Junction CRISIS ON KUAT II | GA & NIO Junction of Korbin & Anzat

[Liedran Kathause]

SITREP: FUBAR
[3rd Expeditionary Carrier Line]
[ANV Cadence - Internalized C.I.C]
[Alliance Friendlies: Dracken Pryce , Kathryn Foster , Valery Noble , Sylix ]
[SJO Allies: Sol'yan ]
[Imperial Baddies: Hiram Voss , Melvain Braxis ]
[Ashlan Friendly(?): Isla Draellix-Kobitana ]​

---

[Specialist First Class Larien Fraleshe]
The desperate hiss of a coolant stream flickered, fluttered, and finally died in the cold arms of the surrounding pipe. For once, Larien's racing breathing could make it past the surrounding noise. The puffs of his exhales were made clear against the frigid surrounding air, flattening and turning into splotches on the Cadence's metal hull. "Okay. Okay... Okay..." the specialist's teeth clamped down on his lip with the next deep inhale. "What else did the boss say?"

"Power junction Aleen-Four-Twenty-Nine-Fifty-Senth. Tertiary loading deck," came the panting response of the other specialist. Kelaine brushed a bead of sweat aganst the back of her glove. "Guess we'd better start-?" A crash. A screech of metal. Kelaine slammed into an adjacent bulkhead, the pained yelp coinciding with Larien's own as he hit the lid of the access panel. Face pressed unrelentingly against the hull, he could feel every vibration, every impact battering his ear drums. He felt the fizzling cries of secondary shield capacitors as fire and plasma ripped them in twain, then in fours, eights, sixteenths- "Kark!" the crewmen cried in unison as another quake rocked them both into another set of bulkheads.

"Come on, we've gotta-" Larien was just about to hobble to a stand and reach out for Kelaine when a beam of light fizzled and screeched. The prone specialists both stared upward in horror as a ghostly white blade drew a steady, deliberate circle in the ceiling above- Then rushed to grip at the hatches, the handles around them as a scorched plate of metal clattered to the floor-- and the decompression ripped them from the Cadence's deck. Still clawing for a metal rung, Larien felt his body take flight, eyes widening as the floor grew farther away, screeching as a jolt of pain ripped into his spine. The last sound he heard was that of his bones snapping in fragments. The last sight he saw... was that of the Imperials, descending to the Cadence's exposed corridor. And then there was silence. Nothingness...

---

"Ma'am. We've got a hull breech-- Compartment 1-10-96-SP!" there was a pause. Both Liedran and her damage control chief bore witness to pockets of red breaking out across the Cadence's hull like fiery rashes. "Multiple all across the main deck! Security's reporting-- Dear lords! Boarding parties!"

"Cameras, now!" the commodore screamed, and watched the flashes of motion flickering on a tertiary viewscreen. She couldn't believe her eyes. The Imperials had been suicidal enough to glide into a melee with the 3rd Expeditionary-- but this?! A boarding action!? They're karking insane! "Mobilize the security droids. I want the adjacent corridors and high-priority sectors locked off while our marines get into position! Let's move- Now!" Even nestled deep in the CIC, she caught the sound of colliding blast doors reverberating through the corridors, snaking through the decks to ricochet through the bridge.

Outside, the Crimson Command lay drifting, powered on its inertia alone as it skidded across the Cadence's defensive bubble. The rest of the engaging Imperial line had quieted their own bombardments at the first signal of their flagship being disabled, now apparently relegated to send glancing blasts in the path of the 3rd Expeditionary's escort frigates. It seemed clear they were counting on the success of their boarding action; and by the celestials, Liedran wouldn't dare grant them that opportunity.

The newly alighted determination in her heart sent the minutes flying, and before she knew it-

"Ma'am." She locked eyes with D'nea, the deathly still captain who hovered at the other corner of the situation monitor. The other Chandrilan nodded her head to the right, toward the communicator laying on the map's rim. "We just got a wide-net broadcast. All ships are to cease hostilities. We've confirmed it to be a legitimate Alliance broadcast, ma'am."

