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"Such a thing could be made real, Senator. It would prove quite fortuitous if such evidence managed to make it's way to the Senate floor, anonymously." To fabricate such evidence would be overly simplistic, there were some among the Dark Lord's faithful who could manipulate technology to bring about the desired results. Not only that, but the Dark Lord held sway over several individuals who occupied technical and mechanical positions that would give them access to what was required to validate their findings.
"The Jedi will not so readily believe any such fabrications, but the Senate might be inclined to do so if their prejudices are sufficiently inflamed. All that would be required is the Senate to turn against the Jedi, and to do that we would have to make it appear that the Jedi are shielding their own from the Alliance's laws. It will require further investigation, but I believe I can find something that will work in our favor on Ukatis. Once our meeting has concluded, I will travel there to begin my search."
He would not leave such sensitive probing to lesser Sith, this required His personal touch. Once more, He would have to don the mask of Daeva and slip back into His old life as an Intelligence Agent for the Sith Empire, a life He wore before He became a Lord of the Sith.
"For your part, I would suggest assembling more like-minded Senators. Ones that would benefit from the lessening of the Jedi Order."
Sahan landed in the hangar of the cruiser and walked through like he belonged there. He had ARTUS unlock any locks in his way; it was a simple matter for the super AI. The golden-armored Mandalorian did get some strange looks from the passengers, but nobody bothered him. Actually, the whole thing was weird. What was a cruise liner doing near an active battlefield?
Sahan had come to Coruscant to hunt Sith, mostly because he was pissed and itching for a fight. An accident in his lab on Kestri had caused an explosion, costing him his Sangnir blood samples. He was experimenting to find a cure for the curse, but the blood was a lot more... volatile than he'd expected. The only way to get more was to hunt down some vampires. And the best bet was to search amongst the Sith.
Sahan happened to see what appeared to be a vampire feeding on Alliance soldiers. The creature did not appear to be a Sangnir -- in fact, his biosignature oddly gave off traces of terentatek, which was peculiar -- but it was close enough. And a Sith was a Sith. Sahan hadn't bothered to interfere with him feeding on the soldiers. He owed nothing to the traitorous Alliance. Anyone who would betray their allies... Instead, Sahan had tracked the vampiric Sith to this cruiser.
Sahan made his way through the crowds. He wondered if these people knew they were potential prey for a monster. Probably not. Not many would actually want to be. The biosignature showed the vampire was up in a suite at the top of the tower. The Mando made his way to the lift, which was a private one. Once it was unlocked, Sahan stepped inside. He did not particularly care for being stealthy and didn't mind if the vampire knew he was coming. Let him either quake in fear or be overconfident. Either way worked for Sahan.
After rising about halfway, the lift suddenly stopped. Sahan raised an eyebrow behind his helmet. The walls began to spray a substance into the lift, slowly filling it. Acid"Trying to etch my armor?" Sahan mumbled. "Guess I'll just force my way up." He unsheathed his Beskad and ignited the plasma edge. He flew up and slashed hard several times against the ceiling of the lift until he had a hole large enough for him to fly up through. He quickly flew up the rest of the way to the door on the top floor. He slashed away at it until he was through.
There was a man beyond, but he was not the vampire. "You're not the one I'm after. If you're neither vampire nor Sith, stand aside. I'm here for the one in the room beyond." He held out his sword, motioning for the man to step out of the way.
The woman looked over the evolving battle map projection with a nail in her mouth. It was a bad habit, chewing on her short nails when she was nervous. The 34th was pushing in the cut off the Maw forces, and the 3rd shock troops were in the middle of the disabling of the enemy artillery.
Still, they needed more troops. More men on the front. She could feel it, something was happening soon.
What she didn't expect was the arrival of a mandalorian battlecruiser hovering overhead. That could be a gift, or a curse. She needed answers.
"This is General Visz, hailing Mandalorian Battlecruiser. Identity yourself and your ship."
If they were hostile, this could go south very quickly...
Turning a corner, the difference between one street to the next was staggering. The area Sol had just left was largely quiet, lacking it's own battles. But this was definitely the edge of an active warzone. The sky was brighter now, illuminated by the fires of multiple ships ready to fall to the city below. Farther down the street was blaster fire. A stray bolt appeared out of a plume of smoke from whatever was burning on the street. Sol's eyes widened as she ducked to the side, the plasma nearly grazing her face.
Before she could make out what was on the other side of the smoke, and how many of that what there was, multiple starfighters swooped around the nearby buildings. Sol slowly backed up as she attempted to track them with her eyes, but they dipped and swerved so often that it was hard to predict their movements. Suddenly, an explosion on the opposite side of the street. The mirialan ducked around the corner of the closest building, luckily only a few feet away. Standing under a starfighter dogfight was never ideal. Another explosion, this one much bigger. Sol's eyes screwed shut as her fingers attempted to dig into the duracrete at her back as the ground shook.
Blue eyes went wide at the sound of a woman screaming. Now was no time to hide.
Racing out into the middle of the street, Sol's gaze stuttered before finally locking onto a woman falling from the apartment building diagonal to her, of which now had its own giant plume of smoke erupting from it. The sound of the dogfight continued. Multiple blasts were fired, some hitting adjacent buildings, some flying off and hitting buildings blocks away. Sol caught a glimpse of one of said shots knocking a chunk off the top of a distant skyscraper as she ran to the base of the apartment building.
Debris rained down, a mix of X-Wing and what once was someone's bedroom. The mirialan jumped over a chunk of duracrete and dodged a falling mirror. The sound of glass shattering was drowned out by the young woman's screaming as she plummeted closer to the ground below. With mere seconds remaining, Sol skidded to a stop below the woman before thrusting her hands above her head. The girl's speed slowed rapidly as Sol's telekinetic abilities were put to work. The girl and her camera fell gently into her arms. The mirialan let out a quiet sigh of relief as she carefully lowered the brunette's feet to the floor.
That could have been... so much worse.
Sol met the shorter woman's eyes. The mirialan only blinked for a moment until her train of thought, or lack thereof, was interrupted by a block of duracrete crashing to the ground only a few feet away. All of the sounds of battle and destruction returned, crashing down on Sol like a monsterous wave. "We must move!" That was all the warning the padawan gave before grabbing the brunette's free hand and running.
The starfighters made another lap. Several rounds of fire rained down onto the street and nearby buildings as the apartment the women just stood near crumbled with a roar.
Marauder shot a missile from his vambrace at the stormtroopers crowding his landing, the surrounding area glowed from the explosion, blasting most of the unit to smithereens. Three more stormtroopers rushed Marauder, he caught the stormtrooper on his right, striked him and threw him against the on on his left before drawing his blaster and shooting down the middle one. Now there was just one more ATST to worry about.
"This one's mine fellas!" One of his vod shouted. The ATST swiveled around as the Mandalorian shot into the air and fired a flak missile at his friend. Marauder stared in wide eyed shock behind his helmet as he saw his friend explode before him. "NOO!!" Marauder screamed. Every Mandalorian in his vod immediately swarmed the ATST, planting explosive devices on it's hull. The pilot engaged some type of ejector device and flew out of the walker before it could blow up.
Marauder shot up in the air faster than a TIE fighter. Marauder slammed into the pilots flying chair and grabbed him, racing down to the ground. The Imperial pilot shouted in terror as they plummeted, but Marauder wouldn't grant him a quick death for what he's done. Marauder decelerated his jetpack and slammed the pilot into the ground with a crunch. He rammed his fists continuously into his head, breaking the pilots helmet into several pieces. All that was left of the pilot after Marauder was done was a bloody and broken body. "You deserved worse." Marauder scowled
Lucas stared at the battle map from his seat within the senate building. having retired deep into the recesses of the grand assembly, the Zorren diplomat had fallen back to his old ways. It had been some time since Excelsus Lucas Gracin had played the part of Major Gracin, but with the blessing of the Armis Excelsus, and the express permission of his Valde, the golden haired Zorren flicked his tail in satisfaction at the movements before him. It was time.
"Trident! Lance! There's a gap in the enemy formation! If they regroup, things are gonna get a lot more difficult for us. Trident, triple time up the center. Lance provide cover. I'll get the Hell Stompers to give you some cover." With that, he called up the Commander of his allies, the Senator's smirking face appearing before Gress. "Would you be so kind as to give us a smoke screen? I think its time we of Veradune introduced ourselves to the enemy." Despite the pristine uniform of gold and white, the smooth combed hair, and the calm demeanor, there wa a predatory nature to the golden eyed man's gaze. The enemy had left their tin cans, forced out by the ion cannon bombardment. It was time to dig into the feast.
