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

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Information

Objective: Try to help Tommy
Location: Ground, Coruscant
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: Thomas Barran | Scylla AI | Pious Tapp | Roxy Rizzan | Kuff Tolt | Arminius Kroeger | Open

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Ziare Dyarron | Freedom​

After my testimony, I was still waiting for Tommy's response, when suddenly there were several transmissions waiting for a response. The first was Equinox; a female voice. I was actually waiting for Tommy to message me because I was used to not having my data used much. True... before, it was always Asher who did the operations alone. But now he was gone and Tommy had help. Green lightning? I haven't seen anything like that and the droids haven't recorded anything like that. But lightning and green... Freedom's memories were still there, even though he was no longer present in my mind.

<< Equinox, this is Mercy. Of course I will keep you in the loop if I have something to report. I've only seen fighters before, but they were ours. I didn't see the green lightning, but I know it's some kind of Light Side Force skill. So, your opponents have a Jedi, over. >> I sent the message to her.

The next was an AI. I thought this was quite ironic, especially as for once it wasn't MANIAC's voice I was hearing, but someone else's. Unfortunately, however, I could not give an answer that would please the AI. I had no sensors that could detect the disturbances in the Force. And beyond the number of Force users fighting there, it would probably have been impossible to contain it.

<< Scylla, this is Mercy. Unfortunately, I can't do it, because it's not going to be some kind of weather control machine, or even a terraforming device, but some kind of Force user. And the temple is full of Jedi and our people. But the best possibility is probably the middle of the storm that may be under the building of whoever is causing, over. >> I sent the message.

And that's when the message I was waiting for finally arrived. Actually, I'm not even sure I was expecting it, because it could easily have been that Thomas wasn't going to reply now, but later. Or he'll take care of it with a few words, but no. I laughed bitterly into the commode.

<< I am not afraid of your brother... nor of death. Asher didn't send you home because he had a dream that he thought came from the Avatars. That's why we were there on Durace for you... But before his death, he wouldn't have used you the way he did before. By that time, we'd… I'd almost managed to tear them away, to rip off the chains that bound him to the Maw. >> I told him.

Meanwhile, I raised my eyes to the monitors again and looked around from my seat. Because of my seated position, I could not see much of what was happening elsewhere because of the "barrier" of the roof, only the rain, which continued to fall incessantly.

<< Do you know why you succeeded him and not me? Although I deserved the Warlord title better than you? He wanted to protect me, he wanted me to leave the Maw and the Tribe after his death... he wanted me to be free, away from it all. He wanted to die to free me… free me from him because he wasn't able to leave behind the Maw's and the Avatars' chains. >>

The rest was history, it was Asher's death that chained me to the Maw, where I almost died because of Tu'teggacha, only the twins' intervention prevented my death. And I almost lost the children.

<< After his death, your father came to see us... I mean Asher, to apologise and talk. Asher forgave him... I can't. And I couldn't kill him again. As for your brother... let him come! If he crosses my path... I'll kill him too, not just Solipsis and those who hurt Asher. >> even though Tommy couldn't see it, he could probably hear from my voice that I was snarling.

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Tag: Scylla AI Thomas Barran Gress D'ran Syd Celsius​

Standing in the middle of a shattered Nabooian themed restaurant Minerva smiled. She just received word from Irni that an enemy battalion had just been wiped out by the Mandalorian battle cruiser. Her adopted people sure did know how to rain fire down on foes. Though her expression within the helm became neutral, hearing the Mawities regrouping, fighting back and making their own push.
If it wasn't for those new clones this would be even more complicated.

Whoever sent them the warrior knew she and her comrades and vod were indebted to. The sound of two mortar shells exploding successively brought her back to the present. Calling to all her platoons(what's left of them) Captain Fhirdiad called out.

"Talons execute Plan Phantom. I repeat Plan Phantom."

Soon the platoon leaders each called in reply.

"Acknowledged."

"Got it Boss."

"Yea that's what I'm talking about!"

Done she turned to the Clan Ruus Warriors still with her and nodded. It was time to keep moving. Within minutes the plan was being carried out. When one unit of Mawities would advance through a destroyed neighborhood they would soon be ambushed by one Talon squad on opposite rooftops before flying away. Once the invaders attempted to pursue they were sniped at by another squad nearby before the latter swifty faded back to relocate.

Due to the sheer destruction wrought by the now dead monster worm there would be few paths for enemy armor to move through. One such column pressed through even as a Talon squad flew around harassing them several yards or so. Just as the Mawities were were killing a number of them when suddenly a mine left by a snapper just minutes before went bringing down the tank. Then the rear tank was hit by an RPG, trapping the small convoy before a different squad descended on the three surviving tanks.

Even as they lost some members in the process from turret fire they wiped out the tank crews with grenades upon opening the hatches. Then they would fly away, reporting their success.

At another position a Talon team would feint a retreat into an apartment complex, luring multiple insane Mawite raiders into there. Once inside they were ambushed by the rest of the squad with repeater fire and grenades. Then they would fall back, not waiting for the next wave. At a wrecked business plaza a different Talon squad would open fire then move to the next position. As their enemies fired back they called for air support.

Three gunships dive in but suddenly Minerva and the Mandalorian platoon from their hiding spot on a tower flew out like mynocks hungry for power cables. The gunship on the far right got hit by a jetpack missile in its wing and spiral out of control and crashed into a street below in a furious blaze. The center gunship got boarded by a number of armored warriors and they sabotaged the engines before getting off as the enemy craft dropped next. Hanging on the last gunship trying to shake its ambushes off Minerva accomped others forced opened the bay door and flew inside.

Blasting a crew member in the gut as she tried to shoot back Minerva then tossed a thermal detonator into the cockpit before the Mandos and her ran and leaped out. Seconds later the cockpit ignited an explosive burst and spun downwards before slamming into an electronic billboard advertising some new gum. Flying away the warriors scattered so not to make themselves more visual targets than necessary. Landing in an alleyway Minerva whispered.

"We got to drag this out as long as possible."

Joined by a few clan warriors she jogged them with them into the next sector.

 

[Alicia Drey]

---

---

Tags: Ronval Rubat
Objective: Total War - Attacking the Headquarters of the Secret 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.

---

Fiery the Immortals fell.

Darth Ayra stood within the corridors of Secret Intelligence Agency. Her curved Lightsaber blade was held firmly in her left palm, but was presently deactivated. If the Immortals did their duty then there was the possibility that Ayra did not need the weapon. After all she had ordered them to employ distraction tactics to keep the S.I.A as far away from her as possible. But recently the Sith Master had been reminded of the ethereal realm that she inhabited. Her conceit and self-image of perfection had blinded her to the reality that even someone as perfect as her could be blindsided even by a lucky Alliance hero that came across her. Even after all this time she was still learning and the recent mistakes along the Outer Rim Territories had been valuable lessons.

God help any serviceman that came across her in this hallway.

Brggglele...

The sounds of gargling made Ayra avert her gaze from staring down the passageway to the man leaning up against the wall in front of her. Lowering herself down to sit on the back of her legs- crouching down to speak to the S.I.A Agent- Darth Ayra asked: "Where do you keep your databanks?"

"I am not telling you a damn thing," he snarled back.

Ayra pouted her lips thoughtfully. Even though he was bleeding out- half burned by the explosions wrought upon the S.I.A Headquarters via the Minesweeper on board the Initium- this simple man still managed to possess enough strength and tenacity to deny her in the face of certain death.

"That's okay stranger. I don't need you too."

Bowing her head in concentration Darth Ayra reached out her hand towards the agent laying in front of her. But she did not physically grasp him. Instead her finger tips seemed to touch on something that was invisible and esoteric that sat between the both of them which could not be seen by the naked eye. As Ayra slipped into the power of the dark side she expanded her reach into the mind of the agent where she felt her whims and machinations overwhelm his mind consequentially turning it to her side temporarily.

As the Mind trick took form Ayra asked her question again: "Where are you keeping your databanks?"

"We hold a repository in the lower levels. Junction E-F-41," replied the agent as if he were caught in a trance.

"How do I get there?"

The agent lifted his arm weakly and pointed in the direction of the hallway that Darth Ayra had been looking down before. "If you follow this hall, and turn left you will find a flight of stairs. If you go down two flights you will find an emergency exit that leads into the old rat halls. Turn right and follow the hall until you reach another door. It is passcode encrypted. Then..." The agent stopped his explanation and Ayra felt his mind attempting to resist her powers in the Force. "...then I won't. I won't tell you anything!"

"You have told me enough."

With her right hand Darth Ayra snapped the agents neck with a chop and watched the life fade out of him. As she stood up another explosion rung out somewhere in the nether. Whether it was from the fighting happening in the city, or within the S.I.A itself Ayra could not be sure. With the cowl of her robe raised and her facial features concealed beneath the brim of her hood Darth Ayra begun to navigate the hallway. She turned right and found the flight of stairs that the agent had described.

Pausing in the stairway Ayra lifted her gaze upwards and was met with a ghastly sight. One of the Annihilators had crashed during the initial assault. She remembered hearing it on the radio while the Initium bombed the building and the other two shuttles took positions on the ground. They had been designed for sneak attacks in naval warfare by utilizing a cloaking generator to mask their approach before latching on the hull of a Capital grade ship to tear it open with a plasma cutter before boarding. It had never been designed for this type of attack. With no shields it had been an open target once the cloak deactivated.

