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The Mandalorians were relentless, attacking Him from every angle with the full extent of their weaponry and gadgets. He weathered through their storm, as He had weathered all others, holding strong against the multitudes of blows that fell upon Him. One after the other, He could sense the impacts of each strike whether it was a disruptor rifle, crushgaunt, or bladed dagger. Blood oozed out from a dozen different wounds, staining the broken floor beneath His feet as the trio of Mandalorians continued to pile on top of Him and lash out with their weapons. His swords rushed to His defense, countering the lightsaber blows of Volo and striking, in turn, to push the mad Mando back.
All the while, the Dark Lord drew the Dark Side within Him. The power of darkness rushed into Him like water from an open valve, saturating every fiber of His being until nothing was left untouched by shadow. What none of the Mandalorians knew, and what only the Empress had an inkling of, was that the Dark Side had willingly gone under the knife of Lord Vandiir to receive a Netherflesh implant that nullified the Force-dampening abilities of various creatures and items within a meter radius of His body. Though the Mandalorians had primarily kept their distance for the duration of the fight so far, they had all rushed in as the situation beyond the palace grew terrible dire to strike at Him at close-range.
Now, with each of the Mandalorians in relatively close proximity to Him, the Dark Lord reached out with the terrible power of the Dark Side. A field of insidious energy, manifesting as a visible haze in the air, exuded out from the center of the Dark Lord's body. Where the field touched life began to wither away, drained of vitality to feed the power unleashed by the Dark Lord. Within a few moments, the field would have been enough to desiccate even the healthiest down to a withered husk.
That was until the Eternal Empress wrapped her arms around His waist...
And they both disappeared into the rift.
Disoriented, the Dark Lord transferred what stolen energy He had accumulated into a telekinetic burst around Him. He landed on the broken, uneven, volcanic ground and rolled forward. He raised His right hand and summoned His sword to Him, the blade rushing through the closing portal to slip into His waiting palm. He watched quietly as many of the Mandalorians He had fought made the jump from Panatha into the Netherworld through the closing portal, ostensibly trapping them with the two Force Users.
"You would be mistaken," Carnifex replied to the Empress, "But that would not be the first time today."
He reached out towards the sky, the Dark Side rushing through Him, and made a motion as if He were flipping the page of an ancient tome. The ground beneath their feet rippled as though living, large fissures tearing open to reveal rows and rows of serrated teeth and misshapen bloodshot eyes. Pink fleshy tendrils rushed up from within the gaping maws, each tentacle terminating in sharp stingers, pincers, and other grotesque extremities. They attempted to devour the errant Mandalorians, to drag them down into a plane of existence filled with voracious horrors where they would meet their grisly ends.
"My ally hungers, let him feast upon these tin men."
If the Mandalorians were a people of trickery it could be argued that the Sith were doubly so. Regardless it appeared as though the both of them had a variety of tricks up their sleeves that they used to their advantage.
The application of the Force by Darth Vornskr was well timed. The Palm Shooter was destroyed, bursting in a small shower of sparks harmlessly before Andras knew what exactly had happened. He wouldn't be catching her with the same trick twice.
Insofar as the swordplay was concerned Andras could keep up with her though. He'd use footwork to turn himself so that he could maintain a stance that was squared with her, denying her the ability to offset herself with him. The Dark Horse was no student of Panathan Swordplay but in a galaxy so large he recognized similarities with other disciplines he was familiar with.
When Joycelyn Zambrano
began to wind her blade around his own Andras recognized the move, it could sometimes be described as awkward but effective. In response shift his right side backwards, disengaging the Phase-Blade from Zaudraka in the process by sweeping it downwards and letting the backswing carry his arm back behind the cover of his right hip away from the downwards swing of the Sithsword.
"If this is the Panatha that remains while you do then you shall fall so that Panatha can heal, free of Sith influence."
...the metallic of the comms shot at her before Andras pressed off the right foot he'd shifted to the rear when he turned his side backwards. The Jump Servos activated again sending Andras leaping however unlike last time when he'd leapt over Joycelyn this time he had leapt directly at her hoping to take advantage before she could recover from the momentum of her swords downswing.
Leaping at Darth Vornskr he'd let the Phase-Blade maintain its momentum and turn the backswing into a rising arc that would lift the sword up, whip it back around behind his head and bring it down in a diagonal blow over his left shoulder that would come down aiming to come into the outside of her right bicep below the shoulder pauldron. Reaching with his left arm too as the swing of the Phase-Blade passed over top Andras would reach for the clavicle region of Joyceln's armor so that he could pull himself close, cant his head forward and drive it ahead in a wicked headbutt aimed for her own faceplate.
He focused on her almost completely now. The Attendant in Red an afterthought. The Horde of Undead forgotten until they reached him again despite the sounds of combat and murder that filled the Sanctum.
A city block went up with a large THOOM, a column of fire and smoke exploding upwards. The bombardment must have had found an errant ordnance depot, judging from the shockwave of destruction that had emanated from the building. As large as it was, it was still only a fraction of the sprawling capital city. But as turbolaser fire and missiles rained down on the city, they were slowly but surely reaching their goal.
The complete annihilation of Canthar. The complete annihilation of the city whose gods were the Sith Emperor and his people. Blood for blood.
Gallius turned away, unable to stomach the destruction. The bridge was completely silent as the other Mandalorians followed suite. Only Romul Saxon, Akaan'alor, and the droid drones at the controls remained facing forward. He did not admonish him. If they could not condone his actions then it would be their choice. He had taken upon himself the mantle of Warmaster. The decisions where there was no clearly defined right or wrong was his burden to bear. And if he would have to bear it alone. . . then he would do it. In the name of the Mando'ade. In the name of vengeance for everything that they had lost.
Mandalorian fightercraft and transports swarmed like birds around the city. While the warships slagged it to the ground, the fighters escorted assault transports to ferry Mandalorian forces out of the city and away from the oncoming destruction, occasionally performing strafing runs on unassuming targets to add to the confusion and disarray of the Eternal Empire forces.
"Incoming hostile fighters."A droid reported."Point-defense systems engaging."The ship shuddered as enemy starfighter fire raked down its hull, but soon the fire of point-defense missiles and cannons joined the cacophony of the bombardment. They were a nuisance, nothing more. "Ship of unknown class transmitting Enclave identity beacon is making progress towards capital city. We are being hailed."
"Put them through," Romul commanded, his voice the only noise on the otherwise-silent bridge.
"Romul Saxon
, what you are doing is monstrous, those are civilians. By acting like this you are worse than the Sith you claim to hate, at least they do not pretend to look for a better option while they slaughter innocents. I am taking my ship down to try and save some of your victims, if you fire upon me, you fire upon your own and simply prove the galaxy right that the Mandalorians would rather destroy everything than work for peace. Even the Ashlans avoid civilian casualties."
"Adiik, this is no game. We are Mando'ade. Death is unavoidable in war -- and these are no innocents, but monsters, worshippers of the Sith," the deep, somber and commanding voice of Romul Saxon replied over the established comm network. "Because of you are Mando'ade, you and your ship will be spared. But remember this: the people that you are trying to save cheered when Mandalore burned. They reveled at the slaughter of our people. They are not the victims.
"They are the murderers."
With a slashing motion of his right arm, he cut the comms, silencing further communication. Let the misguided fool waste her effort, and question whether her loyalties lie to her people or the subservient pawns of the Sith.
The bombardment continued. Largely it seemed that the mag-pulse torpedos had found their target. Some had been destroyed midflight and there wer even reports of strange, anomalous behavior among a few, but they were a dozen amongst a thousand. Turbolaser fire and proton missiles rained down like hellfire.
An thunderous boom.
"The enemy is returning fire. Adenn, Inuyahya, Jurkad, Tyatr'okor, Ashad Akaan, Rao'briada, Ciryc Geriuvr, and Kyr'am Gaan are reporting heavy damage. Hull and power systems of the Keldabe Gra'tuar has been compromised and crews on board are abandoning ship," a droid reported. Romul cursed. The point-defenses of the city may have been more effective than he had thought, or else the weapons returning fire would be deactivated by the mag-pulse torpedoes.
Romul did not need the report to tell him what his own eyes were seeing. He watched with a resigned, dulled pain as the massive heavy cruiser sank slowly into the city; its engines and repulsors failing slowly at first, but more rapidly as gravity drew on the ship. Explosions rippling through the cruiser, it plunged the relatively short length to the ground, crashing into the city below and carving a wide berth of destruction in its wake before the burning hull came to a rest.
"Darasuum Kote," the Warmaster softly uttered, a short prayer for the souls that had gone down with the ship.
"Intensive fire is focusing on the Bes'tare. Shields are dropping below sixty percent."Another droid reported.
"Akaan'alor, we have to call off this bombardment. The cost is too great," Gallius suddenly protested, speaking up for the first time since the bombardment had begun. He placed a hand on Romul's massive shoulder to try and persuade the Warmaster, but Romul callously shrugged it off.
"No. We hold." He commanded. They would not falter. They were Mandalorian Iron, unbendable, unbreaking. In their moment of dark triumph Romul Saxon would not allow them to turn back.
"Akaan'alor!" The plead had to be shouted to be heard.
The roar of turbolaser fire grew louder. The Bes'tare shuddered as it was raked with fire from ground and air, and as its point defenses, turbolasers, and missile silos roared in return.