Outside the senate hall, two companies of Veran soldiers sallied out to meet the sith head on. The first company, Trident, was the Valde's own personal guard, tasked with defending key points within the city at the orders of the Howlaw Excelsus. Trident was the best of the best. Thus they showed now fear as, with weapons on their backs, they sprinted forth, not on two legs, but four into a wall of smoke offered by the grenadiers behind them, and with any amount of competence, a billowing cloud offered by the Hellstomper Artillery. The V.E.S.S Ai combined with the thermal vision offered by their Wolfpelt armors would see them through the loud without tripping on themselves.
Behind Trident company was Lance. Perhaps they weren't the absolute best of the best tasked with protecting the man who ruled Veradune and acted as its face. But they were tasked with protecting its voice, the Excelsus of the Howlaw court. Every man in the company was expected to protect a diplomatic entourage from even the worst of military threats. It was with that same zeal that they advanced to the front lines and unleashed hell on the Sith troopers. Surviving tanks would be met with a missiles and anti-armor weapons while the infantry was introduced to the entirety of the VSF catalog in a single deafening roar of fire. Their task was simple, piss the enemy off so much that they didn't have time to look at the cloud of smoke that rose between their companies.
The holographic map situated behind them caught the attention of the Neimoidian Senator, who observed the ongoing conflict at the Jedi Temple. It was evident that the New Jedi Order and the New Sith Order were engaged in a competition to showcase their mastery of the Force by summoning elements and unleashing destructive forces.
There was some hope that the cityscape would not be significantly harmed by these displays, as the credit signs passed by his head with each brick and droid being accounted for in the reconstruction endeavors.
Restoring the city would require a significant amount of money, and in the event of the Dark Empire's triumph, they could potentially construct a factory on the site of the temple complex in order to produce the neccessary supplies.
The Twice-Emperor, Carnifex, mentioned that evidence of such nature incriminating Bernard of Arca might surface at the Senate anonymously which was perfectly acceptable to the Trade Federation. After all this renegade jedi organization posed a considerable threat to their relations with the Kainate and the Sith Order.
"Exactly what I was hoping for," The Neimoidian said with a smile, before considering the Emperor's next statement carefully. During the peak of Tithe's Chancellery, the Senate took action against the New Jedi Order by confining them within their temple, while the Assembly deliberated on a very prominent issue at the time.
Such action was a result of the corporate bloc holding most of the power within the senate, now they had little influence. He would be hard pressed to find senators willing to turn against the New Jedi Order, even with the fabrication of evidence.
"It may pose a challenge, yet it is not an insurmountable task to instigate skepticism within the Federal Assembly. However, achieving this objective would necessitate a meticulous equilibrium between bribery and transparency. One plausible approach could involve portraying it as a matter of the Jedi Order's failure to effectively monitor their members, thereby allowing dissidents and traitors to proliferate amongst them. It should buy you enough time to conduct such an investigation on Ukatis." The Neimoidian said, explaining that the issue might be a bit more complicated than the Dark Lord believed, but it would not be entirely impossible for the Federal Assembly to listen to his viewpoints if for a moment.
"I will gather what allies remain of the corporate bloc, should be easy enough to frame it as a profitable venture. On another subject, there is the matter of the King of Alderaan, Alicio Organa who might oppose our little scheme. Is there any way for the Kainate to knock him down a peg, you know sabotaging his influence amongst the Great Houses of Alderaan, burning down SELCORE Camps, assasinations."
He asked, wanting to eliminate a key factor that might hinder their efforts to squash this little schism of the New Jedi Order.
The Fanged Lord arose from his slumber. He was floating upside down on the cieling and glided to the floor, when he heard Renard stir. He came in with a cart of food and drink,
“Shall you dine al a cart?”
Vaudimir pulled his scarlet robe around himself, his blood eyes shifting the black pupil from large to small, a screen on his desk strobbed with an alert, that the acid failsafe had been triggered.
“Prepare another plate Renard.. we have a guest.”
Renard got dressed, he out on his fine crimson kamishimo, the layers to the tunic and robe rippling with a fabric that made it look like pools of blood. He walked over to a golden box, and with his long fingrtnail opened it to reveal a curved hilt lightsaber, which was a gift from a Count he met on Serreno long ago…
Taking the crescent of durasteel and electrum he tied it to his golden belt as he made his way into the dining room. There a table was prepared, all assortment of eggs, fruit, and meats. A glass of bloodwine was filled.
When Renard saw his Master armed he became alarmed.
“My Lord, are you expecting trouble?”
Vaudimir looked at him and said,
“See our guest in..”
Renard bowed, the Ughnaught made his way out to the elevator which opened to reveal a Mandalorian in gilded armor, acid rushing out on the floor. Renard have a bow,
“My Master is expecting you. Please forgive the acid, its a percaution. Please wipe your feet at the door and since I know your weapons bear religious significance, I only ask before you draw your blaster you pay my Master the respect he deserves, he has prepared a place at table for you.”
He came to the door and it opened, the dutifuk servant eyeing the scrubbing brush and pale of water as he looked at The Mando. Inside The Fanged Lord sat enthroned on his ebony chair, sipping the vintage before a long table with the feast, waiting for His Guest to enter…
_________________________________________ Sol Dara _________________________________________
At first, she thought the slowing was in her mind -- her brain, coping with her imminent splatting-on-the-ground, was stretching out her final moments. She thought of her parents, her grandfather, that one time she was a kriffing idiot and didn't kiss that cute girl at the party after prom-
The debris fell faster. She felt her body slow, and slow, and finally stop in the hands of a Mirialan. About her age. Her eyes shone like the stars, and she held Halsia like a baby. The shock of not being dead was still wearing off, but she had to say something, so:
"Hi."
She would be kicking herself for the rest of her life on that one.
The second shock, debris hitting the ground around them, allowed her enough adrenaline to stand, and then to run, dragged along in the woman's hand. Thirty paces later she realized her saviour was probably a Jedi. Another ten and she realized she should be running faster -- the whine of support beams bending, then the snap of them breaking, sent the apartment building careening into its fellow across the street. She clung to the Jedi's green hand for dear life, and ran as fast as she could behind her.
He was still in initial reply to the Sith Lord's threat, the blade levied toward his throat with a foreboding hum of its crimson blade. He could feel the heat pulsate from it even through the armorweave guarding his neck. His eyes, one organic one cybernetic could barely be seen past the green filter of his commander's helmet. To Ander's sentiment of restraint he drew a side eyed glance beneath his helmet to the man before he stepped away from the crimson blade, nodding. His right hand slowly drifted from the disruptor pistol at his hip, his fingers grazing the pistol grip closely. He was seemingly wholly prepared to defend himself, but showed restraint, even in the shadow of such a command.
<"Understood, my lord."> Kroeger said, saluting the man with a rather aggressive rise and rip of his hand from his temple before he let off a low sigh, jolting in instinctive reaction to the impact of another turbo laser round nearby. He let off a groan through gritted teeth, one that barely emerged from beneath the weight of cries and pain emerging from the lot of Legionnaires slammed by the round.
<"The command is yours to give, my lord."> He said in reply, allowing him reign to make the call. In reality, he didn't want his men to think he signed off on it. It felt cowardly, a knot in his stomach as he made the call. Anders could see it even through his armor, his gaze unfocused, paused on the crumbled urban earth before him before he seemingly jolted back to his senses, working out how he could salvage this operation that already hung in ruins.
<"Follow me."> He said to Ander. He had his comms pack and instinctively, Kroeger wasn't going to lug it himself. He turned to make way toward a pile of rubble from a struck down building, making his way up it before he crouched down and slid unto his bottom along the backslope.
<"Get down and prop up your antenna."> He ordered, he needed clear comms.
<"Long Night this is Demon Actual. Allocate assets to prosecute high payoff targets, time now."> Even if he didn't want to disrupt the rest of the battle space by shifting the allocation of close air support, he needed it if his men were going to make a push forward.
<"We'll work what we can, send it."> He received back. Kroeger adjusted his hold of the hand mic as he leaned over, pulling up his pair of macrobinocs with his other hand as he honed in on the Tigers set on the skyscrapers, still ripping punishment down unto his advancing troopers.
<"Need interdiction capabilities over my position...in addition, stand by for target grids. In order, one, two, three."> He said. He firstly aimed down to lase one of the Sphinxes atop the Senate Dome, the grid and targeting information populating in his macrobinocs. He grasped a cable embedded in the comms pack and plugged it into the macrobinocs, the scomp twisting into place before Kroeger clicked the uplink.
<"One.">
Next, a tower saturated with Tigers.
<"Two..."> He said aloud, only to himself.
