitting in MandalMotors and watching the technicians and builders work and solder. He had watch them create with their hands something that the galaxy wouldn't have if they hadn't given themselves over to creativity. He envied that now that he looked at the slobbering maws oozing filth as they clamored over one another down the street.

He crouched again to fire.

Barely five centimeters of lowered position.

He sprawled forward into the dirt. The loud report of a combustion projectile echoed between the buildings. White pinpoints spotted his vision as if he was watching miniature fireworks inside his helmet. It was only a moment. Whether fear or instinct drove him next he rolled left as a blade came for him with ruthless precision.

'Why' was his only thought, as he fought to understand how any target other than the infected victims of this virus could be a priority. He dismissed the thought. It didn't matter. Sula Skirata would undoubtedly be at least mildly approving of his immediate decision that only the facts were important right now. He could contemplate the why later.

He didn't have time for this as the sound of Tuur of Clan Rodarch Tuur of Clan Rodarch blared in his aching head. He just had time to lift his carbine and spray the air at the end of the blade where he barely made out the outline of a humanoid with a gout of orange and white flames as he tried to regain his feet.

Avel Som Avel Som
 
Location: New Junction - Feriae Junction
Objective: Scour the City
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Allies: Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Darth Nefaron Darth Nefaron
Relevant Enemies: Tuur of Clan Rodarch Tuur of Clan Rodarch

QK-2510 frowned, before coming to a sudden halt mid-air. She had lost track of her initial target, as the Mandalorian and their rampaging Basilisk droid seemed to be nowhere on her sensors. While she wasn’t quite fully recovered from the concussion she had received on Dromund Kaas (after a Jedi had dropped a bridge on top of her), the lapse in focus was somewhat concerning. Nevertheless, the jet trooper shook her head and pressed on. There were still plenty of other targets in the city, especially with the arrival of the Mandalorian Battle Companies and a number of hulking war droids being dropped from an overhead battleship.

And so, QK-2510 quickly locked onto a number of the massive battle droids in her HUD before angling herself for a jetpack-propelled ascent, vectoring towards the descending droids in the process. In the moments that followed, she leveled her rifle towards the closest B-12 unit and squeezed off a short burst of explosive Thumper slugs aimed for the automaton’s torso, the projectiles imparting loud cracks in the air as they punched through the atmospheric medium at hypersonic velocity. Then, snapping her sights onto the next closest droid, the jet trooper fired off another burst targeting the same area, before leveraging her superior aerial mobility to fly above the (potentially) stricken B-12, leaving it in her wake.

However, even with two B-12 units possibly disabled, there were still hundreds more dropping down into the city.

QK-2510 fired a burst towards the center torso of a third, then a fourth B-12 unit, before throwing her body into an acrobatic break turn and angling down into a dive. As she did, the jet trooper’s gaze honed in on the evacuation zone roughly three kilometers away from her position.

Three klicks and closing fast.

QK-2510 didn’t wait a moment longer. Features twisting into a bloodthirsty sneer beneath the mask of her helmet, she promptly locked on to the two densest concentrations of black-clad infantry in the evacuation zone, before launching a pair of Iadrium missiles from the two hardpoints on her winged jetpack at the assembled formations. Should they strike, the jet trooper anticipated that they might consume a number of the enemy soldiers in a searing inferno, hot enough to melt the armor off of their bodies and likely do far worse to the flesh beneath!
 
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Feriae Junction
Equipment : Beskad, Claw and Fang, Beskargam with Railgun
Objective : Evacuate whats left, kill everything else

This was a losing battle, Tuur had seen that before heading down to the surface. The reality was every bit as terrible as expected. The dead came on in waves. There seemed to be no end to them, and Tuur wondered how anyone could have lived through such a massacre. Despite appearances, she had picked up radio chatter where the troops had begun to receive evacuees. She knew she was making a difference, and that steeled her for the fight.

The screams could still be heard despite the constant whine of engines and jetpacks, the staccato blasts from the B-12s, and Tuur's own railgun. "INCOMING!" someone yelled, and Tuur saw a pair of missile streaking in towards the safe zone, though she missed where they'd been fired from. She was out of position to do anything, but others acted.