The two sides clashed with shields, steel and blasters drawn. Shai and her comrades held the Ultranauts at bay from interfering with the explosives as their shields clashed. Both sides swung and stabbed, but it was all going according to plan.
:: Set it off, twenty seconds! :: She barked over the comms as they pushed against the enemy shield wall. :: All units, get out! Get back to the exit! :: She ordered her troops. Flashbangs, grenades and jetpacks all came to life as the unit broke off and backed away for the distractions to do their job, before blasting forward and through the tunnels towards the rear exit.
:: Alora, Vulc, we’ll meet you outside, just get as far away from the mountain as you can! ::
Zooming through the tight corners, a number hit walls and arches, Shai included, in their haste to find the exit they came from. The clock was against them. But through the chaos there was one comm that remained eerily quiet. The group, wounded and all, managed to get out of the exit and fly out towards the Enclave ships moving towards the city, quickly issuing out a call for them to deploy gunships to pick them up.
Yet the one blip from her team still bothered her. :: Eliz, where are you?! Respond dammit! Eliz! :: She shouted as she glanced back at the mountain behind them.
No response.
Everyone else was accounted for, barring the few casualties they suffered. The survivors were all in the air with her.
<"Right, two Thermals,"> Vulcan replies, bringing out two explosives and with his thumb, activating them.
He then hurled them towards the enemy side intending to cave in the ceiling on the nearest Ultranaut offensive line, which will stall for a while. He ran out of bombs, and he certainly wasn't going to remove the ones he placed on the panels and generators. In all the fighting they lost few Vod, the enemy was a different story altogether.
But he'll be glad to get away from this restrictive space. The messy gunfight had been going back and forth, two Vod had carefully concentrated their fire at two distracted Ultranauts, then they made them step back, right into the falling debris. This allowed the Mandalorians to strengthen the defence of the explosive planting.
He wasn't showing it but he wanted to be away from all this confined underground space, he carefully returned fire from his spot. Ducking when several bolts zipped past his head. Beskar is blaster resistant but ducking was an automatic response to gunfire. Vulcan was not going to taste death again, he didn't die that time but took a while to recover and get active enough to resume day to day activities but he sure felt like he was when he helped storm that fortress Citadel place. Missiles are never fun, they hurt, and they make a mess out of everyone and everything.
He thudded back into the present with a violent jolt as the command filtered in, time to send this mountain into oblivion. Hidden under the helmet, Vulcan broke into a devilish grin, the best part has finally come. The reason they were here in the first place. He armed the explosives to explode in 20 seconds, well he made sure to have time to spare regardless that no Vod is left behind, at least he hoped no one was left behind.
Mandalorians nearest to the new Vent Exit were filtering out through it, defended by walls of shields on either side, which means no one gets hurt or killed, blocking their escape. More began to retrace their steps from their entry point, shooting and barreling down the opposition that tried to hinder their escape.
<"Alora, get in, get in the vent, we have to leave now."> Vulcan covered for the last to get into the vent as he also told Alora to get in too. They need to be gone when it goes up.
He, himself needed to escape, he had two options now, the vent or going back the way he came. The soft beeps of armed explosives hurried his choices along and the vent was a good option for him now, he got inside and followed the bends and curves until he saw light or at least snow in the mouth. Activating his jetpack he shot up and away from the mountain, only stopping to clear snow from his visor.
He was after a good while of flying, out of the blast range of the detonation. He's not injured, which he is grateful for. Being hurt was no fun. But war is never as clear-cut as that. He is learning this very quickly, but he still has more to learn.
Location: 2nd Level Corridor outside Main Generator Room Side Entrance
The Conjured Beast rip and tore against the foul summons in the corridor that led to the side entrance it had punched through. Blood and bone were splattered against every wall and littered upon the floor where it stood. Thonn had seen the beast up the ramp that led from the lower floor whose hallway led to the main entrance -- now bereft of soldiers as they'd fallen back at the sight of the beast in the side doorway -- to the second floor where Runi had been.
Soon those summons took on an even fiercer bite and swipe of their claws. The Beast roared defiantly as it battered and broke the bodies that threw themselves at it. Its might could easy squash such creatures, but it was also far larger than the corridor could tolerate, which constrained its movements. A limitation that allowed the opposition to time their strikes to slip within the Beast's guard and tear into its flesh.
Meanwhile, the forces that were now in the back joined in on the assault and unleashed their blasters and rockets against the Beast's flank and back as it worked. Its roar shook the corridor at being assailed from both sides with little room to maneuver, and a mission to keep the foul summons from pouring into the generator room.
The floor of the corridor was soon slick with the black blood of the Beast. Its movements slowed under the assault. Its strength waned noticeably, and yet pose no less threat to life or limb to those that continued to launch themselves at it. When portals appeared to dump armed soldiers into the corridor, it turned its back to the door; its legs folded up so that its bulk would fill the metal that'd been curled in toward the generator room. A tree-trunk limb slammed off to the side to sweep several horrors into the wall with a satisfying crunch. Its thick fingers grasped a figure of another that climbed upon it to squeeze it back into oblivion. Others tore at its face as its range of attack had grown ever more narrow.
Even once its arms had fallen still, the thick body of the beast would time time to tear or blaster through; its mass a difficult chore to move aside even if the floor were not filled with blood. It had served its purpose in the realm. Later, Runi would give thanks for its unwavering commitment.
Runi Kuryida stood in the fathomless void that underlay all things. It had no shape, no color, no sense of up or down -- it was timeless and it was formless. Runi only had definition as a Shaman's Will retained her sense of self in such a place. Some might call this part of the Nether. Others might ponder if it were the Manda. Some answers were not meant for the living, nor did they matter in the moment.
For that moment, Runi could see the Witches that had hidden themselves on the planet, and feel the dark powers they conjured to protect their puppets. Just because it lacked form did not mean a studious woman of the Manda could not distinguish the many manifestations and where they might reside in the material realm. It was insightful, but more importantly it helped her see these Witches must have been pouring everything they had into maintaining a mere shell around the generator. An excessive sacrifice on their part, but then they hardly knew Runi or her philosophy. Perhaps their Master would kill them if they failed to maintain such a shell; after all, Runi hardly knew them either.
Two sticks appeared in the Shaman's hands as currents of energy were thrown at her in that void. Runi swung the lengths out to block the assault, which formed a ring about her in an effort to crush her spirit.
A direct assault from afar? Runi found the Witches of the Empire to be rather offensive. An endless barrage of concealed, mass distributed traps, conjured beasts, and undead by a nameless and faceless gathering. It was the very sort of thing the Mandokarla would never do, and why Runi hadn't sought to undo literally every action the opposition dropped upon them. You couldn't grow if you were not challenged; nonetheless, you could not be overwhelmed instantly and murdered by people that wouldn't even show their face and consider it a 'challenge.' Yet there the enemy was seeking to overwhelm their spiritual opponent without so much as a taunt. Runi had at least invited whoever destroyed her gylphs to find her, and yet they hadn't pursued. Thus, these Witches were vexing and offensive -- nothing demonstrating it more-so than when they had the gall to reanimate the dead. If there were time Runi would help them lucidly envision the sight and horror of seeing their loved ones butchered and reanimated; assuming they had any heart left with which to care.
Runi's sole regret was the lack of Witches in the Generator Room. Evidently the strength of the magical shell had masked wherever the Witches were huddled in the shadows. Well, that and the regret she hadn't conjured portals into wherever they hid and let lose an army of monsters to devour them sooner as they seemed eager to completely erase the existence of the small team that had penetrated the complex.
Runi could feel the hatred of the Witches and the ire of the living in her immediate surroundings. Even a blind, deaf, comatose lobotomy patient could feel that without Witches trying to cast some sort of lens effect. The Shaman, however, was a Mandalorian -- one that specialized in the spiritual and mental field. Their pressure was substantial, but it was still only pressure. Fuel for the Witches to conjure their portals, perhaps, and invigorate their overwhelming desire to keep their protective shell in place, but fuel all the same. Hatred alone was not so paralyzing to someone faced with hatred or scorn wherever they went. Who wanted to see men and women is beskar'gam? The guilty feared their time was short, their end near. The innocent worried their enemies might have purchased their skills (a frivolous concern since Mandalorians didn't go around butchering innocent people -- criminals were a different story).
The people of Panatha might disagree, but only because they were not aware of the reason for a full-out assault. It was a tragic fact that in war innocent people died. Equally tragic that the people of Panatha weren't merely civilians either -- they were fighters, and if you picked up a weapon against a Mandalorian there was only one proper response. An even more viscous cycle on a world such as this one.
As the Witches sought to trouble the Shaman mentally and spiritually, they likewise from an undisclosed location sought to do so physically as well. Worse yet, Runi could feel the formation of portals a mere moment away. Several, in fact. Runi felt honored to have stirred a hornet's nest for the sake of removing a magical boon to a mechanical contraption. Perhaps another time she might trouble them face-to-face and see how much such a group would truly sacrifice to assail a singular foe.
The Shaman lifted her hands from the generator and slowly stood to her feet as the portals began to swirl into being from every direction. Beneath the metal helm Runi grinned. It was not the purpose of the Mandokarla to wage war or police the galaxy as Jedi or Sith did; but that did not mean they were weak. A Mandalorian in the end was a Mandalorian, and training was the bedrock of their culture.
