Invasion Chapter Three: Total War | Long Live The Empire DE vs GA Coruscant

[The Grunt]

MAWITE KHANATE PAGE CLAIM

'Grunt'
THE MAWSWORN​

Location: East Tower on Reimar Boulevard, Coruscant
Objective: Kill and Destroy
Equipment: Hellblade, Hand Cannon, Scattergun, Electrolancr, Basic Armour w/ vacuum seal

Spoiler: Armour

Tags:
DE Scylla AI Thomas Barran Keilara Kala'myr
GA Ashley Nevermore

The clash was glorious and bloody- two dozen had already fallen, or were too wounded to fight, but a hole had been ripped right open in the Alliance lines. Especially once the Dreamer's forces surged forward. Even now, as The Grunt hacked his way through surrounded Alliance troopers and militia, savoring the uncanny sizzling sound of blood on his Hellblade, there was fighting in this sector, but all around, the Dreamer's forces had surged forward, heading northward. The entire eastern defence line of the GADF would be vulnerable now, forced to stay in place and be cut up by the renewed vigor of the Darkhan's army, or retreat to the now destroyed Senate ruin.

Beautiful.

<"Thunder Vanguard - commit! I repeat - commit! The tide is finally turning in our favour!">

<<Riders! You heard the man- the Darkhan is watching! Valhalla awaits!>>

On separate channels, Grunt vox-radioed instructions of a more phlegmatic disposition to his team leaders:

<<Gripper, support Scab's squad down the right.>>​

<<Rollo, keep up the pace down the centre>>​

<<Radhead, on your front-left- give us heavy fire support!>> A portable missile streaked ahead of Grunt, smashing into a ruined building and sending GA troopers flying.

Thunder Vanguard would give the Darkhan a show.

Spoiler: ooc map

yellow is Grunt and the riders, red is Dreamer Darkhan's surging horde

 

[Alicia Drey]

---

---

Tags: Ronval Rubat
Objective: Total War - Attacking the Headquarters of the Strategic Intelligence Agency, S.I.A.
Equipment: The Initium, Portable Dampening Field, The Cone of Silence, The Domestic Surveillance of Direct Threats, #3567-956-827, Cortosis
Transportation Crates, Curved Lightsaber Hilt, Slicing Unit, The Imperial Immortals, Annihilator-class Boarding Shuttles.

---

The scream at the back of her mind had manifested itself to the fore. Darth Ayra had lost control. Only when her lungs burned and protested at the roar which emitted from the depths of her empty soul did she finally relent and let it die. Her arms had raised themselves up to the sides as if to physically embrace the contempt of the dark side itself. Slowly they lowered back to her sides and her body straightened up as the moment passed her by.

Laughter.

Darth Ayra's eyes gazed upon the blackened skylines of Coruscant as two starfighters collided in mid-air above her. The cacophony of explosions which offset the backdrop of the battle intertwined with old Rusty's laughter and slowly she broke her gaze upon the cracked ceiling of the terminal room back to him. When they locked eyes the man- the last survivor of the S.I.A personnel sent to defend the junction- he announced his victory:

"Access denied."

Darth Ayra raised the back of her hand to clean her face from the tears that had been streaming down it. As she did so she walked towards Ronval and lowered herself down to his height. For a second time today Ayra sat on the back of her legs and bloodshot eyes lowered themselves to look upon another fallen member of the Strategic Intelligence Agency. Unlike his late predecessor, however, this one had managed to do something. They had achieved a significant victory. All the data of the S.I.A had been locked out and now Darth Ayra could not gain access too it.

Wordlessly Ayra turned her eyes to look upon the man and found the guns strapped to him. Her hand reached out to snatch both the SPS-25 and AT-SI27 from Ronval. After disarming him Ayra flung the guns behind her and heard them clatter against what was left of the walls as she turned back to look at him. The stench of smoke filled the air and soon threatened to engulf the entire terminal room with them inside it. Reminded of this Ayra considered picking him up and throwing this hero head first into the fire to burn for what he had done to her. But her cunning prevailed and held at bay the beast within that had raised it's snout at the prospect of another kill.

"Deactivate the encryption or I am going to kill you," Darth Ayra warned Ronval with a threat delivered with a coarse voice.

 

[Dyrn Grav]

With the embrace ended, Dyrn placed the helmet back on.

<<"Of course,">> Dyrn said with a nod of his helmet to Senator Organa. He glanced to Natasi. <<"Very well, if it is absolutely necessary, we can take the scenic route... though controlled speed is still of the essence.">>

The situation concerning security was not lost on Dyrn, and he trusted his wife to know what was important enough to risk. As it was, the group seemed willing to remain on that task, and as long as they were moving, Dyrn could try and keep ahead of it.

That was, until the world - literally - began to rumble.

Senator Calgar called out for calm, which was something, but was quick to recall an emergency protocol that would - hopefully - help. Dyrn, for his part, had been assessing the possible routes to the closest transparisteel window, with the intent of blowing the thing out and using grapples to reach nearby buildings... however that didn't seem plausible, not currently, as a glance outside showed smaller buildings crumbling.

<<"We need to go, no more side mission.">> Dyrn said simply, as he remained with Natasi and moved with her, while the security team fanned out. <<"We are with you, Senator Calgar, lead the way.">>

And don't get us killed.

The situation had changed; what had been a controllable, albeit dangerous, environment had now become utterly devastating in scope. The shuddering building, the cracking or floor, walls and ceiling, the incredible damage wrought upon the immediate area about the group, it was well beyond Dyrn's scope to try and account for. Even as the new plan was explained, involving repulsor packs, Dyrn was apprehensive - but in the face of no real alternatives, there was little choice.

Beggars and choosers, indeed.

<<"Respectfully, as long as I leave with Natasi, you can decide your evac order.">> he said to Senator Organa. <<"I would not recommend delaying long.">>

It was then that Dyrn noticed something. Something very concerning. The building wasn't falling... not insofar as it might crumble from a quake or demolitions, but that it was seemingly rising. Gravity was pulling the building down, but the city without was going downward, implying elevation. There were only so many ways for that to happen, but even then those defied most logical considerations; but, if Dyrn was right, and what he suspected was happening was happening:

<<"We are on top of something,">> Dyrn called to the others, his eyes widened in his helmet. <<"The building is going up, something is beneath us. Something big. We need to aim wide, do not go directly down!">>

Dyrn grabbed a repulsor pack and slung it over a shoulder, prepared to check Natasi's first. Beside his wife, Dyrn made sure Natasi's pack had had the harness clasped, ensuring it was ready for flight - or, more accurately, slowed descent - and gave her a nod reassuringly from within his helmet as she held his forearm. He could see the fear, he felt it too, but he knew the woman he loved and understood she would act irrespective of it.

<<"I lov--">>

The building lurched, Dyrn felt Natasi's hand leave him, and then she was gone.

Dyrn didn't hesitate, as he rushed for the hatch, leaping through the opening and into the chaos of the debris filled sky outside the Senate Building. The wind rushed and thrashed, he looked about as he tumbled, spinning, bright eyes moving in every direction for any sign of his wife. The repulsor pack held across Dyrn's shoulder was grasped in gloved hands, and he began to pull it around himself, wrenching the harness closed; and with the pack secure, Dyrn focused downward and orientated himself in the freefall...

There!

And some hundred feet below, Natasi was wrestling with her pack. Or at least that seemed the situation, as she wasn't slowing. Dyrn pulled his arms to his sides and turned into a skydive. Crumbling duracrete, bent duratseel and glimmering sections of broken glass were everywhere, it was by the grace of the Force that either of them had managed to flail through the mass, but thankfully they did. Natasi got closer and closer, as Dyrn prepared to grab her as he closed the distance - he needed to reach her before terminal velocity, at which point he would fall at the same speed as her, not moving an inch closer.

<<"Natasi!">> Dyrn called from the helmet, but he knew it was pointless with the wind and distance. <<"Hold on!">>

The irony of the statement was lost in the moment. When Dyrn was close, he opened his arms, aware of how dangerous the maneuver of a mid-air catch could be, but willing to take the risk if it meant Natasi didn't impact ground. His breathing was calm but his body trembled, and as he got closer and closer--

?!

--Natasi activated the repulsor pack and altered the descent speed completely, which resulted in Dyrn overshooting her position and sailing right past her. He reached quickly for his own controls, panic in his mind, as he now fell further and further from his wife, tumbling through the air beneath her and away over dozens and dozens of feet from her position.

Dyrn slapped the controls and his pack engaged, as the soldier anticipated the sudden jerk of momentum.

<<"Keep going, I am right here below you,">> Dyrn said into the helmet comm, hoping that - with the freefall over - Natasi might have use of the comm. <<"Head east, I will be there when you land.">>

And using his repulsor pack with focus and clarity of both training and sheer need to succeed, Dyrn began to burst through the air, avoiding debris as he could and trying to keep Natasi in his sights, as she moved above him. The situation wasn't ideal, but at least she was as safe as she could be, and the pack had started to work.

