Skirmish Bryn'ing Down The House [Jedi v. Bryn'adûl]

[Spirit of Patience]

Kessel Sector // Honoghr System // Honoghr​

At Nadiem, the genocidal threat emerged mere hours after the evacuation of the planet. The Bryn'adûl had quickly caught on to the Jedi’s plan to liberate space nearby Bryn’adûl territory. A concentrated effort led by Jedi Master Jend-Ro Quill .

Now the stage is set, the Jedi move to evacuate the nearby Honoghr, a planet surrounded on both sides and feeling the pressure of the Bryn’adûl’s imminent attack. Those seeking to preserve the lives of the innocent are motivated to act quickly to elude the Bryn'adûl, who are likely hot on their tail after the insight gained at Nadiem.

With the threat of the monsters appearing to put a wrench in the preservation efforts, Saber Squadron holds the flank of the evacuation process. Alongside Saber Squadron, Jedi Knight Weyland Castril hastily prepares his Strike Team to take their shot against the Chieftain of the Bryn'adûl. They’d been training to go for the head.

As for the evacuees, the Noghri weren’t the most compliant species. Their opinion was a preference of maintaining their honour by protecting their land and living up to their killing machine potential rather than running from an unseen enemy.

Those on the ground were finding several points of contention throughout the scattered clans.
Those in the skies waited, keeping a watchful eye on the atmosphere for any attacks.

Spoiler

Tagging based on the thread Go for the Head

Jedi: Elise // Jend-Ro Quill // Allyson Locke // Weyland Castril // Ryv // Maynard Treicolt // P Placeholder 0128 // Jyoti Nooran // Kazuhira // Romi Jade // Loske Treicolt // Dhalinar Greystar // Wyatt Morga

Bryn’adûl: Tathra Khaeus // Primarch Drek'ma // Osam // Hrajlmak'Natok // Hraelga Nacht // Reosyvern // Xenomir // Avrak // Fomoris

 

[Salamander]

Two Noghri were talking in hushed voices outside their clan's dukha. Speaking their own language, their raspy voices produced a series of guttural hisses.

"Who is this one who comes among us?" one asked the other. "He bears the scent of my bloodline, but I do not recognize him."

"I smell my blood on him as well," the second growled, rubbing a clawed hand over his scaled chin. "He must be a mercenary hired by offworlders, though he presumes to speak with the authority of a Dynast."

"The Dynast will listen to him," the first added glumly. "I have heard him speak. He convinces even when urging us to dishonor."

The second said nothing. Though he was a Noghri, through and through, he knew of the destruction the Bryn'adul had wrought so far. He could see very little that was honorable about trying to face their invasion, but he hid his thoughts so as not to appear cowardly. It would not matter now, for the Dynast was soon to change his mind, persuaded by the stranger who seemed to be related to everyone.

Inside the dukha, a foreign Noghri was indeed speaking to the very attentive Dynast. He intended to speak to many more Dynasts and Maitrakhs in every dukha he could gain entry to, spinning his web throughout the clans until exhaustion cinched his ability to concentrate. When that happened, he would lose the artificial trust he had gained through the natural telepathy of a Shi'ido, tricking the Noghri into believing he was of their bloodline, a lost member of their clan returning to be with them in their most dire hour.

Heliobas knew his fellow Jedi were already afoot on the planet, trying to evacuate the Noghri using more direct methods. For now they had time for such diplomacy. Hopefully it would be enough to avoid a massacre.

Elise Jend-Ro Quill Allyson Locke Weyland Castril Ryv Maynard Treicolt P Placeholder 0128 Jyoti Nooran Kazuhira Romi Jade

Tathra Khaeus Primarch Drek'ma Osam Hrajlmak'Natok Hraelga Nacht Reosyvern Xenomir Avrak Fomoris

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Equipment: Sword | Long-Axe | Shield | Sun Quaker | Barricas Oil | Armour |
Mount: The Dreddikast Beast
Theme: X

Aboard the Conquester Divine Brutality

When the Jedi Master Jend-Ro Quill attempted his pre-emptive taking of the Chieftains life, he had hoped to delay the death of those brave enough to stand against the on coming tide. He had hoped to stay the hand of the death bringing Titan. Yet in truth, all the Jedi Master had achieved would be the death of those who dared to stand in the way of the Truth. Of Strength and the eradication of Weakness. It was a plague upon this Galaxy and the Jedi were its champions.

Clad in gold Kraelmundr and plates of silver-steel Verikast. Tathra stood among the legions of the 10th Regiment, two Adjudicators standing at either side of the Titan, his words echoing through their ranks - fists struck metal and flesh; their chant reverberating through the halls of the Conquesters and Super Carriers, words of oath and fealty to the Truth. Zealot fanaticism that upheld the Seven Tenants of the Drael.

​

His body; a monument to the sins of their forbearers was glad in heavy carapace, stringent muscle lathered in scars and knotted flesh. White paint adorned his biceps and face. The Chieftain of the Bryn'adûl would seek the ruin of those who dared to face him. He would not do this by the counts of trillion Drones, but by his own hand. The Seers foretold of their meeting, here and now. There was nothing left to do but to draw his foe out. To force them to step into the light and see the Strength they had summoned with their boldness.