As everything rapidly spun out of control with faux-humanoids and Ultranauts alike pouring out of multiple portals -- most of which had to be level with the generator to have a clear shot at Runi's head as they crossed space-time and dimension -- Runi ducked first to the left. Despite the dodge as the forces emerged blindly from a portal, one blaster bolt actually did ping against Runi's bird-like helmet, and two more struck her breast plate where a viscous fiend had scratched earlier. Beskar'gam always has beskar.
With shots aimed so high, Runi twirled the sticks in her hands as she stayed low to close with her first opponent atop the generator. Not the flattest of surfaces for combat, nor the largest, but it would do for now. Runi grimaced as two more bolts struck the laninanium of her lower back; it was a hardy material, but not as unyielding as metal so the impacts still registered on her body. She knocked the weapon slightly aside to slip around the other side to screen a few more shots.
The energy shield ignited to envelop her form as she thrust her right arm out to the side to send a wave of liquid flame out to greet her new sparring partners. As she stood at the edge of the generator, two Ultranauts below fired upward with their bolts sizzling upon the shield.
Runi grabbed the armored man before her as he turned and gave him a sharp tug while she foot lashed out to trip him and send him down to the floor below. No doubt his friends would manage to avoid being crushed under him, but Runi could not care less about their fate.
As the Cloak of Many Feathers acted as her jetpack, Runi launched herself back the way she'd come to slam her sticks into another opponent to knock them off the other side. She pivoted and used the grappling line to occupy another assailant even as the barrage of blaster fire continued from the number still on her level and those below whenever she neared an edge.
<"Harpy to Main Generator strike team,"> Runi signaled to nearby forces as she danced toward another opponent. Her words were delayed as battle took priority to chatter. <"Now would be a good time to strike before my shield is depleted."> The indicator already showed it was in the lower half of its charge after only a few seconds.
Both sticks slammed down on the rifle of an Ultranaut and the two of them grunted at one another. Runi stepped and leaned in to try and keep the armored bulk between Runi and as many of the other attackers as possible to stay their fire. Eventually the man managed to cast the sticks aside, however, and exposed Runi's center; the Ultranaut stepped in and headbutted the Shaman's elongated beak of a helmet. She stumbled back a step from the assault, and only managed to keep from being cast from the generator herself because of the cloak.
The headbutt caused Runi's defenses mentally to slip, but not enough for the Witches' grasp to crush her as they desired.
That's when the portals themselves became charged to emit lightning. Runi had wondered why they'd been wasting energy sustaining the portals unless they'd planned to have the entire city empty out into a single room. With the sudden announcement of a low-altitude bombardment on the city, however, perhaps that had crossed their minds?
Truly, though, those that called upon Greater Forces could not see eye to eye on matters; as the portals through which the faux-humans and Ultranauts had passed began to emit lightning.
The Shaman danced atop the generator from one foot perch to another with bolts streaking horizontally through the air. She sought to keep as low a profile as possible without it slowing her down as it had quickly been evident they dared not shoot down toward the generator, nor those below too close to its side whenever she was near a ledge. A fact that didn't carry a great deal of advantage, but even the smallest helped as her shield was swiftly depleted from the onslaught. Her work, fortunately, was nearly finished.
If Sergeant Omen
or Thonn Rokkal
were positioned to toss a package into the room, Runi would signal them now was the time to do it.
Runi kicked another aside before she ran straight toward the front of the generator and toward one of the snapping and crackling portals.
No longer darting between them, those atop the generator -- whose numbers were often refilled by those below -- began firing freely at the 'fleeing' Shaman. Bolts plinked against the beskar and pounded against the laninanium. She could have used the Force to bolster her defenses, but there were already two spells chained for use and her personal safety was not as important as the first energy-consuming spell she'd conjure. As she leaped from the fore of the generator, Runi could feel a bolt pound through the laninanium layers in her midsection. Pain exploded throughout her body.
Teeth clenched, and stick stowed, the Shaman reached out with her left hand and felt the lightning of the portal she headed straight toward coil about her arm. It snapped and hissed at its intended victim, but it seemed to stop at her shoulder. Runi ducked right around the portal and leaped out into the open to drop down the ground below.
The crackling energy around her arm faded back into the void as a a giant conjuring circle flared into existence over the generator with its glow filling the room. Runi's struggle to survive had not been for herself, but for her vod. Those she'd danced with had been points along the circle that the Shaman had drawn using her own body as the instrument. The Power of the Manda and even some of the enemy's own energy had been poured into it once it was made manifest. A circle that would set upon the Witches' own magic seal, jeopardizing both if either were dispelled. Its effect was as before -- to balance the battlefield and give Mandalorian warriors their fighting chance.
Energy washed through the facility to banish the gravity wells that slowed movement. With the bombardment in progress the Mandalorians would need every second possible to escape the complex if they had any hope to survive. The challenge had been put before them, and now the value of that challenge had been lost. As Runi said many times: A Mandalorian must not merely Survive, but Live; but at times you must Survive in order to Live.
Runi dropped to the floor with a loud bang and a wave of Force energy that radiated outward to push any troops that may have been loitering there -- most had been in the back at the start -- away from the center line between the door and generator. If Sergeant Omen
or Thonn Rokkal
were in position this would be their time to cast the explosives forth; otherwise Runi would use the Force to trigger the doors to open.
The crackle of the lightning left Runi's left arm numb as she got to her feet. As she darted toward the corridor after leaping over a barricade, the beak of her helm turned to the side. Her teeth clenched and her eyes widened at the sight of a rocket as it streaked forth. Her right hand lifted to form a barrier between it and her, but the explosion flung her through the air into the corridor.
A choked gasp was drowned out in the echo of the explosion as the Shaman slumped to the floor. A warm rivulet of blood trickled down her chin beneath the helmet.
Slowly, her trembling right hand lifted to trigger the door to shut as another blaster bolt plinked of her helmet. Then she twisted her clawed hand to rip the controls out of the wall. It would not buy her a great deal of time, but better than the room emptying on the spot.
With the vibrations of the assault underway and knowing this entire complex was a target, Runi growled as she forced her body to move. Her fingers slowly closed around the stick she'd dropped when she'd been slammed against the wall; while her left arm still hung at her side with sensation slowly returning. One leg then the other was pulled under her as the Shaman commanded her body to rise. Even with a tremble throughout her body, now was not the time to be resting. Her Cloak of Many Feathers had several holes in it by this point, which would do no good for lofty acrobatic flights; fortunately, all Runi needed as just-over-ground-level command to get her out of the facility and to the transports.
<"A'den Actual, Harpy,"> her now gravely voice called out, <"Enemy Slowdown removed. Get your people out of here. May the Manda be with you.">
The Summoned Beast was slain.
Runi defended herself against the waves of enemies and Force attacks.
Conjured a magic circle to banish the gravity well / slow effect.
If Omen/Thonn were able, provided them a momentary unimpeded path toward the generator.
Runi exited the Generator Room to depart the facility with the bombardment in progress.
The two warriors weren't exactly keen on explaining other than throwing insults at Rath. Like Rath should know what the Sith have done and the Empire’s previous allegiance to the Sith Empire. Frankly he never interacted with anyone in the Sith Empire directly, but he knew of several who were once part of that faction. Truthfully Rath never cared for the Sith or the Sith Empire as his allegiance was tied with the Eternal Empire.
However, before things progressed for better or worse, suddenly everything went completely dark with a thunderous explosion. As the bombardment began in the outskirts, while it didn't hit directly at the mining complex, the struck mountains still broke off in large chunks as the very ground shook violently. Forcing even Rath to fall to the ground before the shockwave of the explosion sent him to and through a wall of concrete. Debris fell upon the young man, and the two lightsabers were flung into the unknown. Deactivated of course as Rath had lost concentration over them, but Senaar and Kal were also violently thrown off as well. Debris of rock, rebar, and even metal were scattered along the wind.
Some of the buildings crumbled, and a couple including the building that Rath was thrown in barely stood. Albeit one wall collapsed while part of the roof had fallen through. Part of the collapse fell upon Rath’s unconscious body. Chaos, fire, and smoke filled the air. Even as the Empress’s transmission was received through his miraculously working comlink. Rath wasn’t conscious to respond.
Minutes had gone by, and minutes turned to nearly an hour later. Coming up along the ruined complex was a group of labourers led by the same foreman that Rath had spoken to prior to the beginning. They began rummaging through the rubble for anything they could salvage. The foreman barked at his workers.
”If there’s any survivors, be careful with them! Take whatever we can carry and we can find out what in blazes happened around here!” The workers nodded their heads solemnly before they began scavenging. Some found weapons, others found miscellaneous items ranging from tools to even some of their personal belongings. As a pair of group began rummaging around one of the two buildings, one of them noticed a dark coloration amidst the rubble. Curious, the young zabrak pulled some stones away only to be met with a grim expression. There was a body underneath the pile of rubble, and one of the arms appeared to have been broken considering that the forearm was bent at an acute angle.
He hesitated as he reached for the mask, and with a hiss of pressurized air being released the mask revealed the unconscious face of Rath. Dried blood had dampened his dark hair and frankly didn’t appear to have any life in him. However, when the zabrak checked for a pulse, he was surprised that he felt it. The pulse was faint, and his breathing was so shallow that he didn’t notice it before amidst all of the rubble and armor. He looked over his shoulder before calling out in a clear, deep voice.