Relief wasn't even close to expressing it.

Vicinity: -
Friendlies: Natasi Fortan | Alicio Organa | Raphael Calgar | Achan Jaikavi | Katarine Ryiah
Enemies: Kazian Blackwood | Reiner Ghadi​

 

[Sara Roche]

Commander Sara "Roach" Roche
222nd Nova Corps, 314th (Augmented) Battalion, Corps Strategic Reserve -- Seconded to Coruscant Defense Command​

Objective: OBJ III
Equipment: GAVA Starwolf Marine Armour, GALMG Beak, GAHP Roundhouse, C-11 "Nastirci" Combat Knife, REC-VC/01 Tactical Visor; Starship Model
Location: Strongpoint J-185-7, between Republic Boulevard and Alliance Plaza. Eastern Junction of the Senate District
ALLIES:
Armoured Spearheads Rolin Voss , Gress D'ran
Mando Commandos Minerva Fhirdiad

ENEMIES:
By the avenue Lord Mor'zhul Arminius Kroeger Defias
In the pocket in the east Pious Tapp Roxy Rizzan Kuff Tolt
Mawites to the south Thomas Barran The Grunt
DARKCOM

The afterquakes of the rising Battlecruiser was worse than Sara thought- the main avenue was buckling, sending the Sith and a whole host of troopers falling into a tangle of debris and asphalt. The dust cloud from the Rotunda swept over them- and didn't let up. Even her helmet's sensors were struggling as the shockfront of the collapse swept a veritable tidal wave of dust over her location. Her squad fell from their positions again- literally, as the ruined building almost shook itself to pieces. No more cover.

On the tacmap integrated to her visor, Sara could see the pocket forming to the east, caused by Gress D'ran and Rolin Voss and other armoured spearheads crashing through. But further south, there was a swarm of red dots- Khanate forces streaming north, breaking through the positions in the south. If this continued, they would link up with the Dark Imperial pocket, and the overextended Alliance forces would be thrown back with heavy casualties.

Once their collection of gunships were making the final approach Minerva called the marine commander she just learned about.

"Commander Roche this is Captain Fhirdiad of Strike Force Talon. We're on route to reinforce you and will be there shortly. Tell us how we can assist."

<<Captain Fhirdiad! This is Commander Roche, thanks for the link-up! Advise you drop off a small element here at my location by the skyscraper->> Sara beamed a tacmap data point through the datalink.

<<-we need cover, as I need to reprogram the explosives. Suggest the rest of your Strike Force either head east to provide gunship support and hammer the pocket east of us and land commandoes with the armoured spearheads, or land directly southward of us while providing gunship support against the Mawite breakthrough about to link up with the pocket. How copy, over?>>

"Ma'am, you're reprograming the explosives now?" The Lieutenant asked, his silhouette barely visible through the dust.

"Only to ensure the charges can be detonated in whichever order- if the Mawites breakthrough from the south, we're sending this thing toppling eastward or southeast." The technician in the squad got to work checking the cables, while Sara fumbled with the cables, trying to shield it from the dust. They did not have much time.

Spoiler: OOC map

@Minerva Fhirdiad basically i think the Strike Force can either directly support the armour attacking the pocket or land south of Sara's position and help set up ambush points before the Mawites under Thomas Barran link up with the pocket.

 

[Ronval Rubat]

AURORA, PARABELLUM
Special Agent ██████ - 'R U S T Y'
Strategic Intelligence Agency​

Location: Strategic Intelligence Agency HQ, Coruscant
Objective: Stop Intruders
Equipment: Operative Suit, SPS-25 Sidearm, AT-SI27 Stun Blaster, C-11 "Nastirci" Combat Knife

Spoiler: drip check

Tags: Alicia Drey

"Deactivate the encryption or I am going to kill you," Darth Ayra warned Ronval with a threat delivered with a coarse voice.

Ronval mustered a sneer.

"Nice try, lady, but you know that would only make things worse for you. And I ain't a rookie: You have nothing you can threaten me with, witch," Ronval spat the last word out, all his hatred bottled into a precision strike.

Almost on autopilot, he lunged forward then- sloppily, his head pounding from the bleeding, the impact, the dust in the air, the cryo-induced vein-stress, the lack of breakfast- but lunged he did, drawing the C-11 Knife the Sith had failed to find. He went for the throat with his right hand, the left trying to grab her wrist and pull it away.

He did not care if she killed him- in fact, he hoped she did, so she could not glean anything useful from his mind, which is why he went straight for the jugular, so she would react too quickly and kill him, preserving the secret of the encryption in death. Too bad he'd left his capsule back in his quarters.

Anything for the Alliace.

 

[Raphael Calgar]

TAGS:
( Alliance )
Natasi Fortan | Dyrn Grav | Katarine Ryiah | Alicio Organa | Achan Jaikavi
( Hostiles )
Kazian Blackwood | Reiner Ghadi | Thomas Barran

There had been little time for conversation, Alicio voicing his intent to be the last of them. Valiant, Raphael had to give the man that. It wasn't the first time the man's selflessness had been on full display - almost to a fault. Valiant, but stupid. A few words had passed between Dyrn and Senator Fortan moments before they descended yet another level into the hells, a blast of pressure and a cacophonous howling of air rushing past him nearly bowled Raphael over save for his grip on the edge of the doorway. It was now or never, already he could see the figures of Natasi and Dyrn rapidly descending below... and below that...

Raphael struggled to grasp what was happening, the ground beneath shrinking, not growing closer, yet...

No time. Go. Now. Every muscle in his body tightened as he cast himself through the hatch and into open space.

For the first few seconds, all he could hear was the wind in his ears, a sense of weightlessness sending his stomach into the back of his throat as he squinted against the flow of the air. Everything for that blessed moment was stripped away, the fear of death, and concern about the future. Then, suddenly, it all came rushing back. Punch it! Frantically Raphael activated his repulsor pack. With a loud hum and a crackle of energy, it came to life and he felt the straps of its harness dig into his thighs and beneath his arms. While he had avoided a misfire of his pack, Raphael had another problem, one he didn't realize until he looked down. Devoid of true directional thrusters, his momentum out of the hatch hadn't propelled him quite far enough away from the tower to miss the behemoth beneath them. That wasn't going to feel good. The repulsor pack would generally prevent him from breaking his legs on landing but if there was something below rising upwards, well, they weren't jump packs. Mind racing, a thought occurred to him. Not particularly a good one, but it was the only thing he could think of.

Leaning forward with the pack activated, he threw his head forward and de-activated the repulsor pack. Immediately he began to drop, the wind picking up in his ears as he pushed his head and chest forward while kicking his legs out behind him. Just.. a little... further...

Raphael used his body's position, sending him downward at an angle. It's going to be close. He grimaced as he prepared to activate the pack once again. The ground was close... well, whatever it was that was tearing upward through the tower itself. Three. Two. One.

With a final grunt, Raphael activated the pack. The first thing he felt was pain, the tightening straps pushed to their limit as they tried to hold both user and pack together. The second thing he felt was also pain, one of his legs catching on the edge of the rising vessel, sending him spinning near uncontrollably as the repulsor pack fought against gravity to reorient its user. A gasp escaped Raphael's lips as he floated now, downwards towards the others, the leg of his pants slick, the pain almost overwhelming. He had to have broken something, right? Maybe not, he could already feel the pain receding but something wasn't right. It was too hard to tell the full measure of damage to his leg with the flapping of the fabric. This was going to be a rough landing.

 

[Ashley Nevermore]

Tag: Thomas Barran The Grunt
Map Location:

Spoiler

Phoenix Platoon

Holding Out For a Hero​

And the eighty-one plowed into the rear of Phoenix Platoon's position, some giving covering fire while the rest dismounted and stormed the buildings, engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Following close behind was Grunt, Hellblade in hand, breathing in the death and fear.

Surrounded.

Despite the mission's success in destroying the enemy arty, they had always known this day would come. Wasn't the first day like this, wasn't the last. The men of the Phoenix were trained elites, designed to do the impossible.

First came the riders. Ashley watched as Boxer laid into one with nothing more than a right hook to the face of one, the sonic burst of energy from his Power Paw gloves taking the maw's jaw clean off. Ashley was more worried about keeping Fresh Face alive, until she saw him heft his blaster cannon under one arm and rip into a formation of heavy riders.

Maniac.

That was gonna be his new name.

She watched as Zombie and Princess were thrown by the force of an exploding rocket as the second wave hit.

This was the end.

Or...so she thought. As Ashley was in the middle of a knife fight with a maw raider, a voice came over the radio.

