Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Crown of Sorrow | CIS Invasion of UCM-held Tanaab

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Location: City Outskirts
Objective: Let it burn.
Allies: CIS l Kyrt'sad
Enemies: Dar'Manda
The fruits of their labor lay in view of the Wayward Son.​
He watched as the CIS descended upon the city like vultures, picking the corpse that was the Mandalorian effort to rally the city. He stood at one of the destroyed buildings, then looked upwards to one that was roughly four stories tall, and still standing. He didn't use his jetpack, he simply walked up the stairs. It was empty- of people, at least. Homes were never empty. Oil marks on walls where paintings stood, even in empty houses. But this was once a home, a place of dwelling for those who lived here. Who the Mandalorians had brought war to. He dropped the rifle, tossing it aside in a nonchalant, careless manner. He had no more use of an enemy's weapon here. The battle was underway, his part was done.

He ascended the stairs, and peeled off his helmet, breathing the fresh air. To say that it was a relief was an understatement. He walked high, looking out to the city. The city that he was helping burn. The CIS would not show the restraint that others had. They understood what it meant to go to war. The Mandalorians used to.

Karsan grabbed a chair from what he assumed would be the dining room of one of the apartments, the door still flung open in rapid escape from the onslaught of both the droids under the unfaltering purple banner. The roof was easy to access. It may have been used once for party. He found that he didn't even need the chair- there were plenty already up on the roof. He settled himself into a seat, turning it away from where the sun would set on the planet and towards the direction of the hospital. He was far away from the fight, distant.

He remembered Umbara.

The slaughter.

The blood.

The downfall of the Mantis-Cadera Empire.

All their promise of family, shattered with their failure to protect even a simple city.

Their promise of unity, when they showed but only half-measures when it came to the defense of their subjects. How were the people they were under going to trust their Mandalorian rulers- if they could not even protect the city from droids? Karsan leaned forward, setting his helmet down. He recalled a lot of things about Umbara, but more specifically was-

How well it went. Now, a city was aflame, the rubble being fought over.

Karsan smiled, leaning back in the chair.

It was a good show.

The first step to making something fall..well, it was easy.

You just needed to give it a little push.

But there he was, watching the galaxy push over the Mandalorian Clans for him.

 
Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii
tanaab_fighting_for_home_and_family.png

[SIZE=9pt]Location: The Capital[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Allies: UCM[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Enemies: CIS[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Tags: [/SIZE] [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] [member="Kat Decoria"] [member="Aditya Fitz Kierke"] [member="Tamar Fitz Kierke"] [member="Voph"] [member="Adenn Kyramud"] [member="Veiere Arenais"] [member="Adron Malvern"] [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] [member="Corran Conner"] [member="Krest"] [member="Livia Maddox"] [member="Gerhard Manndorf"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Xobos Yakieer"] [member="Cypher Rage"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Gianna Aegis"] [member="Orn Pharr"]
[SIZE=9pt]Gear and Forces: Bio +[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Mando'ad'jetii[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Basilisk[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Enigma[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Gred Fleet[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], a [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]V1 astromech[/SIZE]

Elijah looked from the bridge, continuing the guide the vessel towards the Hive Destroyer before running to the last escape pod. The Keros' Kad was never surviving this, but at least she'd go in a bang. The escape pod fired as the cruiser took a massive amount of fire. It began exploding and breaking apart, but the hulk of a cruiser, one that had attacked slaver fleets, one that had been saved by the Silvers and CIS in the past, would now be destroyed in one last action. While the Kad was breaking apart, momentum carried her into a ram at the rear section of the Hive. Elijah looked out, hoping the rest of the fleet would live through this.

As this happened, the Nebulan-B2 absorbed the fire, clearly not doing well, but still firing on the Roon Spear. Escape pods began to eject, clearly showing the crew prepare for the worst. At the same time, the Enigmas, CR90, Vipers, and Brawlers went back to fighting their targets. On the surface, the Enigma and her Vipers continued to chase down [member="Voph"]'s fighters, not wanting them to escape.

