Chrome Galactic Alliance Dominion of Malastare Hex

[Asher]

Objective 1
Title: Damn it!
Gang:
Rogue One - [member="Aedan Lochlan"] - [member="Tela Uolmi"] - [member="Berric Kelso"] - [member="Loske Matson"] - [member="Alicia Frost"] - [member="Choli Vyn"]
[member="Encouragement Gets"] - [member="Asmus Janes"] - [member="Areiana Slayer"] - [member="Alexandra Russo"] - [member="Lucius Varad"] - [member="Allyson Locke"] - [member="Devyn Lynton"]

And there Owen was in the middle of the desert on a planet that was as lovely as Tatooine. Which was to say that it was pretty far from it. The coarse grains that littered this warm planet and covered it with nothing but the brightest of fiery orange was enough to make anyone go mad. Owen had already seen Lucius, worried about his condition and offered his condolences more than once. Truth told it wasn’t wrong to assume that Owen himself was also ever so slowly starting to lose it below the fiery skies of Malastare. Not because of the lack of water, but because if there was one thing he had a strong dislike for other than squeaky doors, it was sand. It tied for second place with a whole variety of small things such as pencils not aligning perfectly and other compulsions that the man had no control over.

There was no order here and his brain was working overtime to ensure that he kept some small sense of stability where none of it was to be found. He withdrew a canteen from the belt on his hip and took a sip of water. No more, no less. It obviously did him no good, but in the long-run preservation of water would most likely become far more valuable than anyone would like to imagine.

Now, for someone born on Naboo, that was a concept very hard to wrap their mind around, but Owen figured he would nonetheless. It wasn’t exactly like he had a choice anyway. His canteen was reattached to his hip and his boot kicked the motor of his bike into gear once more. He knew where they were heading and he knew what was at stake. The smoke in the distance made it all the more obvious that if the crew had any intentions of getting off this rock they had to work together. Now more than ever.

With a scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose he set off. Just this once he didn’t say much, there was nothing that the new guy could really add.

 

[Vehanv Kiva]

Deadpan, Vehanv’s listless gaze rested on [member="Sal Katarn"]. For a handful of seconds, there was no reaction from the female, merely this gaze of unrevealing emotion. Perhaps it edged on unimpressed. Finally though, a curl wove its way to her lips and a smirk took over once more. Then, a deep, gravelly chuckle as she halfheartedly gestured about the cantina.

Didn’t really matter if Sal confirmed or not, the fact that [member="Cameron Centurion"] was here, and they were sharing the same location once again in about 450 years meant that her plan would now be very, very flexible.

“Only a fool would object. You won’t say no. If you do..” she shrugged. As stated. Who needed a fuel reserve now when Alathor’s primary apprentice was in the same room as her.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 1/38

Because the Galactic Alliance had so few minesweeping units, they accepted so readily that the Rings of the Lord, whose formerly home base of Ringo Vinda was by now but a fleeting memory and so far away from any Galactic Alliance world, was to be deployed on very, very short notice. But the Galactic Alliance would not deploy them until there were strong enough suspicions that minefields were present on location. They were on Sullust to get their ship refitted with a second deck. With Ugohr as their now-commander, as their last commander died on Zaloriis in an attempt to free prisoners from the camp, they were deployed near a compound built into the gorge by the Black Sun of old. But they suspected the Black Sun remnant to have more than one trick up their sleeve. In the dead of night, the Rings of the Lord would attempt to cross the methane river. But that region of Malastare being highly susceptible to light pollution... it always seems to be night in that area.

Spoiler

"Sir, our sensors indicate that the main approach to the Black Sun remnant compound is covered with mines" a Jawa tank commander said through his vocabulator.

"Copy, Nardil, advance. Da bridge issa wide enough for una tank. All-n-youse else, fan out and stay sharp!"

As the tank commanded by the Jawa with the callsign Nardil advances slowly through the minefield called the Malastare Narrows Bridge, its rotating flail extends and begins advancing at the pace of a forced infantry march (a tactical forced infantry march, that is) which, for a hovertank, was fairly slow. But by that time, the Black Sun remnant begins to deploy their troops on the landing pad of their compound. A NR-N99 snail tank begins appearing above ground after the infantry reached for the pad outside. Other tank commanders were waiting on the situation that unfolds before them, while still being wary of other units that may lurk beyond the ridge, lying in wait for unsuspecting tanks to approach that position.