But it had served it's purpose. The helmet of one of the Immortals stared back at Darth Ayra as she glared up at it. There was no time to cover up their participation in this attack. When the S.I.A investigated who attacked their Headquarters while Coruscant was being besieged by the Dark Empire Darth Ayra knew that it would lead back to the Empire of the Lost. Yet these soldiers- seemingly in service of the 'lost' Imperials that were now ruled by Emperor Kilran in the Outer Rim- had assaulted the Secret Intelligence Agency on board an Annihilator-class boarding shuttle: a new form of transport in the service of the Sith Order commissioned by Darth Strosius; and designed by Aurora Industries: a company owned by Taeli Raaf, otherwise known as Darth Arcanix.

What was the connection between the attack by the Dark Empire and these entities belonging to two other major factions? Two of them, in the form of the Empire of the Lost and the Sith Order, who were at war with one another, and the latter responsible for the recent destruction of Tion: a former Imperial stronghold.

The ramifications, and permutations of these acts were something to consider another time. In the moment- in the here, and now- Darth Ayra had to complete the goal that had made her take these risks. Inviting the wrath of the self-proclaimed Emperor of All Imperial Kind (and even the Corpse Emperor) was worth this risk if she could accomplish what she came here for, and there would be no room for failure.

Only the Sith deal in absolutes.​

Lowering her gaze down to the stairway beneath her Darth Ayra begun to navigate her way towards Junction E-F-41 which just happened to be one floor off from where Ronval Rubat was set to rendezvous with other heroes of the Galactic Alliance.

A spy which served the Galactic Alliance was fated to confront another who only worked for herself.

---

 

[Kuff Tolt]

ALLIES: Pious Tapp Thomas Barran Keilara Kala'myr Reiner Ghadi Scylla AI and Others
ENEMIES: GA

---

How good it was to be back.

Kuff hadn't ever thought he'd hold the thought towards the world he'd once called home. He hadn't been too fond of the place as a kid, and he didn't care for it any more after he'd left. Maybe he'd have liked the place more if he hadn't been constantly causing so much trouble. Maybe he wouldn't have caused so much trouble if the place wasn't such a kriffing bore.

Life's full of funny what ifs.

Well, life for the Corsucanti was about to get much more exciting. Not even the worst or most careless of his past misdeeds came anywhere close to the ones he now intended to commit. He may have an assault or two under his belt, but Kuff hadn't ever murdered anyone. On this planet, anyway. And all things considered, this wasn't murder. He was here with an invading force to fight an army, holding a DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle in his hands. This wasn't some opportunistic act. He'd no intention to hide his actions nor motive. This was killing, an act both more brave and more brutal.

Probably wouldn't make a smack of different to Corsucant. Cowards would just declare him a murderer all the same, in some wild and hypothetical scenario where he gets captured alive. He'd rather go down slaughtering as many as he can before he'd ever become a prisoner again.

Being back was to be everything he'd ever anticipated. Holding heavy weaponry on the streets of his adolescence was a strange experience. Sort of like something out of a dream he intended to turn nightmare upon his former home. This place would be his home again, but on his terms. The terms of the Dark Empire who could reclaim this fancy hovel for a greater purpose, and give these fools who still called it home the brutal salvation the didn't know they needed.

THUNK!

But it could've gone smother. A lot smoother. It was a tense drop outta the sky they made into a crash landing upon the Corsucanti surface. But a landing was a landing all the same. And Kuff was fit to fight, all the same. The entrance might have been different, but the plan remained the same. Fight, then win.

<Tolt! Cover the rear! We need that repeater swinging to keep our behinds intact!>

Kuff bolted towards some fallen scrap that had once been Corscuanti aircraft and shoulders his blaster rifle. It was a big blaster rifle, but Kuff was a big man. Which really just made it a normal, appropriately sized weapon in his hands. Big, and violent. Just like him.

The explosion was a startle, and visibility dropped from all the smoke and fumes. Kuff did a check through his HUD to confirm there were no friendlies within that obscuring mess, before he fired volleys of rapid shots to ensure no enemy was there, either. It all cleared to reveal nothing'd been there in the first place. All the same, better to be sure.

With that, they were ready to move out again.

 

[Thomas Barran]

4th 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 Naxus
Kazian Blackwood Scylla AI Vaudimir Traith Reiner Ghadi Pious Tapp
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 6

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

TLDR

Spoiler

-Mercy replies
-Unveils truths of which weren't discussed between the Mawsworn leaders before
-Thomas postpones this discussion for later
-Begins lengthy run westward for reinforcements
-Clone units give chase
-Thomas begins to sprint under fire
-The dreaded anti-personnel fire begins
-Tommy sends the first one back
-Tommy taunts further Clone pursuit

Oh, Mercy.... If only you knew.
Goidels would see this in a vastly different light.

"Crimes buried - are crimes unrepentent."​

He could feel that the Matriarch was snarling, the bitter laughter was often a precursor to such things, but the Khan relented, beholden to the autonomy her rank retained. It made Barran want to rage and froth at the mouth, but he knew such rage was pointless around the uninitiated, as there was no reason to suggest Mercy even needed to study Goidelic traditions before that fated comm-transmission between them. No reason to tell the Matriarch that Michael wouldn't find the truth as a forgivable as Thomas had, and in the same logic, no reason to tell a Marauder that,"Sweeping the truth under the rug.", was one such transgression considered a grave sin among Goidels.

A brutal deterrent for a brutally-honest people, Tribal conditioning against Royalist-Galidraani subversions.

Brother, please, forgive my only-remaining mentor.
Your enemies saw this as a kindness, a mercy, but will you see it that way?

She may already be doomed in your eyes, but please - try to understand her.
​

Such cultural norms the Bloodhound had not needed since long before he climbed out of the dirt on Durace, not for the path he was fated to walk from that day henceforth, though the Great Khan himself couldn't help but ponder on why they didn't let his wrath take it's natural course before, as the urge to kill the Lord-Regent had been present as far back as the day Thomas remembered his own birthname. The Mongrel, in reality, needed only to return the Shriven One and let nature take it's course, but in this rare show of strategic restraint, showed his only public expression of compassion through the one he would later choose as his successor, deftly hiding his true message in the actions in-and-of themselves.

<"Sister Mercy, you surprise me.... Seriously, have our tribes not suffered, bled an' perished enough for the sake of their leaders' bloodlust?! Vengeance is not reason enough, nor was it ever before. You know it, Asher knew it, an' now - I know it too.... Please, do not forsake a philosophy of Asher's making.">​

Everything in the Matriarch's response suggested she was forthcoming, and as transparent as can be hoped from Mawsworn leaders of Kala'myr's sort, as that deceptive will itself was one of the Khanate's many tools of survival in the Galaxy's wars; but there was something in Mercy's own revelation on Lord Erskine, something about it that seemed a little off, knowing the way his mentor perished in the final duel against the Stormchaser. After all, the truth of the Mongrel's death had occurred soon after Thomas learned his true name, just weeks after the day he learned the name of his mentor's killer, an endless well of insight from a man of whom all knew as an evenly-matched rival before, further-muddying the mystery until the day Thomas started studying results and drone-footage from Asher's previous fights.

A rabbit-hole like no other.

Before long, all signs would point toward one intercepting-strike technique in particular, revealing Asher's preferred method of testing the Galaxy's greatest NFU-swordsmen; faithfully enacted by dipping posture deep with the knees to puncture stomachs from a low-angle, intended and developed for nullifying aggressive, charging advances, such as those indicative of Mandalorian and Goidelic fighting-styles. By the time the Bloodhound reached the archival-histories on the Mongrel's most-recent duels, namely on the fights against Aron Gowrie and Shai Maji alike, it didn't take long to piece the truth together after that. Asher had attempted this strike on Lord Erskine, and somehow, (in some freak circumstance) the old man was able to see it coming; the General was either too fast, or the Warlord was too slow, with the only guarantee being that neither duellist could do anything to change the Mongrel's fate.

A trail run cold, but leads would find the Bloodhound eventually, and with them - a chance to discern the truth of this apology between Lion and Wardog.

<"We will continue this confession of yours later. Bloodhound - out.">
​

As much as the Bloodhound wished to keep digging, delving deeper into the past he was still piecing together decades later, time was not on his side, nor was it ever for that matter. Made painfully obvious when the creeping (though-distant) approach of explosive shockwaves forced Thomas to keep moving, making concerted efforts to keep would-be killers from finding a desired soft-target in the fog, as stationary aversions to movement always increased the risk of perishing to stray explosive projectiles, sniper shots and the like. Even with OPFOR elements actively targeting singular stragglers and unwitting troop-movements, the fog of war still offered something of a stealth advantage for the majority under fire, marking Barran's unorthodox movement westward all the more fortunate, a little boon of sorts to ward his path to the nearest Aspirant battalion.

'Cheeky fellows, I like it.'

Moving with all the haste a one-eyed Woad could muster, darting through all the slimmest side-streets and alleyways for safety, not even Barran himself could avoid the watchful gaze of the Clones bombarding beyond the Mawite frontlines. But eventually their scanning tech picked up the Bloodhound's movements, though only his outline thusfar, yet still enough to aim for their enemy target, moving in en-masse so as not to bleed manpower to straggler-attack. These defenders were clearly well-trained, but in this specific urban engagement, they erred on the safer side of caution; suspecting their target was loaded out with rocket-propelled explosives, just as multiple, less-fortunate ground-hugging Marauders were before him, wielding shoulder-mounted launchers designed very much alike those the Galidraani wielded in clashes of conventional doctrine.

Whether this was caution, or further training designed to stall and cushion against Marauder tactics, there was no way for the Khan to know, but this little westward game was somehow beginning to awaken a certain thrill from the deeps of Barran's soul. Almost as if it was a fresh revamp of ancient Hunter/Hunted dynamics, like the Hunted was thrown in with sharper claws this time, and a little something extra for good measure; but the one-eyed Woad wasn't about to spoil the surprise for his pursuers, not while the hood of his coat still hid the golden mask, and certainly not while the golden mask still hid his face. There was no sensible need in the Khan's mind to spoil the chase, not when it was still a thrill enough to intrigue his Hunters, likely still under the impression they were merely chasing a sly Marauder by that point of the pursuit.