​

When the Evacuation vessels arrived at Honoghr, the Bryn'adûl already knew. Tathra relayed the order to wait just long enough for them to being their transition to the ground, long enough that those in the atmosphere would be forced to abandon those on the planet if they attempted to escape. Though they would indeed have that opportunity. The force brought to bare upon the Jedi was not some Planet Ravaging Armada, but rather simply an audience to hold the gates open whilst Tathra tore them apart. Piece by piece.

When the Bryn'adûl fleet arrived, it mirrored the evacuation force in size. A mixture of Conquesters, Debauchers and two Carriers. However few moved to enter combat, the Carriers deployed Dispersal Pods and Dropships to the surface whilst a score of Phedrak Fighters followed the black Dreddikkast Beast, its eighteen limbs souring through the air; the Dreddikkast screamed a force empowered shriek; shattering glass and spreading fear to all who would hear it. Its rider, Tathra Khaeus carried his Long-Axe in his left hand; the molten vapour followed in a vorpal trail - the right holding the obsidian reigns of the Dreddikkast.

TAGS
Galactic Alliance - Weyland Castril | Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Maynard Treicolt | Allyson Locke | Jyoti Nooran | Elise | Jend-Ro Quill | P Placeholder 0128 | Kazuhira | Romi Jade

The Bryn'adûl - Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Xenomir | Osam | Reosyvern | Avrak | Fomoris | Primarch Drek'ma |

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Small for a ship, the Visitor dominated the town square of this remote Noghri town. Children and caretakers trudged up the ramp with slim possessions. Even the most militant here understood the need for pragmatic measures. A wise Maitrakh had explained, far better than Quill could, that this would be worse than the Yuuzhan Vong invasion eight centuries back - or the devastation and manipulation of the Empire. Both experiences had informed the Noghri cultural memory.

The Drael, by contrast, would just plain eliminate the Noghri. No domination, no half measures.

On a crate by the top of the loading ramp, Quill sat upright and took in a sharp breath. He winced.

"Hyourr injurries, Jedi Quill?" said the Maitrakh, distracted from coordinating bunk space for fractious Noghri adolescents.

"The Bryn'adul are here." Quill pointed up. "I can feel their leader. We're out of time." He stood painfully, fairly sure his bandages had come askew while loading people and their few possessions.

"Yhour ship is almohst full," said the Maitrakh, Tazule clan Ghri'tsar. "You can hleave soon." She slid in under his arm and took his weight expertly almost before he knew he was staggering. She helped him down the hall to the cockpit. He'd buckled in and finished preflight before he realized what she meant by 'you.'

He twisted in his seat. "Maitrakh-"

But she was gone, off to prepare to fight, off to free up another berth. The collective anxiety of the children and their caretakers pushed in on him, just like the last ten evacuations he'd flown, here and on Nadiem and elsewhere. He could endure.

The Visitor lifted off and made for space. Sensors confirmed what Quill expected: a Bryn'adul bioship fleet with dozens of starfighters. He toggled a Jedi comm channel.

"Air control, this is the Visitor taking off from grid sixteen-sixteen. We're going to take a high-atmosphere course halfway around the planet to avoid the fleet. Would appreciate some escort if Bryn fighters chase us."

 

[Weyland Castril]

Wearing: Jedi Strike Armour, Shield
Carrying: Lightsaber
In: X-01 Starfighter
Strike Team: Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Allyson Locke | Romi Jade [ Maynard Treicolt
Target: Tathra Khaeus

"I'm not so sure about these outfits.. they seem..."

Weyland's Starfighter grinded to a halt, falling a few metres behind the accompanying patrol of Maynard and Loske. He felt a shiver run up his spine, an all too familiar sensation consumed every bit of him. His golden eyes trailed over the exterior cockpits of the two friendly fighters. He'd only just gotten used to flying, and the idea of a dog-fight made his legs feeling like jelly.

His eyes moved to the sky, dark shapes forming on the edge of the clouds.

"He's here." The Jedi's heart sank at his own admission, almost immediately confirmed as those dark shapes too the form of Errindak Beasts, a small fleet hung above the clouds.

From their Carriers came pouring hundreds of fighters, Phedraks. They were dumb, easy to take out but there was always so many of them. Weyland switched to wings open, readying his Starfighter when the strange and massive creature leading the enemy naval force become visible in the sky above. The Jedi could feel it in his gut, he could sense the heavily dense presence of the one they called Chieftain.

Weyland moved with haste, switching to coms for the fighters in the sky and any other members of the Strike Team wherever they might've been. "This is Knight Castril! Heavy enemy fighter presence, Tathra is leading them!"

 

[Reosyvern]

Equipment: N/A
Location: Debaucher , In space around the planet awaiting boarding.
Allies: Bryn’adûl
Enemies: Galatic Alliance



Aboard one of the Debauchers that appeared in Tathra Khaeus 's fleet was a full party of assorted Bryn’adûl eagerly awaited their deployment. Chants, growls, and stomps filled the inside of the Debaucher while a Draelvasier of particular prestige barked orders at his subordinates somewhere in the distance. One could imagine how it may be difficult to control a crowd of hyped up pre-battle Bryn’adûl warriors, though the Draelvasier managed to do so effectively and thoroughly.

While the vast majority were at least fidgeting from anticipation, a massive Draelvasier of Baedurin origin stood at the front of the group and the other Bryn’adûl gave it a wide birth. The size difference was astounding. This Baedurin was in size to its brethren as they were to most other species in the galaxy. Though beyond a respectable amount of distance between themselves and this Baedurin, neither the Baedurin nor the rest of the Bryn’adûl seemed uneasy of the other. Instead the Bryn’adûl directly around this behemoth were the most boisterous.