"Anarion, yousa aim for da snail tank, Hadraniel, aim for da infantry on Nardil's left, Galadriel, aim for da infantry on Nardil's right"

"Roger, Ugohr" the human tank commander with callsign Anarion replied to Ugohr, who was the only one without a callsign of his own.

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Cameron's attention had drifted from [member="Vehanv Kiva"] and her conversation with [member="Sal Katarn"] the moment the tall woman had begun speaking to the gruffy man seated at the table. The Sith Lord's gaze lingered over the many scattered bodies. It seemed...such a waste.

As Kiva and Katarn continued their verbal jhost, Cameron closed his eyes and stretched his senses forth into the ether of the Force. In rather little time, the fading existence of so many souls were drawn into Cameron's own body, siphoning off the fleeting vestages of energy within them.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Objective: One
Allies: [member="Davon Karr"] and [member="Nia Siroc"]
Enemies: Krimson Kult - [member="Astarii Saren"]

A primitive slug from a Kult whizzed past Lok's face, but it did peel off skin from his face. He was bleeding, but it wasn't a life threatening wound that would cost him his life if he didn't seek for some medical aid. The attacked which was a hideous Gamorrean was celebrating as if he had conquered the young Mando. His squealing of victory would be silenced as Lok raised his pistol and fired three rounds of his slugthrower with one single pull of the trigger. The green pig was yelped in pain and fell onto the terrain of Malastare as it lost its balance from its vehicle. A smirk was across his face when he killed his attacker.

As Davon yelled an order to the crew the Eviscar dugs raced to the opposite side of the skiff and began boarding the tanker of the Kults. While brave dugs contested the tanker with the Kults they still had to defend the skiff from hostiles that dared to board it and provide support for the dugs that boarded the Kult vehicle. The youngster saw that Davon was somewhat in trouble as the Kult were aiming for the area in which dictated where the skiff would go, something that Davon was in charge of.

The Mando would holster his pistol and his two hands would wrap around his bat as he was being tactful with the ammunition that was left in his firearm. The Munin boy would rush oast the crew on the deck and would carefully maneuver around the blades of the control bridge which acted as a double sword for the Eviscars and whoever dared to board the control bridge of the skiff. Lok arrived at the control bridge and was ready to fend off any Kult member from the skiff.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 2/38

Anarion managed to land a direct hit at the snail tank's central tread, rendering it unable to move. By that point Beregond moves into its enemy flank arc and, since the main weapons of the antiquated NR-N99 are axis-mounted, they can only fire forward. On the other hand, the impending doom of the infantry approaches as the Jawa-manned tank, whose commander has the callsign Nardil, advances slowly while the enemy infantry is aiming for the rotating flail, without much success because the alusteel implement is so thick blasters only make dents into the flail's chains. But as the mines are set off against the chains of the flail...

"Commander, enemy tanks have arrived from beyond the ridge!"

Horror, oh horror, the Rings of the Lord were met with tanks the Black Sun captured from the Techno Union in their retreat away from Malastare a few months ago...oh that was going to hurt especially since the assemblage of tanks was mainly made of tracked T3-B units, with three heavy AAT Mk. IVs kept in the center. The eight T3-Bs, four each on the flanks of the heavy AATs, each launched a volley of three proton torpedoes from a rather long range, perhaps longer than the longest effective range of either the dual cannons of the Zambonis or the T3-B heavy blaster cannons:

"Lock-on alert!" Galadriel signalled to the rest of the unit.

"Nardil, activate da electronic countermeasures! All-n-youse else, evasive action at full speed!"

 

[Sal Katarn]

Dodj,
Dusty Dram

"Hmm."

So that's the way it's gonna be.

The drifter's lips pursed down on his smoke, then he slowly slid the pistol back into the holster at his hip. One hand swept up the playing cards. He pushed back the chair, squealing slightly on the wood, and got to his feet.

Looked like he'd be doing the dirtywork of Sith. Again. Last time he'd said said no more. Same as the time before that. Somehow, they kept creeping out of the woodwork to find him. Seemed everybody needed somebody dead. Well, least he'd got job security.

"Gotta price."