And then, the other tower with Tigers.
<"Three..."> He said before he set down the macrobinocs, pulling the handmic to him again.
<"Confirm correlation data for targets one, two, three."> He said in the mic.
<"Affirm correlation data.">
<"Good."> He mulled over the plan for a moment.
<"First target is the two sphinxs, same ones giving us trouble...same ones that don't seem to fuckin' die. Get our artillery on them, hit them from orbit if able. I doubt we'll be able to neutralize, I need them suppressed. Two and three...drop the hammer. Send a net of interceptors ahead to interdict, preceding bomb on target by thirty seconds. Confirm system readback from Hammer...I want bombs on target in two minutes. Danger close."> He explained in the handmic to which the comms operator on the other end responded in kind.
<"Acknowledge...we'll work the timeline best we can."> Kroeger nodded, letting the handmic slide back into place.
<"It was either I give them over to him or I die and he takes them anyway. If they're charging into hell, I'm going to clear the way. It's going to get dirty here in a moment. Soon as those strikes hit, we're moving up with them."> He said, turning unto his back as he pulled his helmet from his head, using the backslope of the rubble for cover from any direct fire as he fished into a pouch on the webbing over his armor, producing a cigara. He sparked the end alight before taking a long draw of the herbal smoke. His eyes slowly drifted close for a moment before he opened them again, reaching for his canteen before he drank down a swig of water, seemingly at peace in the shrieking, violent chaos of war around him as he waited.
"Drink some water. This is the last reprieve you'll get." Maybe ever, he thought. He offered the cigara the way of the trooper before he peered up over the rubble, the shrieking scream of the TIE interceptors, two squadrons worth arrived over the battlespace. There as deterrent, to pull the locations of substantial enemy air defense and to battle with nearby alliance starfighters. Immediately after, Kroeger began to watch the ticking clock on his tacpad. Five seconds left, he snapped his gaze up before a battery 6 from the only HARP battery able to land from the Iron Legion struck the two Sphinxes, two guns on one, two guns on the other.
Following the strike, with a flight of interceptors leading them, two pairs of Maulers followed, delivering heavy, punishing volleys from their tank-rippers, followed by a pair of missiles before breaking off. With the hopes of suppressing the Sphinxes to allow the Maulers enough time to deliver their payload before breaking off. Lastly, with the mind that they could sustain the punishment, a flight of Bruisers followed up, sending several Brilliant Missiles toward the screening Alliance IFVs before coring them with their heavy laser cannons, eventually peeling off all the same.
In the wake of the strikes, the Iron IFVs, Cataphracts and Stormtroopers began their charge toward the Senate.
Kroeger slowly pulled his helmet onto his headbefore he stood up, grasping ahold of his rifle before he looked to Ander.
<"Come on."> He said before he made his way down the rubble.
<"No hesitation! Let's take this city!"> He barked out to his men as they began to fall in to the impromptu charge led by the Sith Lord.
As the three HAAG's began their final approach towards the Taszzn Station they were suddenly caught off-guard by a barrage of missiles and heavy fire from anti-air batteries, with one of the HAAGs soon taking a direct hit from one of the missiles launched towards it, exploding mid-air with what remained of the gunship soon crashing into one of the tall skyscrapers of Coruscant, kill all men onboard. "Evasive Action!" Torson shouted, instructing the pilots of the two remaining HAAG to steer clear from the enemy fire.
However it was too little and too late as mere seconds afterwards as Torson's HAAG tried to pull out of range, it was struck by a hail of particle bolts which caused one of the HAAG's wings to detach from the rest of the gunships body, while the gunship itself began to plumet towards the streets of Coruscant below. Eventually, the Gunship would soon make landfall, crashing on it's side with the other wing splitting off in the process, with the gunship sliding sideways along the street before coming to a rest, marked by debris and flames. As for the last gunship, it had been fortunate enough to evade most of the heavy fire, taking only moderate damage but still remaining airborne, with the Gunship soon proceeding to land beside Torson's crashed HAAG.
As the third HAAG made landfall, Red Right Hand Operators quickly poured outside, rushing towards Torson's downed gunship to determine if their commander had survived. Before long, Torson's head popped up from the top of the gunship as he emerged from the wreckage with the rest of the men who had survived the crash. Fortunately Torson had emerged from the crash mostly unscathed although a considerable amount of men from his shuttle had perished in the crash, leaving only a few handful operators left alive. Nevertheless, Torson and his men strove to push forward, joining the rest of the Operators out of the shuttle with the intent of continuing their mission regardless of the losses they suffered.
Ahead of Torson and the remaining Operatives was a large boulevard that lead straight to Taszzn Station, which would most likely be guarded by the members of Senator Taszzn's paramilitary group. However, despite the losses they had suffered Torson and his men were still members of the Red Right Hand, trained to overcome overwhelming odds through any means necessary. As such they would begin the push forward, beginning their advance towards Taszzn Station ready to capture the treacherous ex-Senator of Eclipse.
Darth Ayra sat at the control of stick of the Initium as it flew under the belly of an Alliance destroyer under the gift of it's Eligor Cloaking Device. The Annihilators formed behind her were not gifted with the same rare technology, but their standard cloaking devices would suffice for this incursion. As she flew the Initium through the vacuum of space- doing well to avoid the straying anti-starfighter fire raining down upon starfighters that were fighting in the battle- a protocol unit sat in the co-pilot seat triangulating new directions, and paths to the pilots of the other shuttles joined together in their respective formation.
In the canvas of black ink- amid the cacophony of Star Destroyers warring one another- an opening formed and Ayra dived. The strike unit that she had prepared followed and begun to break through the surface of Coruscant into the spires of the ecumenopolis upper levels. Fires burned everywhere and the destruction was abhorrent. A warm glow permutated through the Force that Darth Ayra fed upon with her dark side powers: like a warm blanket covering you up in the freezing gales in the Towers of Je'har found on Almania. Kueller would have liked this feeling.
Their target was the Headquarters of the Secret Intelligence Agency. As the self-proclaimed Sith'ari orchestrated the sycophancy of events which led to the destructive opera set to engulf the Galactic Centre- the heir and follower of the late Darth Bane was writing her own malevolence in the shadows. There was much to be accomplished here, and it was not the subjugation of Coruscant that Darth Ayra sought. Rather, it was the destruction of the Sith: both new and old alike.
Consciousness hit him with the splash of cold water.
Ronval gasped as he awakened from the induced stupor- he was already on his feet, by the sink. The tired face of a stranger stared back from the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was strangly mottled at the edges. The experimental gene-mods and treatments for the... plan... were already taking their toll. All for the good of the Alliance, right? How many cumulative years had he spent undercover, in cryosleep, or chasing hyperlane ghosts in the Deep Core? Though let it not be said that Rusty absolutely felt as old as he was supposed to be, hypo-aged or not.
He wiped the water off his face and blinked, taking a deep breath. No time for any of that. He was due to be duty officer for Station H-2 today- one of Coruscant's 'remote monitoring' stations. All table- and paperwork. A welcome mercy coming from the Senate-appointed "interim agency oversight committee", after going through the wringer these past two decades undercover in the Deep Core on behalf of the SIA.
The Agent dressed, looking around his on-site "habitation" for his equipment and files. The experimental programmes had mandated "on-site observation" by SIA staff- not that it mattered since the overseers were busy with the current headless chain of command. Perhaps Ronval just liked knowing his place.
Attached Message:
All Station Chiefs and DOs to meet at SR 8-22 at 0830.
Great. Another station check-in. Couldn't be helped, he supposed. War was coming to Coruscant any day now, especially with the massive fleets of this new, old, threat.
The rich aroma of a tanna-brew coffee wafted past him as Ronval exited his quarters. He considered skipping for a moment- then turned away from the alluring scent and made his way to the elevators.
Other agents walked past him in hurried steps and surrounded by a could of urgent whispers- Dark Empire. When Ronval was awoken from deep cryo a few months ago, he did not expect the intervening time between being pulled out from deep cover observation duty of the Deep Core to result in this.
Observation duty he'd been pulled away from years ago, too. Since the 90s he'd been warning his handlers of Mawite remnants extending feelers towards scattered Imperial warlords who fled the Collapse out east. It was all grassroots, uncoordinated, and small-scale, but it showed the sentiment was in the air, and where but from the bottom do ideas rise to the highest levels of Galactic power?
Ronval squeezed into the elevator, waving by way of greeting to some familiar faces also in the lift. He supposed he couldn't blame his superiors- achronal "red slate"-identity deep cover missions did... things to a person, even an SIA operative. Not to mention his reports did not corroborate with others, and he had already been in the doghouse after Oversight shut down FORESTER and SEAFOAM and their... massaging of Alliance politics. So quickly the fear of Imperialization and Mawite infiltration and manipulation fell away after Exegol was destroyed and Bastion fell.