Occasional disruptor trails and slugs burned the air around him but Thomas continued, with hood up and arms swinging in full-sprint, poised to dive into prone the moment the first explosive projectile hissed in his direction. There was a telekinetic transfer of momentum of which Mercy had trained into the Bloodhound's mind, a counter of which he wished to combine with the impending evasive dive for prone, and in the expectation of the eventual breaking of the spell between them, the Hunted would soon gain new extremes of adrenal mobility from his Hunters. A level of duress of which Barran couldn't deny he had needed for quite some time, as without it's fuelling presence in mind, body and soul, it seemed as though the Khan had felt like a lifeless husk.

Wandering aimlessly for nineteen years, losing his way in search of something akin to a half-decent substitute, and all of it was washed away by the narcotic rush of the real thing - like a sandcastle to a high-tide.

Come on then, cheeky wee chappies.... Show us yer worst.

sssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSS-

C'mere you!
​

Barran's moment had finally arrived, prompting his long-expected twofold response, throwing his entire weight into the front of his feet and diving with everything behind his momentum; aiming for the nearest residential window as his body twisted toward the sound of the approaching projectile, it was there that Thomas saw the fuse and the propellant approaching the wall on his left side, quickly snatching the projectile and returning it to sender as if by bouncing it's payload off the air itself. The Bloodhound would have seen more nuances of his handiwork if he had not chosen to dive into the kitchen of the nearest abandoned house, as that would be the last thing he saw before glass and kitchen counters obscured his view, exclaiming,'Send it!', as he stood to see where the projectile detonated.

'Come on, already! Send it!'

BOOM​

Not close enough to hit his Hunters' formation, but close enough to get their true, undivided attention once and for all, and whether Barran's pursuers took the first,"Return to Sender", seriously or not mattered little, as Thomas was already planning to throw more back the same way. Though first, the Bloodhound knew he had more westward running to endeavour, all too happy to played the role of the Hunted for the time-being, as there would be time yet to reach the Aspirants holding in the west, and distance yet to run like he was just moments before.

​

'LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!!'

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR VI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US - PART 7

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

THE CIRIHUT GUARD - 3

TLDR

Spoiler

-Farsin gets to the roof, complete with Karseres and mortar-shells
-Karseres provides overwatch
-Farsin handles defensive projectiles
-Karseres sees activity northeast, assumes coordination-command
-Scav Kings' support arrives and moves in to engage in two-pronged attack
-Mandalorian tanks advance on Cirihuts' center and right flank
-Renegade Cobalt's contingent responds accordingly
-Karseres signals commencement of renewed offensive push

'Come on, Brother Karseres! Just a couple more ladder-steps and we're there.... There we go! Now, the steel plate?'
​

Carrying mortar-shells in a sack over one shoulder, and his Captain over the other, the Guard-Lietenant was heading to the roof on the suggestion of his Renegade peers, and despite Karseres dropping the steel-pallet twice on the way up, they had finally gotten the roof-access hatch opened with everything they needed close to hand. From there, it was just a matter of setting up to contribute to the fight, their part in what would later be referred to as,"The Urban-Guerilla Clapback", by the Cirihuts who remained by the end of the battle.

'Good, now. Get on comms - here's the receiver, and here's the rifle scope.... And please, try not to slur your words when you speak.'

'Brother Farin.... Just shut the kark up, and let me wallow in peace.', Karseres shot back in casual dryness, almost cringing at the parting comment as he tried to focus his vision to peer into the northeast battlefront, not helped in the slightest by the responding laughter of the other commanding Renegade. Though fortunately for Renegade Gold, his Silver was already silent and peering down to the streets below by the time his earpiece was paired with the comm-receiver, flicking through the public-comm array as his scope finally found it's focus on the eastern battlefront to find the slug-tracers of the Scav Kings' MG-mounted APCs, and just in time to get a relevant comm-link transmission near the action.

'Nice, now we're talkin'!'

<"Dreamer to SK-Anvil! Just letting you know now, when I push the right flank I'm not stopping for anyone.... I'm pushing to relieve Storm Squad, but I fully-intend to double back and widen our salient as soon as we link up in the north.">

<"Better not waste my men, I only just became a Warlord today - don't feth it up-">
<"-Do you even know who you're talking to? I've been a warfighter longer than you've been alive, Anvil! Head in the fething game!">
​

Watching the giant armour suits disembark as the comm-chatter between them unfolded, Karseres couldn't help but give in to his own mirth then, knowing the kind of man Dreamer Darkhan was, a Chiss of whom all Cirihuts admired despite his blue-skinned, red-eyed heritage. Likely the last-surviving of the first Mawite wave on Csilla, long known by then for having a hatred for the culture that exiled his pregnant mother, with allegiance and loyalty assured for the bleeding, war-scarred Mongrel almost ten years before the Omen of Durace's resurrection. The only tenures that matched it were Rook's and Nail's, but the latter had only recently perished, leaving only the Chiss and his psychotic Arkanian friend to set the standard for the Khanate's warfighters, soldiering on in memoriam of the human-born cyborg they lost along the way.

Dreamer Darkhan was deserving of more than mere subordinate respect, and to one like Dornum - the Tri-Lunar halfing his contingent was one who was worthy of reverence.

<"Renegade Gold to SK-Anvil.... Worry not, all the Renegades would vouch for this man - and with good reason.">

<"Alright, Cirihut.... Fine.... I'll push the left flank-">
<"Good man, I like my Brethren hungry and able! After all, the time to feth around has passed - what is required now is MAWSWORN VIOLENCE!!!!>
​

Heralded in with the outburst of slugthrower cover from the MGs, the Scav Kings quickly followed suit, and when the last of the armour-suits had run into the smoky fog beyond, the personnel-carrier crews took their cue to withdraw southwest again for further orders. Running like clockwork, a strangely-comforting sight for a Marauder to see in his Brethren, though this would mark something of a new precedent for Khanate warriors; and for as long as the Mawsworn were given reason to familiarize skillsets with their ordnance, and with more time spent testing this equipment under fire, the more likely it was that they were learning methods they could teach others down the line.

<"You're in the fog now, Anvil. Good luck in there.">
<"These suits were designed for fighting - they'd be useless without action.">
<"Copy that, Anvil. I'll keep you updated on any changes by the Imperial left.">
<"Good man, as unlike Dreamer, my ass must be covered out here. SK-Anvil - out!">

This Scav King knows he is doomed, but he carries it well.

Mother Rebirth, consider this warrior for your embrace.
Let your sisters not restrain him, or at least - not for too long.
​

By then the Cirihut leader could hear the fierce exchanges of heavy firearm crossfire, even from as far off as East Tower on Riemar Boulevard, but the ever-quickening pace of the hostilities continued to gain momentum, with matters getting much louder in closer proximity just moments later. Yet the auditory Hellishness would only continue in it's crescendo, and when the collective sound of multiple rumbling engines joined this warlike symphony, Karseres correctly deduced that enemy tanks had advanced on the Mawsworn right flank, likely working to push a southern salient into their segment of the Senate battlefront. The next part, as much as it seemed an impossible task by then, fell into the lap of Renegade Silver, and he was already reaching back to strike the steel-pallet with a mortar shell at the time.

CLANK​

'Bombs - away!'

BOOOOM​

'WOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!! GET SOME!!!!'

Previously, the crewed ordnance below had fired from a distance that suited the limitations of the tanks' smoothbore-elevation reach, allowing them to aim at the highest floors of the slum towers without straining the turrets too egregiously, but directly beneath the same real-estate, the nearest tanks had no answer for the mortar-shells Farin was dropping from above. The methods would have been different for Renegade Cobalt's chosen warriors, though doubtlessly every part as unorthodox their approach, especially in the way they would have approached their MBT-related concerns, made painfully obvious in the moments they picked up the explosives of their enemies. Rigging them together with their own explosives to detonate by the simplest of charge-setups, combining their explosive power with every available grenade, anti-personnel mine and plastic-explosive the sallying Cirihuts could get their hands on.

<"Ironbreaker, Vanquisher - this is Renegade Gold! Hit 'em with your heaviest, hit 'em with prejudice.... The time has come to push the red line together! LET THE STREETS RUN RED WITH BLOOD!!!!">
​

'WAR, DEATH, REBIRTH!!!!'

CLANK


BOOOOOM​

'Not bad! One more - one more should do the trick for this one!'

​

For better or worse, Karseres knew the Imperial/Mawsworn alliance would leaving a lasting impression on Coruscant after this, and even if the Cirihuts were pushed back after that, what they were endeavouring in these moments would become the deeds that would remind the Galaxy of their power. A violent refresher in all the things the Galaxy feared the most about Marauders to begin with, and from the collective inclination to give their enemies something traumatic to remember them by, to the very weapons they chose to equip for battle, Coruscant would learn what it meant to fear the Maw for the second time.

'Farin, put the mortar shells down for a moment! Farin! FARIN!!! Listen to me - pass me your notepad, the one with the barrage-coordinates! Quickly!'

 

[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

"Let's go, the intruders won't wait!"

Leading the Response Force, Ronval led from the front, the others clad in combinations of SIA Infiltration suits and Alliance trooper armour. Ronval tapped his comms, trying to tap into the surveillance systems of the building- half of the network was fried from the shooting and power surges, and likely more than a few electronic warfare weapons, but some still worked. The worst damage was the areas already stormed by the enemy, who likely disabled the surveillance systems to prevent the building's Damage Control coordinators from spying on them.