Liedran's head hung still as she pressed her eyes together, and breathed a delicate sigh of relief. But her breath crackled, warped with the gentle interruptions of sniffles. It was over... the fighting... the death.. the pointless, pointless... "Are the Imperials standing down?" she soon met a nod from the captain. Liedran paused for another shaky breath, then spoke, "Call off the attack. Alert Wings 1 and 3 to return to Cadence;" the last order was succeeded by a nod, directed toward Kathryn Foster . "Relay the orders to our marines on the ring."

It was a short-lived moment of peace, or some semblance of clarity, only to be interrupted by a frantic dash to face the security feeds. "Keep up the blast doors! And get the broadcast relayed through the intercoms, Now!" It looked like the boarding teams had already made plenty of progress, evident in the sights of lifeless, strewn bodies left in their wake. Her heart shattered, her eyes lit in flame, for the dead and dying in Cadence's corridors.

Her fierce gaze focused on the lead Imperial team, her mind half-tempted to decompress the entire compartment with the lot of them still inside.

 

[Melvain Braxis]

SITREP: FUBAR

Objective 2 [Space & Shipyards]

Crimson Command
Attacking: Liedran Kathause
Enemies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Valery Noble | Iris Arani | Kathryn Foster | Briana Sal-Soren
Allies: Orys Draste | Hiram Voss

HOPE?

​

The Marines of the Galactic Alliance were dedicated soldiers and despite what some of his betters thought, Melvain maintained that they were just as effective as their own Stormtrooper corps. However, Melvain was more than a stormtrooper, he was an Imperial Knight trained in the ways of the Force. His white blade carved a path of destruction through the security droids and when the marines filed out as they approached the lift leading to the bridge he lamented having to kill them.

"May you find peace in the afterlife and the Force," he muttered as he did his grisly work.

​

After he'd dispatched the squad guarding the lift he tried to get in contact with the Crimson Command. When that failed he tried any of his other ships but to no avail. There was too much interference but he wasn't sure what from since before they left the Alliance vessel hadn't been jamming them. He looked up and sighed. They were on their own. The lift was only large enough for himself and two troopers. The rest watched the lift from below. He could already hear blaster fire being exchanged. Ding. When the doors hissed open Melvain grimaced at the blast door. Reaching deep into the Force he slammed his will into the doors. Sweat began to bead on his brow and suddenly it was as if a line he had been tugging at had been cut. He stumbled a few steps forward and looked in astonishment as the doors began to hiss open.

"Sorry sir, I know you were concentrating but," Melvain looked over at the door panel to see one of his troopers had sliced the door open.

"No worries," he said slightly out of breath before righting himself. Over the intercom, a message began to play. An Alliance ceasefire? Perfect. They would have no choice but to surrender to Imperial justice now. Before the door finished opening, Melvain flew through the gap, lightsaber raised and at the ready, his voice booming over his helmet's annunciators.

"My name is Knight Regent Melvain Braxis of the New Imperial Order. If you have arms lay them down, this vessel is now under Imperial control." Slowly and cautiously Melvain reached up and removed his helmet, holding it in the crook of his off arm. Negotiations always went better when you weren't wearing a 'bucket' as the boys called them. His brown eyes fell on the woman he assumed to be the commander of the vessel.

"Will you comply? I'd rather not have to cut any more of your people down."

 

[Traden Avarice]

II: SITREP: FUBAR (SHIPYARD)
OBJECTIVE: STEAL AN NIO FRIGATE FOR COVERT USE BY REBELS
​

Location: Hangar
Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, (New) Lightsaber, Mr. Cuddles
SCAR Squad: Hal Vaiken Volgin Alto Lily Stevens Atticus Draco
War Hogs: Monos Keiran Varn Phaineve Halseigh Zav Traros


As Traden continued to provide subtle support to his Padawan in his duel, he listened intently to the chatter of his squad. Things were looking grim, and they had an objective to complete. Right then, he received confirmation from Rebel Command that there was a cease fire between the Alliance and the Imperials.

"Copy that!" He said, then switched back to the War Hogs channel,

"War Hogs! We have a cease fire! Disengage and push forward to Ladybirds position! We're getting out of here NOW!"

Traden stretched out both arms towards the white-cloaked Knight ( Atticus Draco ) and released a strong force push into his stomach, hopefully sending him backwards and allowing for Keiran Varn to disengage the duel and make a run for it with him.