A sudden beep from his console- and the consoles of all the other personnel in the lift- sounded, a loud emergency ping
-
FILE
MESSAGE
INBOX (2)
SETTINGS
From: MERN-ACTUAL // RED NOTICE PRIORITY
VERIFICATION CODE: Jale Sen-1-0....
Counter-Sign: Embers Never Die
Verified
Attached Message: CODE RED:CONTINGENCY IRON BASILISK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. HOSTILE HYPERSPACE SIGNALS IN-SYSTEM DETECTED BY REMOTE STATIONS. ALL AGENTS TO ASSIGNED CONTINGENCY POSTS WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT
THIS NOTICE OVERRIDES ALL CURRENT ASSIGNMENTS. VIGILANT AETERNAE
CODE RED:CONTINGENCY IRON BASILISK.
The lift came to a sudden jolt and stop- the doors sliding open at the current floor. Wordlessly, the agents poured out of the lift, rushing to their assigned stations.
Ronval was about to follow when it hit him- a splitting headache and wordless darkness that threatened to overtake him. not now not now not now. The consequences of the constant cryo-freezing and thawing were catching up to him, just as the medics predicted.
Helplessly, Ronval struggled to call out for aid, but the others had already rushed off, and he slumped back into the lift as it shut. His hands were moving on their own- autonomic responses from the neural treatments. His conscious frontal cortex tried to see through the fog and pain, to make sense of what he- or some automatic hypno-system in his brain- was trying to do. But mercifully, darkness came over him.
Now
He came to to the smell of smoke and fire.
The sensation jolted Ronval awake, and he sprung to his feet before he'd even taken stock of where he was. It was dark and smelt like death, oil, and power converters, a jagged shape of light shone a few yards away from him.
The lift... Must've fell, hard. His head pounded, but 'only' with the pain of an impact somewhere. Ronval's senses were sharp and clear again- adrenaline, or some lucky hit in the head. No matter.
He looked around in the dark, trying to adjust his sight to the harsh light and abyssal darkness at the bottom of the lift chute- but he saw and heard no one else. Ronval checked his sidearm, already in his hand. Readied and functional. Gingerly he stepped forward through the light, and found himself in a maintenance tunnel leading out of the chute and away.
Hurriedly he checked his location and time. No use, his handheld console was broken, and so was his emergency contact neural buzzer. The world shook then- and he realised the enemy were hitting Coruscant, and specifically SIA HQ, right now. That must have triggered the lift damage.
Calculations ran through his head as he hurried down the corridors, finding a flight of stairs up. Given the intel obtained on the Dark Imperial fleet, the upper floors might have been incinerated by now.
Was his station on-task without him? A pang of guilt shot through him- or perhaps it was some broken bone. Either way, he needed to contact the others now.
He stumbled out of the doors at the top of the stairs. Basement levels, good. He hurried over to one of the backup security terminals- his pass easily opened them, and reached a landline-connected terminal and ripped out its portable terminal. A quick Operator override turned it into a rudimentary communicator from which Ronval could receive telemetry of all SIA signals in the building.
They were all clustered to the landing zone- QRF and agents alike, scrambling to contain what seemed like several points of ingress. But there, by the east wall, along the secondary landing pads. The signals were isolated, as if uncoordinated. Ronval tuned the communicator to that nearest signal.
<<Chzzzz-QRF Aurek-1 meeting heavy resistance, confirmed presence of –zzzzk- repeat, does anyone read?>>
<<This is H-2-Actual, what is your status, over.>>
<<H-2-Actual? We thought you -chzzz- alright, we're blockading the eastern wall against confirmed Sith forces. -zzzzzkk->>
Ronval looked up at the terminal to check for interference. Yeah, some weird frequency pinging off the landlines. With the current SIA transmission protocols, the interference would be far worse. His hands flew across the terminal switches, isolating the signal. Come on, keep talking.
<<-zzzzk- out of nowhere, cloaked ships and troopers that came within breathing distance of the walls before AEGIS scans picked them up! Lit us up before we could even deploy!>>
<<Can you raise the others by the front entrance?>> Ronval watched the telemetry signals again on the terminal's main screen.
<<We can't! We couldn't raise them on the net- must have been cable damage or some jamming, but the bombardment seared the primary comms arrays clean off.>>
So there was some interference- and he was only able to contact them due to hijacking the landlines.
<<Maintain blockade position- I'll try to coordinate from here.>>
Hurriedly, Ronval switched over. The connection to the further signals was much worse, but still legible. He managed to raise QRF Aurek-2 on the horn and ordered them to support Aurek-1. The other connections were too garbled. Ronval made ready to join them, but something lingered in his mind.
The descriptions by both QRF units... this doesn't seem to be a demolition force or occupation units. They look closer to infiltration units. What are they here for? Ronval pondered for a moment, looking back up at the terminal's telemetry data.
Information, perhaps? He couldn't be sure without a visual confirmation, and with the comms intereference, neither could any of the other SIA officers at HQ right now. And those cloaked ships... There was really only one way to find out.
<<Aurek-2, do you read?>>
<<Loud and clear.>>
<<Rendezvous at Junction E-F-40, but before that, detach a squad-sized element this way.>> Ronval rattled off a series of rooms.
<<Sir, that'll take them an hour of climbing through rubble and around the old rat-halls to reach it. The central plaza->>
<<But they won't be spotted. Get them moving, Agent, I want at least one of the enemy ships captured.>> Ronval cut the connection and flipped the emergency switch, burning the terminal. Didn't want any trace logs back here.
Blasters in hand, Ronval raced to rendezvous with the others and stop the assault.
<"Understood, my lord."> <"The command is yours to give, my lord."> Kroeger gave him an aggressive salute, conceding the reigns of the Iron Legion to the Sith, and Lord Mor'zhul extinguished his blade with cruel satisfaction plastered across his reptilian face. He could not read the general -- not even through the Force, given the man's absence from it -- but he doubted Kroeger was ecstatic over relinquishing command.
It did not matter.
The strong rule, the weak obey.
Watching Kroeger and the other stormtrooper depart, Mor'zhul plucked a comlink out of his robe and brought it to his mouth, <"Iron Legion, this is Lord Mor'zhul -- I have assumed command of your unit."> he stated, his tone dripping with arrogance was like grating salt over a wound. <"Your new orders are to begin an advance towards the Senate's Rotunda immediately. You will not stop until you reach it. Whatever forces are in reserve are to be drawn to the front lines right way."> each word, each order he uttered fed his gluttonous desire for power and he wolfed in like a famished man without restraint. To rule, to command, to be superior, to find glory -- these were the warchief's passions and he indulged them unsparingly.
He would triumph.
Snapping his red blade to life once more, Lord Mor'zhul charged into battle. His steps turned to long strides, propelled by the Force; the war-torn world passed by him in a blur of wind and color. He carved through enemy soldiers in scores and drank in their terror and suffering, fueling his connection the dark side. Limbs flew apart, bodies fell limp, heads rolled across the battlefield as the Sith Lord led the suicidal charge of the Iron Legion.
Ander exhaled a silent sigh of relief when the General relented to the Sith's demands. A bitter grimace hacked through what little flesh remained on the Kroeger's face and Ander could tell the General found no relief in conceding his soldiers to the whims of Lord Mor'zhul; an uncommon sight in the ranks of the military -- there were a good few officers who would've been happy to abide a Sith's orders if it meant furthering their careers or simply living. Commendable, but was it worth dying for some moral code or honor? For someone else?
As he followed Kroeger through the tumult and carnage of the battlefield, deftly finding cover beneath a piled-up rubble, Ander recalled vividly a particular scar etched in his psyche: the betrayal of his once loved one, Mira. For years they had plotted together their escape from Raxus Prime and the Commerce Guild's harsh yoke only for her to double-cross him to the Guild in exchange for her own freedom and a promise of safety and wealth. He was given the 'choice' of the death penalty or penal service in the ranks of the Corps.
The latter decision seemed easier then, far easier than it was now; with turbolasers tearing both ground and soldiers inside out, Ander wondered whether he'd simply chosen a delayed death, one racked up with interest in the form of agony. Shaking his head, he cleared the plaguing thoughts gnawing at his mind and propped up the comm backpack's antenna for General Kroeger's use. Ander remained static but vigilant -- his eyes scouring their flanks for any immediate threats as Kroeger marked targets for destruction from above. When the General hung the mic back in the pack, Ander posed a question itching at the back of his skull for a while now: "Back there -- why'd you change your mind, General?"