Two B-12s showed why the troops called them 'leapers' by blasting directly up into the path of the missiles. One succeeded and was blasted apart, the second missed its target.

The second missile rocketed in towards the troopers guarding the safe zone. Several of them showed initiative and fired their anti-mine launchers into the air. Though not designed for the specific purpose, they worked as intended. One or more of them successfully detonated the incoming missile prematurely with its gravitic charge. The large explosion filled the sky with fire and blasted the ground with a wave of heat and pressure, but there were no fatalities.

The Infantry Blacks cheered, but only quickly. They had work to do. "Come on, you're safe now." Called a IBC Captain, pointing the way to the transports landed in the center of the square. The civilians now arriving began to move that way, reassured by the presence of the soldiers around them, grateful for even the illusion of safety.

The Rodarch Alor saw clearly that there was nothing to stop the enemy throwing more missiles at them. And that, Tuur could do something about. She commed Desert Claw on the command frequency. "I want four heavy drones on my position, and a full squadron of lights above the evacuation zone to deal with any more missiles." She could afford to lose droids and drones, not people. More of the B-12s came to join the battle every minute, far eclipsing the rate at which they were being destroyed. She had droids and drones to spare. "And for ferrik's sake start thinning out this horde!"

Desert Claw acknowledged Tuur's curt order, and the sixteen craft which the Alor had ordered up hit the skies over the hellscape of Feriae Junction's capital. Twelve of them orbited the evac zone as commanded, ready to deal with any more missiles, or worse. The four heavier and slower craft moved out to the outer perimeter, where Tuur fought alongside the battle droids.

The Mandalorian battleship by now had completed life scans of the city below. There were areas where no survivors remained alive. Direct fire from the ship began to sanitize those areas with aimed fire, to knock down the numbers of undead the ground forces would face. Heavy Phaser, Mass Driver and Torpedo fire chewed up the surface all around. Tuur felt the wash of energies and the constant blast of the detonations as the abandoned parts of the city began to be sanitized of the undead menace.

Between the sky fire and ground fire, the Mandalorian presence was making a significant dent in the dead, holding them back from the survivors, mowing the undead corpses down, blasting them apart. Unfortunately, they were now making big dents in the city too. The Mando'ade were doing more damage to Junction, but the city was already ruined. Most of the inhabitants whose homes and businesses were being destroyed had already been killed. Those left alive prioritized survival, or were lucky, or both.

Tuur couldn't weep for things, when there were lives to be saved. She was going to make the Sith pay for this, and so many other crimes. For now she took out her anger on the horde as the Mandalorians took out their enemies.

Frens : Shev Skirata Shev Skirata Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr
Not Frens : Darth Empyrean Darth Empyrean Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Avel Som Avel Som Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru QK-2510 QK-2510 Darth Nefaron Darth Nefaron

 
Allies: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex Alina Tremiru Alina Tremiru QK-2510 QK-2510 Darth Nefaron Darth Nefaron
Future test subjects (enemies): Tuur of Clan Rodarch Tuur of Clan Rodarch Shev Skirata Shev Skirata Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr

Astrid stood ontop of the roof of a tall building overlooking the carnage and loving every second of it the screams of terror the death it filled her with joy to hear and see. As she commanded a large group ot undead towards a section filled with innocent people Astrid smirked at the horrified looks of the 200 civilians trapped between Astrid and her undead and a large collapsed building Astrid walked to be between the undead and the civilians. Watching their reactions the nightsister drank it in before soldiers appeared "take them to my lab I'll be with them after this battle Is over I have a few experiments I want to run on them" she said as the large group of her personal soldiers escorted the civilians to one of astrids ships.