As they made their way towards the commandeered NIO freighter, Traden felt Zav Traros presence nearby. He looked up ahead and spotted him, sensing he was in severe pain. "Traros!" He belted loudly as he quickly ran up to the grenadier and grabbed onto his arm, slinging it around his shoulders to provide greater support for the man as the three of them continued to make their way towards Phaineve Halseigh .

"Mox! You almost here?" He said over coms as they began to board the ship. It looked like Mr. Cuddles had already made his way into the Cargo hold. Traden turned and remained at the entrance to the ship, awaiting for their last member, Monos , to join them.

"I'm going to hold off the Imperials until Mox gets here! You two get inside and make sure Ladybird is alright!"

With that, Traden pulled up The Harbinger and reloaded it with a fresh energy cell. The cease fire hopefully meant that the shooting would stop, however one could not be certain how quick such a command would go into affect in the midst of a chaotic war zone.

 

[Kathryn Foster]

SITREP: FUBAR

Location: C.I.C, aboard ANV Cadence
Wearing: Service Dress Uniform
Carrying: LBP-3 Light Blaster Pistol
Allies: Liedran Kathause , Dracken Pryce , Valery Noble , Sylix, Sol'yan , Finley Dawson
Enemies: Hiram Voss , Albrecht F. Herlock , Orys Draste , Melvain Braxis
​

With arms crossed and eyes fixed on the screen, Kathryn stood silent behind the operators at the starfighter command comms. She couldn't hold herself from biting on a nail as she saw their pilots rush into battle against the Imperatores Pax - the big ominous red blip on the screen. Kark, the mere name of it were intimidating. From an uneducated spectators point of view, the mission would probably be seen as suicidal but everyone in the C.I.C knew the capabilities of Alliance pilots and starfighter tech as one of the best in the galaxy. Colonel Foster considered herself very lucky to have gained the commodores trust to continue to lead and develop such an amazing team of pilots, and the will not to fail the other woman neither the pilots had always been there through her leadership.

A mass of red dots suddenly appeared from the massive dreadnaught and the battle was a fact. The frantic communications between the squad leaders and the pilots alike soon became a blurr of white noice in her head, which she had to fight to keep the focus. Not one more Kril'Dor. Not. One. More. All they could do was to sit tight and be the eyes and ears from above for the squadrons.

"Ma'am! They're head right for us. Intensifying bombardment!" an junior officer called at the commodore, along with several others reporting in one bad news after the other, making Kathryn turn towards the center console where Liedran were at. In the next moment, a heavy and sudden impact sent Kathryn off her feet and with a groan onto the floor. She saw burning metal and electric sparks erupt from the cieling above the commodore.

''KATHAUSE!'' she called and were quick to rush over to see if their commanding officer were alright. She were. Despite blood seeping from wounds on her hands and on her cheek, the woman regained focus quickly and continued to call out orders. What better source of inspiration could there be?

Another moment of chaos followed in the C.I.C, as they realised that they had been boarded and commodore Kathause relayed orders to the marines and the security droids. Soon there after, two Chandrilan officers reported in a transmission about a cease fire. They, the Alliance forces present at Kuat would cease fire immediately. The negotiations must have came to a conclusion, even though the order could not have come in a more inappropriate moment, Foster thought and looked at Kathause for advice. Was it a legitimate transmission? Would they comply with the orders?

Given some time to assess the situation, Kathause issued the orders to stand down and call back the fighters, upon wich Foster patched herself in on the air wings intercoms.

''Major? Uhh... New orders... Wings one and three are to stand down and return to the Cadence, how copy?'' she said and recieved a stressed but confused copy from the major already caught up in a dogfight.

<''But... that doesn't makes sense! We're already engaged, colonel!''>

''I... I know, major! I know! Negotiations seems to go pretty bad. We have been ordered a cease-fire with the Imperials. Abort the mission and come home... Make sure you get everyone out of there.'' Kathryn said and glanced over at Liedran, who was ordering to keep the blast doors open. This was a hell of a situation High Command had put them in. Signature after signature of Alliance starfighters had faded from the screen, lost to the merciless space around them and they were going into a cease fire with the treatcherous Imperials? Maybe the cease fire had saved them more Alliance lives lost, but right now, Kathryn could not understand half of it. They were defending Alliance territory, why should they lay down their arms?