”Kain! We got a live one over here!” Feet could be heard rapidly approaching them as the foreman, Kain, stepped through the gaping hole in the wall. A couple of more people stepped through as well, and Kain was more so surprised to see Rath. Kain wasn’t exactly a veteran by any means, but he’s seen his share of battles to know when one’s chances didn’t look promising. With a grunt, he motioned for his men to help clear out the rubble.
”Come on! Help me get him out!” Kain issued out as they worked swiftly and carefully so as to not cause the building to collapse any further.
”Sir!” The Zabrak pulled what was inches from Rath’s broken arm and happened to be what was left of Rath’s lightshoto. The once elaborate, polished and slightly curved hilt held a large dent and the kyber crystal that was once inside had shattered. Kain shrugged his shoulders.
”Hold onto it. It maybe broken, but it is his property.” With that being said, the men and women cleared enough of the rubble to free Rath. One of the others that was outside happened to find Rath’s sword, but like his shoto the blade had snapped in half. Forming a nasty point so to speak. They also discovered one of Rath’s lightsaber which was also damaged, but the crystal was still intact. As for the other lightsaber, nobody had found it.
They managed to find one of their labor droids that received minor damage from the collision, and Kain stitched together a cart which was loaded up with cargo, parts, and whatever they managed to scavenge from the ruins.They also put Rath gently on top of the cargo and secured him with straps. On Kain’s word, they retreated from the ruined structures and away from the Iron Mountains. Further down from the mountains was one of the metal production facilities. However it was one of the older ones and was supposed to have been out of commission. Kain’s company had based one of their offices within the facility as they planned on refurbishing the facility into working order. For the moment, it was also their choice of sanctuary since it was further away from the fighting.
Twenty seconds, she heard the call out as she bashed another Ultranaut's head with her beskad... She disengaged from the fight, giving them a little salute, "Nice playing with you boys, you better get running~" She'd say with a laugh before turning and blasting off, coming into the rear of the pack. She'd fly backward, covering their escape as she threw pot shots back at what pursuers didn't get the memo that the mountain would be deleted from the planet's surface in less than... fifteen seconds.
An ultranaut got a lucky shot at her as she turned a corner, hitting her jetpack and sending her to the ground... not good. She tried her jetpack again, it only popped and fizzled. "Lovely..." she would mutter as she took the pack off and just began sprinting. She kept a rough count of the time left...
She wasn't going to make it without a jetpack. She turned a corner and spotted one of her fallen comrades, their jetpack still on their back... "Sorry, gotta take this," she would say unceremoniously before snatching it and clipping it to her back and getting going again. Managing to find an exit, and spotting the flares of jetpacks in the not too far distance she knew she'd clear what would have been a very quick death... But she wasn't sure of was the shockwave killing her at this range... Only one way to find out.
She blasted out of the mine entrance, and just tried to clear as much distance as she could. She'd roll onto her back again, flying backward to watch the show, and be ready to dodge anything that flew at her, and waited. Her eyes lingered on that mine entrance, waiting for the inevitable fireball...
Like a demon reaching of hell the entrance exploded into a firey ball, she'd flip back over just in time for the shockwave to hit her... Not really expecting the force this far out to be that strong she lost control of her flight, spiraling from the air about thirty feet above the ground. Luckily for her sake, the planet was covered in snow and she dropped into a deep snowbank.
Panting as she laid in her hole she felt the rumble of the explosion shake where she lay, the snow covering her and encasing her in darkness. She scrambled to dig her way up and out. Her head popped to the surface as she looked up at the now-massive fireball that was once the mountain...
"That was a bit close..." She would mutter, digging her way up and out and getting back to moving to regroup with the rest of the team.
Location: The Generator Room in... The Mine, Panatha
Huh? Twenty seconds? Twenty seconds? Why did Shai always have to do these things in such grandiose manner? Like, yeah, the Ultranaughties could maybe get down here and try disfusing it and the explosives if it were left for too long, but twenty seconds? Wasn't that a bit short? It'd take them twenty seconds to even figure out what it was Alora had done to the console let alone try to jerryrig things back to try catching a falling knife (overload).
Vulcan's explosion to try burying the Ultranauts and cut off their approach -- at least delaying them a few seconds, hopefully -- rang the room like a bell. Much like the other party packages he'd hefted at them, but lower in altitude.
Alora sighed to herself as she pressed the big red button. Oh, if only it were a big red button then everyone in the immediate area would know to clench properly. <"Twenty...">
Her hand reached up into the internals of the console to tear out some of the wires to the controls above. Hopefully it'd disable the inputs so they'd have to untangle the wires and reconnect feeds to manually override the mess she'd made. It wouldn't be impossible to do, just really unlikely in her estimation. Like, she could probably do it. Assuming the equipment red lines were actually reached in accordance with manufacturer design specifications. <"Nineteen...">
As she rolled away from the console and onto one knee, Alora watched an Ultranaut managed to shoot a vod headed for the vent in the back. Usually a cowardly act, but when you were half-buried in rubble and pissed where you shot them wasn't the most important thing to most people. Both disruptors lifted and panged off two yellow bolts to sizzle the faceplate of the offender. <"Eighteen...">
Vulcan called out to her as the survivors martially forth to escape while Shai's group charged into the maw of the enemy. <"Seventeen..."> Alora darted around another console and hauled ass toward the channel. <"Sixteen..."> Her disruptors were up to pop any more Ultra that were either free, dusting themselves off, or breaking through the rubble Vulcan had dropped on them. <"Fifteen...">
She dove into the entrance after the rest and rushed to make for the exit. Time was most definitely not on their side. <"Come on, V, gotta move. Gotta move."> Everyone was panting laboriously as they struggled to navigate the passage. It wasn't a maze, but they hadn't built a 'please shoot me' path either -- kind of like the Queen's Gambit in Chess, you knew to look for that design flaw ever since it became famous nearly nine hundred years ago.
<"Three..."> She looked over at Vulcan and made sure his pack was on before her own ignited to streak away from the mountain. <"Two..."> Oh, boy, this was going to get rough. Alora wished Shai was there right then. At least if things went sideways, Alora could count on her friend to be there in the end; or get the rascal to safety if the roles were reversed. <"One."> Well, Vulcan was good company too. Maybe they'd share a drink after--
The dead kept their distance from the two armoured fighters as phase blade and sithsword clashed, and as heavy armours clashed against one another. Many of the undead formed a semicircle around them, but more yet streamed outside along with the black smoke. They prowled the streets, hunting the invaders. They dead clung to mandalorian shuttles, trying to scrape their way inside them as they hoisted the invaders away from the raining fire.
The Mandalorian disengaged from her blow, but it was all part of the dance of blades, a dance Joycelyn Zambrano quite enjoyed. Sensing his rapid counter, she pulled the cut at the last second and shifted it into a low guard, the fool's guard, one for goading attackers. The Force moved darkly where murder was committed, and the darkness had grown thick on Panatha this night. Darth Vornskr fed off this darkness and conducted it through Zaudraka. The sith and the sword harmonised together in the chorus written by the dark side of the Force.
"This war shall only make us stronger."
When he launched at her, the sith's response was deceptively quick. She took a step back to avoid the rising cut, allowing the tip of the blade to skim across the black armour uselessly. Then, when he brought his blade high, so did she. Zaudraka was lifted quickly and presented as a pike in his seemingly fixed path. She was aiming to slide it up under his helmet while he struck against the phrik-encased arms.
There were many weak-spots in her armour, many little gaps through which a precise blade could slip, but where her pauldrons ended there was a rerebrace of phrik overlaying armourweave, followed by a vambrace encasing her elbow and lower arm. Some armours, were made to be worn indefinitely, but the Imperator's Raiment was made solely for intense combat. She had traded versatility for coverage, and now she gambled that the damage she would do to him would be greater than what his phase blade could do to her.
But she was not satisfied with the threat of the blade itself. As she presented point, the red fire of the fallen brazier began to roar and spread. It coiled in an unnatural way, like a whip, which then lashed out against the Mandalorian's legs with a roar and snap. It did not lash out to strike as much at it sought to entangle him in its burning grip.
____________________
Above bombs and fire fell from the sky, only to be stopped by an invisible shield. This was not one made by the Eternals, but one summoned through foul magic. The two attendants twisted in agony as their skin burned and flaked as if suffering every wound themselves in miniature. Even without his heart, the purple attendant twisted in pain and agony, kept from death for the remainder of the spell's duration. Their agony and their lives were the price, the cost of the protection they afforded the shrine and the houses closest to it. Had they more time, then they would have found another victim to carry their agony, but the vahla and the epicanthix retainers bore their shared agony torment proudly.
They had done their all to save their sovereign and their closest, and they would be rewarded.
The dead caught in the streets were eviscerated, and many piled themselves on top of houses in search for the fleeing enemy. One could almost think they were shielding the living from bombardment with their bodies. Their hollow eyes with the glowing pinpricks of hatred, could in the end only watch as the bombardment closed in.
Andras was already leaping at Vornskr as his Phase-Blade wheeled back around behind him to complete its stroke. There was no way to retreat however it would also make maneuvering a blade, especially a large one between the two of them incredibly awkward due to the diminishing distance that would equate to almost nil. The Jump Servos in his armor ensuring that Andras had a high amount of momentum.