<Need some help Firebird?!>

Overhead, a Ziio buzzed passed, it's rocket pods launching a swarm of explosives into the backline of the Scav King's formation, before the three Bobcat walkers of Paladin leapt down from a high platform, landing right in the center of Scav Kings lines, opening up with their 6 heavy blaster cannons and rear mortars on the enemy's back line. Suddenly, Dragon Squad opened up from above, the squad having abandoned the original LZ and finally bounded forward to support. The Ziio, the LAAT designed to act as a heavy support transport, ripped open with all of it's guns, hovering just high enough where it could activate it's deflector shield, keeping it stuck in place, but allowing it to open fire on the enemy without fear of reprisal.

Ashley let out a sigh of relief. A moment for her to pull out her heavy blaster pistol, and open up on the raider in front of her.

<I told you to hang back!> She barked.

<We did, but we couldn't let our CO get swamped. So we decided to ignore that order. Mission's complete, now we need to exfil boss.>

The sound of Two Tornados buzzed overhead, dropping heavy bombs on the rear of the Maw's advance.

<Got in contact with high command. We need to get out of here Ash.>

Exfilling was always the hardest part. Now they had wounded. What they needed was a Roc...

"DJ!" She called out, looking for the RTO.

He was currently in the middle of blowing a Maw's head off. "YEAH?!"

"CALL UP HEAVY CAV! WE NEED A ROC TO EXFILL!"

"COPY! FRESH FACE COVER ME!"

Second to Last Post.

 

[Kazian Blackwood]

Natasi Fortan | Achan Jaikavi | Alicio Organa | Raphael Calgar | Katarine Ryiah | Dyrn Grav | Reiner Ghadi

​

I awoke startled by the shaking, not of the ground any longer, but of a man's hand on my shoulder. It was blindingly bright for a moment, until the man turned his headlamp away from me and saw in the dim I saw the outline of a trooper's helmet.

"What..."

"Agent Vigilant, you're alive! Can you hear me?"

"Ye... yes. Torgan?"

"Corporal Sygani, sir. Torgan... he, uh... here, see for yourself."

He turned to shine his light into the corner. I realized we were underneath a pile of rubble, in a hollow built by falling debris. His light was cast upon a set of dark grey armor from the chest up, head rolled back, still in helmet but motionless, lifeless, the rest of the body crushed beneath however much rubble was beyond us. The pauldron's bore the Lieutenant's rank.

"What the hell," in my daze I could hardly figure out a word to say. A throbbing pain ran all the way up and down my spine, and the back of my head. I felt warm, feverish, and certainly confused.

"Sir, we're trapped in here. But I think there's a stone the two of us could push aside. Can you sit up at all?"

At his request, I reached around for somewhere to place my hands on the ground, then pushed myself up carefully, unsure of how much room I had to rise. It appeared, between the flashing of his light in my face and around the hollow, that Sygani was crouching beside me, with not much room for either of us.

"The only one I can reach on comms is Pijo, and he's injured. He said the building collapsed."

"Shit. What the hell did squad two do?"

"No, sir, I think he said it was some kind of naval strike."

I sat up even more. My ability to move was strained, but not to the point that I'd broken anything it seemed. Yet as I pulled myself up into a crouch next to him, I was shot with a sharp pain in my right thigh. The Corporal shined his light down, revealing a wound, a chunk of duracrete the size of a finger stuck out of my leg.

"You should remain still, Sir."

"Feth, man, I don't have the time for that." I snarled, sliding back down into sitting. I stretched out my leg, the pain gripping me, yet I reached for the huge splinter and pulled it free with a pained grunt. Blood began to bubble and spill from it.

"Do you... have a knife?"

He reached onto his belt and unclipped his combat knife, handing it to me wearily. I took the knife to the calf of my pants, cutting free everything below my knee, bringing it up to tie tightly around the wound. It was covered in dust, but arguably better than bleeding out.

I did my best to fight through the pain of getting up again.

"Which boulder is loose?" I panted, ready to get it over with.

"Uh... this one." he placed a hand on the boulder.

The corporal pushed the back of his shoulder into it, while I placed both my hand and pushed with my chest, upwards and outwards with as much might as we could muster in our state. The duracrete boulder came free and rolled outwards.

Climbing from the hollow, we were no better off. The hallway, or rather a larger hollow created by the debris, was enough to stand up in, but still dark as a moonless night. Sygani wrapped an arm around me and helped me hobble forwards, guided by his light.

As we shuffled aimlessly along in the dark, a small set of red eyes peered at us from around what looked like a corner.

"Sid?" I called out, to which the little spy droid whizzed and floated forward, coming into the light. One of its appendages was missing, and another hung limp like the joint or motor had been damaged. I took the droid gently in my grasp and spun it around to see that the restraining bolt was still intact, luckily.

"You came to look for me? Good droid."

Though Sid certainly hadn't made it out in one piece, he was small enough that navigating the rubble was probably easier for him than anything else alive down here.

"Sir, I've got a line with Squad Two. They don't know what happened, but they say they're fine, the sub-basement is intact." the Corporal's voice beamed with hope. My thoughts of the second squad having detonated explosives on the shields had been wrong, but that didn't account for... all of this.

"Should we try meeting them?"

"No. We have a job left to do here. Sid, pathfind." I turned to Sygani, "this isn't over until I've got a senator in cuffs, or proof that they're all crushed under this rubble."

 

[Alicia Drey]

---

---

Tags: Ronval Rubat
Objective: Total War - Attacking the Headquarters of the Strategic Intelligence Agency, S.I.A.
Equipment: The Initium, Portable Dampening Field, The Cone of Silence, The Domestic Surveillance of Direct Threats, #3567-956-827, Cortosis
Transportation Crates, Curved Lightsaber Hilt, Slicing Unit, The Imperial Immortals, Annihilator-class Boarding Shuttles.

---

Ronval mustered a sneer.

"Nice try, lady, but you know that would only make things worse for you. And I ain't a rookie: You have nothing you can threaten me with, witch," Ronval spat the last word out, all his hatred bottled into a precision strike.

As Darth Ayra was about to retort there was a flash of grey and a splatter of blood which smeared her exposed cheek. Lightsaber combat was difficult. Fighting trained soldiers- who fought valiantly in the defence of the Galactic Alliance- was hard work. Fatigue had begun to settle in long before the Star Destroyer had risen up from the depths of Coruscant much to the awe and horror of the invaders and defenders. Thus her arms were aching and they protested even as Ayra instinctively moved her palm to swipe the knife out of Ronval's hand.

But, instead, the blade slunk itself deep into her palm instead of her exposed neck as she mistimed her attempt to stop Ronval from stabbing her. Screaming in pain Darth Ayra swung her other arm towards her attacker and pushed him back away from her. Reaching down to grab the hilt of the blade Ayra pulled it out of her palm and admired the crimson stains along the serrated blade before discarding it behind her to join Ronval's other weapons.

Among the sensations of pain and fatigue Darth Ayra felt heat emanating from the corridor as her screams turned to ragged breaths. It was fully on fire now and within the next couple of minutes the flames were set to engulf the entire terminal room. Somewhere nearby both Ayra and Ronval could hear blaster fire coming from somewhere beneath them. It seemed that the Immortals and other bands of the S.I.A were still fighting each other. Tearing off the hem of her cape Ayra wrapped her bleeding palm with the fabric to stem the bleeding while beads of it rolled along her cheek. How she longed to return to the Initium and enter a dreamless sleep after today. To escape the nightmare of this battle.

But her work was not done.

"Well done. . ." Darth Ayra admitted, voice coarse from all the roaring and screaming. "You got me good, stranger. You are strong. I admire something about you."

The heat was getting more intense as too as was the smoke that was filling the room. Ayra had to stop and turned to cough into her good hand. She felt her eyes watering again and her instincts were screaming at her to get out. To escape with her life. But she was not an ordinary person. Darth Ayra walked the path of the dark side. Catastrophe and ruination were always there as a consequence for her actions. Death was a constant ally- not to be feared- but to be embraced.

"My memories are very confused," Darth Ayra begun to say to herself as she admired her hurt hand. "There is even much doubt as to where they begin; for at times I feel appalling vistas of years stretching behind me, while at other times it seems as if the present moment were an isolated point in a grey, formless infinity."

Averting her gaze from her bloody palm back to Ronval the pair of locked eyes once again, and when they did Darth Ayra raised the same hurt hand up towards him while her brow furrowed in rage.

"Qâzoi Kyantuska!"
​

As Darth Ayra said the spell the dark side warped the mind of Ronval Rubat and forced him to serve her bidding. At the same time the flames that had stretched throughout the 'old rat halls' burst through what was left of the door and into the room. With Ronval under her spell Darth Ayra found her curved Lightsaber blade and activated the weapon. Smashing it into the ground beneath her Ayra carved a hole large enough that it broke beneath her boots. As it gave way both Ronval and her fell through the floor into the fire fight happening below.