Soon thereafter, three figures in white armor, obviously Imperials, entered the C.I.C, upon which Foster instinctively took Kathause's side, one guarding step in front of her, and her hand were drawn to the holstered blaster resting on her hip.

''Excuse me, knight regent Braxis... but, a cease-fire has been put into effect. All hostile actions from here on out will be considered a war crime.'' Foster said in response to the man, unable reconcile with his outrageous demand and keep quiet about the situation. Kathryn exchanged a worried glance with Liedran, fingers feeling the grip of the blaster. Things were looking bad, that was for sure.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

LIGHT MUST COME FROM THE INSIDE
KUAT | KUAT CITY | CROWDS
YOU CANNOT ASK THE DARKNESS TO LEAVE
YOU MUST TURN ON THE LIGHT

​

Despite the articulation of the woman’s threats, there was a feralness to her pacing. Ishida adjusted her footing near the base of the smoking speeder and winced as a nearby spray of gunfire added to the falling particles over their space. Like discoloured snowflakes, destruction’s confetti, ash, shifted down, coating everything with a few millimetres of grey.

It was a horrifying thing to witness, the undoing of a machine. The composed killer sparked and bled, her body decaying from unnatural violence. The pitches of her voice dropped and soared, stretching through inconceivable differences that boggled Ishida as she prepared for her next attack.

"Especially not you."

The skin around her eyes loosened, a momentary stall-out of her synapses. Her senses were threatening to become unbridled, confounded for several heartbeats.

Somehow, the animatronic assassin across from her looked nothing like her father but sounded exactly like him. If she were blind, she might have believed Genichiro were on Kuat.

But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

It was wrong. It was all wrong.

How? How was she able to know who Ishida was, and by extension, Genichiro? And make those connections enough to unnerve the Jedi so? The rationales and explanations were limited by probability, stuck in a circle of personal experience that the white-haired Atrisian didn’t have time to fully travel lest the situation at hand unravel uncontrollably.

"Who are you."

The familiarity of the woman was based on sight alone, and the unholy resonance she had within The Force — like a void. And still, Ishida was unable to place it. How unfair a disadvantage she had with a mortal memory.

Ishida did not ask why or how the replicant had access to the patriarch of Ashina’s likeness. The answers could be uncovered, or hacked, after the woman’s demise. That was the mercy of machines: There was still utility in deactivation.

She lunged in, keeping her footwork tight to the left and right to close the distance between herself and the robotic warrior to mitigate the chance for escape. Her hand flashed out, quickly, to grab the wrist of the woman. She lent herself to The Force, and it responded to her urgent pleas with pathways that glowed incandescent in her sight. Brutality’s wake splayed out for Ishida to read and exploit.

To give herself more time to understand where the replicant’s ultimate weak point was, she drew her sabre horizontally feinting a bunt-like push. It drew attention and demanded her to parry an oncoming assault. One after the other, until Ishida had to trust what she’d read through the network of the woman.

Dodging a counterattack, Ishida drove the tip of her sabre to the area most critical.

---

NIO: Rika Hiro | Jordi Massad | Karissa Saitel | Kolson Vrask
RA: CH3 | LADY OF IRON
GA: Bernard

 

[Monos]

SITREP: FUBAR
Escaping the Repair Bay, inside the air ducts.

​

Outro.

SCAR SQUADRON: Hal Vaiken Lily Stevens Volgin Alto Atticus Draco
WARHOGS: Traden Avarice Phaineve Halseigh Zav Traros Keiran Varn

Equipment in bio.
​

TLDR Mox is notified of the ceasefire and escapes the repair bay through the ducts, eventually reuniting with the Warhogs. Thank you all for this magnificent story and thanks for the Scar Squadron for being such good sports!​

A vague sense of direction and prior glimpses at the station's general layout were all the information Mox possessed that could help him intercept the two fleeing Imperial specialists. The Commander and the Sharpshooter.