Darht Vornskr was a cagey opponent though. She managed to raise Zaudraka, her Sithsword into a lethal position.
As the Phase-Blade came around into its predetermined strike Andras, making contact with the heavily armored outer arm of Joycelyn Zambrano
would jerk his right arm into a follow through. Ripping the Phase-Blade across Vornskr's armor so that it could complete its diagonal path from his high left to his low right and make contact with the Sithsword on the inside in the process to parry it wide. At its conclusion the Phase-Blade would end its diagonal stroke somewhere out to the right of Andras same hip.
The rest would be much as Andras had planned otherwise. Thrust against Darth Vornskr after essentially leaping onto her still reached with his left hand to grip the upper plate of her armor around the clavicle area before canting his head forward to deliver a hard headbutt. The Headbutt would be followed by another and another in an attempt to drive the Sith Lord onto her back and prone with the Mandalorian essentially ending in a mount of her.
All this could happen in moments, breaths, seconds. When Andras finally realized the flame had coiled around him, engulfing his legs he'd have growled in a mixture of pain and anger....
"Aruetyc Darjetii!"
...he shouldn't have been surprised given he was facing a Sith, especially after hearing tales of how his cousin, Strider Garon had fought her namesake once but Andras had hoped she wouldn't resort to the use of her sorcery.
The Armor he wore heated, protecting him from burns initially but that would only last so long which is why the Mandalorian would attempt to make an escape, using the Jump Servos to leap upwards and away.
Threw the grenade at House NPCs engaging Runi
Escaped the facility
Took a brief moment to watch the fireworks
Watching the battle from his position, Thonn waited at the ready with his incendiary charge. None of the ones he saw chose to engage him, though one House Io citizen did pause to consider shooting. The Mandalorian did not notice the posturing until the citizen changed his focus and pursued other targets. A strategic consideration? He didn't have his rotary cannon, or anything he could use to fire shots at the enemy; who happened to be a demonstrably powerful Force user. Given the condition that he was on, Thonn mused he had simply appeared too unimportant to shoot. Many more dire threats remained amidst the cacophony of battle in the generator room.
Once his allies were making their retreat, his sole reason for remaining vanished along with them. Mandalorians rushed to the vents and past him to the exits, while Runi moved gracefully along perches found in the room. She'd gained the focus of quite a few of the enemy forces, who had made the unknowing mistake of bunching up a bit too close together. None noticed Thonn, and none would until his thrown incendiary grenade smacked against the back of one of the three, bouncing off the ground and catching the attention of all before bursting in a bright fiery flash. The group fell dead, cooked within their armour with tongues of fire lingering atop their bodies in the aftermath.
With that weapon thrown into the fray, Thonn had only his flame projector to see him towards the exit. Given the choice between using the vent and retreating from where he came, he chose to retrace his steps and made his withdrawl throughrapid flight of his jetpack.
And with his injured lung, it hurt. Thonn had to hold his breath to ease the pain and enable him to make the deft maneuvers needed. Shai Krayt and her forces were providing much needed cover, for which the badly injured Thonn had plenty of gratitude for. If it wasn't for her, he probably would have gotten picked off on his way back, but he could always count on his vode.
Escape was quick, and once he had burst from the entrance of the facility Thonn made a skyward ascent and took a much needed but painful breath of air. At least there wasn't anything to crash into, and while his flying was definitely much more erratic with the injury he had made it clear of the resulting explosion. Scanning the ground for the first Mandalorian assault transport he could see, he promptly descended and got on board
A bombardment was to follow, and for this Thonn took a moment to watch the bombs fall before continuing his departure. Medical aid could wait; he'd still be hurt later, but the bombs were dropping now. Glorious earned vengeance for what they'd suffered in times past. He heard the protest and attitude of the empire; they saw the Mandalorians as mere monsters.
As they would any dog that dares bite back.
Whoever said revenge is a dish best served cold certainly had no access to explosive ordinance.
He felt, rather than saw or anticipated the tug of Carnifex falling into the rift. Most of his energy was spent otherwise holding the titan of the Dark Side to a standstill with his brother's. But when the act happened, he cursed and then reached up to hold back the arm and shoulder he had. The next move was perhaps more emotional than tactical, but he owed Siv. He owed Clan Dragr. Hell, he owed a lot of red on his books. At least in this, he could make good on one debt.
Letting go of the leg lock he had on the Sith, he whiplashed his feet around, grunting at the effort it took. and the precision firing of his jetpack cracking at least a few ribs and other bones, as well as pain but continuing with his mad plan anyway. As his feet and torso went one way, and his top half the other, he let go of the grip on Carnifex's shoulder and arm, reversed thrust direction and kicked out. The kick hit Siv square in the center of his chest, in the iron heart of his armor, as the saying went. A resounding clang sounded and echoed as he coiled his legs at the knees from the impact and straightened them as if jumping at the precise moment of contact while shifting his hold on Carnifex to a bearhug around the waist from behind.
If all went well, he would succeed in a massive and rocket-assisted kick to Siv, flinging his Alor clear of the rift and back into real-space safely. He would do the same for Volo, but there was only so much time, and truth be told he owed Siv a life, so the priorities changed and scales shifted. Grinning under his helmet, the annunciator crackled as he transitioned into the Nether,, warping oddly whilst he bid farewell to his brother.
"Gotal'ur gar jibr... Uhdubyibetin..."
As he dragged Carnifex into the rift he was jostled and lost his grip, rolling to a side and coming up with his spear in hand, jerking it into the Nether as the Rift closed, warding off tentacles and retreating as he did, trying to gain a better grasp of what his new reality was.
Hell, that's what it is. And I was born of this.
With a baritone rumble of a laugh, he sliced tentacles and advanced back at the former Emperor, firing his Baragwin type flamethrower from his gauntlet as he did so, burning the chopped tentacles to ash if he could.
Leave no mercy, and sing your deathsong like a hero going home... Yield not one step unless it is soaked in someone's blood.
Tovald had taken shelter in the foundations of a building once the now falling vessel hit, he was outside the epicentre, but close enough to feel the heat and dodge shrapnel, burning shrapnel. Memories began to surface of his own brush with flames and near death. Shaking his head and taking a moment to quell them back, he will find a way to deal with these unresolved flashbacks, but not right now, not while he has a job to do.
<"I'm not dead, I'm not covered in burning oil, liquid or anything else. I am fine."> He says to himself quietly, before getting out of the small space he took cover in.
A flaw he wants to rectify, but first he needs to evacuate surviving civilians, but he knew how tall they were, even the children could look him in the eye or he had to stare up at them. Then he remembered, he had his large ship, and he can get it here to land and everyone can escape. Because last he checked this planet was not geologically active.
Tovald found the source of the earthshake, orbital bombardment, that or, something very large had exploded, something important. But it was enough to get the coordinates out to Venomoth to make planet fall, so that he can get as many non-combatants as possible off planet. He was beginning to regret coming along to this war, sure he liked a good fight, but it was getting very much out of hand.
The first civilians were loaded into the Venomoth, the ship was big enough to carry the inhabitants with head room to spare. Civilians had nothing to do with the conflict, they needn't suffer. He does many things, many questionable things but he never kills or destroys without reason. He never puts children in harm's way, he turned down jobs that involved children fast and hard.
He sticks to his guns on the matter. But there is a thought that crossed his mind, about what to do if faced with Child Soldiers. He hoped he didn't face any. But right now, he was getting people on board and checking for any escapee cats, he promised to not put any of them in danger. He wondered if they had practiced their times tables as he seems to have more than he used to.
He'll deal with it once the threat is over, and he doesn't feel the Cortisol raging around his body in a Tsunami. Once everyone was onboard, Civilians and cats alike, Tovald left as fast as he could, glad to not get stuck in whatever glassing is about to occur. His objective was to get Civilians to safety. So, he did just that.
Tovald was glad to be off world and is that mountain on fire?!
Coughing frantically beneath his helmet, the young platoon leader pushed off the grit and rubble that had swallowed him after a basilisk’s reactor explosion, subsequent to the artillery barrage. Rolling to his side, he slowly pushed himself off the ground. He couldn’t get his balance swiftly, but several blaster bolts landing around him was quite the catalyzer. The fight wasn’t over yet! The enemy forces closest to the front were largely left unaffected by the basilisk blowing up and were rapidly making their advance towards the complex through the courtyard!
His position coming under fire, with his rifle lost in the explosion, the warrior quickly vaulted over the waist high debris before him and ducked behind it, effectively taking shelter from the incoming fire. The warrior drew a blaster pistol from his holster as several other remaining Mandalorians began returning fire at the encroaching Ultranauts to halt their advance.
But it was a futile effort. They could not hold the facility against them anymore. Not only they no longer had the manpower and resources to continue holding, the friendly naval elements were maneuvering to Canthar to commence bombardment of the city. Orders were coming down to pull out in order to not get caught in the bombardment!
<”All units! Retreat to the rally point! I say again, retreat to the rally point! Naval elements have commenced bombardment of Canthar. The-”> His eyes widening in terror, a sudden bright flash in the distance had him pause as he saw one of the massive ships from the Mandalorian Enclave fleet, crashing into the city from the skies after its slow, yet inevitable descent towards certain destruction. The ground beneath their feet quaked violently as the ship crashed.