One by one the Immortals were falling to the green and red turbolasers fired at them by the S.I.A. As they were dropped around her Darth Ayra fearlessly led the enraptured Ronval through the corridor as the ceiling above them begun to give way to the fires that had started in the junction level they had just escaped from. As more concrete and debris begun to fall around them the cacophony of shouting, screaming and fighting threatened to overwhelm both Darth Ayra and Ronval. But through her powers in the dark side (and the sacrifice of her men) Darth Ayra and Ronval made it out of the junction they had just fallen into just as the ceiling collapsed, and with it took the last of the Immortals that Darth Ayra had brought to bear under the disguise of Alicia Drey: Staff Director of the New Imperial Security Bureau.

Deactivating her Lightsaber blade Ayra clipped it to her belt and summoned the chrono which hung from her wrist. Modified by Ayra to act both as a time-keeping device and shortwave radio Darth Ayra used it to summon the Initium to meet her at the exposed walling of Junction-E-39. A protocol unit set at the helm of the ship and piloted it through the battle towards the rendezvous location. Decloaking and extending it's landing ramp both Ayra and Ronval jumped on board to escape the Strategic Intelligence Agency's headquarters with their lives just when it looked like they were about to lose them in the fighting.

As Darth Ayra stood on the landing ramp of her ship- cape bellowing in the wind as the Initium begun to take off- she summoned her last bit of strength to force Ronval inside. Stumbling after him the ramp closed and the ship recloaked. Collapsing onto her behind the Sith magic wore off and Ronval was himself again.

 

[Sol Dara]

Halsia Hewitt

​

The only reason the girls took anything akin to a break was because their path was interrupted. The two women came to a momentary stop as the final stretch of their path was covered in debris and downed stormtroopers. The area seemed blown to bits. If a building still stood, it had no windows. And 'stood' was a loose term. None of them were in one piece. The road was an obstacle course of duracrete, bodies, and the scattered remnants of proof that this place was once livable. Some articles of clothing, maybe from someone's old bedroom or a blown-out storefront. A stray screwdriver. A children's toy.

Sol couldn't help but wonder about the fates of the owners of those items. She had to push the thought aside. Right now, she had to focus on Halsia's and her own.

"Alright," the mirialan suddenly stated, refocusing on their mission. She glanced at Halsia before looking down the street both ways. The padawan had an eerie feeling surrounded by the leftovers of a battle that could have taken place an hour or even ten minutes ago. She had no idea, but she didn't sense any present danger. Sol turned to face Halsia once more. "We are almost there," she assured. "Step carefully."

The mirialan offered her hand to the journalist. There really was no easy way to cross the area without climbing over something or using the debris as stepping stones. An easy and quick task for someone who could use the force to aid their movement, but not for most, or for the padawan's current companion.

Halfway across the street, Sol paused. Something felt off. The sound of rumbling began in the distance and grew louder and louder as the ground began to quake. It was different from everything else the two had experienced up until this point. Only Sol's head and eyes moved as she stayed still, keeping herself right next to Halsia as if they risked being attacked by a wild animal. There were no explosions, no starships flying close or low enough to cause this. Sol looked in the direction of the Senate district not too far away.

Then it happened.

The city streets cracked and buckled, and buildings and monuments began to crumble and sway as the ground beneath them rose. Sol held onto Halsia as she watched the Grand Convocation Chamber fall into ruins along with everything else in the area as a massive Star Destroyer broke free from the planet. A shockwave tore through the area, officially eradicating any remaining windows from the previous battle. Buildings closer to the Star Destroyer fell over like sticks and stones. Multiple, huge clouds of dust and debris formed almost immediately, morphing together like a tsunami that aimed to flow out in all directions with the rising ship at its epicenter.

Sol could barely process the wave of debris coming toward them as all she could do was focus on the top of the Star Destroyer. The force graced her with a vision, and anything the journalist next to her might say would fall on deaf ears. All she could see and hear was a bloodied Kyric . His armor torn apart, his eye missing, and his arm ravaged with deep wounds as he dodged destruction. Nearby, near him, the forces of light and dark raged against each other relentlessly in an effort to extinguish each other forever and without mercy.

"Kyric is there," the mirialan said without realizing before she was snapped back to her current reality. Sol blinked. The cloud of debris roared closer, almost appearing to be in slow motion as it devoured the cityscape.

But the debris sent flying from the shockwave moved faster. Pieces of durasteel, glass, furniture, you name it, began to rain down on the area like scattered bullets. A shard of steel and a table leg soared by far too close for comfort.

Focus!

A barrier. A force barrier. That's what she needed to do. That's all she needed to do to protect Halsia and herself, and then she could get Halsia where she needed to be. To safety. And then she could go help Kyric. How was she supposed to manage that?

Focus!

The mirialan placed herself in front of Halsia, standing at the front of their tiny island of rubble in the middle of a wasteland. She raised her hands into the air and tried to tune out the sound of very heavy, very fast-moving, and very big objects crashing all around them. Her right foot moved back as she lowered herself slightly, taking a stance that appeared as though she would catch whatever came next with her bare hands. As Sol focused on the tsunami of clouds, mentally chanting her mantra, no shield came. How could she focus in a time like this? The city was falling apart right before her very eyes, there was a civilian behind her that was depending on her for safety, and her friend was on the brink of death. Amongst everything else going on, of course.

I'm not going to die getting shot in the head with a table leg.

Her actions needed to mean something, and they needed to matter now. Sol did something that might seem equal parts dumb and terrifying to an onlooker. She closed her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Sol pictured the brunette whose life she was trying to save. She thought of when she caught the woman in her arms and the relief she felt when they locked eyes. How the girl had stayed behind to ensure that others knew what happened on Coruscant, whether it fell to the dark or was to be saved and salvaged by the light. How she may have attempted to make light of their horrible circumstances with that 'No, I'm Halsia,' line Sol was only now realizing was a joke.

Then the mirialan thought of Kyric and his tattered body as he struggled for survival. Not even days prior, he was joking, laughing, smiling. Had two eyes. The image of a pristine, smiling, and intact Kyric was inescapable in the padawan's brain. She would give him all her strength in this moment if she could. The 'focus' mantra was replaced with a roaring, 'he can do it,' that replayed faster and sooner every time it echoed in her mind until it gave way to silence.

The padawan exhaled.

And I can do this.

A forcefield flashed into place around the two women just in time for a senate seat to shatter against it like glass.

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Tag: Sara Roche Thomas Barran​

Considering the options laid out Minerva stayed silent while the gunship's engines continued to roar outside adding to the ever growing symphony of violence consuming Coruscant. They can't single handedly defeat an armored legion by themselves but they can slow the Mawities down as long as they can. Turning to her commandos onboard they shared a knowing look.

They all knew what they signed for.

"Copy that Commander. We‘ll buy you time in the south. Just make sure your trick is ready as soon as possible."

Switching to the whole company's channel the Mandalorian warrior proclaimed.

"Alright gang, listen up here what we're going to do…”

It didn't take long to explain her new plan and they landed just south of the skyscraper. Among the rubble the snappers laid their latest traps on the few pathways that remained while scouts, snipers and their few drones watched for hostiles and marking suitable hidden positions that were soon occupied further away from the marine-occupied skyscraper.

Once the forward Mawite units were spotted approaching the drones were withdrawn and the front line Talon squads let the first wave of hostiles pass, still concealed within the ruins. But after letting sufficient numbers of troops and vehicles move in they detonate a dozen charges within the pathways or so simultaneously. Multiple vehicles would be either destroyed and damaged.

As soon as that happened sniper teams scattered all over at vantage points started shooting at surviving infantry for a few seconds before disappearing.

Meanwhile commandos with missile launchers at various high points unleashed their collective volley at remaining vehicles on the front columns functioning that they could target. Then they withdrew to escape Mawite retaliation. Swifty the hidden squads with Minerva among them leaped out from their hiding places to ambush the battered Maw vanguard from behind and on the flanks. Using their jetpack mobility to evade and outmaneuver their opponents on the ground but staying as close as possible and attempt to overwhelm them with speed combined with firepower

Staying this close was meant to prevent their enemies from using artillery or air strikes on them in hopes they didn’t want to waste their own troops. Of course in the event their foes are ruthless enough to fire anyway Talons will have a better chance of escaping such barrages than their enemy counterparts.

Kicking an enemy rifleman in the chest and sending him reeling, Minerva blasted him at point blank range while he was down. Then she went sideways to the left via jetpack engines to evade blaster-fire. She flew further in the air, sniping two more hostiles on the right flank. Deep down the t-visor warrior hoped the marines would finish up their trap soon.