Sal picked up the massive particle beam rifle leaning against the wall and slung it over a shoulder. His eyes found the woman's, waiting.

[member="Vehanv Kiva"] | [member="Cameron Centurion"]

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 3/38

As Nardil sets off more and more mines on the bridge, using the rotating flail, the Jawas realise that the bridge is about to collapse under multiple explosions which, in themselves, were minor, but their combined effect weakened the structure of the Malastare Narrows bridge. The could go full-reverse without that much trouble but every single crewmember knew that the tank can hover at most 50 meters above ground before it becomes unusable, and the ridge is well over a hundred meters deep at that point. But the result of the bridge collapsing was that the tank's electronic countermeasures became, well, out of range of the other tanks. It would be many kilometers up or downstream before the treaded tanks could actually cross, but the enemy didn't expect the Rings of the Lord to cross at the alternate points of crossing, nor would they expect infantry (Jedi or not) to do so either.

"All units, activate electronic jamming!"

"We could outflank the enemy if we cross the river far enough away from the destroyed bridge" the tank commander Ugohr calls Andariel commented.

"Split up in duey groups: Galadriel, take yousa group downstream, and mesa group go upstream: wesa withdraw beyond firing range of da treaden tanks, and wesa outflank da enemy in da center. Then wesa paste da enemy tanks"

Going in full reverse up a falling bridge put Nardil's tank at a disadvantage, although not overly important because, the T3-B did not have good depression, and the heavy AAT was even worse, being at best able to shoot at targets at or above the turret's level, but Nardil was in no position to shoot at any of the AATs, being out of range even with the proper elevation. But as the T3-Bs close in, they end up severing the bridge with proton torpedo fire, sending Nardil's tank in unstable flight towards the ravine's bottom.

"I've been hit! I will simply go downstream in the methane river; the enemy will assume my tank has been destroyed"

"Nardil, if yousa can target a tank, or other enemy elements, at maximum elevation from below, fire!"

 

[Betti]

Objective: 1
Location: Above the burning fields
Allies: Rogue Squadron (I'd tag but I know not who all is there)
Enemies: ???

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4DwFKB8hTA​

​

It wasn't every day you got to experience the wind in your hair, the air rushing by your face, the heat of the sun on your skin, the adrenaline rush as the landscape flew by... the smell of burning garbage and oils in your nostrils.

Abb'ett'intrano, or "Betti" as most people called her, had found herself stuck on Malastare, surrounded by hostiles, and generally in a bad situation. Unable to force her way out with violence, she lacked the surety and confidence to talk her way out... or talk at all, really. At least to another person directly, face to face. Extreme shyness was adorable up until it was crippling in social situations that required negotiating for one's own well being.

Left with no other alternative than sitting in one spot hoping no one shot at her or, even worse, made her verbally interact with another living being, she turned to the only thing she could think of: building something, anything, that could help. With the discovery of enough metal piping, scrap metal, and a few half decent power cells, she got to work.

A few hours later, she sat in the seat of her newly made junk contraption and started it up. When it failed to fly apart or render her into an expanding cloud of meaty chunks, she considered it a success. Everything was working swell so far, or at least it wasn't breaking, and it even managed to take off. Landing would be another issue, but thankfully one she could postpone for the time being.

She hovered for a few moments over the location she'd successfully built, double checked that she'd left nothing she didn't want or need behind, and pushed the flying junk she now called a gyrocopter forward. As she flew past the dangerous areas, she noted that either no one cared she was there or that no one had bothered to waste ammunition on her. The way things were going, she figured it was the latter rather than the former.

As she flew onwards, she realized the fields ahead were on fire. In truth, they weren't all on fire, just certain areas were. From the noxious smell of burning oil and the thick black clouds hanging low over the area, she figured it was probably a good idea to drop altitude somewhat. She adjusted a few controls and kept a steady hand on the rudimentary joystick jabbing up between her knees as she stuck her head out over the side of the gyrocopter. She didn't have the necessary tools or materials to manufacture a decent altimeter, or any altimeter at all, and had to eyeball the drop in altitude. As she did so, she spotted a group of riders approaching quickly, their machines kicking up a dust trail as they raced forwards. Certain that she was quite visible now, as anyone would be flying and hovering around up in the sky ahead, she leveled out and grabbed her commlink, not entirely sure on what to do. If the riders were friendly, they'd try to signal in some way. If they weren't, they'd probably shoot at her, which meant she'd have to go back up in the black clouds again, something she didn't really want to do...