The prestigious Draelvasier eventually made his way to the front of the Debaucher boarding party and stood along side the towering Baedurin. The battle scarred Draevasir in rather ornately designed gear looked straight forward as he then addressed the giant standing to his left, “Prove yourself one last time, Reosyvern.”

Reosyvern then turned his head crested head down towards his leader, taking in his words, and then turned back towards the front of the interior of the Dabaucher once more. There was nothing to say in response, so instead the two fell into silence as they awaited the jolt that would indicate that the Debaucher had latched onto an enemy vessel.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Objective: Provide Air Support​

Equipment: In signature


Flying: SK-01 "Bobcat" Interceptor
Strike Team: Loske Treicolt Ryv Romi Jade Maynard Treicolt
Mission Target: Tathra Khaeus , Reosyvern & Other Bryn’adul
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Jyoti Nooran

Being in a fighter was like riding a bike for the Corellian. The yolk felt like an old friend, but along with the beautiful familiar feelings came the other resentful ones as well. Her time back in the crowds of society had thrown her through a loop; it became difficult to focus. The cockpit of a fighter was her solitude, her sanctuary, yet even here, her thoughts invaded.

Shake it off, now’s not the time to think about that. Allyson reminded herself as her hands gripped the controls with ease, and she flew in combat formation with the rest of the squad known as Saber. Allyson kept telling herself this was a one time deal with them. She couldn’t get sucked back into this mess.

There was panic over the comms, and Allyson stiffened her back, it was time. Her comms shut down from the rest of the squadron as she looked the best she could for the forces beyond the Phedrak fighters. It wasn’t the best, but the lenses the Corellian had in her eyes zoomed in, gaining some insight into the battlefield. In the same motion, she was able to get images of the ships that the enemy fighters were pouring out—all the images connected to a very special comms device that would only ever have one receiver.

‘Looks like a few carriers and dropships - and a feth ton of fighters. Images are inbound along with coordinates.’​

The direct line using the comms she and her cousin John Locke designed allowed her and Jyoti Nooran to communicate no matter where they were or what encryption was around them. The line was untappable and secure. Comms opened back up to the rest of the squadron as the bobcat's engines flared and shot forward. Allyson being a pilot above anything, pushed the machine to its limits twisting and taking down a few of the fighters in moments.

It was like riding a bike.​

 

[Ghrom the Molten]

Location: A Noghri village far side of the Continent
Action: Hours earlier, trying to talk some sense into the people.

Ghrom and the refugees saved from the sith had heard of the plight facing the people of Honoghr. While a ship full of survivors would do nothing to stop the on coming horde, it could save some form the flame and blade.

The clan elders had all gathered in clan's village dukha. Others had tried to talk some sense into the clan, convince them to evacuate but they were all too proud and stubborn to listen. So more drastic measures had been needed.

Five Norghi warriors lay at his feet one close to death as Ghrom had taken the demonstration to far. He had challenged the villages best warriors to honorable combat, letting them arm themselves with whatever weapon they had wished. As others came to tend their wounds of the defeated warriors the massive stone brute walked forward to talk with elders.

"The blood of yours stains my hands, in honorable combat they have lost badly. I am only one and our planet, full of my people burned under the wrath of the Bryn’adûl..."

The rock monster stood tall, letting his imposing three meters get to full height. He lowered his voice to a low rumble as he continued.

"We offer your people a chance to live, a way to survive. Don't be fools, board our shuttles, live..."

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Location: Edge of a Rain Forest, less than a mile from a village undergoing evacuation efforts
Action: Getting attention
Target: All Life
Tags:
Galactic Alliance - Weyland Castril | Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Maynard Treicolt | Allyson Locke | Jyoti Nooran | Elise | Jend-Ro Quill | P Placeholder 0128 | Kazuhira | Romi Jade
The Bryn'adûl - Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Xenomir | Osam | Reosyvern | Avrak | Fomoris | Primarch Drek'ma | Tathra Khaeus

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The immediate mission was unlike the previous worlds. For now, there would be no annihilation. Not even subjugation. The landing force had no great servitors, nor artillery. When Hrajlmak came planetside, he was accompanied by only a few squadrons of Brutes. Each armed with incendiary ammunition. The group's pods landed on the edge of a rain forest less than a mile from the nearest Honoghr village. Here, Hrajlmak would draw out the willing. The warriors. Those who fancied themselves as the strong of the Galaxy. Here, he would cut them down.

Hrajlmak strode to the forest's edge and peered through the sea of branches and greenery, spending a moment to look upon life undisturbed. Alien voices made an orchestra of peace. If he knew any better, he'd say the whole thing was quite beautiful. But he knew better. With a flippant wave of the hand, the Brutes around him fired their first salvo and ignited the forest's edge. The wave of intense heat slapped Hrajlmak in the face and he reflexively spun around with a grunt. These Baedurin would handle it much better than he as they slowly made their way deeper into the woods, reducing what was green to a black cinder. Smoke billowed and the flames snatched their claws farther and farther into the air. Hrajlmak rammed his staff into the dirt, sat down, and closed his eyes. If the fire were not enough, he reached out into the Force with his terrible mind. Above him, a battle raged. Life continued to contend with its new Judge.