In the city, Mig just eyed [member="Gianna Aegis"], placing a hand on her shoulder and nodding before walking to [member="Daxton Bane"]. He may not have said anything, but the Force around him showed how much it meant. Ilik followed behind, bu stayed out of sight and letting his Force Deadness hide him. The old medic wasn't going to let Mig die because of this, no matter what it took. The one Gred Mando'ad'jetii with Gianna and [member="Orn Pharr"] followed with them though. Once inside, he gulped a little at what [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] said, and looked to the Jedi. She was angry, in her words at least, and he didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry Jetii. Gred's have kept a respect for Jetii, but Alor Fuyuan.... She's a doctor not a solder. I can feel it round her... the... the Dark Side? I didn't think she was.... She's watching her home be destroyed. I can't imagine she can think straight. Osik! Why didn't Ilik come with use? He's been through similar to her. Either way, one of the triplets is among the sickest. Lung issu.... Harlon! By Kad what are you... you'll...." The man ran up to one of the patients getting up to fight. "You told me yourself what's happening. That without that machine you'll...

"Ika (kid), war isn't fair. And I won't just sit, even if I go to the Manda for it." The young Gred sighed, already knowing he could do nothing to stop him, he looked back to Orn and Gainna, fighing back some tears under his helmet, and pointing to Orn.

"Um... I don't know your names, but you I can sense your the strong one. Go with these three to Pediatric. They've help more in that wing, know the way better. Ma'am, I can take you to the sickest in the Tertiary Center. Well those that.... Why would Harlon go? Those people there.... When Taozi said they couldn't be moved safely, she wasn't lying. For one reason or another.... Let's just save everyone we can." It was clear that this man wasn't use to this kind of fight. An all out war. He... he was starting to not be able to handle it.

Meanwhile, Mig glared to Bane, his Trayc'kad's lightsaber edges ignited. He peered through his smashed helmet, T-visor broken away on the left side, but either a shadow or blood obscuring his left eye from sight. A certain emotion could be felt around the Force sensitive Mandalorian. A determination driven by a desire to protect his Vod. Mig was battered, and wounded, but that didn't matter. He would stop this beast of a Dark Sider.

"My name is Mig Gred, Alor of my clan, and I sent myself you demagolka (war criminal)." Mig then sent out a blast of Force Lightning, putting all his emotion into the attack. He wouldn't let this Dark Sider win. He wouldn't let him win!

Fleet (links above):



[SIZE=9pt]In space[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Keros' Kad (Modified MC30c): Destroyed[/SIZE]
2x Nebulan-B2s: 1 shields 0% Hull 60%, 1 Destroyed
[SIZE=9pt]3x Enigma-class: Loner: Shields 50%, Pair: 54% and 49%[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]4x CR90s[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]2x Viper Squadrons: 15 fighters down[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]2x Brawler Squadrons: 7 fighters down[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Surface:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Enigma[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Viper Squadron[/SIZE]




Fleet actions:



  • The fleet damage from [member="Xobos Yakieer"] 's attacks, and some fighters are lost.
  • Rams the rear section of the Hive Destroyer.
  • The Nebulan-B2 focuses on the Roon's Spear.
  • The lone Enigma continues to focus on the Core’s Voyager, firing heavy turbolasers, quad lasers and 2 proton torpedoes.
  • The pair of Enigmas make another attack run, now free of fire, firing the Zhan’s Cannon with heavy turbolasers and 4 proton torpedoes each, while their quad laser turrets continue fire on the Deathsalkers.
  • The Vipers continue to fight their attackers, while the Brawlers turn back on the Roon's Spear.
  • The CR90s keep firing on fighters.
  • On the surface, the Enigma and Vipers continue to attack the Archon Bombers and their escorts. [member="Voph"]
 
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Location: Approaching Turbolasers
Allies: CIS, [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Vytal Noctura"], [member="Marek Starchaser"], [member="Karsan Calnov"]
Enemies: UCM, [member="Aditya Fitz Kierke"]
Gear: In Bio, 12 Thermal detonators, Thermal tape


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[youtube]https://youtu.be/iWEsrQx6A2U[/youtube]​
Nothing.

Kaden’s attempt to gain some kind of revenge or satisfaction came to nothing. The rubble had been dodged just as easily as his darkshear had been, and the woman flew off on her dragon to more pressing matters. No doubt the chatter coming over the comms that the UCM had shot down a medical frigate, and were now opening fire on their own as well as the CIS to generate a bottle neck toward [member="Adenn Kyramud"].