 

[Ronval Rubat]

AURORA, PARABELLUM
Special Agent ██████ - 'R U S T Y'
Strategic Intelligence Agency​

Location: Aboard the Initium, Strategic Intelligence Agency HQ, Coruscant
Objective: Stop Intruders
Equipment: Operative Suit, SPS-25 Sidearm, AT-SI27 Stun Blaster, C-11 "Nastirci" Combat Knife

Spoiler: drip check

Tags: Alicia Drey

"Qâzoi Kyantuska!"

A great shadow fell upom Ronval's mind- the exertions finally took their toll, and his anti-mind-control training fell like flimsy walls against a tidal wave. The darkness washed over him, swamping his mind, a veil over conscious thought. It was like falling into a sudden nap- snippets of the waking world flashing occasionally, melting into amorphous half-dreams.

He was moving, and he felt like he should remember... something. Something important?

As Darth Ayra stood on the landing ramp of her ship- cape bellowing in the wind as the Initium begun to take off- she summoned her last bit of strength to force Ronval inside. Stumbling after him the ramp closed and the ship recloaked. Collapsing onto her behind the Sith magic wore off and Ronval was himself again.

He blinked, and he was inside a... ship. Whose ship? His senses seemed to melt back into his bone and skin, and back into his mind. The panels, the windows, their design was all so almost stereotypically... imperial. Sith.

Ronval whirled around and saw the Sith fall backward, taking a breather. A pneumatic hiss off to the side- the ramp was sealed and locked.

Dammit! I'm not getting locked up to be experimented like a rat! He ran- and stumbled, as the ship lifted off. The cockpit, where was it?

"I didn't sign up for this field trip!" His head pounded- whatever the Sith did to him, his brain felt bruised. Ronval was reduced to crawling across the floor, straining to get to the cockpit. It was quite a pitiful sight.

 

[Alicia Drey]

---

---

Tags: Ronval Rubat
Objective: Total War - Attacking the Headquarters of the Strategic Intelligence Agency, S.I.A.
New Objective: Escape Coruscant Alive.
Equipment: The Initium, Portable Dampening Field, The Cone of Silence, The Domestic Surveillance of Direct Threats, #3567-956-827, Cortosis
Transportation Crates, Curved Lightsaber Hilt, Slicing Unit, The Imperial Immortals, Annihilator-class Boarding Shuttles.

---

As the Initium flew through the torn and destroyed ecumenopolis that was Coruscant's upper levels Darth Ayra sat by the landing ramp exhausted. Despite her makeshift bandage that she had wrapped around her hurt hand the blood was oozing from her palm and she was watching it drip onto the polished floor of her ship. But her eyes were unfocused and they felt heavy. It was as if she was staring through her own hand into nothingness. Darth Ayra longed to sleep. A long, dreamless rest that would take her away from here where her dreams were there to make up for this bastard life.

But it would continue to elude her so long as she was in danger.

"I didn't sign up for this field trip!"

That was right. She had brought the last of the S.I.A defenders on board with her as she had escaped. In a moment of cunning- or, perhaps, desperation- Darth Ayra had seized the moment to secure something out of this. Whoever this man was he had successfully held her at bay long enough to encrypt the terminal that would have given her access to the Strategic Intelligence Agency's database. If she had been victorious then Ayra would have deleted the files that they had logged about her. Then, if there had been time, she would have planted data that she had falsified to look legitimate that would have implicated a leak within the Sith Order.

But they had stopped her, and now the person responsible for it was clawing towards her cockpit. So Ayra had adapted to the situation as any Master of the dark side does. The ethereal that she inhabited with the likes of Ronval Rubat created transient events which presented circumstances that could go unforeseen. In these moments all that you could accomplish was to snatch the moment and turn it into your property. Surrender yourself to the moment itself and adapt appropriately. If Ronval could encrypt the S.I.A database then, in turn, it made logical sense that he knew how to decrypt the data. So she had taken him with her as she tried to escape the battle.

As Darth Ayra looked up away from her bleeding palm to where Ronval was crawling she found herself looking upon a tenacious man ready to fight until his last breath. As she reached out to grab hold of something to stand up Darth Ayra found herself coughing furiously into her palm. The fit almost made her pass out but she fought to stay conscious. No doubt the smoke that had filled the terminal room had hurt her in some way. Her lungs burned and she longed for some water to satisfy the thirst.

For a second time Darth Ayra reached out to stand up and slowly climbed back up to her feet. Every muscle in her body felt like it was roaring in protest. Pleading with her to stop. But Darth Ayra would not stop. She had to stop Ronval from gaining control of the Initium and then get both of them out of here. In the fighting Ayra did not know if the Empire or the Alliance were winning the battle, and quite frankly, she didn't want to stick around to find out. So she struggled and laboured to her feet. When Darth Ayra found her footing she unclipped her Lightsaber from her hip and stumbled towards Ronval.

As she struggled to walk towards him Darth Ayra lost her footing as the Initium was propelled to the left just as she was about to lunge and smash the back of her weapon to the base of Ronval's skull. In the fall Ayra managed to hit the back of her hilt off his cranium to knock him out, and at the same time, hit the stairs which led up to the cockpit hard. Rolling onto her back the last thing that Ayra saw was a child looking over her. As the haze begun to settle over her heavy eyes, and ink black begun to wash over her consciousness, Ayra thought that the girl was familiar. Like a long lost friend.

Just as she was about to fall unconscious Darth Ayra saw the girl lower themselves down to her height and whisper in her ear:

I miss us . . .

Last post.​

 

[Thomas Barran]

7th Post

-THE COREWARD CHRONICLES-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE MAWSWORN
HEATHEN SAINT OF ROGUES AND OUTLAWS
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags (Friend): Keilara Kala'myr Arminius Kroeger Defias Lord Mor'zhul
Kazian Blackwood Scylla AI Vaudimir Traith Reiner Ghadi Pious Tapp
The Grunt Roxy Rizzan Kuff Tolt

Tags (Foe): Anthony Gray Sun Gress D'ran Lodd Grimmin Drego Ruus
Natasi Fortan Alicio Organa Raphael Calgar Dyrn Grav Achan Jaikavi
Katarine Ryiah Lupa Visz Marauder Ashley Nevermore Zandra Ruus
Minerva Fhirdiad Syd Celsius

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR VI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US - PART 12

OP: RHIGAR, 200 METRES SOUTH OF EAST TOWER,
SLUM ZONE 4, CORUSCANT (901 ABY)

TLDR

Spoiler

-Ratchet receives the recording from his Khan
-Ratchet sends out his highest-ranked Aspirants to prepare for battle
-Ratchet dismisses the droid, cues return-to-Matriarch

-Ratchet sends Dredge to scavenge for enemy weapons
-Dredge soon confirms task is complete

-Tommy arrives
-Clique 2 perishes
-Ratchet commences the ambush

RATCHET "THE MANTELLIAN MASTIFF"
WARCHIEF OF THE "FERAL 4TH" ASPIRANTS BATTALION

[Relaying audio-recording....]
[Aspirants, ready your souls for violence! You've got a gathering contingent chasing westward. Arm the heaviest weapons within reach. I'll be with you shortly.... Glory awaits.]
[Playback complete.]
​

'Well, chit! We expect later, no? "Maybe not Coruscant, maybe another.", we say, all the time before now we say.... Is Bloodhound finally gone - feral?'

Fairly gobsmacked by the sudden arrival of the droid, carrying an exact, voice-matched recording from the Great Khan himself, it would take everyone in the room a moment or two to process exactly what such implications meant, and especially for the long-term ambitions guiding the Aspirants of the Feral 4th. This was doubtlessly expected to be the fight of a lifetime for their small collective, but if the Ferals were able to prevail against the odds stacking against them, the prestige (and the high-coveted status that went with the impending ascension to the caste of Marauderdom) for which they worked doggedly would likely follow, incentive awaiting for excelling under pressure.

'Hope so, hope so.... This is good thing.'

This was most-certainly a language these veteran non-coms could understand, and quite fluently at that.

'What, you want written invitation? You heard Great Khan - PREPARE FOR GLORY!!!!'

With a collective lurch towards the door to the comm-tower's stairwell, the Aspirants serving subordinate to the Mastiff would rise to their feet and set to arming for battle accordingly, leaving the hulking Mantellian menace to his musings in peace, loading every effect weapon they had whilst Ratchet himself devised his means of springing the ideal ambush. Knowing full-and-well by then that a large pursuing contingent was chasing their Khan towards their outpost, and with the fortifications sent down from the Ark, and the general circular zone of control around their hastily-dug trenchlines, there lay the ideal conditions for springing the Mastiff's brutalising trap. Much less to work with than the Mantellian wanted, but then again, intel was always somewhat scant in the lower-rungs of the Khanate - giving rise to all things intuitive in it's absence.