 

[Jegy Sesara]

At a Small Village
Noted at Center Hemisphere

​

Currrent Cybernetic:
AIMX-01 Buckler Energy Shield Cybernetic Arm (Left)

Weaponry:
Standard Songsteel Hilt Lightsaber (Left Hip)
Lightsaber "Dyiasi" (x) (Right Hip)
FAF Hussar Flechette Pistol (x) (Left Hip)
S-3 Mangler Sonic Pistol (x) (Right Hip)


There was a small clatter as he was escorted by a pair of Noghri whom had seen his presense as an intrusion. The invasion of the planet would soon begin for them though how quickly, neither party really knew. The Sullustan came onto his own accord, having not been at the meeting though have had sources he still held near that this planet could be possibly next for invasion. Plus, he did not hold a high esteem so far for these meetings of the Jedi, he felt something was wrong with them and did not wish to participate in any of them till he was extremely sure of their intentions, that including the one with a rather strange beard and mole on his face whom apparently as he heard, was trying to lead it all.

After a short period of time walking, he would enter into a tent of a rather old looking Noghri female, the Maitrakh of the small village. As he entered, the Sullustan would give a small bow but kept looking into the eyes of the Maitrakh, having already been taught a long time ago to keep your eyes on someone your respected or fear when you bow. The Maitrakh did not do the same but would sniff, blinking her eyes as the scent seemed not only foreign but extremely confusing.

"Your Scent is not only unfamilliar, but strange. As if people lived their scents through you. Now how do you say you know us?"
"My family is of Sesara, I have been around for a lot longer than I wish to admit. I have came to this planet a very long time ago and I have owed a favor to the previous Maitrakh...a vow so to speak, I am here to make sure that debt is filled."
"So you are the great heir of the Sesara clan? I thought you be much shorter, given that he bred an heir half his height at first."
"You do not understand Maitrakh, I am Sesara. I have lived since that time."

There was a small silence as the two Noghri beside him would slowly turn, as if to examine him a bit closer as the Sullustan then at their Maitrakh. She would give a particular nod at the two as the Noghri guards would grab the Sullustan by the arms whom he did not resist and was dragged onto his knees with two daggers placed behind his neck. His head and eyes would be still looking up, straight at the Maitrakh as she would speak again, slowly trying to get behind the Sullustan.

"No Sullustan, no matter what age can live over eight hundred years. You are a liar as the one you speak has a pike of purple, I see not that. I do not see even the robes when you were with the Empire."
"Then pull my right robes sleeve, that will be all the proof you will need."

There was an odd silence as she would snap her fingers together before she got completely behind him, the right robes sleeve and undershirt sleeve were roughly pulled back. Turning the arm, it would glow that familiar purple as suddenly the Noghri on the left would immediately drop him in shock, falling backwards as he saw the old tattoo pulse with light.

The Maitrakhs eyes would also be slightly wide while the right Noghri, while keeping hold of the Sullustan, had now seen the mark of the Inquistor that once came to this village. The Maitrakh would walk to the other side now, gripping onto the forearm as she pressed her fingers onto it which would give her a bit of an electric shock, making her take a few steps back while rubbing her fingers together. She would look among the other two and give an odd head notion, finally letting the Sullustan go as he would lean up to look at the Maitrakh.

"I am unsure how you know that marking bu-"
"We do not have time to play this game. My ship is outside which is further proof and I will if I have to, throw a fighting sickle around a tent again. The Byrn'adul is coming and my vow was to keep this village safe. We need to leave and my ship is prepared for emergency evacuation. We both know we want to fight this war but right now, we are not prepared."
"But they say you control the elements. You can use them to-"
"I am not risking an all out catastrophe to simply kill a few when it can turn into thousands of your own. We need to leave."
"Then you are going to have to break your risk...you do it, I will have them start packing into your starship."

There was an awful silence as the Sullustans heart felt weak, he did not like this one bit and rather not have his old self show his ugly face. Regardless though, he would slowly stand up and give a nod, turning as he went out of the tent, eyes closed as he prepared for what he never wants to do, a manipulation of the Force.


Galactic Alliance - Weyland Castril | Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Maynard Treicolt | Allyson Locke | Jyoti Nooran | Elise | Jend-Ro Quill | P Placeholder 0128 | Kazuhira | Romi Jade
The Bryn'adûl - Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Xenomir | Osam | Reosyvern | Avrak | Fomoris | Primarch Drek'ma | Tathra Khaeus

 

[Romi Jade]

Ship: Jade's Wind
Strike Team: Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Allyson Locke | Maynard Treicolt | Weyland Castril | & anyone else?
Target: Tathra Khaeus

"This is Knight Castril! Heavy enemy fighter presence, Tathra is leading them!"

The R-wing wove in breaking stealth, Romi pushed the throttle forward, picking up speed. She'd turned the laser cannons; the vessel exploded into a fiery ball, and the hull of her ship screeched, cutting right through the cloud of smoke. "Ugh...I hate flying."

A calculated cadence of beeps and squeals sounded off in tandem with the alert flashes on her system, "Missiles! Pull us up R0!"

The R-wing shot straight up, out of their field of view, with the missiles overshooting but quickly changing trajectory in order to trail their target. "Gimmie a surge to all power R0, reverse thrusters. Standby... Coren showed me this trick." pushing the throttle up, she rolled her fighter -- and kept rolling until the missiles spun too close and collided into one another.