<"It was either I give them over to him or I die and he takes them anyway. If they're charging into hell, I'm going to clear the way. It's going to get dirty here in a moment. Soon as those strikes hit, we're moving up with them."> He said, turning unto his back as he pulled his helmet from his head, using the backslope of the rubble for cover from any direct fire as he fished into a pouch on the webbing over his armor, producing a cigara. He sparked the end alight before taking a long draw of the herbal smoke. His eyes slowly drifted close for a moment before he opened them again, reaching for his canteen before he drank down a swig of water, seemingly at peace in the shrieking, violent chaos of war around him as he waited.
"Drink some water. This is the last reprieve you'll get." Maybe ever, he thought. He offered the cigara the way of the trooper before he peered up over the rubble, the shrieking scream of the TIE interceptors, two squadrons worth arrived over the battlespace.
Would your soldiers have done the same for you? Ander thought, but the question remained unasked. Instead, he heeded the General's grim advice and took his helmet off to reveal the scruffy, sunburnt face of a Raxian scavenger. Without a word, he took a sip from the canteen and a deep drag of Kroeger's cigara before returning it. The smoke filled every nook and cranny of his lungs, easing the tension throbbing beneath worn muscles and flesh.
A red blaze flashed by them and Ander recognized the blur as Lord Mor'zhul, and so did Kroeger. <"Come on."> the General urged him, then barked over the din of blaster fire that began to ascend into a crescendo as the Iron Legion advanced. <"No hesitation! Let's take this city!">
And so he followed the General into the crucible of war. They hurried through grey permacrete, torn, blasted permacrete gleaming a greasy shine under an orange sun's rays; leaping over convulsing and dead soldiers; gasping as coarsely as the scratching of carbon chisels; their lips dry and their heads debauched with stupor. But somehow both the General and Ander and the stormtroopers continued marching forward as if they were insensible, dead men, who through some trick, some dreadful magic, were still able to run and to kill.
The anguish, the terror, the suffering, it all seemed to seep into his psyche, empowering his senses into a state of hypervigilance. Ander felt his gut wrench and yanked the General to the right, changing their trajectory of approach. "Through here, Sir!" Several moments later a turbolaser blast tore into the space where they had initially been advancing, showering the two with debris. Without hesitation -- just like the General had said -- Ander took point, navigating the duo forward. He didn't know how, he just knew where the enemy's artillery struck before it happened; this strange clairvoyance allowed them to keep up with Lord Mor'zhul's own trail of blood, but Ander wasn't banking on his luck or premonitions to last.
The Senate Rotunda drew nearer. And the larger it grew, so did the patchwork of stormtrooper corpses littering the streets. Time was running out for Ander. He needed to find a way out, to survive, before he became a victim of this meat grinder.
Nero ignored the occasional burst of laser fire still peppering his swoop. He pulled an atomizer from his bantha leather jacket and inhaled a hit of longsight to help steady his nerves. Time slowed to a crawl, and after a few deep breaths the street punk rose from cover and charged with a bunch of howling goons.
He watched a burning nikto still flailing on his feet like a marionette. The drugs made each slow-motion flicker look oddly beautiful. Nero caught a brief glimpse of white armor before the stormtroopers were lost in a mob of Hellions giving chase. He dragged a few aside once the stim wore off enough to think straight.
"Take a few bikes and cut these bucketheads off," Drake pointed to a side passage with his bryar pistol, "Blow the tunnels ahead. Do whatever you have to, mates. No way out."
Blood from all the dead Hellions mixed in with sewage runoff. Nero knew the planet was under attack, but this wasn't about heroics. He just wanted some old-fashioned revenge for the damage to his swoop. They might be outclassed by professional soldiers, but this was Nero's city and his Hellions knew the terrain well. Vanishing would not be so easy.
Nero's howls echoed through the sewers loud enough for his prey to know the Hellions were not abandoning this chase.
STORM ACTUAL ESE OF SENATE DISTRICT | CORUSCANT
ALLIES: Pious Tapp
| Thomas Barran
| Kuff Tolt
| Keilara Kala'myr
| Reiner Ghadi
| Scylla AI
| I'm not tagging everyone | DE
ENEMIES: GA (I'll tag you if it's important)
ENGAGING: It's Warposting - you'll get tagged if it's important.
Stormtrooper Corps
2nd Division
1st Regiment
First Company
First Platoon
2nd Squad - Boomers
Corina's voice had rung out loud in the dropship as it had hurtled toward the ground. None of the sims they did prepared them for this mess upon entry. For supposed democrats and pacifists, these Alliance goons sure were even more bloodthirsty than the Khanate in their assaults on aircraft.
Fear is the mindkiller.
When confronted with almost sudden death, fear was definitely a reailty, whether it killed the mind or not. They all sat with it behind their visors as they clung to the armrests of their seats, willing the shuttle to slow down.
It almost didn't.
It really wasn't the best of landings. But they walked away from it with only Davey's concussion...
And straight into a shitstorm...
<Send some gold their way! Get them off our backs!!> Roxy's order barked through the comms before a hail of particle bolts cleared the tail the tail they had like an Imperial Rememberance Day parade with their little destablised explosion. A few thermals followed the bolts shortly after to make sure. <Tolt! Cover the rear! We need that repeater swinging to keep our behinds intact!> she then barked toward the newest brute in the squad - Kuff Tolt
. The man was big. He was bad. And he knew how to use a big, bad gun.
Through the cacophony of battle on the ground, the scream of TIEs could be heard and green and red lit up the stormy sky in dogfights with X-Wings. Throughout, walkers and explosions could be heard, buildings crumbling and the ground shaking every once and a while while supernatural lightning struck the ground. Duracrete dust permeated the air. Rexanne wondered for a moment about the millions still on the planet - how many were getting caught in the blasts caused by those that were supposedly protecting them? Did the Alliance Defence Force even care? These people were already abandoned by their diplomatic leaders.
What went throught their minds when they saw their supposed protectors not caring about collateral?
The joint platoons followed Pious Tapp
as he led them, ducking, through a street to get to their coordinates. It was increasingly more difficult to see properly through the dust and debris. They were getting closer to some engagement.
And then an explosion not far from their position.
They all scattered without hesitation, taking cover wherever they could find it before explosions permeated their area. More dust suffocated the air as the debris finally started settling. <Boomers, sound off!> Roxy hoarsely called over the squad comms. That was much too close for comfort, as it was clear that was friendly fire. She waited for them all to confirm that they were still alive, especially the newest heavy, Kuff, before relaying the information to Pious Tapp
.
Not long after, they were ordered to move out again.
MOVING ENE OF SENATE DISTRICT
It was slow moving, as every few steps, they were met with new resistance.
Linus, while taking cover once more as a strafe-run from TIEs swept past, cycled through the friendly frequencies again as comms-officer for the squad when Roxy wasn't taking charge.
<"I'm also requesting callsigns for any-and-all artillery units in the slum towers encircling the Senate District, namely the friendlies who landed northeast of Ironbreaker's position, and solely because I want our enemies to feel the full weight of coordinated artillery here... They're far more effective when every relevant unit receives the same coordinates - every time.">
Linus quickly scrambled over to where Roxy was taking cover. "Sarge, the Cirihut Guard are requesting callsigns for artillery." he said as he hunkered down next to her. "Relay ours, I'll let Tapp know." she said.
His helmet nodded toward her before relaying. <Renegade Gold, this is Storm Sixer on behalf of Storm Actual. Second Squad, AKA Boomers, standing by for coordinates.> he said.
Meanwhile, next to him, Roxy hailed Pious Tapp
. <Sir, this is Storm Actual. Request has been made by Khanate forces for potential artillery support. Requesting in advance for Three additional Troopers for Boomer defence once coordinates are called.>
She waited with baited breath. He was a difficult man to get a handle on.
Sol tried retracing her steps. A formerly 'safe' street was now home to a squad of Mandalorians blowing up a walker. They were far enough away that Sol led the brunette across the avenue to what seemed to be a quieter area. Just before the girls could reach the next corner, the ground shook as another walker revealed itself from behind the building. Cursing under her breath, the padawan pushed down on her new companion's shoulder as blaster fire began to rain down on the walker, far too close for comfort. The sky was an eerie green on the horizon to top off the list of reasons to consider this route a bust.
"Sorry! This way!"
Mandalorian's began to arrive as Sol pulled the girl away from the scene. There was an alley coming up that cut between a string of buildings, hopefully a shortcut to somewhere even slightly safer. Sol had studied a map of the city to the best of her ability, but the place was huge, and the destruction of even the smallest landmarks was disorienting.