There was a sudden surge in one channel as Ronval flipped through. Seizing the opportunity, he slowed and let the QRF move ahead of him while he triangulated the signal, staying close to one of the wireless routers hidden in a wall switch nearby to get a better signal. Video feed was smudged- a strange red glow. The audio was broken up and hard to hear, but it froze him in his tracks:

"Where <...> keeping your databanks?"

Shit! He was right about infiltration. This was a smash and grab (or just smash) op. Another voice was picked up by the surveillance network.

"We h<...>repository <...>ower levels. Junction E-F-41"

"Double back!" He called out to the QRF. They stopped in their tracks and turned back, some questioning, some annoyed, but most knew Ronval well enough to know he wouldn't give the countermand without good reason.

"We got a ferret in the building," he explained to the QRF commander as he trotted past.

"Shit. Access point?" Ronval held up his terminal and replayed the audio.

"Good catch. I'm sending team 3 to assist Aurek-1, the rest are with you, sir."

Ronval nodded and turned right, down a side hallway that would lead to a quick set of stairs down to E-F-41.

"Get your men ready, Agent," Ronval added as they rushed down the stairs, bursting through the doors and approaching the austere grey hallways of the junction. "Something tells me this isn't just any infiltrator. Prepare defensive positions while I run Level 2 Curfew Protocols on the terminal at E-F-41."

"Won't the automatic lockdown-"

"Won't be enough, if the ferrets know what they're coming for and are accessing directly from the repository. The main strategy was always safety through obscuring- hence the nondescript names and being hidden in plain sight."

The group stopped at the junction- just the same as any other convergence of hallways. Leather seats for agents tired of walking, extra wall storage for pneumatic deliveries, and doors stretching down the hallways. But the agents knew this was only a lie.

Down the northern hallway, they saw a lone figure, lightsaber in hand.

"READY DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!" At the remote activation from the QRF commander, the cubby holes folded out into barricades, the seats ripped open to reveal a cache of sonic grenades, a handful Charric holdout pistols and a couple of Ysalamiri grenades. Half the doors were props, laden with explosives, electric shock-blasts and sonic emitters. The first couple of them exploded as the lone figure rushed down the hall, peppering them with debris and walls of sound and energy.

Ronval didn't wait to watch. He dashed down one of the other hallways and made his way into a nondescript door, rushing past a miniature ray shield gate and activating it. Nothing short of crumpling the walls themselves or overloading the power breakers on his side of the barrier would bring it down- though to be fair, with a Force-User, anything was possible.

He flipped the giant terminal on the far side of the room on, and began to run the encryption protocols. All he needed was a few minutes and the repository would be encrypted, before the terminal severed its download landline to the servers buried in the bedrock of Coruscant. Encrypted so completely even SIA Black-3 Icebreakers would take days decrypting it,

A few minutes... but the sounds of shouting and dying outside made it clear even this was a big ask.

​

Spoiler: ooc

Ronval and team make it to junction, setting up a speed bump and trying to lock down the terminal. It might not finish in time.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Matriarch of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Information

Objective: Try to help Tommy
Location: Ground, Coruscant
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades | Promise of Freedom | Ring of Wishes and Dreams || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: Thomas Barran | Scylla AI | Pious Tapp | Roxy Rizzan | Kuff Tolt | Arminius Kroeger | Open

"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>
Keilara Kala'myr | Mercy | Ziare Dyarron | Freedom​

I just sighed at Tommy's response; he had no idea how I felt about it. We didn't pick him up on Durace because he was Thomas Barran. Asher had no idea who he was when he crawled out of the dirt, covered in mud. I told him Tommy was a Barran. I recognized him, and then Asher was under orders not to find out who he was in his previous life until the right moment. Yes, from then on Asher really wanted to use him against his family, but that's another matter. And since he said "over", he's already cut the channel.

For a few moments I had the overwhelming urge to drag Thomas into my mind palace, just as I had done with Asher for years. The only reason I didn't in the end is that Barran wasn't used to it. He probably wouldn't be able to separate the outside world and the mind palace. It took practice, something that Asher and I practised a lot, to completely separate our minds and be able to focus fully on reality and the mind palace. If I distracted Tommy that way, he wouldn't be able to focus on the fighting. I didn't mean to cause his death like that. You were lucky today.

Meanwhile, I kept watching the events, but there was still nothing important to report. I didn't see any other changes in the storm, the fighters went up into space and the units on the ground continued as planned. The enemy was there, of course, but that is no surprise to anyone in a war.

Meanwhile, the rain continued to pound on my armour; I would have liked to be at home at this moment, with Asher. I might as well have watched silently as he made love. This was something I could do for hours, just sitting or lying on the couch and watching him completely immersed in the fact that he was assembling some speeder or other vehicle or machine. We could talk, but I was content just to be near him. Even though 70 years had passed in that other life on Tython, even though we'd been together for nearly ten years before Tython and another thirty since - though I don't know exactly, time passes differently in the Netherworld - I still loved his company and his closeness more than anything.

And even after all this time, I couldn't relax just to be next to him, I needed the excitement... and I needed the revenge to close the deal. Asher, despite what everyone once feared his name, Mongrel, has become a much better man than I will ever be. I didn't deserve him. I think he wanted the life Keilara and Kallan had, a quiet and peaceful life. I could give it to him in part, but not the way Keilara gave it to Kallan. Since Asher was no longer fighting, I looked after him and everyone else. I know the Valkyrja were watching the place and their own city, but still. We were still in danger. The Dark Three, War, Death and Rebirth were still hunting us and maybe the children too.

Asher's soul was promised to them, he was their Champion, but I broke their runes and freed him from their grasp. They didn't get who they wanted... and not because of me. As long as the Avatars live, we will be in danger from them, their agents and their priests. As long as we were in danger, I couldn't rest, and I included Solipsis. He was no threat to us, but he hurt Asher. But... if everyone in Realspace dies, or pays for what he did to Asher, then I don't have to come here anymore, I can stay with him in the Netherworld. My job at Nite was tied up there anyway, I was in charge of gathering information there.

The steady pounding of rain on my armour brought me back to reality, I looked at the monitors again. The war is far from over, the real fighting is just beginning.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"We do not need the Senate to turn outright hostile, so long as mistrust is perpetually maintained between the them and the Jedi." To many, the Jedi would always be these strange outsiders; endowed with abilities that made them appear distant and threatening. There would always be some who staunchly defend the Order, to profess that the Jedi maintained balance and justice in the galaxy. These were dangerous individuals, they would always stand in the path the Sith would inevitably lay.

They had to be removed.

"You are correct, Alicio Organa and those like him will have to be neutralized. It will take time to sow such seeds, but it can be done. Introducing a vicious criminal element to Alderaan will be but the first step, the others will follow naturally." The Dark Lord maintained deeply entrenched ties with the criminal underworld, especially the bigger syndicates and the Hutt Cartel. It would not be difficult to call upon them for favors owed, and to promise them with material spoils. Much like the megacorporations, arch-criminals also were motivated by voracious greed.

The Dark Lord redirected His attention back to the holographic display, watching idly as the battle continued to rage on. "I imagine the Trade Federation has run probability simulations on a potential Alliance defeat here at Coruscant. What would you say their odds are?"

Lodd Grimmin ​

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

Chapter III

Darth Carnifex ​

"If it is simple mistrust, then that is significantly more feasible to achieve with the limited political power currently held by the Trade Federation." The Neimoidian explained finding that sowing seeds of doubt was a far simpler task than attemtping to completely sway the Federal Assembly against the New Jedi Order, who were considered the dedicated guardians of the Galactic Alliance.

Despite the apparent simplicity of this approach, the Trade Federation was acutely aware of the risks involved, knowing that failure or exposure of their scheme could have dire consequences, especially considering the numerous adversaries they had across the galaxy. The Dark Lord of the Kainate possessed numerous qualities such as strength and intelligence, yet he was not known to divulge information unless it served his own interests.

At this time, they found themselves in a secure position, with the Neimoidian redirecting his gaze at Darth Carnifex who had the resources to overpower the King of Alderaan and his allies amongst the Federal Assembly. However, executing such a plan would demand careful preparation and implementation, a process deemed satisfactory by the Trade Federation.

" It will be a memorable occasion when King Organa comes to the realization that the Trade Federation never fails to remember a debt." Lodd said with a deep smile - He could envision the chaos and unrest spreading like wildfire, the once powerful rulers scrambling to maintain control as the citizens fought for their freedom from criminal syndicates. Once the chaos settled down, then the Federation would swoop in like hawks to a dead animal, ready to turn the entire planet into a factorum.

He followed the Dark Lord's gaze towards the holographic map of the battlefield, It became evident that the Galactic Alliance Defense Force was initiating a strategic maneuver to surround the Empire's advance towards the Senate Building. It was clear that in a very short span of time, they would most likely overpower and disperse the entire army.

"Our simulations show odds of 18/38, or 47.4% to be exact. The Galactic Alliance is indeed a formidable force when they are able to unite their resources and alliances for a crucial geopolitical planet like Coruscant. However, their strength is somewhat diluted as they are forced to spread their army thin in order to defend numerous sectors and systems from potential Sith attacks. The lacking of said strength, may allow the Imperials to triumph"

He explained with some semblance of detail, knowing that as the Alliance absorbed more and more planets into their ranks, they would not be able to summon their full strength for important engagements such as this one.

 

[Kazian Blackwood]

POV: Compforce Infiltration Squad Two
Senate Building Sub-basement Engineer Complex
​

The electric hum of the shield generator filled the lower corridors of the Senate Building, the basement engineering compound. These were ancient halls that the Compforce soldiers shuffled through, without even realizing it, nor the significance of their mission. For them this was routine special ops to ensure the completion of the ISBs mission.