[Your orders?]​

'Ah, of course.... Protocol-shortcut: Four-Six Delta.'

[Returning to Matriarch. Good luck, Marauder.]​

Stepping over to the window, the Mastiff smiled to see the urgency of the supply-teams in the courtyard below, all sprinting with weapons and ammunition in every possible direction, anticipatory preparation for the arrival of their Coruscantine guests. A hopeful sight it was to see as these Marauders-in-waiting darted hither and yon, and regardless of conquered or cultural Mawsworn ties to the Khan, the Mastiff could take comfort in the fact these so-called Greenhorns had been forged into decent Raiders already, trusted to the last pair of boots to obey for the sake of the battalion's future. Outcomes that still had a chance to yield more generations of their ilk, these implications of which Ratchet's collective also understood, and again, quite fluently at that.

Reason enough to hold firm against the enormity of every task these Aspirants had endured to make it that far.

'Show me your sneak.... Hide well, hit better.'

The opposing MBTs and infantry units to the north of their position had already been repulsed, though the Ferals knew this was achievable in their far-flung, flanking sector of the counteroffensive, leading the Aspirants' collective focus eastward for reconnaissance and long-distance observation; and for as long as the active comms remained calm and inconsequential for the most part, the hulking Mantellian was granted time enough to consider the heavier elements of the firepower he had at his disposal, though it didn't take Ratchet long to realise the sole artillery cannon was better served bolstering the last line of defence.

<"Dredge!">
<"How can I help, Mastiff?">
<"You scavenge - from north front?">
<"Not yet-">
<"-Get good weapon for attack! Fething-! Aaah.... Clock ticking, yes?">
<"Copy that, Mastiff. Sitrep inbound. Dredge - out!">
​

Tensions were rising, enflaming irritability in the process of awaiting their Khan's arrival, but despite the creeping intensification of urgency frosting certain interactions between brethren, all was still cordial enough that even Ratchet's impatience was easy enough for his subordinates to shrug off for the greater good of the battalion. Reserving every enmity, every slight and every last insult for the Khan's ill-fated pursuers, along with all that was bottled up in slow-building aggravation before, it would soon become clear that the Ferals had been waiting for an opportunity like this, marking the divine gift of glory from a living Heathen saint. Beliefs forming in the heat of battle, eliminating the last doubts stopping the Aspirants from believing in themselves, and within those beliefs, an assurance so strong it was beginning to forge a newfound confidence in the brethren fighting alongside them.

Ratchet knew he still had something of a grace-period to work with, though as much as the Mastiff felt his Khan's arrival was overdue by then, he knew there were better things to do than waste time on trivialities, as every extra second of time-bought for the Ferals would make all the difference in the latter stages of the engagement. After all, it was one thing to punch out from cover in shock-and-awe, but another entirely to jump out from cover to continue the fight at length, and it was the latter scenario of which the Mastiff was preparing at the time - throwing every offensive resource he had into the greatest gamble of his life.

<"Dredge to Mastiff, reporting progress.">
<"Speak.">
<"Good haul this time. We got shoulder-mount launchers, recoilless-">
<"-Good news, you send to east front?">
<"Copy that, we sent - everything! All but this ATGM, this stays with 2nd Clique.">
<"Good luck! Heh! Just don't misfire, take - your - time. Mastiff out.">​

Fortunately for the Feral 4th, time would continue to pass by uneventfully, with the city seemingly going mad in every district beyond the Mawsworn-Imperial lines, a cataclysmic madness of which that seemed to be erupting everywhere but the far west of the battlefront in this long, nerve-fraying calm before the storm. But like with all good things in the Galaxy, this resource of reprieve was every part as finite, keeping the Mantellian on edge as his eyes scanned the coutyard below one last time before mayhem ensued. Starting from the east gate of the compound itself, seemingly formed from the dust of the streets beyond, Ratchet's harbinger casually strolled his way into the compound, staring up at the Mastiff's window with every step.

The Bloodhound had arrived, drawing back the hood of his cloak to reveal the golden mask - standing as Ratchet's prompt to commence the ambush.

<"Dredge to Mastiff.... They're here-">
BOOOOOOM​

Like a doomsaying harbinger of death, wherever the Khan roamed, death and destruction followed; bringing with him all the gathered pursuers accumulated in the game of Hunter/Hunted, and just like the lives of Dredge and the 2nd Clique, the Bloodhound's little game was to end every part as abruptly. Their foes had finally arrived to fight in the shadow of the western slum-tower, and for once, the Mantellian felt he was ready for the great test of his Woad-born leader's design, shocked though he was by the Woad's sudden arrival. Staring each other down as a shockwave surged through the outpost around them, and without so much as a single instant's breaking of eye-contact between them as Barran drawled,'Been a while, Mantellian.... Lets see how far you've come since Berestina.', just two floors down from his awestruck subordinate.

<"All Ferals.... Weapons - FREEEEE!!!!">

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR VI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US - PART 13

EAST TOWER ON RIEMAR BOULEVARD,
SLUM ZONE 4, CORUSCANT (901 ABY)

DREAMER DARKHAN - 3

TLDR

Spoiler

-The Scav Kings engage disarrayed northern salient
-Dreamer looks beyond the last GADF/MP obstacle to isolated Imperials
-Dreamer finds local mercenaries killing Firefang Wardogs in their cages
-Mercenaries slaughtered, no Wardogs left to utilise
-The Scav Kings make the last stretch to Storm squad in the north

'THEY DARED TO PUSH US THIS FAR, SO REWARD THEM ACCORDINGLY - REWARD COMPLACENCY!!!!'​

In order to make the offensive's next phase as easy as possible for the Grunt's Thunder gang, Dreamer Darkhan knew he needed to leave scant few or less for the Witnessed, as there would be more fighting yet to endeavour before the Thunder could roll south again, more glory yet to seek before they returned to HQ with the Recognition they coveted. The Grunt's riders would doubtlessly be needed for the next stretch of Coruscanti real-estate, and perhaps even more for the attempt to break the ongoing envelopment around Storm and Boomer squads, with the Thunder's mobility and speed of attack being the greatest attribute the Darkhan could utilise in such predicaments, an asset to any coordinator with shock-storming intent.

'HOLD THE GROUND YOU TAKE, THIS IS HOW WE ROUT THEM!!!! STAND FIRM, STAAAAND FIRM!!!!'

Dornum was pushing the GA's static-line eastward with the support of the Grunt's riders, working to hold a new line as a new grey-zone widened beyond their stopping-point, already freeing up enough space for the Thunder gang's surviving warriors to join the next phase of Dreamer's attack. It was enough to see the riders' assistance of Dornum's contingent on it's own, as the Darkhan could see for himself that the Grunt's contingent was endeavouring above and beyond their newfound strategic purpose by then, so the Scav Kings were all quite happy to handle stubborn stragglers for their peers, with nearly every armoured Marauder in attendance vocal in eagerness to watch the Thunder roll on another, larger collective of soft targets.

'I KNOW YOUR ARMOUR WAS BUILT FOR THIS, NOW MUSCLE OUT THEIR LAST SALIENT - DO IT FOR THE THUNDER!!!!'

Depleted though the Thunder gang was, and even whilst still reeling from an Imperial artillery barrage, the Grunt's collective were still unshaken after this rather-taxing case of stir-crazy insubordination, the first of it's sort in nearly twenty years for the Mawsworn remnants. Lucky then that the Grunt's eagerness would met in the middle, and to make it all the better for the surviving riders, that earnest would find a bolster by the reinforcement of a man who wanted to push even farther, a renegade Chiss who was gazing much farther than the counteroffensive salient the Khanate was still working to collapse at the time. But even that would draw away from the Darkhan's focus eventually, and before long the Thunder would be recalled by the idled, north-facing Marauders, giving Dreamer the manpower he needed to endeavour (what already appeared to be-) the last Khanate relief-action of the battle.

​

'So you've gotten a taste for victory, huh? Even on the little morsels I've offered you thusfar? Good.... Thats gonna prove vital where we're going - THE NORTH AWAITS!!!!'

What may have sounded mad to the ears of the civilised, and perhaps even to the most-prolific killers of the Galaxy's soldiering castes, could only send ecstatic shivers down the spines of the Scav Kings and the Thunder alike, reaching deeper into their souls than mere encouragements ever could. Some would smile, some even would sneer appreciatively, but all would react with more intensity when the Darkhan exclaimed,'Our allies are currently surrounded beyond those buildings there, and we have some distance to cover if we wanna reach them in time, but despite the daunting prospect of the task itself - I believe we can break that encirclement! I BELIEVE WE CAN WIN!!!!', bellowing, ululating, and even beating their chests with raucous approval of a hunger that closely resembled their own.

'For the Thunder, the Scav Kings, the Khan, AND THE AVATARS!!!! WAR, DEATH - REBIIIIIIIIIIIIIRTH!!!!'