Sol took a deep breath as she removed her lightsaber from her waist. A green blade of plasma shot forth as the girl's ran toward the alley. Sol kept the other woman close on her left, batting away fire from the walker or stray shots from the Mandalorians on her right.
The saber was turned off as they made it to the crack between the buildings, but Sol did not slow her pace until they were a good thirty feet behind the cover of durasteel. The light barely reached the women, but the rumbling of war and starfighters racing overheard could still be heard.
Jogging to a slow stop, the mirialan hooked her lightsaber back on her hip. She rested her hands on her knees, hunched as she caught her breath. After a few moments, Sol looked at the other through her bangs before straightening herself, leaning her back against the building behind her. Sol tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear.
"Are you... Are you alright?"
The padawan felt bad tugging the girl around a battlefield. Now getting a better look at her, the brunette couldn't have been older than herself. In just a hoodie and jeans she was clearly not a combatant.
Tags: Joseph Torson Location: Taszzn Station, Senate District When the images of the gunships being downed or engaged reached the Security Room of the manor, Sssar, gave a slow nod at the fortunate turn of events. Even if Sularen's dogs were not completely destroyed there could be little doubt that their effectiveness was diminished "The Force favorssss ussss thissss day." the Filithar hissed to the constables that were in the room with him "I'll have some of our men take to the rooftop ramparts." offered one of the higher ranking constables in the organization "The fence should keep them at an arms length for a time... though I don't expect it to hold." he added "Neither do I." Sssar admitted "But we need only to holdout long enough for ressscue."
Sssar didn't truly believe that anyone of the GADF was coming to his aid, what with the whole planet under assault a former senator was near the lower end of priorities. Though for the sake of those that believed in his message and had taken up arms against the criminal element of society, he'd not betray their trust with words of despair.
As he mulled over the fight ahead a team of constables made their way to the rooftop with their blaster pistols drawn, taking cover behind the taller sections of the wall while peaking out every now and then to see if meaning individuals appeared. The squad of Guardian Droids marched out from the front door of Taszzn Station with their blaster carbines held at the ready. Eager to engage hostile forces should they penetrate the Deflector Shield.
For all of its downsides the fortified manor was well equipped to stall unsupported infantry.
It was only a matter of time before The Dark Empire naval assets realized what they'd done. Sure as haran they did not take long to do that. The tactical display lit up with fresh contacts, angry red holographic markers showing up at extreme-long range on the main tactical display. Star Destroyer and smaller vessels it seemed. Thank the Manda for small mercies. Not that he was worried. In fact he'd probably be insulted if they didn't bother to dignify his intrusion with an attempt to dig him and his out of their prime position.
Long range fire rained in, heavy and numerous. The enemy outnumbered them, something the Manda battlenet's analytical routines were all too quick to point out. "These shabuire just don't shabla quit, do they?" groaned Emri from beside him. Gorse Netra was already barking orders to the gunnery coordination stations on the bridge about as fast as hands flew across his station's controls.
"They sure as haran don't," he sighed as he began assigning target groups to the rest of the ships with him, though not before the enemy's barrage hit. Shields formation wide complained with a reduction in strength, but to her credit the Morut didn't even shake with the impacts. The Morut's deck did start to vibrate beneath his boots, however, as its gun batteries began tracking and engaging the various targets arrayed against them.
"How many of them are we going to have to send to haran before we're sending the shabla ordnance bill to thatchakaarin charge Solipsis himself?" growled Emri as she looked from the main tactical display to Nyles.
Nyles couldn't help but laugh, "Somehow I don't think even he could pay up after this." He caught Emri shaking her head, likely in disbelief at the whole situation.
A sudden change on the tactical map prompted him to glance at the tactical map and spit out a curse in the privacy of his [abbr-"helmet"]buy'ce[/abbr]. There were still hordes of enemy fighters in the air. The airspace was heavily contested at best, and he wasn't sure if the Alliance could establish, let alone maintain superiority over this particular section of the the planet. Nyles took as breath to steady his thoughts as he quickly gave the order over the battlenet for the formations escorts and fighter complements to keep enemy starfighters out of their immediate engagement zone.
He opened the formation wide channel, "Mando'ade, this is the Morut, let's remind these shabuire that we own this airspace, and that starfighters or star destroyers, they're not going to take it back!Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!" Shuklaar Kyrdol's oft repeated rallying cry had quickly gained popularity with many Strill Securities commanders, he was no exception. "Emri," he said, glancing at his XO, prompting her to look up from the tactical display. "Remind Aenarr that if he doesn't get his shebs off my ship now, I'm going to go down to the hangar and launch him and his shebs off the ship, personally."
Now it was Emri's turn to laugh. "Abiika, the alor wants Tra'ibahikan off the ship, make it happen." Nyles heard Abiika snap off a series of quick instructions over the comms without a moment's hesitation.
Ascending forth they went forth into the air, pressuring the left flank with mobile ambushes. As instructed Talons snipers went to high points they could find available and search for targets. Inri the top sharpshooter in the company hiding out in a restaurant spire spotted a battalion worth of Mawities regrouping southeast from her position. With her Mandalorian spotter she gave the coordinates and the Mando messaged Nyles' battle cruiser with the intel.
"Incoming data packet," called Gett Netra, the ship's comms officer. "Looks like target coordinates, alor." Target coordinates could be from anyone, but the IFF suggested that it was one of Drego's verde. Those coordinates still had to be verified before they were fire upon, however, and so Nyles and Emri both looked expectantly at Anni Kyrdol, the ship's operations officer.
"Sensors confirm, looks like about a battalion worth of Maw troops, alor," answered Anni in her usual collected fashion. A battalion of Maw troops was a nice fat juicy target for them. The ventral accelerator cannons weren't engaging any other targets at the moment, it would be a simple matter to turn them on a ground side target.
"Confirming clear line of sight to target, alor, just give the word," said Gorse after an understandable moment's delay. Almost every single weapon system on the ship barring those ventral accelerator cannons were engaging something. Gorse was understandably preoccupied.
"Load HE, set incendiary energy sheathe, send 'em to haran," said Nyles without hesitating. If for whatever reason, any of the Mawites survived the baradium high explosive rounds, they were going to wish that they hadn't. He had seen what they could do, both times that they had reared their ugly heads, he had no sympathy for the shabuire. In any event, even if they weren't irredeemable shabuire, such were the realities of war.
Just as Nyles watched the status indicators for the guns go from green, to yellow and then back to green as they loaded HE rounds and changed energy torpedo fire modes, Gett informed him that that they were being hailed, "Alor! Incoming communication! Alliance IFF! You're going to want to hear this!" Nyles sighed. Somehow, he got the feeling that he wasn't going to like this, but nodded for Gett to go ahead and patch it through to him.
Nyles let out another sigh. The Alliance must not have had their IFFs registered right. He could have sworn he had them filed, but with everything that was going on, he was going to forgive this General Visz or more accurately, whichever member of her staff didn't check and recheck the registries before flagging them as an unidentified vessel. "General Visz, this is Strill Securities Fleet Admiral Kote on the Eternal Haven. We're here with the Mandalorian Protectors and are attempting to support operations in this AO."
Almost as if Kad Ha'rangir the kadtape shabuire himself was looking down on him, the ventral quad HAC-03H Heavy Accelerator Cannonturrets began opening up on the targets sent to him earlier (Minerva Fhirdiad
). "If it's all the same to you, we'll stay here and continue doing just that," he added, deadpan.
A NEW CENTURY,A NEW TERRORVI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US-PART 4
APPROACHING EAST TOWER ON RIEMAR BOULEVARD, SLUM ZONE 4,CORUSCANT(901ABY)
TLDR
-Dreamer Darkhan checks in on Thomas Barran
-Thomas sends Dreamer to connect with the Scav Kings
-Scav Kings expected to deploy northeast of their position
-Orders pending
-Thomas responds to Vanquisher's assurances with advice
-Thomas replies to Mercy's vocalised intent
'I'm fine, arsepiece! Besides, you're supposed to be standing by, with the- um...'
Rising wobbly from the dusty rubble beneath him, from his back to his knees with mask in hand, the Bloodhound sheepishly realised he had forgotten a couple of details in the midst of the migraine spasms, looking up with a shrug as if to ask Dreamer for his help to jog the Great Khan's memory. Muttering,'Well, thats new.... That can't be good.', to himself in newfound concern, seemingly with a worry that these returning memories were somehow cancelling out those he had formed in the years (and decades) since his resurrection on Durace.
'The fething Scav Kings, Shriven! Your Strategic-Reserve?! For feth's sake!'