The tiny Anzellan was panting. What would be one step for an average sentient took two pairs of strides for Mox, and just now, as the chemical equivalent of adrenaline was beginning to slowly dissipate from his system, so did the signs of fatigue brutally manifest for the smallest Warhog.

He was exhausted and in pain. He also noticed a slight limp in his hurried gait. His back hurt, and with every second footfall a searing pain flashed along his spine. Evidently a small price to pay for his life, but the growing pain was beginning to hinder his pace more and more. The exploding energy shield fried his jetpack, which in turn overcharged and blew up, right on his back.

This straightforward, linear tunnel could easily be his coffin. A smash of his fist at the final section barrier button on the wall, and the metal sheet slammed down like a guillotine, closing off the vents behind him. There was no turning back. He could only continue forward.
​

"War Hogs! We have a cease fire! Disengage and push forward to Ladybirds position! We're getting out of here NOW!"

Mox hobbled to a halt and slid his welding goggles down so that it hung around his neck. 'This… It can't be.' He thought. As soon as the thought formed in his mind, he already knew what to do. The two he had been pursuing have officially slipped away; a second failure for him on Kuat. Although, at the back of his mind he believed that it was probably for the better.

But now he was in the middle of the ducts. He quickly took out his personal datapad and feverishly tried finding a separate way toward his teammates. Beads of sweat fell on the datapad's touchscreen, closing all opened windows, irritating him further.

But soon, there it was, highlighted on the display. An even narrower duct that exited just under the ship Phaineve Halseigh had secured. There was no time to waste.
​

"Mox! You almost here?"

Crawling head-first through alternatingly hot-and-cold tubes and fumes, the Anzellan was slower than usual, but very well accustomed to situations like these. He may be injured, but these were the exact situations he had been trained for by the Grinalids.

Twelve nerve-wrecking minutes later, a durasteel grate blew off of its hinges beneath the docked ship that held the rest of the Hogs. Mox crawled out and as he hobbled toward the ramp, with one hand holding the miniature rifle, the other palm placed on his lower back, he appeared exhausted. Although not his usual, jubilant self, he offered an honest smile and a fistbump to each member.

– Good job, everyone. Let's get out of here. – Amid quiet groans he dropped his rifle behind a box, threw down the fried jetpack from his back where he stood, and passed out on one of the seats.​

 

[Zav Traros]

Opposition: Hal Vaiken Lily Stevens Atticus Draco
War Hogs: Monos Traden Avarice Phaineve Halseigh Keiran Varn

---

"I'll keep the med-bay open for you." Phaineve grimaced. She couldn't possibly do any more, not until the last of the Historian's subroutines were unlocked. "Stay safe..."

"Yeah, will do. Keep yourself safe too." he replied through the comms. Thankfully, he wore his display on the one wrist he still had, and the marker denoting Phaineve's position guided him towards it. The once heated and chaotic battle had noticeably quieted, and for that he was thankful too. He'd had his fight, and the outcome of that had left him in no condition for another one.

"War Hogs! We have a cease fire! Disengage and push forward to Ladybirds position! We're getting out of here NOW!"

Well, that sure explained it. He'd heard nothing of a ceasefire, but in the heat of battle he hadn't really been able to pay attention to it. He was pretty doubtful that it would've stopped that trooper, and knew full well it would have stopped him. It was beyond time to remain concerned with the prior situation, given the present one borne by his injury.

A concern Traden would share too, once he'd made it to the ship. Relieved to have the aid of his team, Zav nearly stumbled against him as he held on for support.

"It's gone. Vaporized. Gonna need a stint in the med bay." spoke Zav, somewhat redundantly given the visibly cauterized stump shortly below the elbow.

"Oh yeah. Carbine's karked too." he added in passing. Not that it was a worry, but it might've helped take the edge of seeing him in the condition he was in. Traden looked awful worried, but at least Zav had made it back to safety. Both made their way further into the ship, where Zav could get some sorely needed medical aid and rest.