 

[Micah Talith]

Objective 3: Do you own thing.
Bum Kark No Where.
Zilobeast lands


There was no [member="Vexen"] .

That was rather startling. A groan elicited from his lips, and all he could do for the moment was just lay there on his back, spread eagle. His mind tried to rationalize just what was going on. For a few seconds, he almost believed he was dreaming. Had to be. He had been one of those types of dreamers where everything seemed to vivid. That it would just pop out in colour and seem real.

It wasn't until later that his father had told them that they could be small flashes of the past and the future, even the present. All done through the Force. Half the time he didn't really make rhyme or reason of it, but they were there. Could this be it?

Considering how fething hot it and how bright that massive orange blob in the sky were, odds were... not likely.

True concern bubbled up within his chest then. [ VEX!!! ] He shouted, his modulated voice echoing within his helm and resonating out of it. He slowly began to get up, a hand coming to his chest. It was just hard to breathe.

With a groan, he managed to go for the security latches at his throat. The hiss of a seal broke, and a second later, he tugged off the phrik helm. That dark mop of hair flopped over one side of his head, his face a bit red, blotchy, and sweaty. Squinting against the brightness of the sun, Micah gave a peer around.

One bright orange eye swiveled. Was he in some sort of desert? It was hard to say, but it felt like it. Still on the ground, his eyes squinted anew until one hand came up to block the sun.

Both eyes drew open. One orange. One blue.

 

[Choli Vyn]

Objective: 1
Approaching Burning Fields
[member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Berric Kelso"] | Choli Vyn | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Lucius Varad"] [member="Allyson Locke"] |[member="Betti"] |[member="Owen Holst"]

VS: [member="Nia Siroc"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Lok Munin"]

---

Without further ado, Cho's speeder bike shot forward. A stream of dust and grit rose in her wake, the engines roaring loud as she sped off. Her orange goggles glinted under the sun's rays, the muslin scarf she used to cover the lower part of her face fluttering in the wind. By all intents and purposes, she appeared akin to a Tusken Raider - save the speeder bike.

With speed as her advantage, she went whipping out in a fast dart perpendicular to the eviscors. Time to be a bit of bait!

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Astarii Saren"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Nia Siroc"]

"Head down lad!" Davon cried at Lok, placing a large hand on his should and yanking him down. A great gout of flame roared towards them, licking at the skiff. From his knees Davon pulled up and away, leaving those on the tanker to fight for themselves. When he could no longer feel the heat seating his face he stood back up. The truck followed them, moving into the gap between them and the tanker. Another gout of flame from a twin flamethrower mounted on the truck and Karr had to put even more distance between them.

The group kicked up a trail of dust, the smog cloud ahead rapidly approaching. Two trucks flanked them, one on each side. The one on the left fired another spear. Davon managed to hold his nerve, and their line, as it slammed into the armour plates. It stuck fast, the wicked tip piercing through and coming to a halt just inches from his shin.

"Oh feth," Davon growled. As one of the Kult was loading another spear, another was priming a stickbomb. He pushed forwards on the throttle, trying to get ahead of the pursuing trucks to no avail. The grenade came spinning through the air towards them. Landing next to his foot.

With a speed that belied his age, Davon scooped it up and threw it ahead of the spear truck.

Fwooom

His skiff cut through plumes of sand as the explosive went off right in front of the spear truck. Its front section lifted up from the ground, ramming spike glinting in the harsh sun. It came down right as the group met a bank. The spikes cut straight into the ground with a scream of tortured metal. The front stuck fast and the back end of the vehicle was thrown into the air, flipping the truck on its length. Gamorreans were thrown from their vehicle. The one strapped into the driver's seat was splattered all across the sands by his own truck.

Their victory was short lived, another burst of flame and Davon could taste the acrid stench of his own hair burning.

"Nia, another boarder! Lok, pull that spear free! See if you can put it through the gas cannisters!" he shouted. The pursuing flame through had two large cannisters of fuel besides the mounted flamethower. If the lad could pierce it...

Davon reached under the dash and pulled free a flare gun.