"Lieutenant, we've reached the shields as ordered" the sergeant relayed their position, ignorant of what was about to result. The shield generators had helped withstand many an invasion of Coruscant, freeing the Senate Building from the ravages of orbital bombardment or being crushed by falling starships.

In the soldiers' wake were a handful of security droids, older models, a pitiful defense, but in truth an afterthought for the Alliance. The Senate was a timeless building, symbolic and powerful. No invading force had ever deigned to threaten it, save for a wayward shuttle flown directly at it by a mad Sith during the Maw's legendary raid decades earlier, not when it served infinitely better as a tool of occupation.

After a few minutes of bated breaths, their sights trained on the hallway for more enemies that never came, the squad's slicer was through the door.
The room they quickly filed into was a huge dome shape. Rising through its center from a deeper well, cordoned off by railings in ring shape around, was the shield generator edifice. As it extended up through the floor it seemed to blossom into a wide anchor in the ceiling, the whole thing's durasteel surface laced intricately with glowing blue fluid pipes and producing a hum that practically deafened anyone in the room.

The infiltration squad did not plan to stay long. In a swift sweep of the room, they found they couldn't disconnect the main power sources from the shield generator. Though they didn't have the time or resources to fully hack the system, a crafty code cylinder in the right receptacle forced a block on the system that would hopefully last long enough for the Empire to secure the building, and then the planet if all went well. With the bug installed in the system, the glow and the hum of the shield generator faded down and out, leaving the room all but silent were it not for the digital beeping of some machine likely upset by the system's disruption. Whatever shape they may have left the system in, it didn't matter, because now...

...The particle shields were down.

 

[Pious Tapp]

(Mobile/cellular post. Updated formatting within 24 hours. Apologies for lack of tags)



Roxy Rizzan called in. Amidst the heat of battle, comms were the only real way of communicating, despite the interference both natural and born of enemy intervention.

He spoke in response.

<Affirmative. Take what necessary action is required. You have combat autonomy.>

He paused a moment, as he began to take in the site, rounding the base of a giant building.

<Make them bleed.>

Lieutenant Pious Tapp's boots sank into the muddy ground as he approached the site of the friendly fire incident. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and smoldering armor, mingling with the sickly sweet scent of spilled blood. The normally crisp white of stormtrooper armor was stained crimson, charred black, and marred with gaping holes.

He stepped over the first body, a stormtrooper whose helmet had been blown apart, revealing a skull shattered like a fragile eggshell. Brain matter clung to the jagged edges, and viscous blood oozed down, pooling around the remains. Nearby, another trooper lay contorted, his arms twisted grotesquely above his head, a look of sheer terror frozen on his face. His chest plate was a molten mess, flesh beneath seared and bubbling, exposing blackened bones.

The ground was littered with dismembered limbs, torn from their bodies by the force of the explosions. A severed hand still gripped a blaster, its fingers locked in a death grip, the flesh shriveled and burnt. Lieutenant Tapp's stomach churned as he recognized a pair of legs, separated from their torso, with tendons and sinew trailing like grotesque streamers.

In the center of the carnage, the remains of a stormtrooper transport lay in twisted ruin. Flames licked hungrily at the remnants, sending up a column of oily smoke. The vehicle's interior was a charnel house of charred bodies, melted armor fused with scorched flesh. The heat had been so intense that some troopers were fused to their seats, their features indistinguishable in the macabre tableau.

Tapp's gaze fell upon a trooper who had managed to crawl a few feet from the wreckage before succumbing to his injuries. His armor was splintered, sharp shards embedded deep into his flesh. One of his eyes was missing, the socket a gory pit. His other eye, wide and glassy, stared unseeing into the sky, mouth agape in a silent scream.

The lieutenant's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a faint movement. A trooper, miraculously still alive, was propped against a piece of debris, his breaths ragged and wet. His lower half was a mangled ruin, intestines spilling out in a grotesque display. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he tried to speak, but only a gurgling whimper escaped. Tapp knelt beside him, grasping his hand, feeling the clammy chill of impending death.

"I'm sorry," Tapp whispered, his voice breaking. The trooper's eyes flickered, a final shudder passing through his broken body before he went still.

Stepping back, Tapp surveyed the scene once more. The grotesque sights, the overpowering smells, the sounds of crackling flames and distant groans of the dying—all melded into a horrific symphony of war's cruel reality. This was not the glorious battle he had signed up for, not the honor he had envisioned. This was a nightmare, a descent into the deepest circle of despair, where heroes and villains were indistinguishable in death's grim embrace.

As he stood amidst the carnage, Tapp felt a cold, heavy weight settle in his chest. He knew he would carry the memory of this day, the faces of the fallen, the stench of death, for the rest of his life. There was no escaping the horror etched into his soul, no washing away the blood that had soaked into the ground, staining not just the earth, but his very being.

<We have incoming reports of approaching GA troops moving on our position. All units prepare to repel>

Tapp awoke from his state and shook his head, his hand fumbling for his pistol.

"Company, make ready. Defensive positions. Find what cover you can find! Enemy-North!"

He stood resilient for a short while, unsure if he was ready or not. He has no choice.

 

[Nero Drake]

UNDERCITY SEWERS
Vortex ​

---

Nero emerged through the smoke and rubble of another explosion. One by one the Hellions were demolishing possible escape routes. Coruscant's sewer network was vast so it would be impossible to bomb them all but once the swoop gang got it in their heads to start setting off explosions it wasn't that easy to convince them to stop.

"First fool who tells me we lost them gets blasted."

One of the scouts with a swoop that hadn't been shot to pieces led Drake along with a crowd of Hellions back to a side passage too narrow for swoops to maneuver through comfortably. He expected the chase to pick up with renewed enthusiasm and yet the mob of underworld thugs seemed suddenly reluctant.

"Don't tell me you're all scared of some upworld trash," Nero scowled when no one moved, "What's the problem?"

When a Hellion lifted their glowrod so Nero could see the crude markings etched into duracrete he understood. They were warning symbols. This passage led to dianoga territory. Some half-flooded sections were infested with the creatures. One of the many hazards which made gangs like the Hellions the only ones crazy enough to risk mapping safer routes.

"We haven't shed this much blood to bail without some trophies."

He tried not to look terrified as he followed the stormtroopers into a monster lair. This wasn't only about pride. Even scorched, decent shock armor was worth a small fortune on the black market. Down in the lower levels where Alliance law could not reach gangs like the Hellions were a source of vice but they could also provide the closest thing to justice a Coruscant urchin could hope for.

Whatever these soldiers believed they were trying to accomplish, Nero understood the truth. They were hired muscle for another gang trying to claim new territory by forcing everyone else out. He didn't care much either way for the Senate's fortunes, but he'd kill anyone who crossed the Hellions. At least some of the street punks were brave enough or stimmed enough to follow Nero into murky waters.

 

[Halsia Hewitt]

_________________________________________
Sol Dara
_________________________________________
​

Halsia squeezed her eyes shut, counted to three, and found a bit of composure again.

"Yeah. Something like that." Another deep breath, and she cleared her throat. "I would very much like to continue being. Going through a lot is better than going to- hell. Thank you. For. Helping me."

And yet, it was not really her that Sol was there for. Dazzled as Halsia was by the Jedi, her own presence was more incidental than anything else; her 'bravery' made her another person in need of saving. She felt like an idiot, she felt stressed, she felt helpless, she felt small. Who was she, to be here? Who was she, to be wasting the time of a Jedi?

She peeked over Sol's shoulder at the map. "I can- just go, if you've got the directions. There's probably more people to help."

 

[Arminius Kroeger]

D E M O N
DARK EMPIRE
IRON LEGION | THOSE ONCE LOYAL
TASK FORCE BRUTUS
1-66 AASLT REG 'APOCALYPSE' | 1-16 STRM REG 'IRON WILL' |1-8 ENG REG 'PAVEWAY'
DE | Defias | Naxus
GA | Gress D'ran

RETURN TRIP
​

Between the snaps of laser fire and explosives ringing off all around them, there was some eerie silence of death accompanied with the guttural notes of suffering, the crack of plasteel violently colliding with the earth. Shards of shrapnel whistling by their senses. For all the glory Lord Mor'zhul sought to claim with this valiant charge, there was little fanfare in it. It was dirty, ashen dust permeated through the air with a means to coat the armor of and equipment of each of the troopers trudging through this hellish approach. Those unfortunate enough to be caught without their helmets hacked up a lung ridding themselves of the debris as they advanced forward.

Kroeger watched for a moment, seemingly dissociated from the tangible strife about him as he followed along with Ander, not out of lack of knowing where to go but the man seemed to have a means of avoiding fatality. He was a clever sort, smarter than his worth as a towering, lower enlisted trooper. Platoon by platoon the stormtroopers bounded forward, using urban rubble, downed vehicles and corpses piled up to mountains. For all the eyes that were on such a clash of the gods in the eye of the Galaxy, there was no vanity in this battle. It was war, in all its naked brutality.

He heard the Sith barking orders over the commo net, to pull off the reserve companies into the action. Kroeger grit his teeth, shaking his head. In one fell swoop he was destined to lose half a brigade's worth of his men in one blow on the Galactic Stage.

<"Damnit, trooper."> He said, stopping the advance as they managed to nestle behind cover, the Iron Legionnaires moving past them in a dogged advance, turbolasers still thudding into the earth unpredictably upon their approach. He couldn't curtail the Sith's command, but he could shape into something more adaptive to the battle before them. More able to carve a path to which they might seize victory or at the very least, a means to exfill.

<"Wait."> He said, ripping the handmic from Ander's commo pack.