Wheezing with visibly-delirious mirth, the Great Khan finally made it to a standing height, blurry-eyed though it was only then that the Human was finally able to establish eye-contact with his Chiss-born Darkhan, seeing the fury in the red despite the cold, perpetually-apathetic ways for which Dreamer was always known. Even with the wind lapping the smoky dust from the debris all around them, there was nothing in the nearing storm that could hide the disdain the Darkhan was feeling for being so concerned about his leader - another costly price for the cohesion-building growth seen in the Khanate since the Bloodhound's escape from prison.
'Get your head out your ass - and back in the damn game already! I got places where I need to be, as you pointed out already!'
It was this last verbal kick at the backside that shook the Woad awake most of all, as it was then that the long-expected strategic nuances began to form in his mind, and with an outburst,'Speaking o' which, I want you to move the Kings northeast in support o' the Imperials holding there.', the rogue Chiss would be seen relaxing his posture almost immediately in response. Not that Dreamer had time enough to calm his thoughts, as Barran Khan himself was already leaning into a southerly shunt to send him where the Scav Kings were still waiting at the time, half-grunting as he concluded,'Get them moving, Brother Dreamer! FURTHER ORDERS INBOUND!!!!', exerting energies under the strain of lethargy, weight-distribution and wind-direction alike.
<"Vanquisher to Bloodhound, we'll die to a man and woman before they take our flank! Glory or death!">
Can't deny it, I like that energy.
But-
'Chiiiiiiiiiit!'
<"I like the way you think, Vanquisher. But I'm gonna need you to think a little more dastardly from here on in.... Urban Warfare 1-0-1, Imperial. We're talkin' grenades linked up by string, thrown under tanks an' IFVs from angles they can neither see nor scan from armoured shells. Repulsor-Fuel bombs in tihaar bottles, ambush conditions in feigned retreat, kidnapping stragglers - every dirty trick your minds can muster!">
Remembering Ravelin, reminders of the first and the second experiences alike, reminders of Cinnegar and New Carannia, all were serving as ideal underlyings for advice given on the matter of urban warfare, and it was clear the Empire was in dire need of abundant advices of the sort. The heightened severity of the counteroffensives had not been factored into the training simulations, showing what the Cirihut Guard had suspected since the opening of the first beer bottles,"In war, we shouldn't be able to even dream of cracking cold-ones like this - not even with token resistance considered.", ringing almost prophetic at the time without Cinnegar's many madnesses considered.
<"Don't be frightening, Vanquisher! Be outright AGGRAVATING!!!! SCRAPPY LIKE IT MATTERS!!!! Bloodhound - out!">
clearing out the blood from his ears, tear-ducts and nostrils alike, the Great Khan would then pop the tensions in his neck on both sides, one side after the other as the storms raged around the city. Regardless of whether they were of natural or unnatural origin, the storms did little to dissuade the Bloodhound as he planned his means of contributing to the assault, cracking knuckles in the midst of remembering the locations of the nearest Aspirant contingents, all re-trained specifically for urban mouse-holing engagements in the previous weeks. But as soon as he started making his own beeline for units to lead, more comm-chatter awaited, slowing Barran's approach for the sake of hearing the transmission properly.
<"Tommy... the reason I came back... I want to... no, I will kill the emperor, Darth Solipsis will pay for all that Maw and others did to Asher.">
'Not today.... Why did this have t'come up today, of all times?'
<"Sister Mercy, I hear you.... But I'm gonna need you to take a knee for a moment, wherever you are, or in cover.... But just- take a seat an' listen t'your Brother - on the matter of vengeance. Though, with fair warning, as I'm sure you're not going to like the insight, the perspective I provide. Its time you & I face some harsh truths together.">
<"You know I have a younger brother, right? Michael, from the previous life? I'm sure you do.... Well, it just so happens his very existence is a living example on why you an' I don't deserve to exact retribution on anyone - let alone Emperor Solipsis.... Humour me-">
Drudging the past had always been something Thomas avoided, presenting more than enough aches and pains as deterrents to the mere thought of doing so, but on this one occasion the Bloodhound understood it's rare, one-time necessity. However, the very content of the Khan's next statement would reveal much and more of truths he likely was not supposed to know, and with it, an abundance of all that Thomas himself had forgiven in the process of committing to the Scar Hounds, difficult though it might have been in the beginning. Pretense itself had inflicted enough damage already, thus the time to repair the damage was long overdue by then, and in order to assure Mercy's survival, it was the only untried way to break through that wall - before it was too late.
<"In a bid to gain a psychological advantage over Erskine Barran, (Michael's father as much as the old man was mine before) my resurrected form wasn't sent home to Galidraan, as instead I was kept to rub my visage in their faces - like the bloodied scalp of a conquered foe.... Fortunate then, Asher was, that neither father nor little-brother learned of this until after his passing, hm?">
<"An' in a bid to avenge the Mongrel,for myself as much as for you, I slew my own father! Robbing you of the one you owed your enmity the most, and my brother of his only chance of fatherly reconciliation.... I, uh, admittedly thought I had killed Michael too - but I got sloppy! Teary-eyed for the final strike!">
Nirauan was always going to end up messy, this Thomas had known all along, and from the moment the Swarm verbally strongarmed the then-Warlord into joining the war on Fel's Empire, Barran's heart had already sank in realisation of the steps he would need to take in his own war on the ruling Regency. A war that would be waged on his own father, but not only that, but one that would be waged on his own brother as well; as it was one thing to kill a father that sent Thomas to his death on Ziost, a father who slew the Bloodhound's chief-mentor in single combat, but another entirely to kill a brother of whom he so viciously protected before that death occurred.
<"The only one who deserves their due vengeance - is Michael.... You an' I both deserve to die, an' every part as much as Solipsis does in your mind now.... So when you eventually find our Emperor, tell him this - the Wanderer's patience is waning, the cracks are beginning to show.">
With thumb kept firmly on the receiver's,"SPEAK", button, the Bloodhound began to click the thumb and the nearest fingers on his free hand, first rhythmically in rueful jest, then again, but in singular, forceful auditory snaps. Clicks that echoed easily into the ruins around him, or at least until the next stormy gust came along to nullify the power of their reverberations, but loud enough that the illustration of the Khan's point was easily heard through the transmission, enough for Mercy to conjure in the mind of the damages such clicks could inflict in the Tattered Regent's hands. The Trilunars had seen the Wanderer's work on Exegol, and so much more of his achievements on Nirauan, leading Thomas to think there was enough recorded drone-footage that Mercy herself was surely to have seen some of it since the Empire's downfall.
<"He's coming for us, Mercy.... We're all neck-deep in it now, as all three of us - Solipsis, you an' I.... We're all in his Kill-List now.">
A NEW CENTURY,A NEW TERRORVI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US-PART 5
EAST TOWER ON RIEMAR BOULEVARD, SLUM ZONE 4,CORUSCANT(901ABY)
THE CIRIHUT GUARD - 2
TLDR
-Karseres responds to Ironbreaker with advice
-Clues Ironbreaker in on a left-flank heavy offensive plan
-Karseres receives first transmission from Roxy Rizzan
-Karseres suggests readying Rizzan's artillery preemptively
-Karseres activates Dreamer Darkhan NPC's strategic reserve
-Farin transmits coordinates and fire-orders to all friendly artillery batteries
-Farin orders all guns to salvo in unison
-Fog of war, smoke and dust cloud the air around them
-Mandalorian tanks use dust cloud to advance undetected
-Open fire on Mawsworn towers, attack on Mawsworn left
-Towers hit, commanders' rocked hald-conscious
-Farin snaps out from stupor first
-Calls on Renegade to sally out and slow their advance
<"Ironbreaker to Renegade Gold, please shield or screen the artillery from special forces and incoming fire. They need help down there. Artillery callsigns Kae-Killer 1 through 50 are at your command to redirect fire as ordered.">
'Thats all you, Brother Karseres.... Time to get busy.'
<"Duly noted, Ironbreaker! Expect assistance at the front, Kae-Killers should receive coordinates soon from Renegade Silver as well.... Also, reporting that you should watch your left flank; you've got increased OPFOR activity there, with slight static-line overlap, though we do plan to push oblique-heavy in that direction.... So be ready to push north with us, you'll be needed when the tide eventually turns. Renegade Gold - out!">
Snarling in jest for Farin's previous, subtle insubordination joke, Karseres could only afford himself a momentary chuckle before quickly realising the true extent of his increasing workload, as it was already quite busy for the Renegade leaders by that point of the planetary assault, even without the recently-vocalised orders considered. Easy to handle so far, but there was no way of knowing whether it would get worse then or not, though strangely enough,"Worse", was what they really wanted, for the ultimate test had been too long in waiting to see the Cirihuts' faces again. As the latest generations (unlike their mothers, fathers and mentors) were still somewhat unbloodied at the time, and despite possessing a collective lack of ego far older than their formative soldiering ages suggested, it was clear they needed and yearned for that vital warfighting experience.