 

[Rika Hiro]

Asa Yubari|Kuat|The End
COMPNOR
Tags:// Don Belkora Jordi Massad Hal Vaiken Karissa Saitel Iseri Tanaka CH3 Bernard Ishida Ashina Kolson Vrask

MUSIC

"It doesn't matter," the Replicant slyly remarked, head twitching in what could've passed for amusement as the other girls clearly unnerved reaction shown like a torch for all to see: Ishida Ashina, scion of the Ashina Clan and daughter of Genichiro a wealthy Atrisian business mogul. A helpless little creature with a saber who tried to hide from the realities of life, now trying to play hero against the inevitable.


And then they joined in perfect partnership, duelling in the fog like dancers in sync, both two contrasting yet complementary styles. For every one of Ishida's graceful swings and stabs, Asa countered with an increasingly feral way as she twitched and struggled to stay functioning for a little bit longer. Where Ishida's blade found purchase, rending the flesh and steel in colourful shades of red and black, Asa's fists answered in turn, breaking both bone and flesh. Only a force push separated the two dancers, sending Asa back on her feet a short distance away, only for the two to reunite once more in uniform carnage. Eyes locked in intense hate. The Replicant ducked under another wild swing and grabbed Ishida close, pulling her forward in an embrace as the girl's saber burned against the Replicant's arm, sizzling flesh and bone and causing smoke to rise from the open wound. Asa used the momentum to prepare a finishing blow, but the girl ducked below her overhead strike and brought the saber crashing across Asa's waist, cutting deep into the circuitry and synthetic skin.

Forced back, the Replicant was numb to the pain of being sliced open, but her circuitry was not; she gritted her teeth and stumbled back as she gazed down at the gaping wound in surprise. Asa frantically felt her stomach, trying to push the gore and exposed blood-stained wiring back in, a strange sensation overwhelming her as she tried to compute what had happened. Was it fear? The Replicant did not know as she convulsed blood and fell to her knees, her eyes widening in realisation as she realised what the girl had done. Even as her programming and muscles screamed for a pause, she dodged the girls follow up strike and kicked her away as she raggedly got to her feet and stumbled away toward the wreckage.

Coherent thought ceased to exist in her mind; only her superiors' sheer determination and programming pushed her on towards the wreckage even as everything began to fail and her systems broke down. Asa was so tired, so exhausted, but she had to kill the woman; she had to remove them; it was what her superiors programmed her to do. It was all she ever knew.

"No more."

She muttered absently, as she surrendered to fate a short distance away from the wreck, the ashen ground embracing her battered and broken form as she fell to meet it. Up ahead, a familar figure among the mist walked over, kneeling beside the replicants twitching but still faintly alive body.

"You did good Agent, but it's over," the voice was so familiar, yet it was one the replicant hadn't registered in so long, she conjured up enough strength to roll on her back and meet the man. It was Harrsk with the same glasses and sardonic scarred face from so long ago, it was ironic she'd outlived such a man in the agency, but life was full of that.

"Lets go back to base," Harrsk quipped, taking a moment to light a cigarra as he offered a hand to the dying replicant, who reached out feverishly before breathing her last and shutting down for good.​

 

[Liedran Kathause]

SITREP: FUBAR
[3rd Expeditionary Carrier Line]
[ANV Cadence - Internalized C.I.C]
[Alliance Friendlies: Dracken Pryce , Kathryn Foster , Valery Noble , Sylix ]
[SJO Allies: Sol'yan ]
[Imperial Baddies: Orys Draste , Hiram Voss , Melvain Braxis ]
[Ashlan Friendly(?): Isla Draellix-Kobitana ]​

---

It was too late.

A flash of fiery red split the metal of the blast door guarding the CIC, its whistling slash topped with the cherry of a screech, a bzzt, a flash of sparks spewing from the control panel. The whoosh of the doors alerted the whole bridge as a blazing figure barreled through the gap in the frame. The Imperial's towering presence was bathed under the glow of his lightsaber, its blinding light cutting across Liedran's own face, illuminating the fresh crimson lines on her cheeks and the fiery rage in her eyes as the man stepped forward. Two helmeted figures guarded Melvain Braxis ' flanks, the silhouettes of their weapons directed toward either side of the bridge.

"Stand down!" the commodore barked before the CIC's marine complement could take aim. Her piecing gaze darted in acknowledgement to Colonel Foster, who'd quickly appeared at Liedran's side, then to the Imperial commander. Her fists clenched as the knight lifted the helmet from his shoulders, and locked eyes with her own.