"I literally feel like i'll puke..." She banked to her left and then to her right and looped around. Killing power a bit she was now behind them. With a series of laser cannon blasts, the last few fighters were taken by surprise and were turned into nothing but smoldering pieces of raining metal.

"Starting the meld...take us back under R0, you've got the reigns for a bit"

She sank back. Romi stretched her awareness, guiding the sphere-like perception using two fingers that gently dug into the surface of her Crown. The world became still but continuously inundated with the interference and alerts over the comms. One by one, she deafened herself to each sense in a calculated sequence that only she could remember. A funnel, she absorbed the subtle waves of energy suffused into the very fabric of the landscape around them. She siphoned but she gave just as much of herself. When she finally fell into the whims of the Force, it allowed for a mental call through the empyrean.

Her power became metaphysical tendrils reaching out and touching all those force sensitives on the strike team. They'd meld their mind and spirits together, with her forming the link; they could act as one.

She'd done this enough, and under much more stressful situations to know how to connect with the vibrational energies that surrounded sentients. Making sure everyone was comfortable with her presence would be the task -- they'd all feel a tingling sensation at the base of their minds. Something distinctly not of themselves but not aggressive nor evil.

She'd brought them all under her shroud.

"Weyland...?"

Meld talk: Pink

 

[Osam]

Equipment: Spiker, Basic chestplate and bracers, Draelvasier Kukri.
Location: Planetside
Objective: Cleanse The World
Allies: Hrajlmak'Natok | Tathra Khaeus | Reosyvern
Enemies: Strike Team | Jegy Sesara | Ghrom the Molten | Jend-Ro Quill

While elsewhere, Baedurin and Aeravalin were hyped up for the conflicts against the inhabitants of Honoghr, several squadrons of Sraelvun drones were dropped from space by means of Heldrak Pods Whereas those aboard vessels such as the Despoilers had room to separate from one another, the condition inside of the living pods was cramped. There was a swelter of uncomfortable heat arising too from the friction of brushing shoulders, and already warning grumbles had emanated from the chests of some of the thicker Sraelvun.

Fourteen squads had been marched into the pod, each numbering seven members: A Major to provide commands and leadership, a grenadier to deal with heavy-ordinance, a sharpshooter to deal with long-range difficulties, and four others who made up the bulk of the group and who were as expendable and interchangeable as all Sraelvun kind. Osam being a Drone Major was not entitled to knowledge of the entire plan, nor was he privileged enough to hear that the Titan was going off to face his enemies directly, though clearly there had been some unorthodox change in the norm given all of the commotion that regularly broke out in the pod.

Osam raised his head to peer above the clamor, letting the sound of the cacophony wash over him as he tried to identify any familiar voices. Rarely, snippets of conversation would reach him and be identified, but even these were hard to differentiate from the general talkativeness of the group. It was not as if though they were simply idly sitting and gossiping either as though at a feast. No, the voices he heard belonged primarily to other Majors, each directing their squads on how to behave on landing and discussing strategy with one another.

Perhaps Osam was simply less cooperative than they were, or perhaps the distinct crimson markings he wore which identified him as one who feasted primarily on his own kin kept the others away. It was not such a social stigma among the Sraelvun to consume the flesh of Draelvasier when they had fallen, but it was certainly not a sign of trustworthiness when one ate primarily Draelvasier. After all, battles were frequent, but the tribe ate every day meaning either a large collection of flesh or else a quiet hunt.

There was a jolt, a thud, an earth-shattering sound as the pod hit its mark and dug in deep. The black of the pod's interior surrendered to the brilliance of light as it washed over the groups, and the stamp of heavy feet replaced the speech of Drones.

It took eleven seconds for the drones to take positions and realize their general proximity to a residential center, ten more to re-direct forces towards it.

In twenty-two seconds, the first Spiker round launched.

 

[Kyra Perl]

Ship: Visitor
Objective: Find a seat, calm people down.

A voice broke over Jend-Ro Quill 's comm, small and mildly anxious. Not militaristic in the slightest.

"Hi, yeah, and if someone could tell my master I jumped on this person's ship? Well, he's not my master," she prattled. "Just a master, but we were together and then I lost him helping people through the streets so I jumped on! Visitor, I mean. I'm on this ship. So if you could just tell him I'm okay..."

There was static for a moment, then the voice jumped back online. "Oh! My name's Kyra by the way. Kyra Perl. Thanks! Over."

The static returned, until Command Center sent back one, frazzled reply. "...Okay?"

Kyra slumped in relief, turning off the comm in her hand as she leaned against the wall of Quill's ship. The gravity of take off weighed down on her, and it was almost a welcome distraction from the worry that radiated through the ship. She took a deep breath, her right hand shaking as she steeled herself onto her feet and pushed in deeper, trying to find a seat.

Peace, peace, peace, the empath chanted, trying to embody the emotion and prove, for once, this wouldn't overwhelm her.

 

[Aurelius Baldor]

Equipment: BAW-56 "Royal Flush", BAW-57 "High Roller", Mono-edge cutlass
Ships: The Dervish WR-542 Shooting Star, Venture-class Star Galleon, squadron of assorted light freighters
Objective: Help evacuation efforts (and possibly earn a Noghri bodyguard along the way)
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Enemies: Bryn’adûl

​

This was not how Aurelius thought he would be spending his weekend. The Lord Commissioner of the Shadow Hand Cartel had been fretting the arrival of the Bryn’adûl in the Kessel sector for months, yet here he was to practically spit in their face and give them the finger on the way out. If you had told him a year ago that he would be running humanitarian aid, he probably would've laughed it off and told you to maybe ease up on the spirits. Yet here he was. But hey, at least if he died today he might be remembered fondly for trying to save lives, rather than just another two bit spice pusher with an inflated ego and ambitions beyond his station.