<"Renegade Gold, this is Storm Sixer on behalf of Storm Actual. Second Squad, AKA Boomers, standing by for coordinates.">
'You had better be taking note here - loudspeaker ain't on for nuthin', ya know.'
Yet it wouldn't be long before the expected attacks finally hit, as the reports of Sandworms, tank-movements and early-skirmishes were already beginning to dominate the noise on the array's public channels, probing and working to bleed the first line of Imperial offense whilst the Mawsworn coordinators were still preparing their own. Carving a salient of their own to counter that cut inward by their Imperial adversaries, it was almost a surprise to see the planet's defenders moving into position so quickly, though deep down the Cirihuts always knew Coruscant would never just lay down and die for their enemies, regardless of whether it was expected to be a token defence or not.
<"Copy that, Storm Sixer.... I advise you get Boomer squad standing by, coordinates are prepped and pending - get 'em to chamber what they got.">
'Nice, they'll be concentrating fire real soon, Captain. Stand by for more geolocations from the Matriarch.'
'Will do, but it would seem that I got some comm-chatter to work through for the time-being.... This could be it, Brother Farin.', Karseres eventually responded through the hubbub in his headset, as reports of the predicted counterattacks finally began to filter through the comm-link array, marking a clear, anticipated sign of that great struggle the Cirihuts predicted in the weeks leading up to the attack. It was chaotic enough that the need for Darkhan assistance reach a new, desperate extreme, realising that all the Cirihut resources were spread thin enough without the growing need for reinforcement to think about, leaving the guard-captain no other choice but to sigh and mutter,'About time, long overdue.', trailing off to whisper a silent, Heathen prayer before snatching up the receiver once again.
<"Renegade Gold to Dreamer! You're up! Push northeast to assist against OPFOR counter-salients.... Transports waiting at HQ!"> <"Copy that - moving up now. Dreamer - out!">
Good news, and enough so that Farin took that as his cue to order in some artillery-cover, as all the smoke and dust kicked up would likely obscure the Scav kings' approach, and long before their transports were expected to arrive on the scene. Everyone knew the shock-tactics required of the adorned power-armour doctrines, and though the Kings' cardiovascular and strength advantages were made finite in suited CQB engagements, shock and awe had been enough to stem the heaviest of tides in the past, most-notably against Wildcat Brigade's right flank on Korriban. It was the pursuit of finding more of their sort that prompted Barran Khan to ascend their Tribe once more, to stand at the pinnacle with their Cirihut rivals again, competing for a second tenure at the top rungs of Mawsworn society; and despite how the Renegade leaders felt about them, the implications still brought out that same urge from within.
That same desire to conquer - as visual proof their Khan made the right choice after all.
<"Kae-Killer One - Boomer Actual! This is Renegade Silver! All batteries, I repeat - ALL batteries! Adjust from One Six, point, Four-Eight-Three-Two! Stretching wide, northward arc-of-fire - ending at One Six, point, Four-Four-One-One!">
<"As far as I can calculate, that stretch ranges from danger-close, and right up to the dome over yonder. We can make it more complex soon enough though, that is; if-and-when we need those shots to stretch out farther. Survival takes precedence for now, so.... INDIRECT-SALVO ORDER, TWO MINUTE BARRAGE -OPEN FIRE!!!!">
With arms spread out in a taunt to the city itself, Renegade Silver laughed a spiteful, gutturally-deep deep cackle as the shockwaves began, followed by the seismic thuds of sporadic artillery-groupings, impacts that were hitting close enough to shatter all the windows on the lower floors on East Tower's northern face. Giving in to the wildest of ecstatic abandon, feeling rushes in his bloodstream as he watched the barrage steadily spread off in a northwestward direction, Farin would widen his eyes at the spectacle as he bellowed,'Burn it.... BURN IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!!!!', screaming visceral madness from the deepest, darkest depths of his soul.
'Stop that, you've still got work to do!'
Sensing wonder and beauty from a sight like no other, appearing almost like a thunderstorm to the Cirihut's eyes, the barrage itself would pass through with all the destruction it could muster, and Farin was hopelessly ensnared in the trap of it's majesty. The powderizing debris would kick up far enough to cover the Scav Kings' approach after all, and with the increasing concentrations of personnel and ordnance still advancing within the southern Senate sector, Renegade Silver knew he had reason enough to enjoy what he was seeing in these moments. The Imperials were pulling their weight tenfold in these moments, and for all Farin's ecstatic bluster, there was still a voice in his mind that wished more than ever to meet their new contemporaries - to congratulate and thank their allies for standing with them when it mattered most.
'Aaaaah, chit! Farin, FARIN!!!! We got MBTs inbound!
BOOOOOM
OPFOR, GET DOW-'
BOOOOOOM
But like with all good things in battle, and with all other well-deserved auspices of the sort, something Mawsworn, something Imperial had to give, fated to meet it's countering end eventually. Violently crashing into all three occupied skyrises, a destructive statement of intent was made to mark the true, official beginnings of the battle for the Mawsworn Cirihut Guard, that one make-or-break moment they were all expecting.
Heralded in by the concentrated shelling-fire of MBTs en-masse, the only auspices the Khanate frontline would find in the beginning was the revelation of which faction was crewing these tanks, as the Mandalorians were once again fighting above ground, and this time, pridefully throwing their weight against the Mawsworn static-line. Metal for metal, will for will, and mettle for mettle; only this time, it was the Protectors' turn to bring the big guns to the party, sparing no expense for the long-expected, long-anticipated clash between them. Pushing southward in potentially-costly disregard for danger, which had paid abundant dividends for those brave enough to run the previous artillery-gauntlet, the Mandalorian MBTs had advanced close enough through that same dusty fog to surprise the Mawsworn strongpoints, making it impossible to know exactly how many tanks had been caught up in the Imperial barrage.
'What was that thing you said about,"Survival takes precedence", Farin? Huh?! TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE AND MEET 'EM HALFWAY, DAMNIT!!!!'
BOOOOOOOOM
If the first two impacts on East tower had been close enough to warrant taking cover, then the third was surely the one to threaten the existence of Barran's best Cirihut guardsmen, consequently providing enough explosive-catalysm in one shot to send both Renegade squad-leaders careening into the wall behind them. From the chamber of the tank's smoothbore turret-barrel, to the lower level of that one luxury condominium, enough dragging velocity was generated in-flight that the eventual detonation was amplified threefold at ground-zero, throwing out enough force to render the entire property an unrecognisable husk of the house it was just moments before.
The Hound armour had previously lived up to it's reputation as a timeless mainstay for Marauder loadouts, and though neither Karseres nor Farin would care to admit such a thing in these moments, the old Marauder-Issue armour had just shielded the Cirihut squad-leaders from the brunt of the blast, even partially-protecting them from the heaviest traumas of the wall behind them. Serving as a testament to the ingenuity of the Galaxy's nomadic caste, and yet, despite all the assistance offered, the Renegade leaders were still just flesh and bone beneath the protective shells of their armour suits. Momentary though their semi-conscious state would last, it was clear the Cirihut duo were worse than rocked by the impact, and for as long as it took them to recover, all the surviving Mawsworn in the area would gradually begin to believe the Renegade squad-leaders were dead.
Yet there was still fight in these plucky, wrathful Cirihuts, fight enough to snap out from their stupor, and throughout this tense, deathly silence that followed the shelling, none there would count on the presence of all-things unpredictable that day. Like a strange part of mind had kicked him awake with a toe-punt, Farin was death-gripping his comm-link receiver when he suddenly jolted out of his slow-flailing, floor-hugging predicament. Fortune smiling on audacious favourites once again, and with his personal comm-device still in working order, Renegade Silver wasted no time in transmitting orders to the others, seeing Karseres was alive and flailing as he was just seconds before.
<"Renegades, Renegades, this is Silver, I repeat - this is Silver! Activate urban doctrines, take whoever and whatever you need - just make the fight hellish for those tanks BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!!!!">
<"Silver, Silver - Renegade Cobalt here, I'm calling dibs on the action. Also.... As a little gift to lighten the mood up there, expect mortar shells in the elevator - we suggest you take 'em to the roof with a steel pallet.... Let gravity handle the rest.">
<"Copy that, Cobalt! Good luck down there. Silver - out!">