"Rogues!" someone cried. Davon looked up to see swoop bikes. Right now, he had bigger concerns than those cocksure kids.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 4/38

Electronic jamming was practical to perform evasive maneuvers at the speeds at which tank combat happens, but it isn't practical when on the offensive. As much as it jams enemy targeting systems, it also jams their own. It appears their enemy scored some proton torpedo hits against the gorge, when they really targeted the tanks some distance away from the gorge but otherwise just a little above the top of the gorge. It seems that they have stopped firing proton torpedoes and moving into cannon range of each other, even though a T3-B would carry a payload of nine proton torpedoes that can be fired in volleys of three every 15 seconds apiece. Some misses were complete misses, others were near-misses. Like Ugohr's tank that was shaken a little bit by the blast of a proton torpedo explosion.

"Looky, theysa dark-sided tank rabble: theysa exhaust theirsa supply of proton torpedoes without even scoring una hit"

At the same time, Nardil lays in wait, its turret trained at or near maximum elevation, while the tank is rafting against the flow of methane. The Jawa knew that the heavy AATs down the center would attempt to flank both groups, and he prepared to fire at the bottom casing, which had thinner armor than anywhere else on an AAT; a direct hit of the dual cannons at the bottom would likely destroy it. The armor at that point is only 30 mm think and also, a well-placed hit would be able to take out either the reactor or the crew in addition to the repulsorlift generators. Probably both if the underside repulsorlift generators explode. The AATs being too busy to engage the tanks on the plateau, they didn't notice that the Jawa-manned tank is taking aim from below them, while still rafting through the flow of methane.

"Mesa sense dat thesa tanks manned by organics"

"Commander, the AATs are crossing the ridge!" Andariel adds after its tank disengages the jammers.

"Fire! Theirsa flying tanks approachen"

In an emergency, AATs can hover as high as 123 meters above ground, which they do only when crossing canyons or similar things. Except that Nardil, which was previously assumed by the enemy commander to be destroyed in the fall of the tank to the bottom of the gorge, gets one shot to hit the repulsorlift coils of the commander's tank, rendering the tank unable to move and crashes on the cliff. But the crash on that tank on the cliff caused a fire upon contact with the methane vapors when the flaming hulk loses altitude, forcing Nardil to break off his attack on the center column.

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Berric Kelso"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Lucius Varad"] [member="Allyson Locke"] |[member="Betti"] |[member="Owen Holst"]

VS: [member="Nia Siroc"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Lok Munin"]

---

The smoke was a great, foreboding wall that seemed to loom over him as he approached it. Eviscars and Krimson Kult to the North, reavers ahead. As it seemed to grow dark he checked the seal on his goggles. He should not have taken a hand from the handlebars.

In a billow of smoke the bando gora vehicle burst out. There was the nasty growl of a repeating slugthrower. Sparks danced across the console before him and Asmus felt his grip slip.

The next thing he saw was the desert rushing up to meet him. If he'd being going any faster he'd have been spread across the sand like butter. It hurt like hell, bouncing and rolling across the terrain. Felt more like duracrete than sand.

The world was still spinning as he gingerly lifted his face from the ground and spat out sand. He heard the rumble of an engine nearby. The crunch of boots on sand. Then something that chilled him to the bone: the sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath.

The bando gora Reaver casually strode towards the downed Rogue, ready to slit his throat and be done without wasting precious ammunition.

 

[Allyson Locke]

[member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Berric Kelso"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Lucius Varad"] [member="Allyson Locke"] |[member="Betti"] |[member="Owen Holst"]

VS: [member="Nia Siroc"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Lok Munin"]

Allyson had began to wander, mostly because she was growing bored waiting for the others to actually make their way towards the goal. A part of her regretted deciding to go on her own, she should really try and make friends with the others, but they seemed to be content with their group of friends and partners. Shrugging, Allyson figured she wasn’t the warmest person in the group. Her mind continued to rattle on how she could fix things, but in the end she realized she needed to keep an eye on her own behind. She had reasons for this.

Continuing along the path just outside of the smoke, she hummed a tune to herself and then the sound of a crash echoed in the back of her mind. Nose wrinkled under the coverings as she knew there were gangs around waiting to pick off the Rogues and any other gangs that attempted to get to the fuel. As she rounded the edge of the smoke she caught glimpse of what was happening, the bando gora had found someone or something.