<"Paveway Six this is Demon Actual. Start pushing alternate route with whatever elements you have available with the tasking. Put your forward company on routes aurek and kresh on GRG. Retrans to Iron Will Six to task out companies as needed, if we keep to this single straight away we're going to be chopped up before we ever reach the senate. I'll keep coordinating with Long Night."> He sent to the Commander of the engineer battalion who began to push a platoon into the subterrenean levels along with two platoons of accompanying stormtroopers to try and move ahead of the above ground approach.

Kroeger let the handmic snap into place before he looked to Ander. <"We need to find this damned Sith..."> He said, taking lead of the pair as they bounded up quickly, Kroeger running ahead into cover, setting himself to cover Ander's approach with a few rounds down range. Once Ander was set, he'd move up all the same before soon enough the crimson saber clutching sycophant was before them.

<"Mor'zhul!"> He dropped the Lord moniker.

<"What's your plan with my men?!"> He said, barking out over the rage of battle.

 

[Sol Dara]

Halsia Hewitt

"Yeah. Something like that." Another deep breath, and she cleared her throat. "I would very much like to continue being. Going through a lot is better than going to- hell. Thank you. For. Helping me."

"Of course," was Sol's simple answer. To have the power to help someone yet do nothing would be foolish and selfish.

She peeked over Sol's shoulder at the map. "I can- just go, if you've got the directions. There's probably more people to help."

"There's always more people to help," the padawan replied with a matter-of-fact tone. "If I come across others, I will help them as well. But at the moment," Sol half turned to face the girl, holding the holodevice up at her side. She held eye contact for emphasis, not wanting her steady voice to deprive her of a convincing argument. "You are a non-combatant in an erratically expanding warzone. If I gave you directions and turned the other way, there would be no way of knowing if you made it, and there would be no way for you to call me for help if you changed your mind."

Sol took a small step back to hold the map between herself and the brunette, speaking as she pointed with her free hand. "We are here... I believe our best route is this..." Sol traced her finger along the holographic streets, resulting in a "J" -like shape with a diagonal branch at the top. Their destination was not far. Maybe ten minutes, fifteen if they had to detour a little bit. But those ten minutes weren't a walk in the park. They were a run through a planet-wide city under siege. "...And our destination is here. If there is a point that we get separated, this is what you are looking for."

The mirialan lowered her free hand to her side, her gaze settling on Halsia once more. She could feel the girl's uncertainty and desperation. Sol would be lying if she said there was nothing to worry about. There was something to worry about around every corner it seemed. If there were no threats on the ground, they rained down from the sky. Anything could happen.

The roar of starships returned. Their flight nearby was brief, but it was enough to cause the windows of some of the nearby buildings to shatter. Sol flinched, looking behind herself and further down the alleyway as the glass hit the ground. She faced Halsia again, the glow of the holomap illuminating her face and highlighting her unwavering blue gaze.

"Do you understand?"

Sol was going to ask if the girl had any questions before the flyover. But every moment the brunette stayed above ground was another moment her life was at risk.

 

[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: Rolin Voss, Gress D'ran Lupa Visz Nyles Kote
ENEMIES: Roxy Rizzan Pious Tapp Naxus Defias Arminius Kroeger

"Commander Roche, this is Lieutenant Voss of Boxer Company. Six tanks, approaching your Vector now, we will flank."

<This is Cerberus Command of the 34th to @Sara Roche and @Rolin Voss . Thundercats are moving in, let's close this damn pocket.>

"We're getting flank support!" Called out the signal operator, ducking as a stray blaster bolt flew over the command post. The roar of cannons and missiles from six tanks and six walkers echoed along the Avenue, slamming into the Dark Imperials and sending a cheer down the line. From her tactical map, Sara could see that a pocket was rapidly forming as a significant concentration of stromtroopers, some from the Iron Legion, were beginning to be squeezed in by the defensive line in front and the two armoured spearheads, disabling the armour supporting the advance. But though suppressed, whoever was leading the Dark Imperials knew what they were doing.

<"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.">

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.

The cheer was stifled as, out of the smoke, the Sith, along with the few bucketheads not taking cover, charged out, aiming to break through the weakest point in the pocket rapidly forming.

Straight into the 314th's section of the line.

"Light 'em up!" Mortars and repeaters opened fire again, though the artillery of the enemy began triangulating onto the 314ths light mortars, smashing increasingly close to the carefully concealed positions Sara's battalion had prepared for weeks.

Sara looked back down the Avenue with her macrobinoculars- the Alliance had one last trick up its sleeve before having to displace back one more bound, back into the senate building for CQC:. Not counting mines and sniper nests, the great skyscraper that loomed over the avenue had been mined and prepped for a controlled collapse that would block and seal off the avenue- as well as likely secondary collapses in the tunnels.

<<Flatpack 3-1, get out of the building, we're bringing it down.>>

<<Flatpack 3-1 to Magpie-Actual that is a negative, repeat, we cannot displace. We have ratcatchers moving through the support structures and suppressive fire on the eastern wall. Do not wait for us, bring it down now.>>

<"Paveway Six this is Demon Actual. Start pushing alternate route with whatever elements you have available with the tasking. Put your forward company on routes aurek and kresh on GRG. Retrans to Iron Will Six to task out companies as needed, if we keep to this single straight away we're going to be chopped up before we ever reach the senate. I'll keep coordinating with Long Night."> He sent to the Commander of the engineer battalion who began to push a platoon into the subterrenean levels along with two platoons of accompanying stormtroopers to try and move ahead of the above ground approach.

Sara stifled a curse. There was no time- the Sith and the stormtroopers were rushing hard, even with the fire support from Boxer and the Thundercats. Once they- especially that Sith- got beyond the crash-line of the skyscraper, there could not be a coordinated retreat back to the Senate building proper. Sara knew what had to be done.

"CP-QRF Platoon 4, on me. We're going to buy them time to evacuate."

"What?!" The platoon commander looked up from his foxhole and turned to her in shock. "Commander, we can't-"

"Thirty of our comrades, still fighting fit, are in that building. We will not crash the skyscraper until they're out." Her tone made it clear there was not room for disagreement. Sara checked her heavy blaster cannon, cycling the power cells.

Begrudgindly, the platoon commander ordered the last QRF reserves at the Battalion HQ to form up at the assembly point at the rear of the command post. Mostly military police, garrison troops, and a few walking wounded Marines and Army troopers. They were tired but ready. They would have to do. They looked to Sara with some amount of hope for assurance- most of them had never seen combat before this invasion. She felt uncomfortable in their gaze, even if it did inspire them to think they might make it through. Unconsiously she touched the medallion of the 121st, just under her armour. No one ever talked about the statistical burden inevitably that being a veteran of the 2nd Hyperspace War and the hard-charging 222nd Nova Corps meant a lot of good people didn't make it.

"You're going out there?" The Battalion 2IC called out from his tent, peeking out and massaging his bruised nose, a bruise he'd gotten in earlier fighting.

"I must." Sara did not know what compelled her to say that, but she knew it was... correct. "XO, you have command of this outpost. Hold the line and do not let them break through the pocket, but if the Stormtroopers manage to break through in force, bring the skyscraper down and displace back to the next line of defence." Right in the shadow of the Rotunda. "Make them pay for every inch."

She turned back to the QRF and signalled to move out. Their mechanised transports had been shot to pieces in the bombardment and previous assaults, so they moved out on foot, moving through the shadows of the buildings south of the avenue.

<<Magpie-Actual to Flatpack 3, begin evacuation of the skyscraper now- we'll cover you.>>

<<...Roger.>>

Contact was made almost immediately- the platoon exchanged fire with Arminius Kroeger 's Stormtroopers as they weaved through the buildings on the southern flank of the stormtrooper advance.

All she had to do was get to the skyscraper, suppress the stormtroopers in the subterranean areas of the skyscraper, and buy the squad time to evacuate before the pre-placed charges detonated, collapsing the basements of this avenue and sending the large tower crashing down on the main avenue. Once that was done, even the Sith would be too busy to deal with the Battalion shifting back to the next defensive position.

All they had to do was not die, Sara thought, holding position once the QRF made it to the base of the skyscraper, and ordering the platoon in to make contact with Flatpack, and flush the Stormtrooper engineers sent by out and evacuate. She and a handful remained outside, taking cover in a ruined two-storey building just to the side, laying down covering fire against the Stormie platoons advancing, with snipers and heavy blaster cannons. We just need to fight smart and survive, she thought, ordering one of the others to begin scattering claymores and proximity mines onto the road between the stormies and them. She felt the cool metal of the memorial medallion on her neck.

After all, she was the Roach. She was unkillable, right?

Spoiler: MAP

 

[Thomas Barran]

5th 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 Naxus
Kazian Blackwood Scylla AI Vaudimir Traith Reiner Ghadi Pious Tapp
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 8

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

TLDR

Spoiler

-The grand westward chase continues
-The pursuit begins to draw in more Hunters
-Intensifying to such extremes it draws him into the crossfire of Mandalorian tanks
-Tommy calls on Mercy to identify his pursuers

I know they're Clones, I guarantee it easily.
They all move the same, they all think the same.

But to whom do they belong?
​

'WARRIORS!!!! HEY, HEAR ME OUT!!!! I HAVE A QUESTION FOR THE CLONE LEADING YOUR SQUAD!!!!'

To the Hunters trying to encircle his position, this seemed more like a stall for time than sudden curiosity, but in light of his brazen approach to situation, the Clones momentarily humoured the hooded Marauder below. The Hunters were all of the careful, mildly-sceptical impression they had regained every possible advantage over the Hunted by then, thus felt no extra risk would be taken in hearing the last mewlings of a dying man, a dignified moment of their time before the final attack was sprung upon their prey.