And so a Marauding pioneer lept into the dusty yonder, leading from the front as his mentor had before him - sprinting with the Avatars and the Maw's finest running in right behind him.

The last, pivotal phases of the planetary assault were finally upon them, and in the act of working against the GADF's general, instinctive preparations to withdraw, the Khanate relief-forces were in no mood to let up on the shock-storming pressure; further-assured in their rush to reach Storm and Boomer squads when they realised the approach would remain uncontested until the last segment, and as a result of the much-needed breathing room, the Darkhan's contingent were able to conserve their strengths in the effort to save time. Yet the reprieve would meet with it's natural end eventually, though not quite in the manner the relief-force were expecting at the time, and in the moment they saw muzzle flashes in and around the dropzone they were trying to reach along the way, it became quickly apparent that OPFOR riflemen were opening fire on the Firefang Wardogs still caged at the time.

'What are your orders, Ulusar? We can't let that insult sl-'

The ensuing howls of agony would abruptly cast any and all lingering doubts on the likelihood, and in those howls the Marauders would find their resolve to take their fight to it's natural conclusion, regardless of whatever that conclusion was in the end. No more insults of the sort would stand, as there was punishment still awaiting their foes for the orbital bombardment on Empress Teta, and in seeing the sad end of warbeasts who deserved to die bravely - the very spirit-animal of the Scar Hound dynasty was bein desecrated in brutal, heinous fashion.

'-Pick your targets, take 'em down.... But please, Gouger. Nothing fancy, you know our policy - always assume that supplies were dropped with the cages. Nomad doctrine, remember?'

<"Gouger to Cliques 3rd and 6th! Switch to thermals - leave none alive, but make it clean.">
<"Clean is what you're supposed to call us for, Chief. Sixth Actual - moving in.">
​

The renegade Chiss would signal the others to scout northward, increasing readiness to move out at a moment's notice, along with a decent barrier from any untimely counterattacks along the way, such that were still very-much expected despite turning the tide. As just like any ocean, the Galaxy's fiercest battles often resembled the seatides that ebbed and flowed frequently, regardless of advantage or personnel disparities, and it was on this that Dreamer was always counting on occurring sooner or later. As the Dreamer knew these new warfighting generations were somewhat pluckier in the Core these days, a pervading truth had been baring it's ugly head a lot lately, but regardless one such matter of which he would never take for granted.

<"Third Actual - taking oblique. Larger squad takes the most ground.">
<"Copy that.">​

Just a short pause of tension followed, made all the easier to track by the fact their targets were operating fewer than two-hundred metres away, convenient enough to catch at least some of the proceedings Gouger could see (in detail) on his HUD display.

<"Positioning complete, Third is in place.">
<"Mark and claim your targets.">
<"Refresh.">
<"Refresh.">
<"Good, standby.">​

'Send it.'

<"Weapons free, your Green Light is given.">​

Making short work of their otherwise-preoccupied opposition, a short-lived, staggered successive burst of disruptor-fire lit up the street ahead, with each and every rifle firing singular shots before the shadowy silence returned, serving as visual proof of their collective's clean marksmanship. A sudden realisation of which soon brought a newfound comfort to the raging mind of the renegade Chiss, and in that comfort awaited a newfound respect for the Scav Kings' lighter-armoured scions, believing in those he had assumed would be dead long before that moment; but in his tempering of expectations, Dreamer was still making plans for the Thunder with the Third and Sixth Cliques in mind, a design of hard-hitting ranged support to screen the Grunt's approach to any given target-formation.

<"Free to move up, Chief. None of the warhounds made it.">
<"Doing the Avatars' work, lads. Return to formation - last leg from here.">
<"Copy that, Chief. Sixth Actual - out!">
​

'Can't do anything about it now, can we? LETS MOVE!!!!'

​

While the trigger-happy were still arming for the next phase of the fight, (trying their hardest not to look at the dead Firefangs as their hip-packs and slug-clips were still being replenished) the Darkhan would wisely start making his move on the envelopment around Storm and Boomer squads, marching north with Slugthrower-shotgun shouldered at the ready, poised for any possible ambush, sniper or foolish last-stand. The two phases of Scav King attack would certainly work to their favour, and especially so with the wilder, spray-and-pray shooters holding back their own advance to reload at the time, as their sort would always pack a heftier punch without peers there to temper such abandon. Ideal as a second wave of encirclement-breaking assault, and perhaps especially if certain contingencies came into play at the final hurdle - a small, but impactful blessing the Darkhan knew he needed.

But little did the relief-force know that a contingency was exactly what their foes had in mind for them, perhaps even their grandest yet on the eastern front, and it seemed that Dreamer was leading his men right into the midst of it. Mastering all things strategy from the moment they first engaged, excelling in all things urban-doctrine in hardworking flow, and all until the moment the renegade Chiss was fated to meet with the work of kindred strategists, marching cautiously to adversity, but without so much as a clue of the roadblock that was just minutes away from crashing down on the shortest route to the northern salient. The Darkhan would certainly need his wit and experience in it's wake, and in the midst of all the dust, rubble and area-denial tactics, the very fate of the Imperial assault would depend on the merit of Dreamer's response.

 

[Alicio Organa]

FEDERAL ASSEMBLY, SENATE OFFICES
CORUSCANT
- Natasi Fortan - Raphael Calgar - Achan Jaikavi - Katarine Ryiah - Kazian Blackwood - Reiner Ghadi - Dyrn Grav -
​

Alicio kept his eyes firmly on the doorway behind them, willing someone to come through those doors. Nobody did, friend or foe, despite his hopes for the former, and fears of the latter. It seemed they would be making their drop alone.

True to his word, Alicio was the last to jump, having fastened his repulsor pack as the others threw themselves out the hatch, tossing his cape over one side. Then, graceful as an otter slipping into a river, the king of Alderaan dove out of the senate building head-first.

The wind whipping past Alicio, the inertia as he fell, stripped his thoughts bare, demanded his attention. He first became aware of the sound of his cloak, flapping in the breeze behind him. Then, his breathing, strained and heavy. Finally... He noticed the ship.

How? How could this have happened?

Nearing the ground, Alicio tucked midair, twisting his body until he was falling feet-first. Then, he activated his pack, the harness jostling against his body, stealing the breath from his lungs. A small application of the Force later, and Alicio's boots lightly kissed the ground.

"Everyone alright?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The ground -- not that one could call it ground, really, when it was merely the top layer of a thousand layers of city -- rushed at Natasi with alarming speed. She turned her attention from that to Dyrn and, beyond him, his team and her fellow Senators. It might have been the most ludicrous things to see, a handful of armed security and Senators trailing Natasi like some kind of mother duck and her ducklings. It almost certainly would have been if it weren't dwarfed by the great dome of the Galactic Senate shuddering apart, disintegrating as it collapsed from atop and around a massive battleship.

Natasi was old, despite her youthful appearance -- thanks in large part to a cloned body. She had been an eyewitness to dozens of events many would consider to be once-in-a-lifetime; she had been part of them in many cases: the showdown at Kaeshana, the declaration of war with the Galactic Alliance, the Omega Crisis, the massing of fleets at Csilla for their ill-fated attempt to protect the Chiss homeworld, both sackings of Dosuun by the Ssi-Ruuk Imperium. Natasi would have preferred a more peaceful life, if only for the fact that historical events tended to come with very large body counts. And here she was again, witnessing yet another once-in-a-lifetime event.

It took a lot to make her dumbstruck, but this...

So distracted by watching this cataclysm was she that she didn't realize she had reached the ground until her shoes touched down and, without preparing, momentum carried her down, and she rather unceremoniously landed hard on her behind, matching a very un-Galidraani blunder with a very un-Galidraani curse under her breath.

Natasi unclasped her repulsor pack before trying to stand up. Along with the Senators and Dyrn and his men, debris was starting to clatter down, with flimsiplast and other detritus from the Senate building. Picture frames and styluses, computer screens and glasses, sofas and desks. Luckily for them, most of these items were falling directly down from the top of the ship as the building shook apart, not having the benefit of the repulsor packs, and so by the time the group had landed, all but the flimsiplast had made its way down. The papers streamed down like so much tickertape, a perverse parade celebrating the destruction of the emblem of galactic democracy.

Natasi went to Dyrn, unsure whether to embrace or scold him. She chose both, flinging her arms around him before he could even unfasten his repulsor pack. "Never!" she exclaimed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Ever! Do that! Again!" Each word punctuated by a kiss to his cheek, alternating between the two. "You could have been killed!" And she buried her face against his repulsor pack until finally realizing her position and that he would probably want to get out of the ungainly thing, at which point she reluctantly released him and stepped back.