"My name is Knight Regent Melvain Braxis of the New Imperial Order. If you have arms lay them down, this vessel is now under Imperial control."

"Will you comply? I'd rather not have to cut any more of your people down."

Go to hell. Blades appeared to emanate from Liedran's eyes, gliding daggered lunging for the knight's throat, begging to coat Braxis' hauntingly still expression in a layer of blood. It took a long, careful inhale to calm the boiling anger in her cheeks. Her vision quieted, then opened once more to the flood of colors within the CIC's bulkheads. The dark wells of her eyes now warped to display cold, deathly astonishment. Liedran's mouth opened, closed, fumbled for words. But Kathryn beat her to speaking.

'Excuse me, knight regent Braxis... but, a cease-fire has been put into effect. All hostile actions from here on out will be considered a war crime.''

"I suggest you lay down your arms. Order the rest of your men to cease fire and we can discuss this like civilized people," the colonel's reply had given Liedran enough time to quell the fluctuations in her own voice. Her plea to the knight left steady, composed as best it could on short notice. But the unease held still in her eyes; the flickers of fear were visible against the darkness of her pupils. "We'll gladly show you both cease-fire orders. I implore you to confirm the Imperial broadcast." She stepped forward, eyes darting back to lock with Kathryn Foster 's. She shook her head slightly before her CAG or anyone else could follow.

Another deep breath calmed the commodore further. Fear left her tone while droplets of a threatening aura instead seeped into her words. "We're authorized to defend ourselves. I don't believe your luck will persist with my entire marine complement, Knight Regent." A hand gestured from behind her back, fingers directed toward the command and control table. "Do we have a deal?"

 

[Bernard]

KUAT | KUAT CITY | CROWDS
Objective III

NIO: Rika Hiro Kolson Vrask Jordi Massad Karissa Saitel
GA: Ishida Ashina
REBELS: CH3

The lightsabre passed through the rifle as if it hadn't even been there. Its two halves dropped to the ground, glowing a bright white-orange where they separated, and Bernard's feet came down between the pieces with a quiet thud.

Jumps were always risky in tactical situations. Movement of any kind could be predictable, unless properly masked with feints, but a jump, the pull of gravity, couldn't so easily be used for deceit. The moment his feet hit the ground, Bernard saw his error in not considering this before he leapt off the speeder car, as the soldier's well-timed grappling cord wound itself around his leg. A sharp pull on it followed, and Bernard felt his foot get pulled out from under him.

A sharp chill travelled up his spine as he suddenly found himself in what felt like a free fall that was cut short when he hit the back of his head against the speeder car door, and moments later he found himself on the duracrete floor, disoriented.

Not a moment later a roar sounded and the soldier in front of him was obscured by a bright torrent of flames surging directly towards Bernard.

Reflexively, rattled by the bright light, Bernard put up a telekinetic barrier that diverted the flame's flow around him. The flames lapped against the sides of the barrier, a yellow-orange beast roaring against a blue shield, but didn't reach the Jedi.

Bernard didn't waste time admiring the view and lifted himself enough to pull the cloak of his robe out from under him in preparation for his manoeuvre.

The barrier held for another split second, during which he envisioned the flame projector on the soldier's arm as he pulled the cloak over himself, covering his most vital areas. The next split second, pushed the barrier forward, exploding outward in a weak telekinetic blast, just enough to divert some of the flames, and brought his focus to the ejector nozzle of the projector. With another use of the Force, he wanted to cut off the flame jet and push the fire back far enough to ignite the fuel canister and get rid of the weapon with a well-placed and precise telekinetic push.

Offence came at the price of defence, though. The final burst of flames rained down on him, covering his robe in burning fuel, while thinner whips of the flame came down around the cloak, covering parts of his legs and parts of his arms. With a click, he released the cloak and surged up out of it, bringing up another barrier in anticipation of the flame projector's explosion.