The nightsister commanded her undead to flood the city and kill indiscriminately as they want as they ran amook. She teleported onto a nearby tall tower as she began chanting in a mix of dathomiri and ancient sith languages as she did dark clouds would begin to form fast over the battle ground pouring heavy rain and hail lightning would strike near mando positions or straight up hit mando troops. And droids frying circuits the rain and hail screwing with droid sensors as large hail would fall over where mandos held ground. Lightning strikes would set off missiles meant to blow up the undead horde mid-air harmlessly as droids and air born mandos would get struck by lightning aswell.
 
The shots had taken the Mandalorian by surprise, but he had managed to dodge Avel Som's blade. It was ironically probably because of the shots themselves. He had probably given himself away with those. Oh well, you live, and you learn, he thought. And then suddenly, he was being doused in hot flames.

The pain was utter agony. At first. He quickly abated his nervous system to deaden the pain. This meant he could react with his former lightning reflexes, but he could still move rather normally, and who would expect him to move at all after that?

He reached out to grab the Mandalorian's throat with his still-aflame hand. "You people really love your flamethrowers. Why do you bastards insist on ruining my clothes?" The acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair filled the air.

He had dropped his revolver, but he still held onto his sword, which he aimed to stab into the enemy's thigh, just behind the plating on his greaves, the blade glowing red-hot from the fire.
 
Location: New Junction - Feriae Junction
Objective: Scour the City
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic”
Allies: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
Relevant Enemies: Tuur of Clan Rodarch Tuur of Clan Rodarch

QK-2510 grinded her teeth as she watched her missiles fly off, only to detonate short of their marks. While one seemed to have scored a kill, the other had been intercepted and prematurely detonated. For a moment, the jet trooper considered flying in their wake, using her own missiles as cover to close in for an aerial attack with her rifle. However, that idea was promptly squashed when her sensors pinged 16 small craft-sized contacts, descending down from the Mandalorian battleship looming over much of the city.

Eyes widening in alarm, QK-2510 took a deep breath and whipped her body around in an acrobatic somersault, reversing her jetpack’s thrusters in the process. Then, baring her teeth, the jet trooper accelerated away from the Mandalorian evac zone as a surge of g-forces tugged at her body. Fortunately, it took only a few split-seconds for the inertial compensators to catch up, at which point the strand-cast glanced behind her, looking to ensure that none of the drones were giving chase.

As the immediate danger passed, QK-2510 batted her lashes in evident confusion. 16 fighter drones, all ostensibly scrambled to stop a single patrolling jet trooper. She had fought Mandalorians before and knew of their reputation, but experiencing how quickly and violently they escalated in practice was far different from merely watching it in training scenarios. Nevertheless, QK-2510 shook her head and pressed on until she was a safe distance outside the perimeter of the evac zone.

It meant that she would have to escalate in kind.

“This is QK-2510 to Emperor, requesting immediate close air support. I have targets 230° southwest, at the designated coordinates. Two squadrons of enemy fighters, over.” She transmitted. On cue, a feminine voice at the other end confirmed the jet trooper’s request. Then, after a few moments of tepid silence, two squadrons of Tomb-class starfighters suddenly screamed overhead, unleashing a volley of proton torpedoes locked onto each of the patrolling fighter drones, before closing in to engage with cannons.

All the while, the local area dominance enjoyed by the Mandalorian battleship did not remain uncontested. QK-2510 watched as the massive, lightning-infused wedge that was the Mors Mon unleashed salvo after salvo of viridescent turbolaser bolts, capital-grade baradium missiles, and solar-ionized lances streak towards the Desert Claw. Such an attack was ferocious and stunning in power, but it was immediately clear that the massive dreadnought had not leveled anywhere close to its full complement of weapons against the battleship. In addition, none of the attacks were aimed at the battleship’s engines and in fact seemed calculated to avoid them, as the risk of the battleship falling into the city was not one that could be tolerated, yet. Instead, all of the attacks were waged against select points on the vessel, such as weapon emplacements, hangar bay entrances, any exterior shield generators, and other critical targets. Thus, the volleys would not result in any kind of catastrophic kill. However, the Mandalorians aboard might begin to feel the pressure of time.

In such a way, there would likely be a growing sense that they could not remain in their current posture for much longer, without risking total annihilation.


 
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