"By the Balance," she whispered, her attention going over Dyrn's shoulder as the ruin of the Senate building continued to rain down along the cityscape. "I can't make myself believe it." Her hand groped for his, subconsciously seeking strength and stability in a world gone mad.

As per usual, Senator Organa made things look easy and graceful as he landed lightly. Natasi self-consciously brushed her rear end from the dust that she had gathered when she tumbled; her relief in seeing him alive and well overwhelmed her envy-based stab of irritation. "In one piece, for now," she answered Alicio distractedly, looking around for the rest of the party as she patted her pockets. "Damn and blast, I left my commlink in the office like an idiot. Can anyone get a signal? I don't think we should stay here."

Dyrn Grav | Raphael Calgar | Alicio Organa | Achan Jaikavi | Katarine Ryiah
Kazian Blackwood | Reiner Ghadi | Thomas Barran​

 

[Gress D'ran]

Allies: Nyles Kote Rolin Voss Sara Roche Minerva Fhirdiad
Engaging: Thomas Barran The Grunt
UPDATED BATTLE MAP:

Spoiler

​

The jaws of death closed on the Imperials. As the Thundercats pushed forward, blaster bolts and rockets bouncing off heavy shields, the sound of the Anthem of the Alliance blasted over short range comms. The sight of fleeing and surrendering Imperials was a sight Captain Tranka relished in.

Under the command of Gress D'ran, the Hellstompers had gained a reputation as undefeated. And despite the casualties, that had remained an unbroken streak.

And yet...

As the formation of massive walkers turned south to face the Maw, the Captain couldn't help but count the dead.

Three Lynxes, lost to the depths of the city.

Five Tigers, lost to enemy fire.

Three Wildcats to the south.

And any number of marines. The commanders and gunners could be counted later. The dead would be honored.

Now it's time to finish this fight.

As the Thundercats pushed forward, Minerva Fhirdiad and Lucas Gracin 's troops could hear the sound of mortars zipping overhead, before landing on Thomas Barran 's lines as they pushed in, before the explosions of flak rounds began over the maw's heads. Shrapnel of Durasteel shards began raining down on Maw positions, before the heavy beam cannons finally opened up, as Pumas reinforced VSF and Mando lines. Soon after, the two remaining Tiger Walkers joined the fray, finally reinforcing the line with blaster fire.

The Eastern Corridor had been closed. Now it was time to push south.

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Allied Tag: Lucas Gracin Sara Roche Gress D'ran Rolin Voss Nyles Kote

Enemy Tag: The Grunt Thomas Barran​

Taking cover behind a destroyed speeder Minerva put in a fresh clip to her particle rifle. Then she hopped away from the position via jetpack, firing away at a trio of hostiles. One was killed with a round through the left eye and another clipped in the right shoulder but the third foe evaded to an alleyway before retaliating with his repeater. A stream of blaster volleys forced Minerva to cease shooting as she landed on a rooftop to escape the furious barrage. The Mawitie gunner roared in defiance but was immediately silenced by a sniper bolt through the neck and he collapsed face first..

"Still got your back Cap." Irni said on the comm channel from her hidden position. Grateful Minerva smiled replying.

"Another one I owe ya ruug'la burc'ya(old friend)."

Throughout the Talons fought using their mobility to deny and frustrate their hated enemies as much as possible. Still commandos fell one by one. Minerva grimaced as a baldish red-skinned Zabark rookie was blasted in the chest before falling back to the rubble below. Just as the Mandalorian captain was about to message Sara for an update when she picked up the Alliance theme blaring on all the comms.

Then the mortar rounds rained ahead of them into the main Maw front. Sumi excitedly called out in the Talons' frequency.

"The 34th has annihilated the Imperial pocket! They're advancing all across the south. I repeat they're advancing!"

Sure enough Alliance armor appeared not just on their sector but throughout the southern line. At the sight around them many Talon commandos cheered. The tide was turning! Seizing the moment Minerva transmitted her next order to the whole company.

"All squads except Irni’s forward! Support the 34th!"

Jettisoning upwards the commandos not killed or wounded or treating said wounds followed in unison with the Hellstomper armor in their area. The advanced, hopping on rooftops or rubble on their flanks and flying above them while providing covering fire with their firearms and other weapons. Being among the latter Minerva utilitized her rangefinder, targeting a Mawite speeder with a mounted turret firing away at the nearest target. Target locked on she unleashed her second and last rocket from the jetpack. It quickly slammed into a speeder's front, rendering it a burning wreck amongst a pile of debris.

 

[Halsia Hewitt]

_________________________________________
Sol Dara
_________________________________________
​

Halsia took Sol's hand, fumbling through the debris behind the Jedi's careful steps. Though the corpses were momentarily absent, their surroundings felt like death -- a collapse, the world she called home falling to pieces. A trillion lives uprooted in an instant. She saw a history spoken through a sea of rubble; old furniture, glass shards, a somehow-still-intact porcelain teacup and saucer. Were it not for the imminent danger, she would stop and take more pictures.

Her opportunity to do so came in the worst way possible. The floor rumbled, and she gripped Sol's hand tighter to steady herself. A black-hulled ship cut through the Senate Plaza, breaching the surface like some terrible sea monster.

She took a picture.

"Oh, blast." The wave of debris rolled closer. Her eyes darted around, searching for purchase on someplace to shelter. She found nothing. "Where- where should we go?"

But Sol was not there -- her gaze was distant for a moment, and Halsia felt very small again. The wall of dust and death approached, and she started to panic. Something flew by her head. Then Sol was back, and there was a barrier, and then there wasn't, and Halsia figured something was better than nothing and tackled Sol to the ground.

She tried to hold on to her, but she couldn't really feel anything anymore. Something hit her shoulder and the only thing she could feel was pain like she'd never imagined, and she curled up smaller and spoke every prayer to no one like it would save her. It was hours under there, and in an instant it was over, the debris passed forward.

"Sol... Sol? Are you..." She couldn't see anything, everything dusty and dark, but she felt something warm in her hand. And her other hand, something warm and wet, the one attached to the arm that was bent in the way that arms weren't meant to bend. "Aah- ahaaaah-"

And she started to cry, and choke on the dust.

 

[Vortex]

|| LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE||

~All of that green and yellow, that drip from your eyes is tellin'~

OBJECTIVES: I. Broadcast the propaganda from the Coruscant Broadcasting Center; II. Bomb the explosive cache Survive
TAG: Nero Drake

Spoiler

​

CORUSCANT, CORE WORLDS

Between the sound of the screeching predators flying around trying to snatch one of my crew mates, and the footsteps of the Hellions closing in, this mission is not going well at all.

<NEED BACKUP!>

<COVER FLANK!>

<GOTCHA!>

Sunspot sprinted towards one Dianoga in front of Vaapad with vibroblade on hand, while Tress Way blasted another one with his blaster rifle. Sunspot proceeded to slash the beast’s two tentacles, causing it to screech and launching itself blindly in rampage.

<WATCH YOUR HEAD!>

The collision of the beast with the metal structure caused a minor shake and distracted the other Dianoga, which Brutus and Rosé effectively mowed down.

<THE THUGS ARE HERE!>

The Hellions moved in swiftly lead by their young commander, ambushing the area like they know this place in and out. That could’ve spelled disaster for our disjointed and occupied unit, yet they seem to shift all their focus on the predators instead of us.

That bought us enough time to regroup on the other end of the area.

<They’re occupied, we shall get going!>

<Tress Way, XO, Vaapad, cover the rear! We’ve spent way too much time here.>

Just as we managed to slipped out of the Hellions visions, pursuing a sole tunnel that might lead us closer to the Senate district, the ground rumble alongside cracking and clashing sounds of metals. Just in front, the ground breaks as some kind of metallic structure thrusted upwards from the ground. What in the hell was that…

<GET BACK!>

The area of impact quickly widened, as we ran away from the breaking ground that seems like chasing us and trying to eat us alive. Chaos erupted, the Dianogas are panicking, the thugs scrambling, or was that all just in my head?

I can’t even think straight, can’t even think of my crew mates, can’t even react to any of that.

This wasn’t anywhere in the plan. How is our imminent victory always takes away from our finest? First, our Despot, the living and breathing dream of the Empire. Now, this… whatever the hell that was, that would possibly annihilate whatever left of Coruscant, the very planet we’ve dreamt of ruling with Justice and Order through the Iron Hand of the Empire. And how many more of our finest men and women are going to pay the price for this…

warmongering ambition of an Emperor…

that has nothing to do with our once great Imperial Order…

that once was the enemy of our valiant heroes?

It all started to make sense as the ground swallowed us, so cruel, so unbiased.

How are we so dumb to trust whatever regime this is. Our faith, our vigour played like a kid manipulated by his parents’ murderer.

And then it all goes black. And a white noise. And a vigorous lust for revenge deep inside a man so near to his end.

|| EXIT POST ||​