Allyson continued forward, mostly to see who or what they had caught. The speeder that was downed was easily recognizable as one of her own and she battled internally with the decision. She could hang back and just turn her back on the situation, leaving her still safe from them. Then she would be considered a coward, or she could throw herself face first into danger and save the poor sap. Musing over this she figured the latter was better, she would possibly gain some sort of favor with the person she saved and in the end an owed favor - also being called a coward isn’t nice.

Like she said, she was part of a team now. Speed picked up and she cut an angle towards the Bando Gora reaver that was now without a projectile weapon. “Okay Bait here we go” Pulling out a small side arm she waited till she was close and then spun the speeder enough to kick up dirt, the confusion gave her small enough cover to slow the speeder down and to fire a single shot into the thick artery in the Reaver’s throat. Pulling down her mouth cover for just a moment, she called to the other that was down. “Come on get up!” She hopped off the speeder and grabbed at the downed rogue’s jacket/clothing. “No time, GET UP”

 

[Republic Engineering]

Objective One: The Burning Fields
Allies: None - Astarii Saren ~ Lost among the Dunes
Enemies: [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Berric Kelso"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Lucius Varad"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Betti"] | [member="Owen Holst"] | [member="Nia Siroc"] | [member="Davon Karr"] | [member="Lok Munin"]

The world was dead, slain by its own hubris. Those that remained had fought over whatever was left on this rotting carcass of a planet. Malastare. Far from the divine paradise he had promised his Kultists, but the closest thing to a home he could ever offer them in this life. They would have to die to reach the promised land, and with every death, their mortal frames would feed the living - while their souls rose into the black ocean, all shiny and crimson, to live out the rest of eternity on the Krimzon Path. It was all a lie, as all religions were in the End. Jedi. Sith? Two sides of the same coin, more alike than any could ever dare to believe. Thus, having been a learned man in his youth, the Kaptain had understood what primal desires had driven mortals to fall into the benevolent trap of belief and faith. It was easy to have the pieces fall into place thereafter. Engineering events and setting their losses on the local populace had fed the fuel of anger and hatred, until a boiling point of madness was reached. From there, once the pieces had been set in motion, it was all downhill from there. They had come to believe him to be the Boss of Bosses, and that every honor should be his. First to feast, first to mate, and first to his people to the Crimson Path.

As the chaos of battle had engulfed his truck, a savage smile had eclipsed his tusked maw. He had led them to the Crimson Path; now it was their time to earn the right to fight for glory ever after. Eviscar and Kultist alike died beneath his rapidly spinning wheels, ground to a muddy paste beneath the mechanical fury of his Truck. A bout of laughter had bubbled forth from his spittle-flecked lips as he watched several of his vehicles meet their terrible ends in the vain defense of his second Tanker. There was little doubt his Giggledust-maddened followers had believed he witnessed their deaths, guiding them into the afterlife with naught but a single glance. How entertaining their stupidity had become, as it made his incarceration on this blighted world pass by with some source of amusement, aside from battling the locals, that is.

One brave Gamorrean had believed himself invincible, as he snorted a handful of cinnamon dust. Maddened laughter erupted from his lips, before the pitiful creature called out to his kin - "Yer Zoggin' Gits, Witnezz Me!" Others had taken up his cry, calling out, "Witness!" as the creature sought to clamber up the command section of a hovering skiff. It was a shame he got no farther, as a Scattergun had blasted him into meaty ribbons and sent his remains down into the dunes below. The Kultists nearest to him looked to their Kaptain, waiting to hear what he had said in the moments before the battle was joined once again. Laughter was all that had answered them, drowned out by the combined throaty roars of every Krimzon enameled vehicle present.

Let them know what Shameful sights I see, the Kaptain thought as he permitted his hoarse laughter fade into the echoing currents of the Wind. Feeling the rising red tides of rage slowly filter through his veins in response to such a pitiful display, Redfinga, and his armored bulk, began to pace the deck of his Truck - seething with every thunderous step. His slabbed muscles tensed in righteous fury, coiling smoothly underneath the sheet of taut emerald flesh. No. They would not continue with such cowardice, the Gamorrean Boar thought, they would Witness Him reap a bloody toll amongst these foul Humans and their indentured slaves.