Against the heatwave of the firestorm that had rained down on him, the smaller firest burned even more intensely. He had to take a moment to recover from the pain, to shunt all sensation to the back of his mind so as not to lose concentration.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL ARMY SPECIAL FORCES 'STORM COMMANDOS'
1st GROUP | OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT ALPHA 'VANDAL'
ODA ATTACHED TO | IMPMAG in support of KPF
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades
NIO | Jordi Massad | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Karissa Saitel | Iseri Tanaka
RA | CH3 | IVI | Sol Stazi | Bernard | Ishida Ashina

BEWARE
COMPNOR-IMPAF JOINT OPERATION 'RIGHTEOUS CLAIM'
KUAT '74
​

The fuel propellant system of his flamethrower ignited and exploded on his vambrace, an emergency safety system disengaging it from the rest of the armor before jolting it off the wrist with an accompanying explosion as the flames veered back from the force barrier were sent awash over the Defiant battle attire. It was able to brave the flames well enough but Kolson on instinct anticipated the defensive properties of the Storm commando armor and grit his teeth as felt the fires touch open flesh. Luckily, it was a mere second or two of exposure, first-degree burns were certain but hardly any permanent damage.

As the Jedi anticipated another blast of flame, Kolson immediately sought to bring the Arkanian back to earth, aiming the opposite vambrace up to fire out a string of shrieking whistling birds toward the Jedi before he lowered his shoulder and sought to tackle him to the ground in violent impact, utilizing the chaotically strewn focus of the Jedi to catch him in a moment of vulnerability and isolate him from a coherent hold of the force.

And ideally, his lightsaber. His best hope, or rather, his only hope was to shatter the focus and ability of the Jedi to utilize what made him different from the mortal man. He had to change the means of battle from the weapons and tools at their disposal to what was their most basic and primal form. His strength and technique against the Arkanian's in martial combat as he sought to slam him into the ground and achieve physical control over the knight.

 

[Bernard]

KUAT | KUAT CITY | CROWDS
Objective III

NIO: Rika Hiro Kolson Vrask Jordi Massad Karissa Saitel
GA: Ishida Ashina
REBELS: CH3

The explosion's shockwave crashed against the barrier with a blazing inferno of light. Metal shards whizzed through the air and came raining down with a quiet clattering that almost resembled rain. But Bernard held his attention elsewhere. Against the backdrop of the blast and the metal came a footfall, and another, directly ahead. The soldier had survived the blast of the flame projector, and he now charged right at Bernard.

Bernard hadn't fully recovered from the blast yet, and the fire still burned away at his clothes. From the corner of his vision, he saw little more than a blur where the soldier came through the mixing red and blue. He swung the lightsabre in the man's direction, an angled strike from below.

But they were too close to each other. Another meter of distance and the soldier might have been bisected, at this range, Bernard's strike would find his target too early. A fist against a charging man. The path of his strike put his hand, closed around the lightsabre, directly in the path of the soldier's armoured chest. The lightsabre's had gone almost parallel to the ground, poised with the potential to take a carelessly positioned arm, and perhaps singe some armour.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL ARMY SPECIAL FORCES 'STORM COMMANDOS'
1st GROUP | OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT ALPHA 'VANDAL'
ODA ATTACHED TO | IMPMAG in support of KPF
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades
NIO | Jordi Massad | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Karissa Saitel | Iseri Tanaka
RA | CH3 | IVI | Sol Stazi | Bernard | Ishida Ashina

BEWARE
COMPNOR-IMPAF JOINT OPERATION 'RIGHTEOUS CLAIM'
KUAT '74
​

The Knight's fist slammed thudded against the armored vest and webbing of the commando as he went low, wrapping up Bernard around the waist before throwing a foot to take the Jedi's stance from under him to throw him into the broken earth beneath. Not a moment later, he sought ground control, his legs tightening around the Jedi's abdomen to keep him pinned to the ground before his attention immediately snapped to the saber. It needed to be disabled, gotten rid of, anything would do, but it couldn't be part of this equation if Kolson was going to incapacitate the Jedi at best.

Or at the very least, survive the day.

He leaned down to press his body against the Jedi before curling an arm up and under the elbow of Bernard's saber wielding arm before his other hand reached to grasp ahold of his wrist before applying a pulling force from his curled arm and a pushing force at his wrist in order to snap his elbow and break his arm or at the very least, cause enough searing pain to force the saber from his grip, where Vrask could then attempt to go for the kill.