Some or all of those things may be true, but details, details.

The dashing Devaronian stood, cigar between his teeth, at the bridge of a Venture-class Star Galleon fresh out of Arctrus Astronautical's shipyards. Even still had that new ship smell. He had purchased the vessel to transport as much coaxium and spice as he could when he inevitably had to leave Kessel with his metaphorical tail between his legs, but it was here for a very different job. Namely, evac whoever he could out of harm's way. He didn't come on his own, oh of course not. With him were a squadron of light freighters, payed more than an ample amount of credits for the dangerous mission they were about to undertake. And more than enough to make sure they didn't run off with their 'cargo'.

Aurelius approached the holo-communicator on the bridge, sending a broadcast to the vessels not currently manned by genocidal invaders. He gestured with his arms wide, white fur coat draped over his shoulders like a cape, motioning to the Star Galleon around him and the freighters alongside it.

"My name is Aurelius Baldor and I'm here to help, so I would very much appreciate not being blown out of the sky in spectacular fashion. Not today at least. My compatriots and I are here to aid with the evacuations, just tell us where to haul 'em and we'll get them there." He puffed his cigar, awaiting a response and hoping it was a friendly one. Even as he waited, the Gallen descended towards the surface, not wanting to waste any time. Hey, at least no one could call him selfish after this.

 

[Or'Fol Moric]

Equipment: Comms, Lightclub
Location: Evac ship.
Allies: Kyra Perl Aurelius Baldor Jend-Ro Quill Jegy Sesara Ghrom the Molten Romi Jade Loske Treicolt Allyson Locke Ryv Elise +Anyone I missed.
Enemies: Tathra Khaeus Hrajlmak'Natok Reosyvern Osam

“Hurry! Hurry! You have to get about now!” The voice of a frenzied. Dang fools. They needed to get aboard! The Bryn weren’t to be trifled with, at least if records indicated anything. The history Jedi looked out, lightclub already in hand. He was ready for the worse, but he hoped everyone could be evacced before anything happened.

“Come on. We have to move!” Some of the younglings would look away. Nothing he wasn’t use to. Even with the Force, you couldn’t calm everyone, especially when you probably looked like one of the things you were telling them to run from.

“This is Master Moric. Tell me we have some good news.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Honoghr // x01-Skywalker Class // JTSP
Strike team objective: Go for The Head
Sabotage
​

Deep in thought, Loske ran a gloved hand over the dashboard. There was no dust to clean away, but she mocked the movements out of muscle memory. The screen beneath her touch was aglow with sectors identified from the topographic map of the planet below, giving loose numbers of the clans in each region and how many had managed to be compliant and evacuated from the world.

The numbers were smaller than anyone would have liked.

Large ships were rising from different spots of the atmosphere, Saber Squadron was running point on encircling them to provide protection.

Weyland Castril made a comment about the suits, but she didn't reply -- too focused on whatever it was she was thinking about. She empathized, thought. She'd already had to adjust several times to get comfortable in them. Typically their flight suits were loose fitting and lightweight -- these new things were notably tighter and heavier. It'd taken some getting used to the first time she'd donned it sparring with one of the Drael emulation droids. The practicality of the armour was obvious, but there was something about it that made her nervous. All this preparation should have emboldened her to make her feel ready, but it made her feel a little more scared.

I think you all look great. Frank commented from the back. And they're going to substantially improve the likelihood of you making it out of a tussle, should it come to that.

"No hostiles from the south side." Saber Eleven confirmed, returning from one of the protection runs and falling into the arrow-shaped line.

Hopefully this would be a waiting game, and the Bryn'adûl wouldn't wise up to their presence on their encroaching territory.

An alarmed intonation from Weyland filled her cockpit with the announcement that such wishes would be squandered today. The Bryn'adûl had arrived. Whatever had occupied her mind up to this moment was hastily shoved to the side, and she snapped into focus.

"Okay Sabers, we're splitting objectives. Squadron - keep protection on all evacuating ships from the atmosphere. Grid sixteen-sixteen. Make sure they all get out of here. Split up, but keep in pairs at least."

Something at the nape of her neck, where her suit stretched into a helmet, tingled. Hyper focus and awareness extended and anything she'd been uncertain of was washed away. This must have been that battlemeld Romi Jade was talking about. She'd felt it once, with Ryv 's machinations, so it wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but it was always a somewhat strange sensation.

An R-Wing and Allyson Locke 's unique ship broke formation and twisted amidst the unmanned fighters from the Bryn fleet that had arisen from the void. Flesh and blood exploded with their salvos, littering the atmosphere with bio debris. Machine versus creature.

When the Dreddikkast let out a bellow that penetrated her audio she cringed and sank into her seat, releasing a sharp breath to bolster herself. "Strike team, the target's here on a really big pony. Let's take it down."

True to her command, she nosed forward to cut through the distance of the hovering X-Wings and the massive creature the Titan straddled.