Bathed in the fires of rage, and with his sight stained crimson, Kaptain Redfinga slammed his gauntlet down on the banister, cleaving it in twain with a single stroke. The act of self-destruction had traveled through the truck and had sown the seeds of fear within the driver, causing him to slam his foot atop the pedal once more - though sadly not to the same effect that had occurred the last time he had done such a foolish thing. This time, as his foot smashed into the pedal, it tore right through the floor and sucked the driver's leg down into the crudely mounted engine after that. Thrown aloft by the stupidity of his driver, the Kaptain flew like a brick in the midsts of the upthrusted storm of sand.

... Only to land atop the Tanker with the crack of lightning heralding his Heroic landing.

"Krimzon and," He screamed, with the massive hourglass axe in hand, "Eternnnnnnaaaaalllll!!!!!"

Before the shock and surprise of his entrance had taken ahold of his armored bulk, the Kaptain struck out at an insidious Dug that had clambered up the side of his prize. The silver smile of his crudely machined weapon arced through the curtain of sand, clefting the pitiful creature in twain. As the axe had swept backward, Redfinga knew that whatever remained behind of the Dug was swept under the carriage of the Tanker, and ground into the sand scant seconds later. Another unfortunate death, but in truth - was there such a thing as a beautiful death? It didn't matter if there was. He wasn't dying this day, not if he had any say about it.

Slamming the edge of his axe down into the grated roof of the Tanker, the Kaptain stalked forwards and tore another one of the locals from its rusted surface. He lifted the thin creature into the air and stared menacingly out into the smog-choked skies, looking for the largest hover skiff amongst the Eviscar number. Once it was found, Redfinga tore the trifling creature in two and hurled the bloody remains aboard the sky-bound vessel. In his culture, this was not only meant to perturb the mewling hearts of the weak but inspire the strong to rise and meet the challenge.

"Oi! Yer snivellin' Humies, Get ovver 'ere an' fite me!"

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 5/38

"Concentrate yoursa fire on da closest AAT"

On Ugohr's command, and the enemy commander downed by the Jawas, the tanks that remained on the plateau opened fire on the AATs, leaving the other tanks largely alone. With a concentrated barrage of five or six tanks apiece firing on the flanks of each AAT, it doesn't take long until the other AATs suffer the same fate as the one downed by the Jawa. Meanwhile, Ugohr's tank is taking a hit up front, the light blue bolt not being able to pierce the armor, only put a dent in its edge due to its glancing nature. Meanwhile, after fanning out, they find themselves spread out over a kilometer or so in each direction, which meant that the tanks were all within range of each other, and within enemy range.

"We're hit! Prepare to retreat, commander" Ugohr's driver tells him.

"If wesa lose here, da Galactic Alliance not have any minesweepers anymore. Stay sharp, and keep yoursa eyes on da enemy!"

"Why do the Galactic Alliance find itself unable to recruit or train minesweepers?" Galadriel complained.

"Cut the chatter, Galadriel"

"Theysa in da process of purchasing tanks and equipment to outfit a regiment of minesweepers. Da Jawa bombad tank commander, hesa train da minesweeper regiment"

Meanwhile, the Jawa-manned tank spots a T3-B overhead and closing on the cliff with its cannons trained at Galadriel after the tank trapped at the bottom of the river rafted its way past a sharp turn. Hoping to score a hit in the soft underbelly of the enemy, as he did with the commander's AAT, he aims not so much at the enemy tank itself, but at the cliff underneath it, in hopes of bringing the tank down to the cliff.

 

[Nia Siroc]

[member="Davon Karr"] [member="Lok Munin"] [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Astarii Saren"]

Battle was always chaotic mess when it broke down into a melee. Without the Force to guide her, Nia had to rely on reflexes honed on daily training. That and her comrades watching out for her. As Davon Karr called out the boarder on their skiff, she whirled to face the beefy Gammorean.

It's grunt was like that of a pig rooting, but the axe swinging for her neck wasn't nearly as comical. Without much space to move in, she was made to drop to her stomach. She felt the rush of air against the back of her head as she went down, the blade severing a few loose strands of her hair. The swing was so committed though, that it made the brute stumble when he missed.