'WHO IS YOUR GENERAL HERE, ON CORUSCANT?!?! I WANT A NAME - A REAL NAME!!!!'

Holed up in a particularly maze-like shanty, with many a potential avenue of escape spotted on arrival, Barran had gifted himself an extra minute or so to make his big plan once and for all; the Hunters of the one-eyed Woad could sense that course-plotting had occurred in their search to find him, and though their quickness to find the trail again had led them to believe those plans were cut short, there was no way of knowing the reach of the plans made in that short span of two minutes. However, luck was still on the side of the Hunters, completely unaware that the Hunted was struggling to remember the callsigns of the Aspirants he was trying to reach, manning strongpoints almost two miles to the west of their positions at the time.

But the Clones cared little and less by then, their objective was only,"Straggler Cleanup.", and the Hunters inteded to set the standard that day. With the latest quarry shot, they could finally move a little closer to their own defensive lines again, understanding they had moved off a little too far from their formation to chase the latest of bothersome targets; the only part of this chase that seemed optimal was their constant passing of the southern battlefront, with friendly units in close-proximity from east to west, and the Clones could see this was still very-much unending by the time they reached their target's latest hideout. Seeing Mandalorian tanks to the north, GADF units back eastward, and when they finally picked up the blood-drops of the Hunted, they would see more tanks filing southward past the western slum tower beyond.

'Naaaaah! We're not playing that game with the likes of you, the only option available to you is OPSEC, Mawite scum! NOW, STEP OUTSIDE WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!!!! I'M DONE WITH YOU AND YOUR STALLING TACTICS!!!!'

As predicted, the Clones attacking the Bloodhound at the time would unleash all they had, and with no orders to take prisoners, it was all a matter of preference as to how they wished to take the Hunted down, and this time they had chosen automatic slugfire as their method-of-execution. The explosives would await the Woad's attempts to escape the storm of anti-personnel projectiles, yet every Clone within that squad had seen that things wouldn't be so simple for the Hunters either, as was seen when they tried to launch the first rocket against him, still unsure of how their target had achieved it. Not that it mattered by then, as the silent, coordinated signal had been given, and they were unleashing automatic fire with severe prejudice before they thought to ask him how it happened.

Made worse in the Bloodhound's predicted westward escape-attempt, still somewhat obscured by the explosion of a fuel-tank near the shacks' center-mass point, but enough to force the launch of another anti-personnel rocket in his general direction. More likely to have been launched out of spite than irritation, though doubtlessly with little more than a split-second to consider the dangers it posed to other pursuing clones at the time, but it wasn't this development that interested the Hunted, as it was mostly in the realisation that none were condemning the wilful abandon of the action. This would become doubly-apparent when the second diverted projectile took down one of their supposed battle-brothers, as there would be nothing in the way of lamentation or outcry, only mirth, the most apathetic of collective laughter imaginable.

'COWARD!!!! I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO MEET OUR COMMANDER!!!!

These warriors weren't just deployed and fighting as one, there was active competition between every last one of them - there was prestige on the line here.

'What's the big deal, though? At least this way, YOU CAN MEET 'ER FOR YOURSELF!!!!'

Going out on a hunt, an' for the sole purpose o' weedin' out the weak links among you?
Oh, how disgustingly Galidraani of them....

For that, I think I'll play another game entirely.
​

So the chase continued as it had before, at a frenetic, sprinting pace, though it didn't take long for the Bloodhound to discern that more pursuers of their Clone collective had joined the game of Hunter/Hunted for the second round. However, beyond that point, continuation of the game would only incur more Hunters for every small stretch of slum tenements he covered, and not only in the form of more Clone contingents, but with Mandalorian tank-crews and GADF infantry joining their allies in the endeavour. The time for Barran's powerplay was fast-approaching, and with the growing crowd of unwitting pursuers approaching ever-nearer at his back, Thomas knew for a fact he was making a gamble of survival, but remained confident despite the fact he was relying on a new breed of Aspirant to aid in it's assured success.

<"Mercy-">
BOOOOOOM​

'Damnit.... Fine, I'll run - ah - this way.'

​

This explosion wasn't preceded by that distinct propellant-hiss from before, and it scattered it's hard-target much farther at ground-zero than anything the Clones had launched his way in the chase, sending out a shockwave forceful enough to send the Khan careening through a wall, landing with a groaning wheeze on an adjacent street by the time he realised what had happened. Presenting Thomas with an increasingly difficult task of staying the course of his own, half-baked plan, especially when he arose to feel as though he had taken a beating from a lynchmob, an entire session of ragdolling in one impact, and with almost no time at all to continue without receiving hellfire and death for his troubles.

<"Mercy, its Tommy! I appear to have - ah - a few tails, but I'm trying to figure out who their General might be. Requesting a scan to see what you might fin-">
BOOOOM​

'Still too close....'

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR VI: WHERE CHAINS ONCE BOUND US - PART 9

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

DREAMER DARKHAN - 1

TLDR

Spoiler

-Dreamer leads the first phase of the shock-assault
-Dreamer sets a two-pronged attack formation
-Dreamer takes the right flank
-Dornum is fighting at the left
-Right flank works to push Phoenix away from Imperial artillery nearby
-Left flank pushes to attack the other defensive salients
-Fighting threatens cauldron-conditions for GA/MP counteroffensive
-Dreamer wants more, pushes farther northward to reach the airdrop in time
-Dreamer reveals intention to link with Pious Tapp before its too late
-Imperial comm-channels light up with artillery coordinates once more

'EXPECT NO QUARTER, EXPECT NO HESITATION!!!! WE'VE BLED THEM OF THESE MERCIES ALREADY!!!!'​

Various, shunting cadences of metallic soles in the gravel, coupled with heavy, tinny-echoed breathing and the distant screams of Disruptors and agonies alike, this was all that the Scav Kings had to keep them company in the smoky, dusty fog of war, every part as persistent as the very battles that kicked it all up in the first place. Some would look around them and see the left-flank prong of attack in the near-distance, one by one slipping out of view around the nearest municipal building, advancing their own way in the attempt to relieve their allies of the pressure assailing them from the north and west alike.

'UNLEASH YOUR BLOODLUST - FOR ALL YOU'RE WORTH!!!!'

Howling with every obsenity their minds could muster within the mist, the Scav Kings bounded their way past the nearest artillery guns, and with all their weapons blazing, unleashed all their rage on anyone unfortunate enough to be seen lacking Imperial battle-raiments at the time. The ramshackle power-armour would have conjured quite the frightful image for their previously-duressed allies, though as for those bearing the Phoenix ensign of their attackers, the only sensible choice to make under such pressure en-masse (especially with the sallying attempt so close to succeeding for Coruscant's counteroffensive) was to backpedal calmly in a stubborn fighting-retreat. It wasn't over yet for the city's defenders after all, but even the slightest, smallest halt in their momentum had the potential to stall the fight to an impasse, and such conditions always had increasing chances of favouring the attacker, an outcome of which Coruscant was desperately trying to avoid.

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUURGH!!!!'

​

Unfortunately for those attacking Vanquisher's artillery contingent at the time, they had more than armoured abandon and firepower to consider, and far more than mere zealotry could ignite in moments such as these; the recent loss of their Warchief was very much still fresh in their minds, as was the face of his killer, made all the worse for the opposition by the fact the grieving Scav Kings were no-longer permitted to inflict retribution. A sad thing it would've been to consider, or at least, if it wasn't for the fact the armoured Marauders were set on wielding that incensed fury like a bloody hammer, and to each a man content enough to it all out on the ones who were standing in their way at the time.

However, the hidden nuances of their attack would show soon enough, and yet, despite the process of shifting the battlefront in on it's northeastern-curving axis, small pockets of space and opportunity were still there for the smartest of their enemies to conserve numbers for the real fight to follow, tactical retreats to push for a second, better-organised counteroffensive. The defenders were still fortunate enough to confidently count on reinforcements at that phase of the battle, but therein lay the dilemma presented by the sudden shock-effect of the Mawsworn relief effort:

If holding out guaranteed renewal of the counteroffensive, would it be enough to guarantee it's success with fewer numbers - or were they better-served taking the risk of stepping back to protect the reinforcements they sorely needed?

'KAAAARAAAAAAASH!!!! ARE YOU WATCHING US NOW, BROTHER?!?!'

<"Logistics One to Dreamer! We are exactly three minutes out with our payload.">
<"Copy that.... But- payload?">
<"Warhounds, and we plan to drop the cages exactly two-klicks north of your current position.">
<"Not bad, but seriously - need it really be that far north?">
<"My suggestion, Dreamer? Haul ass and blame the Cirihuts! Logistics One out!">​

And so the vicious advance continued.

Shrugging the closest of opportunists westward, plugging all the gaps in the Imperial warfront whilst looking northward with renewed purpose, the Scav Kings were finally beginning to feel that long-expected exhilaration; and not too far off in the distance awaited another opposing contingent, unaware of the attack's approaching right-prong, and completely unaware of the objective the attackers were trying to reach beyond them. Seen bearing a blue coat of arms on the nearest of their armoured vehicles soon later, Dreamer's contingent would waste no time distracting their attention away from the embattled Imperials in the north, and with more than enough power-armoured Marauders for the task, the wild old Chiss couldn't help but cackle at the latest of Fate's many challenges.

'Rotary cannons at the flanks, far as you can, supported by high-calibre slug rifles - the rest of us can blitz wide across the center between.... Await my order, go!'