Spoiler

Jedi: Romi Jade / Weyland Castril / Ryv / Maynard Treicolt / P Placeholder 0128 / Allyson Locke / Jyoti Nooran

Evacuation aid: Jegy Sesara / Or'Fol Moric / Kyra Perl / Jend-Ro Quill / Aurelius Baldor / Ghrom the Molten /

Bryn'adûl: Tathra Khaeus / Osam / Hrajlmak'Natok / Reosyvern

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Equipment: Cuirass | Staff
Tags: Tathra Khaeus | Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Reosyvern | Avrak | Xenomir | Fomoris |
Nuisances: Or'Fol Moric | Loske Treicolt | Weyland Castril | Allyson Locke | Jend-Ro Quill | Jegy Sesara | Maynard Treicolt | Romi Jade

This move was a strange one, Tathra seemed different - more focused. For once, it wasn't so impersonal as most conquests intended to be. This time, emotions were seemingly high. The Titan intended to prove himself, he intended to bring his scorn upon the Jedi. The Primarch had no doubt of that, and today the Primarch would act as required.

Drek'ma was aboard one of the Heldrak Dropships descending to the planet, above in the air; several Ra'mak War Beasts would descend to attack the evacuation shuttles whilst the Primarch would delegate the beasts to the varying forces landing throughout the planet.

"These primitive naves will learn that their death is a gift. All will die, as children of Khaeus."

A smile spread across the gaunt features of the Primarch as Rhivaks and Brumaks began to pour out from the pods, Savage Drones found placement as hundreds of Dispersl Pods would begin to land throughout the known settlements. The Primarch's unblinking gaze shifted to the cosmic Titan, his descent upon the black dreaded Beast sent shivers down the spines of all in the vicinity.

The Primarch could feel the awe among their in, the Brutes of the 10th were vitalised by the sheer spectacle of the Titan himself descending upon the mewling Jedi.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// SABER ONE // Y-Wing [Modified - Disruptor charged bubble turret and carbonite bombs] // Ryv
// OBJECTIVE // Slay the dragon
// THEMATIC // Planet B

​

The blue starlit haze of hyperspace shimmered to a halt to make way for real space. The Jedi were at the edge of devestation, the very spearhead of Bryn'adul conquest. Uncharacteristically silent as the Sabers veered toward the edge of Honoghr the deafening lack of any aural sensory envelopment sparing the hum of the REC bomber Maynard embarked in for this mission. Though his X-Wing was typically the choice armament for most any engagement, a scrap with the Bryn'adul called for heavier ordinance in their air support compliment. Requisitioning one of the Y-Wings from the Galactic Alliance inventory Maynard would serve as the main ground attack compliment to Saber's strike, along with two other Y-Wings distributed through the Jedi aces.

"I gotta be real with ya, Ryv...this uh...this suit? Not sure its the move for me man I feel the shit just...contouring, ya know? Like just really...gettin' in there- its just...I mean I know its supposed to be high tech n' shit but...man..." He said in stark candidness to his Kiffar pal who was nestled in the bubble turret of the craft, trying to ease his nerves with the talking between the two.

"I mean if it like- saves me from a damn Bryn'adul I can't complain but until then...I'm gonna need a bacta bath just from wearin' the damn thing not even kiddin'." Maynard says- all in the private comms channel between the two before soon enough they were in the thick of it. With Loske likely getting an impression of Maynard's state of mind she seemed to take the lead on giving off the initial set of order as Bryn fighters began to light up the visuals and motion scanners.

"Oh we're in the thick of it now, son. Don't be stingy back there." Maynard said, the bow mounted laser cannons cracking and knocking out one of the Bryn fighters before he veered the ship back up in a steep climb to regain some space for a bombing descent. Clenching his teeth against one another in a sharp grind as he heard the Dreddikkast's scream- catching a glimpse of it in his sights he continued to pull the starbomber up ward in a plane above the organic beast which acted as Tathra Khaeus 's war mount.

"Alright - Ys get a climb going ; get yourselves some altitude for a descent, drop the whole damn payload if you're confident it'll land. The rest of you try and veer it away from the evac if we can...if not- well let's hope we can just kill the damn thing." Maynard said - outwardly placid even if he was internally none too confident in his ship's ability to out maneuver the monster in a close engagement.

Spoiler: Tags

Jedi: Romi Jade / Weyland Castril / Ryv / Loske Treicolt / P Placeholder 0128 / Allyson Locke / Jyoti Nooran

Evacuation aid: Jegy Sesara / Or'Fol Moric / Kyra Perl / Jend-Ro Quill / Aurelius Baldor / Ghrom the Molten /

Bryn'adûl: Tathra Khaeus / Osam / Hrajlmak'Natok / Reosyvern

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

H O N O G H R

Engaging: Osam | Primarch Drek'ma 's forces
Equipment: Crap, I need to do one of these things? grumbles, going around to scrounge up the subs​

---

Honoghr was... fascinating, really. She'd only met one Noghri before now -- it'd come to the installation on Nelvaan to train her in their martial art, stava. No doubt she'd been in the same room as one more than once, but even with her skills she didn't doubt that the Noghri could sneak up on her. It was much more odd being on their planet.