<”The safety of any units remaining in the city cannot be guaranteed!”> The Platoon Leader shouted over the comlink in the command net. He swiftly stood up and peeked from his cover with the blaster pistol raised, returning fire at the approaching Ultranauts as he began coordinating the retreat. They had to break contact and make their way towards their designated extraction point as soon as they could, but they were not going to leave their wounded behind.
The remaining loudspeakers around the ruined block by the compound that had once spouted laughable propaganda to encourage the Ultranauts and demoralize the Mandalorians crackled to life, but the voice from earlier was now replaced with another this time.
”Citizens of Panatha, this is Field Marshal Reinhardt Ström - please, hear me now.”
“Our city is about to be bombarded. Whatever your allegiances, seek shelter now. Too many lives have been lost to these terrorist who have descended upon this world unprovoked. Cease this madness if you wish to see the next day! Anyone who turns in a Mandalorian invader either alive or dead will be given 10,000 credits and amnesty for all crimes, signed by myself personally.”
<”Haar’chak!” He cursed out loud in response to the Field Marshal’s decree. As if the local Ultranaut garrison wasn’t enough, they would be dealing with locals now, too. They had to start moving for the extraction point now.
<”Si’kahya callsigns, be advised! We can no longer sustain our defense of the facility any longer! We are pulling out with our wounded! Break contact and get to the extraction point as soon as you can! Out!”>
With coordinated movement, the remaining combat effective warriors of the Sixteenth Company began putting down suppressing fire against the encroaching Ultranauts to slow their advance for just enough time to collect their wounded. Refusing to leave their vode, the paratroopers would fight savagely in order to prevent their wounded from falling into captivity at the Empire’s hands.
The warriors broke contact with the enemy as soon as the last wounded yet alive paratrooper was picked up and carried under covering fire, leaving no wounded behind.
The Mandalorian held side of the facility’s exterior would fall into silence soon after the last wounded paratrooper was evacuated, leaving the facility finally defenseless against the counterattack of the Ultranaut forces.
Battered forces of the 16th Company elements pulling out and heading towards their designated extraction point, leaving no wounded personnel behind.
The missile left a faint streak of white smoke as it was launched from the tube. Striking the auxiliary power generator, the machinery would be engulfed in a brief flash of fiery orange the moment the warhead hit the generator, kicking up a cloud of dust in the wake of the fiery flash. Much to his surprise, Kom’rk would see that the missile had no seeming effect on the generator as the dust settled. <”What the-”>
Unable to continue to express his confusion, the floor plates inside the room would lift up, as more foes began to reveal their position, opening fire at the men and women of Atin Squad. Before he could return fire and react, the squad’s demolitions expert would feel the ground swept beneath his feet as a concussion mine was set off below the durasteel floor tile beneath his feet. The Mandalorian would be flung three meters on his back along with Umber. THe durasteel plating beneath his feet, as well as the beskar’gam they wore had protected them against the brunt of the concussion mines, but the air from their lungs were punched out, with a sharp sting of pain stabbed into their backs and waist as they landed on their backs.
The two groaned in moderate pain and annoyance as they tried to get back up and join the fight once again, but would feel as if a large, invisible hand restrained them, firmly grasping each and every limb, severely limiting their movement speed they would need to best their opponents. <”What in the kark is this chit!?”> Umber shouted in confusion, her disgruntled voice ringing in her fellow squadmates’ ears over their squad net.
<”I- I don’t know! Ah chit, help!”>
Only Hank, the mountain of a man with equal muscle mass to A’den Squad’s Alor’ad, seemed to not have been suffering the effects of this foul, sinister trick as Vortex, Prudii and Dral experienced the same artificial slowness with their vode Kom’rk and Umber.
<”Ah, Kark! We got incoming!”> Vortex shouted as he saw several ultranauts, mercenaries and abominations starting to make their way towards the auxiliary generator’s entrance, down the corridor. Vortex would let loose a long winded salvo of suppressing fire to try and pin them down as he had his rifle pointed down the corridor before the foul sorcery had settled in. As soon as the slowness was dispelled, Vortex would chuck a D-24 Inferno Grenade at the enemy reinforcements headed his way in hopes of slowing their advance to a grinding halt with the incendiary device.
Hank gritted his teeth at the foul sorcery. The sinister witchcraft they have faced thus far only reinforced the fact that they were fighting a cowardly foe, as much as they displayed noteworthy tactical acumen in the more conventional sense, they lacked strength and were bereft of courage to face them in open combat, resorting to turn towards dark magic to strengthen their resolve!
<”SPINELESS COWARDS!”> The Alor’ad shouted at the top of his lungs as he exited his piece of cover and broke into a sprint towards Kom’rk. Radiated blaster bolts slammed into his beskar’gam, pinging off his armor. Their beskar’gam offered generous protection against radiation, but the kinetic energy the bolts possessed as they struck the armor would still carry over, even if the bolt failed to punch through the beskar plates. He felt throbbing pain spreading all over his chest with each bolt striking his armor. <”KOM’RK! THE LAUNCHER!”> The Alor’ad shouted as he slid next to him, grabbing hold of Kom’rk’s launcher. <”Here, take it!”>
The Mandalorian swiftly stood up from beside Kom’rk with the demolition expert’s favored weapon in his hands. Smoothly with practiced movement, he pointed the tube towards floor plates where their enemies kept popping in and out of the floor.
Click
With the pull of its firing mechanism, the Alor’ad would empty the remaining rockets in the rack of the launcher, intending to blow up the mercenaries hiding underneath the floor plates to smithereens.
Meanwhile as the Alor’ad fired off the missile launcher, the Soul Slayer’s efforts to dispel the sprung magical trap that had slowed down the Mandalorians would come to fruition; Hank’s squadmates began to rise or push themselves off the ground onto their feet one by one a moment after the spell was no longer cast over them. <”ANSWER THEM SHOT FOR SHOT!”> The Alor’ad shouted as he tossed the launcher to his demolition expert, switching to his primary once again.
With replenished zeal from the venerable shaman’s emboldening words spoken into their minds telepathically, Atin Squad doubled their efforts to seize their objective. But they would now be aware of the problem they were facing with their objective. Whatever abominable magic or ritual was in place, it protected the generator from harm from any conventional means of destruction.
They would have to improvise.
Strategizing quickly on his feet, Hank swiftly came up with an idea. <”PRUDII! UMBER! SLICE THAT CONSOLE!”> The Alor’ad marked the point of interest in their HUD’s. A console was highlighted Umber was their tech specialist among them, a capable slicer. <”OVERLOAD THE GENERATOR!”> The Alor’ad commanded, with the rest of the squad --with the exception of Vortex-- engaging the remainder of the enemy forces inside the auxiliary generator room, in an attempt to get the attention off the two to and force the enemy to engage the rest of the squad, instead of them.
Firing on the move, the two Verda advanced swiftly to the console under covering fire provided to them by their squad. As Prudii held security for her, Umber quickly got to work as she set aside her blaster rifle and reached for her custom slicer datapad from her utility pouch, and plugged its connection cables to the console’s GIB Port after turning on the console and began slicing.
<”Initiating slicing sequence.”> She reported over the squad comlink as her fingers rapidly tapped on the touchscreen of her datapad, executing an algorithm to crunch the system login to allow her access to reactor’s controls. The program was a digitized version of a Scramble Key. <”I’m in! Finding generator functions now,”> Umber chirped over the comlink as blaster bolts flew past her faceplate. Prudii’s blaster rifle barked in response, returning fire at the enemy and providing cover for his fellow squadmate.
It wouldn’t take the tech specialist too long to find the controls afterwards. Before tampering with the generator to overload it, she disengaged the safety protocols put in place first. As soon as the deed was done, Umber first ceased the coolant intake to the reactor completely and purged the remaining coolant fluid from the reactor, destabilizing the core’s temperature as a result. Without the coolant to continue cooling the reactor, it would meltdown and explode from inside out. The specialist would swiftly calculate the time it would take for the reactor to reach and pass critical heat levels, resulting in its subsequent explosion on her datapad. The warrior gritted her teeth at the results. <”Slice complete!”> Umber shouted as she quickly packed up her slicer gear after she was done and raised her blaster rifle. <”I suggest we get the hell out of here ASAP! Five minutes until detonation!”> She shouted into the squad comlink as she stepped back from the console and unleashed a long winded salvo of blaster bolts at the generator controls. Shards of glass from the holoscreen and bits of metal jutted out of the console as she rendered the controls useless, in need of repairs before it could be once again operational.
The Si’kahya were known to never leave anything to chance.
<”All callsigns be advised, auxiliary generator is set to overload. Detonation in five minutes! Evacuate the facility as soon as you can! Atin Actual out.”> The Alor’ad warned the callsigns operating in and outside the facility as his squad regrouped under his command.
<”Okay squad! Let’s mop up the rest of these kriffers before we leave! Make it quick! We don’t have all day!”> Hank said as several more blaster bolts pinged off his beskar’gam. Snapping towards the source of incoming fire at an instant, the Alor’ad’s blaster rifle barked, spewing a short controlled burst at his target. As soon as they regrouped, they would continue to remain in the auxiliary generator room in hopes of taking out any remaining hostile forces in the auxiliary generator room before they would make their way out of the facility.
They would now be racing with time itself. They would have to tie up the loose ends here with haste, and then move quickly in order to not get caught up in the bombardment, get surrounded and cut off by their enemies while they made their way towards extraction, or worse, remaining in the fatality radius from the auxiliary generator’s explosion.