That bought Nia precious seconds, enough to scramble up to her knees on the shifting deck of the vehicle. As the attacker sought to regain his footing, she thrust out with her blade and into his vulnerable groin. The scream it emitted was blood curdling but she didn't have the luxury of regret just now. She drew the blade out, coming up to her feet at she sliced into the thick, porcine neck.

It didn't have the cleanliness of her yellow blade tucked into her clothes. Instead, it opened up a bubbling and gaping wound in which it's hands clutched, it's axe forgotten. With eyes wide, emitting bubbling gibberish, it stumbled back....and fell onto the hard ground below....

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Berric Kelso"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Lucius Varad"] [member="Allyson Locke"] |[member="Betti"] |[member="Owen Holst"]

VS: [member="Nia Siroc"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Lok Munin"]

---

Asmus heard the sound of engines, followed by the crack of a weapon. Eyes squeezed shut he waited for the bloom of pain and the slow spread of numb, darkness. It didn't come. Then someone was talking to him, pulling at his jacket. Over the whine that filled his head he could make out the distinctly feminine voice urging him to his feet. Bando Gora didn't tend to ask nicely. The world was still spinning, but he managed to get one arm underneath his body and then another.

When he had his weight on one knee he knew he was winning the battle. He reached out and grasped a sleeve, hauling himself up. Recognition hit him as he shook his head quickly to try and clear the fuzz. The Reaver was down in the sand, faintly twitching. Asmus brought up his hands and pulled down the rags across his mouth, but he kept his googles on against the sun and sand. "Thank you so much! It's me, Asmus!

"I can hear my bike," he added, looking into the thick clouds of smoke. "It must have just come to a stop over there!"

In usual circumstances he would have left it, but not on Malastare. Lose your vehicle and you lost your chance to survive.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Objective 3:
Location: Malastare Narrows
Allies: Rings of the Lord
Enemies: Black Sun remnant
Post: 6/38

At the same time, because both sides entered evasive maneuvers, and the enemy losing four tanks in a short amount of time, one of the enemy tanks managed to hit Gilraen in the rotating flail because the mine detector on that tank activated moments before it took the heavy blaster hit. By that point about 2 kilometers separated both groups of tanks, while the enemy focused on chasing the phantom tank that score two of the four kills, regrouping where they suspect Nardil to be, that is, downriver. For some reason they have more to fear from that Jawa tank commander they call Nardil than from even Ugohr personally. Perhaps that particular enemy, unlike the Sith Triumvirate or the One Sith, didn't seek Force-users and then fight the NFUs; Ugohr was always told by his master that Jedi were, practically speaking, painted with a target symbol on their chest on the battlefield.

"This is Gilraen... the enemy took out our rotating flail!"

"Gilraen, yousa concentrate on firing back at da enemy tank!"

"Roger, roger"

While Gilraen concentrates on firing at the closest tank, the tank that took out its rotating flail, Ugohr provides cover for the tanks behind him. Out of the upriver group, his tank is the closest to the downriver group, which is now tasked with covering for Nardil, who is still rafting through the methane river until he can reach a point where he can safely fly his way out of the canyon. But the Jawas inside the tank are less and less comfortable as the methane leaks through their tank and there is more and more methane inside it. By that point, Nardil has increased its altitude to about five or six meters above ground or so and, due to the tortuous nature of the canyon, the enemy was going to miss or otherwise not have anything remotely resembling a clear shot. At the same time, Ugohr scores a direct hit at the rear of an enemy T3-B...

"All units, regroup and follow da river to Nardil's position; wesa on da enemy's tail"

"We just fought the enemy rabble, commander; the enemy will not hesitate to send reinforcements in the area" Nardil commented.

"This is where the real trouble will begin"

"Wesa da only armored unit of da Galactic Alliance present on thisa planet, wesa not receive reinforcements in time; theysa nutsen to cut usen from any reinforcements!"

Rogue Squadron was the only Galactic Alliance air power present over Malastare; Ugohr was wondering how one squadron each of tanks and fighters were going to capture the planet, and very sparse infantry or artillery elements... And sending the minesweepers? Was the Galactic Alliance's army too concentrated on fighting the One Sith's ground forces on Dulvoyinn that they could only send a squadron of tanks and a squadron of fighter support to Malastare? Or were the minesweepers just the advance force?