She'd been planning to help with the evacuation, but she'd actually arrived a day early in the Razor and had spent the night under grudging hospitality from this village's maitrakh. Still, their mewls indicated that they were at least somewhat grateful for the help. That help arrived this morning in the form of Kelsie's PCL 27. The eight-hundred meter long star cruiser had enough space for a sizable portion of Honoghr's population, which was why they'd been moving quickly to pick up as many people as possible at the direction of the Jedi. The Noghri were proud and honour-bound; they'd been forced out of their home in the past, but they seemed to believe that nothing else could possibly take it from them...

It was foolish. The Bryn'adûl were monsters, and Kelsie knew of what kind.

When their ships pulled out of hyperspace she was reminded of her mistake -- she'd faced their leader, Tathra Khaeus, once before. He'd been strong, but she hadn't realized that he had been the leader of a greater horde. Kelsie had a deep-seated regret about that day for failing to erase so many dangers to the galaxy. When the drop pods hit the ground a not far from her position in Nystao she swore a quiet oath that she wouldn't make the same mistake today.

It seemed that many of the Noghri had the same idea. Thousands of them poured onto her transport, but many more prepared their weapons. The Bryn'adûl, oddly enough, were severely outmatched here. The Noghri were deadly, they knew their homeland, and there were many more of them than there were Draelvasier. This first wave was basically already dead, but Kelsie knew they wouldn't stop coming, either. The woman grabbed her equipment and climbed up on top of the tallest building in the city, lying down on the roof, rifle set and ready.

Kelsie opened up a comms channel with the Jedi, knowing they'd come help if they knew what was going on. <<"This is Captain Sylvan. I'm in Nystao, my ship is getting loaded up right now, but there are a lot of Noghri down here who don't plan to leave...">> She watched as even more drop pods hit the ground, spewing forth beasts bigger than the Drael. This was getting less fun by the second, and their odds were getting much worse. <<"My A-class will need cover when it leaves, and we could use some air-support -- it'll be a minute before the Bryn get too close to the city.">> Hopefully they heard her. And if they didn't, well, she had more than enough antimatter rounds for this.

She settled in, took a few deep breaths, then focused herself and zoomed in on her target.

Click.

A Drael warrior evaporated instantly, the resulting shockwave knocking over the few companions he had nearby.

Being a sniper was kind of boring, honestly, but thinning the herd before they even got close enough to see her was deeply satisfying. <<"Tell me when Tathra gets to the surface. And if you get him here, please get him near Nystao. I've got a surprise for him.">>

 

[Osam]

Location: Nystao
Engaging: Kelsie Sylvan
Allies: Primarch Drek'ma


The Noghri of Honoghr proved themselves immediately to be a fiercer threat than a majority of the weakling races encountered by the Major. Despite their relatively diminutive size, their distinct musculature blended into a substantial strength and agility not often found outside of genetically engineered war-beasts and combatants. It seemed as well that they possessed a numerical superiority within the confines of the major residential center, though the continuous rain of drop pods and vessels from above meant that the tides would change sooner rather than later in that regard. The Crusade had taken many worlds, ripped away their inhabitants, and reforged them into homes for their own kind... there was little doubt that bodies were available to spare in excess of what had ever lived on Honoghr.

Osam ducked a mere instant before a projectile slammed into a space where his head had once lingered. An expeditious glance at his side revealed that a number of his own kind had not been so lucky, and the pierced and melted forms of other Sraelvun were quickly evident. There was an undeniable odor which had been brought forth by this bloodshed, an intoxicating aroma that demanded to be indulged, but which promised swift retribution should it be embraced. The cooked kindred often meant delightful and luxurious meats, but now was not the time for trivial matters of consumption.

The group of drones had been forced to advance in order to make headway into Nystao, but they had encountered severe resistance in the process. All the way to the city, they had been harried from behind hastily constructed barricades, each sally managing to claim at least a few lives. Where once a hundred Sraelvun had proudly advanced, now there were far less. Incidentally, however, the addition of more pods in the area meant that the forces of the defenders had needed to convene at other points of conflict. Resistance was still naturally fierce, but at least it had lessened somewhat in the presence of additional assault vectors.

Finally, the group... three squads at most had made it to the first major structure, and a subsequent barrage by a pair of remaining Grenadiers had granted them entry into more secure lodgings. Clearing the building would take far too much time, and so Osam settled for detonating a number of stairways, forcing any Noghri warriors above them to jump several stories downwards or crawl through debris in order to reach their position. The Major had little difficulty convincing his single co-Major to acquiesce to this order, and even less difficulty when twelve seconds after it had been given, he disappeared into a blur of flash-evaporated fog.

The force of the meat breaking its fleshy casing at such high velocity was enough to toss several bystanders, including Osam to the ground. He didn't bother immediately standing up again, instead choosing to allow what had just occurred to process. Slowly, methodically -- if such a thing were possible for Sraelvun -- he noted the projectile mark in the wall, still singed where the anti-matter round had nicked it on entry. The sniper had not needed to fire twice, which meant they were particularly capable either due to natural ability and training or else equipment, and it also meant they could be seen from the position of the evaporated Major.

Risking a glance, Osam rolled just within view of the projectile, scanning for something roughly indicative of a sniper's nest, and his eyes settled with a surprising degree of rapidness on his target. "Marksmen. Target highest structure. Sniper." He barked, seizing command of the remaining squads with a shriek of authority. Sraelvun were simple-minded and defaulted rather quickly to obedience as opposed to bickering over commandment... it had not been difficult in the past to assert dominance over his kindred, and it was not difficult now.

The difficulty came in keeping enough of them alive throughout the campaign for it to matter.