Conventional means of decommissioning the generator became apparent as an AT missile shot at it barely left a dent on the generator.
Save for their Squad Lead --thanks to his inherent physical traits--, all other squad members affected by the sorcery put in motion to slow down the Mandalorians until Runi Kuryida dispels the witchcraft.
Squad’s tech specialist slices and sabotages the generator for it to melt down. After disengaging the generator’s safety protocols, the Slicer first ceases all coolant intake to the generator and purges the remaining coolant in the generator, causing it to start overheating.
Once slicing is complete, the squad’s slicer mag dumps the generator controls from her blaster rifle, destroying the console.
Squad then regroups, starts mopping up the remaining hostiles in the auxiliary generator before moving out for exfil.
<”A’den 6 to A’den Leader. We are close to the objective but are encountering enemy sithspawn, a company of “elite” house soldiers, and plenty of witch resistance. I know you don’t have reinforcements to give out like candy but we could sure use some. If none are available we will push on to the end, whatever that may be. A’den 6 out.”>
The giant would grimace underneath his faceplate in response. Omen, Thonn and Runi needed assistance, but there was none he could provide. The two other Si’kahya squads were in the thick of it themselves, having their own problems they needed to deal with first before they could assist any other squad in the facility. <”A’den Actual to all callsigns, if the primary objective is within your sight, attempt to destroy it,”> The giant said over his squad’s net as blaster bolts continued tearing chunks of ferroconcrete from the column he used as cover at the time. <”If resistance is way too much and you cannot get a shot at the objective, then break contact with the enemy as soon as you can and head to the rally point!”> The Alor’ad instructed as he peeked out from his cover to continue engaging his foe.
The giant’s head tilted to his side in surprise as he witnessed the clingwire punch through the thing before him. The limbs where the clingwire was supposed to coil around and ensnare the hostile, not phase through her. His rifle trained on the technological aberrant of a being, the giant began walking backwards in response to get some distance between him and the enemy.
But the damn thing was moving way too fast for him to get out of its way in time.
As soon as it was within striking distance of the giant, silvery tendrils as sharp as a vibro-knife jutted out of the aberrant and lashed at the Alor’ad at his left groin along with his rifle. The tendrils began to tear the part of the long, armorweave black kama covering and protecting his left leg. The silvery sharp tendrils scratched on the beskar thigh plate, scratching off the paintjob of the plate with an irritable metallic screech as sparks sprinkled in the wake of the tendrils.
His blaster rifle would have fared far better, however. Millennia old yet modernized design of the Paranaor was designed to shrug off punishment far more severe than a bunch of scratches on the barrel and the receiver.
As several tendrils lashed out to his left groin after they shredded the kama, timing it just right, the giant rolled backwards and narrowly dodged the tendrils intent on lacerating his flesh and femoral artery, and stood up onto his feet. Without stopping at the slightest after exiting the rearward roll, the giant kept moving backwards and away from the aberrant as he pulled the blaster’s trigger with the rifle trained towards the droid. The blaster rifle barked with each blue blaster bolt exiting the barrel at a high velocity with the intention of cutting down the tendrils lashing out at both him and Dima.
The Alor’ad’s comlink would crackle to life as the fight went on. It was Harpy, the squad’s Shaman speaking on the other side.
<”A’den Actual, Harpy. The generator may be protected by magic,”> Runi announced to Kranak Vizsla. <”But magic cannot protect against all things simultaneously. Know your enemy, know yourself. Do something they will not expect of you.”>
The giant gave a curt nod of his head in silent response to the words of wisdom from the venerable shaman. He knew himself and his limits very well. But this foe he was facing? Not so much so. He hadn’t quite faced anything like this aberration of a droid before. But that would not see him falter as the fight would go on. Nay. The droid had displayed its capabilities and would continue to do so in the fight. Thinking quickly on his feet, he was starting to formulate a strategy to neutralize his target.
As much as he longed for pummelling the aberrant to the ground with his crushgaunts; or cutting it in half with a swift strike with the revered, ancient relic of a sword he carried on his person, the silvery liquid nature of his foe and its sharp tendrils would have certainly complicated the process. The aberrant droid was very much an unconventional foe. Melee would not do, he assumed. At least not yet.
The sudden, loud, yet emboldening phrases conveyed to him in the form of a telepathic shout into his mind from the venerable shaman sprung him into action swiftly; his strength and resolve reinforced. Although the urgency to break contact with the enemy and have his vode start making their way to exfil would be at the back of his mind, the emboldening words of the Shaman encouraged him to continue the fight.
He had to finish this fight as soon as he could. He could hear the increased comms traffic in the command net in his buy’ce. The fleet elements had taken position over Canthar and began the planned bombardment of the city! The very foundations of the facility shook and trembled as the Enclave fleet commenced bombardment. No doubt this facility would come under fire in the near future as well, the giant assumed.
They had to tie up the loose ends here quickly, take out the generators and get the kark out the facility as soon as they can and head to their pre-designated exfils as they now had about three choices to choose from at the eve of the bombardment:
Fail to make it to the extraction point, die at the hands of their enemies or risk getting captured and inevitably, torture; Fail to make it to the extraction point and get caught up in the bombardment or break contact as soon as possible and reach the extraction point in time for exfil.
He would rather have the latter for his squad, the remainder of the valiant defenders from the Sixteenth Company outside and the remaining Si’kahya elements in the compound.
The stakes had also risen higher as per Atin Actual’s heads-up to all Mandalorian callsigns in the area of operations. His squad had managed to overload the auxiliary reactor to explode in five minutes. Getting caught in its blast radius would be unwise.
He would just have to try and make quick work of this droid, then.
Instead of fighting the droid in melee, the giant would resort to almost unrelenting, sustained blaster fire at first; only ceasing fire if Dima would get in the way between him and the foe if she chose to engage her at melee.
In a matter of a mere moment after exiting the rearward roll, the giant shifted the rifle in his hands first, couched the butt-stock of the Paranaor underarm and drew a particle blaster pistol with his free left hand from his left kama holster. The Supercommando switched the pistol from ‘Standard Charged Shots’ to ’Overcharged Shots’ and set to ‘PULSE-FIRE’ with the flick of the fire selector switch with his thumb as he raised the blaster pistol to the fore, aimed right at his foe.
And thus began the maelstrom of blue blaster bolts, as soon as the pistol was drawn and leveled at the aberrant.
The distinct sharp whine of the particle blaster pistol shot in three round bursts intertwined with the deep, shrilling barks of his Paranaor as he unleashed a hail of blaster bolts aimed at the aberrant droid, intending to turn it into a skimmer where it dare stood; all the while he attempted to keep his distance from it, intending to deny it the opportunity to strike him in melee with its silvery tendrils and other similar attacks. If the droid managed to draw closer, the giant would move accordingly; firing on the move, at the loss of some accuracy caused from his movement.
While the fight ensued, his helmet comlink would come to life one more time as the venerable shaman hailed him another time over the squad net.
<”A’den Actual, Harpy,”> her now gravely voice called out, <”Enemy Slowdown removed. Get your people out of here. May the Manda be with you.”>
His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of the slowdown’s removal. It was apparent their Sith affiliated opponents were spineless and desperate enough to use witchcraft against their Mandalorian aggressors, but he did not feel the effects of the aforementioned devious trickery. Maybe it affected people differently, the giant would assume. Unknown to him, subjects with greater strength fared far better than those lacked such physical strength while under the effects of this sorcery. Regardless, the dispelling of the sorcery. <”Understood, Harpy. May your mind and spirit remain forever sharp, vod.”> The Alor’ad expressed his gratitude to her as the fight would continue.
Tyr nodded towards the woman as he listened to her words, his mind thinking of this new option that had come up from her idea, but he had to agree with her bringing any injured people into the Netherworld didn't seem like a very viable plan, besides the fact that he didn't know much about the Netherworld he figured it wasn't best to be sending wounded to another reality.
"I must concur, the Netherworld most likely is the last resort in moving any wounded too. The best thing to do now is to hunker down here and last through the assault, with any luck the Sith on the planet will be put on the back foot and we can get out of here soon, but we don't know anything about our current situation."
The Mandalorian let out a sigh through clenched teeth as he kicked a rock off the side of the cliff and looked out onto the raging battle that stood below them, the snow still falling around them as they stood atop the high hilltop. Most of the people were small ants comparatively at this height, he would figure either they would be left alone, or would be seen for how fair a position this would be for the battle for one side to want it as a strategic position.
Though, if they had wanted it for a strategic position then they would've most likely been sent to capture this position by now, and seeing that he and his Mandalorian brother in arms were the only two sent to hold this point then they were most likely safe for the most part.
The only true worry for the group was any accidental fire by any fighters or ships above. Although, Tyr figured their strikes would be focused on areas with the heaviest fighting and that a bombing run on a remote hilltop would be foolish if not useless. Anyway, Tyr spun it he seemed to find a way out of logic.
All the man could do was let out a soft sigh as he looked across the horizon his visor sharpening up his vision so it didn't blur any. He turned back towards Eina, and he removed his helmet, placing it on his knee as he looked towards the woman.
"Lady Eina, pray to forgive but I must head away and scout down the hillside, I will come back as soon as I can. If I don't make it back know that I am sorry for the fight we had and know that it was an honor to fight such a worthy opponent."