While the relevant heavy-weaponry specialists were setting off to their wide-flanking preparations, the Darkhan turned his attention to the remaining right-prong majority, pulling off his warmask so the Scav Kings could hear him speaking clearly as he began,'Just letting you all know, the last ten minutes there - were all just groundwork, glorious though its been thusfar.... Our real,"Phase 1", starts as soon as I scream for it's commencement.', trailing off in the act of looking over his shoulder to the mist-shrouded outlines in the distance. The illustration of Dreamer's point was brief, though long enough for the armoured Marauders to understand the sort of aggression he was asking of the vanguard advance, but when he continued,'I'm not aiming for them - I'm aiming through them, understand?', only then did they understand what the real,"Phase 1", meant.

'If we prevail this engagement, Warhounds await us.... And other Imperials, likely in worse shape than those we only just assisted.... We leave no allies behind, we leave nothing to chance, and I promise you now - we will succeed here today.'

<"Renegade Gold to Kae-Killer One! If you have any guns operational - set 'em all to direct fire and throw EVERYTHING you got at One Six, point, Four-Four-One-One! Guns don't even need to move an inch this time.... And don't worry, I'll handle the danger-close warning!">
​

Punching the air by then, Dreamer had saved himself minutes upon minutes of explanation by amplifying the comm-link chatter on loudspeaker, playing it out for the sake of the warriors gathered around him in curiosity, all of whom quietly celebrating the latest of developments. As then, all the Scav Kings would be getting a little extra dose of entertainment with their violence, holding off their attack for the prettiest of explosive displays, almost like postponing a riot to watch a holiday fireworks display first. It just seemed to make sense to the armoured Marauders in these moments, standing in northward yearning for a pre-battle fanfare like no other, as there would be scant few moments like it in the battles of the not-so-distant future, latter imitations of which would forever be associated with the bloodbath on Coruscant thereafter.

<"Renegade Gold to Storm Sixer - avoid any windows or open entrances around your current positions! Artillery barrage inbound, I repeat - artillery barrage inbound! ">
​

'Oh, what I would give now to be in Sixer's shoes.... Best seats in the house, I swear it.'

Over-extended, and with little in the way of fortified cover, the GA's counteroffensive had pushed forward too quickly, leaving them exposed to diverted relief-efforts and bombardments alike from the start; and in the following minutes of hostilies, the counter's eastern segments would learn the true cost of such errors in the heat of battle, and to such a shocking extreme that not even the Scav Kings could know the true extent of that bitter, bloody truth. All they could anticipate in truth was the impending spectacle, in and of itself, along with the violence the Marauders were likely to inflict in it's wake, but nothing of the details or where to expect the destruction at it's grandest extent, not that Dreamer had any complaints on the matter.

To the Darkhan and his Scav King subordinates, such extra details mattered little and less - the Marauders just wanted to be entertained.

<"Renegade Gold to Kae-Killer One! DIRECT-FIRE ORDER, TWO-MINUTE BARRAGE - OPEN FIRE!!!!">​

'Visors down, lads.... Enjoy the fireworks.'

 

[Dyrn Grav]

Senate Building
Sub-Level Passages to Senate Offices

The small armored transport weaved through the towering skyscrapers, the pilot expertly avoiding the worst of the sky battles, with the orders to land within close proximity of the Senate Building. There were numerous TIE fighters and Alliance vessels soaring through the air, the Coruscant skyline was filled with threats, and the only advantage the transport had was armor and speed; and as a result, there were no attempts to engage or fight enemy fighters, and that meant the small contingent landed relatively unscathed in the shadows between nearby buildings.

Dyrn opened the transport door and launched out, as he hit the ground running, his blaster rifle held firmly across his front. The security team followed, likewise armed, and together the group moved closer to the Senate Building proper. They could see the bombardment and TIE strafing runs taking place, it made sense to avoid a direct approach, especially as distant explosions of ordnance shook the ground and rattled transparisteel windows along the streets.

<<"Emergency access, now,">> Dyrn said as the group reached a non-descript portion of wall on a neighboring building. <<"When we are inside, we move directly to Lady Natasi's position.">>

The head of security produced a dataspike and proceeded to transmit a closed circuit command. The wall opened inward, revealing access to the sub-level corridors of the Senate Building, and the group proceeded inside, as the access door closed behind them. Inside the narrow corridors, Dyrn led the way as he scanned the distances before him, taking time to pause at junctions and intersections to double-check for hostiles.

The security group passed - unknowingly - the infiltration party some distance away, who moved on the shield generator.

Dyrn rounded a final corner of the labyrinthine sub-levels and saw what he needed; and without pause, he approached the heavy doors and held up an access card, which took several moments to activate. When the sequence concluded, the turbolift door opened and the group stepped inside, before Dyrn pressed the button for the level of Natasi's beacon.

Another series of explosions sounded and caused the building to rumble.

That felt different...

The rapid acceleration of the turbolift began to slow, even as the ex-Guardsman thought about the Senate Building vibrating as it did, before the lift slid to a stop. Dyrn raised his rifle and nodded to the security team. As the doors opened, the large Duke stepped out and swept the immediate area, as he pushed forward and heard the others likewise fan out. No immediate threats presented themselves, to which the group began to jog down the familiar Senate Building corridors, passing offices Dyrn had visited in the past, or glimpsed.

<<"Friendly, friendly, Alliance forces,">> Dyrn called, as the group approached the approximate location of the beacon. Talking was heard within the office. <<"Lady Fortan, we are coming in.">>

Dyrn was first through the doors, as he shouldered through and aimed the weapon. He saw the gathering of Senators and lowered the weapon, even as he scanned his wife with his heavy helmet. The Duke moved toward her, as the security team took up positions facing the hallway, and pulled off his helmet to smile at Natasi.

"I am glad you are safe," he said as he took a moment to hold her about the shoulders, relief evident on his face. "Yet, the situation is dire. Fighter strafing runs and enemy bombing patterns are moving throughout the area, limiting evacuation paths... we need to leave, now, all of us."

The last words were said as Dyrn looked over to the others present.

"Senator Organa, are you all ready to evacuate?"

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

 

[Naxus]

ALLIES: Arminius Kroeger | Defias
ENEMIES: Galactic Alliance | Gress D'ran | Sara Roche

As friend and foe alike fell in droves beside him, Lord Morzhul's strength in the dark side grew. He reveled in the pain and suffering, the terror and horror that beset him. The fires of anguish consumed him and his surroundings until there was nothing else but him and his coveted prize - the Senate Rotunda; its oval shape inching closer and closer to his grasp with each death.

His blade carved through an enemy soldier, then he yanked a stormtrooper with the Force to shield himself from an onslaught of retaliatory fire. They were all just tools -- instruments -- he would use and discard to attain his goal, to reclaim glory and name. He delved deep into the crevices of his mind, hauling memories of his failure as a warchief to the forefront, and hurled them into the pit fire of the dark side, stoking the brewing inferno within.

<"Mor'zhul!"> He dropped the Lord moniker.

<"What's your plan with my men?!"> He said, barking out over the rage of battle.

The Sith Lord's attention shifted to the unexpected call of his name just as pulled his lightsaber from the chest of an enemy soldier. The body fell with a dull thud on the ground, barely audible in the deafening discord of battle.

"Your men?" Mor'zhul scoffed loud enough to be heard, a sinister grin materializing on his phase as he began to channel the Force in anticipation of what was to follow.

The lone sith lord that seemed to be charging forward Naxus was met with massive HE missiles and flak guns opened up with ruthless abandon to dissuade the enemy sith lord's charge.

The ground exploded all around him in a blaze of fire as he wrapped himself with a protective bubble; the blast disintegrating the four stormtroopers that beset him. Lord Mor'zhul demonstratively studied the ashen remains of the imperial soldiers, clearly indicating to Kroeger he could've extended the invisible barrier to shield the troopers.

But deliberately he had not.

"These are my men now, General, and I will do with them as I please." he hissed proudly, venom dripping from his voice before he charged once more into the fray.

Glory called.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi, too, waved away Raphael Calgar 's offer. "Thank you very kindly, Senator, but I brought my own. Just in case." She drew the blaster from the holster at her hip. Luckily for her, Dyrn Grav had been giving her a refresher course in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, so she was a little more than novice with the weapon.

"I suppose it would be a fool's errand to suggest that you find the exit and leave this task to us, Alicio," Natasi said, her tone gentle. She didn't suggest it because she thought Alicio could hold his own in a fight, or that he was not among the most courageous people in the Senate. Natasi Fortan knew better. But the Senator from Aegis was convinced, to her very marrow, that Alicio Organa was critical to the future of the Alliance -- perhaps as its leader, perhaps in another capacity, but his presence seemed vital to the survival of the nation. She wasn't sure what the Imperials had up their sleeve for this, but she knew from all their conduct thus far that they would stop at nothing to achieve it, and she didn't like the trio's odds against the mass of forces that she had seen arrayed outside...

But then, the odds seemed to even themselves out as Dyrn Grav 's voice sounded and he made his presence known. Bulky armor be damned, the Senator embraced her husband fully. "I knew you'd come," she said, smiling up at him tightly. Natasi made the necessary introductions to between her colleagues and Dyrn and his team before dashing the Duke's hopes of a swift exfiltration. "I'm afraid we can't leave quite yet, and there isn't much time. I'll explain on the way."

With that, Natasi and the Senate contingent turned opposite from the way Dyrn had come and they set off for the security center, picking their way through the broad Senate office corridor. With Raphael Calgar taking point and Dyrn and his men all around, Natasi felt better about their chances, and about getting Alicio safely away. She briefly outlined the necessity for them to secure or destroy key Alliance data to Dyrn as they went.

They arrived at a bank of turbolifts and Natasi was pleased to discover that they were still powered. She touched the controls for the security center and touched her badge to the reader, but she was surprised to find that Senator badges didn't grant access. Natasi studied the panel carefully, then turned to Calgar. "Do you think you can hack this?"

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