He looked her in the eyes before giving her a nod, his stark white hair matching the falling snow before the man put his helmet back on, his emotions hidden once more, as he walked away, sliding down the side of the hill disappearing from the sight of those in the warehouse.
A moment before, the Sith Emperor had been in his grasp. At his mercy. But then the Eternal Empress, that witch, had used her powers to vanish them both. And she had taken his brothers with him.
The only family he had known since his Clan had been slaughtered a decade ago. He had adopted them, embraced them as brothers -- and the Sith had taken them from him again.
He stood in disbelief as the desolation of Canthar thundered around him. The air was split with the reports from the turbolasers of the orbital bombardment above. Each explosion vibrated the massive stone pillars and floor of the palace's throne room, and cracks had begun perforate through its thick walls. Siv was a tiny figure dwarfed in the room that was silent but for the echoes of war, with naught but the corpses of Sith that stood around him.
And then with a roar that deafened all thought, the front-facing wall of the throne room collapsed. And as the dust cleared, Siv stood before a burning city. The night was choked with fire and smoke. Bright flashes lit up the night as the Mandalorian war fleets rained hellfire on the city below and Eternal Empire defenses attempted to answer. The burning hulk of a war cruiser lit up the night as it crashed into the ground below, explosions emanating from its hull as it flattened multiple districts in a hulking whoomph that Siv could feel in his legs, kilometers away.
"No."
The Mandalorian fell to his knees.
"No. No. No. No. No."
His cry became successfully louder with each word. First fueled with anger. Than with desperation. His voice began to crack with emotion as he slammed his gauntlet futilely into the ground.
"No. No. No. NO!"
His screams echoed throughout the throne room, cries of pain, hurt anger. It wasn't supposed to end this way. The Sith cowards had escaped justice, at the cost of the two people that Siv had let his guard down around. Two of the few people that he could call family. And they were gone. All that Siv was left with was a burning city, small recompense for the loss that he felt.
An anger burned inside him. The loss of his Clan to the genocide had been an old hurt, one that had hardened and Siv had eventually been able to coexist. But this was a new pain that tore through his very heart. His cries of No! were now unintelligible, wretched sobs. He could feel a new warm wetness streaking from his eyes, but he knew it was not blood.
He would make them pay. He would make them all pay. All who had ever deigned to bear the moniker of Darth. All who had supported and enabled their schemes. All who hid them, who protected them, all who defended them.
Siv Dragr would not rest until they were all dead.
The Force was a mighty ally indeed, and the Sith were never shy in their use of the Force. Even though Joycelyn's use was not the most extravagant, it was all the more insidious.
Sithsword, armour, and phase blade clashed repeatedly in the assault. Sparks flew and the black laquer on the Imperator's Raiment displayed several strong hits from the phase-blade as bright spots of exposed phrik. Again the mandalorian swatted her blade aside, and again he launched at her with all his fervor. This time, leaping onto her torso after sweeping her sword wide.
Joycelyn brought Zaudraka around with a swift moulinette in her left, but this time he was truly too close to slash. She could see his headbutt coming; having received similar from mandalorians before. Rather than attempting an escape, she braced her legs and tipped her head forward so that when his helmet came clashing with hers, it would strike the solid top and plant the force down through her body rather than strike her already injured face as intended. It was a motion made from experience laced with the predictive powers of the Force.
He did not manage to put her on her back. He was simply not heavy enough.
He reared his head again, and this time she reacted differently. Rather than tank his blow, she put her head close to him and wrapped her sword blade around his back. She seized the dull part of the blade with her right and pressed, attempting to dig the sithsword into the small of his back and pin him to her.
She did not mind the fire that engulfed him, in fact she encouraged it. The fire would not harm her. The fire was her servant, and now she tried to make him burn in her steely embrace.
The remaining Witches sensed something had been done to the Auxiliary Generator. The coolant had been purged and the console destroyed.
While still keeping up their protections of the main Generator, Runi Kuryida
having been heavily wounded and now on the retreat just like the rest of them, they sent a telepathic message to The Conjoined, who, alongside Ted Forrest had struck the actual killing blows against the beast from afar.
"Hey Ted! We got problems!" The Witch called out as the Portal Demons tore through the Beast's corpse ravenously to clear the passage to the Main Generator. "The surviving Witches say they've set the Auxiliary Generator to overload! We got four minutes!"
"We won't make it in time!" Ted exclaimed.
"We can...but only if we go through one of these portals right fething now!" The Conjoined said, flesh shuddering and rippling everywhere as the power of the Dark Side increased in the facility, The Witches channeling their power to protect the main Generator from afar, twisting around and corrupting and feeding off the ritual Rumi had placed to try and end the slowing effect, slowly but surely undoing it, though it would take a while.
"You!" Ted called out to a squad of Ultranauts shooting at Mandalorians frantically trying to escape the Main Generator Area.
"Come with us! They're trying to overload the Auxiliary Generator!" Ted yelled.
The Ultranauts nodded, non plussed by everything happening around them and eager to inflict more brutal violence to keep the Shield Facility from falling for it was pretty much one of the only things preventing Canthar from being reduced to total slag. The surviving Two Witches beyond The Conjoined linked their power with hers and one of the magical portals their rituals had opened shifted it's destination from the horrid realm the Faceless Demons came from to the very back of the Auxiliary Generator Room, under heavy fire. Ted, The Conjoined, his Squad, The Ultranauts, Demons, Mandalorian Zombies, and more House Io citizens poured into the hole, the Demons and Zombies surging forward to soak up fire from the assaulting team and possibly take a few of them down in the process, while The Ultranauts and other Citizens held back and poured overwhelming fire in their direction to try and force them back. Meanwhile, as the D-24 Grenade landed, one of House Io's citizens would use their Tactical tractor beam projectors to catch it in mid-air and hurl it back in their direction...with everyone else still firing. Meanwhile, the rockets, lancing towards the soldiers under the floor plating, were diverted at the very last second by their own tactical tractor projectors to the sides, which exploded the walls, caused small chunks of ceiling to come down and heavily injure them, but not kill them. The structure itself was fairly stable still. Even with the explosions, the facility had been hardened in the event of such a thing occuring internally.
One of the Citizens heard the Enemy Commander shout about how they were spineless cowards.
"THEN HOW COME YOU'RE RUNNING?!" (A simpleton with a shield: 7000 XP) he shouted back, trying to kill him by firing at his visor.
While the Ultranauts and Citizens provided massive covering fire for the Conjoined, she began examining the machine with the Force.
"They've completely purged the unit and sabotaged the console. We vent this heat in three minutes or we die!" The Conjoined said.
"Can you do it?!" Ted asked as he fired at the Mandalorians.
"With the Dark Side, all is possible..." The Conjoined answered, taking a knife and cutting open her palm, tracing runes on the reactor itself.
Since there was no easy way to dispose of the heat they would have to improvise, draw it out of the Generator itself and divert it elsewhere.
She changed unholy things, strengthened by the suffering around them and stretched her hand out to the magical portal she had come through, the other two witches from afar immediately shifting it's destination back to the realm of the Portal Demons,
Bright sparks of energy flowed out of the Generator without damaging it. The built heat energy from the sabotage began flowing into the realm of the Brain Demon to become part of the ether. The Conjoined cried out in a metallic shriek, the strain of moving so much energy, causing her flesh to jump out in all directions at once from her Skeleton. Ted was sweating as he fired, terrified the machine next to him would blow if she could not transfer enough heat energy. He was deadly aware of the time as he fired, determined to prevent the Mandalorians from escaping death or getting one shot in. The Conjoined screamed and screamed, flesh now constantly melting and bubbling.
One minute left...
The Ultranauts who were more tech minded frantically tried to use wireless computers to try and tap into the coolant system to get it restored but some circuits had been damaged when the Mandalorians had destroyed the console. While they still functioned, it caused access to run slow. They would need at least fifteen minutes to get inside fully, but they barely had 40 seconds left.
The Conjoined then collapsed, melted looking flesh sagging off bones, face bubbling and shuddering disgustingly.
"It's...its self sustaining, now..." The Witch hissed through melted lips.
"Heat build up going down!" one of the Ultranauts reported.
Fifteen seconds.
Sparks of heat flowed off the Generator in massive amounts, sucked into the Portal.
Ten seconds.
Three of his remaining squad died from head shots, seven other House Io Citizens and two Ultranauts died as well.
Ted started to see his family again...
"Heat levels dropping severely now!" an Ultranaut yelled.
The Medical Nuetralizer, the only one from the floor plating ambush still able to fight, rose from her ambush spot, bleeding non human blood and firing with a blank expression,
Five seconds.
Ted kept firing, bent on venting his rage to the last second.
"We're clear, heat levels dropping as fast as they form. We're stable!" The Ultranaut told Ted.
Ted heard him. He was too busy shooting at first to say anything. But as it registered that he wasn't going to die, he cried out.
"Friends! Countrymen! Lend me your ears!" (For Rome: 90 XP) he yelled. "Our foe's final gambit has failed. DRIVE THEM INTO THE ARMS OF THEIR OVERSOUL!"
The Citizens rallied at this and began shooting even more aggressively...
Meanwhile, the Fortress Nuetralizer noticed the Mandalorians escaping the facility, and began blasting them with it's Disruptor Cannons...
Ingrid L'lerim
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Siv Dragr
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Obran
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Volo Dragr