All Kaden could do was shake his head at the news. So much time had been spent grandstanding and showboating about how better and more moral the Clans were, and yet they would arm their sick and send them out to fight, bomb a medical frigate, send out suicide bombers, and bombard the city knowing full well they might kill their own as well as any CIS droids that were advancing. How inhumane. At least a droid could be replaced, their memory restored to their last back-up. This wasn’t possible with a life, not normally, and not without access to a lot of cloning technology. Kaden was more than convinced the Clans had no moral high ground to stand on after today. They were the same monsters who abandoned him to die so long ago, sacrificing him because he was not as valuable.

Hazel eyes watched as the dragon flew off. Kaden cried out to the woman one final time.

<<< “ADIIIIIIIIITYA!!!!!” >>>

Once again she was gone. Kaden knew the truth now. She was alive. Aditya also knew his secret. Kaden Farr no longer lived among the dead either. Both had escaped the otherworldly plane of existence they had been allotted. Would she tell his secret? Would she tell Yasha and Kaine that he was alive? What about Adara? Would his daughter learn the truth about her father’s death and his new life?

The encounter left Kaden filled with rage. A fire burned inside his bones consuming every bit of the marrow within. Once again he had been robbed of the chance to make someone pay for his years of hellacious torment, but there was also an anger reserved for himself. Briefly, Kaden dropped to his knees as he removed his helmet for just a moment. “I have failed you yet again, Mother,” he sobbed quietly while holding back the rage formed tears that threatened to burst from his eyes. Kaden fixed his helmet and moved on. He may have failed to kill Aditya, but there was still work to be done to secure the city for the CIS.

[member="Adenn Kyramud"] had seen fit to create a bottleneck, forcing the troops and reinforcements toward him. The debris created a path, but Kaden knew that a bottleneck for the CIS could easily be turned back on the man who created it. There was little time to act as tanks were already making it through and attempting to take out the shield at the FOB. Running toward the rubble which Adenn’s bombardment had caused was likely a foolish thing to do. Kaden still had to make it home to [member="Daisy Americus"] in one piece and unharmed. That was his promise. However, Adenn needed to be stopped. Perhaps it was only going to be temporary, but Kaden identified two buildings which still stood opposite each other.

By the looks of things the buildings were abandoned. With 10 thermal detonators left, and placing them correctly, Kaden could being the buildings down right on top of the only path which was left for Adenn to take. Afterall, he had made one way to him, which meant he only had one way out. It was a poor strategic move, one Kaden would use to stop his remaining forces on the ground. Five detonators were laid at the foundation of each building. Kaden was forced to move quickly and efficiently, killing anything which tried to stop him. Sick or not, once the clans armed their people, they became combatants, and Kaden lived by one rule. Kill or be killed.

There would be no looking back. Once the charges were set, Kaden pressed the detonator, igniting all thermal devices at once. The explosion would certainly be large enough to show that a one man strike team managed to slip through the massive contingent Adenn had dispatched. The power of one lone warrior was never to be underestimated. It was simply time to run. Kaden could enjoy the sound of the explosion, but the FOB needed to be defended. His duty was their now, and the rest of the conflict would be spent ensuring its success.
 
At Alkor’s gesture, Hevn’s gaze shifts towards the sky for a moment.

So this was the Confederate war machine. The sight of it all was overwhelmingly impressive. Truly it had been lifetimes since he had seen armies of this size and caliber go to war. To what extent did this influence reach? What force could match the tenacity and hunger that these warriors brought to bear against their enemies?

A bemused smile plays over his lips underneath his dragon mask, “Caught?” The low disturbing mechanical rumble of his laughter creeps through his grit teeth. “ Yes they are.”

They had been given free range for a reason. To raise such hell that the powers of Mandalore and their allies would come looking for them. In this tower even just the pair of them were armed like a hunter’s snare. Teeth wide open, and primed to snap down on the first unfortunate soul who stood against them.

Hevn turns his focus first inward. He could feel the vibrations of battle rippling through the dark side of the force. The pain, anger, hatred, and death were a tempting and intoxicating scent. He desires to indulge himself in it, to bask in its essence and feed upon the writhing darkness that was swallowing Tanaab whole.

Drinking in his command over the power of the force he extends that reach outward into the tower, and the grounds beyond. There was a small number of encroaching soldiers that his bursts of sensory reading could identify. Scouts most likely, which he deduced would be very well armed if they had come this far without immediate reinforcements. Generally numbers great or small were of no consequence to Hevn. It was the quality of the soldier that determined whether combat was child’s play or a rush of adrenaline and blood lust.

Whether paragons of courage or foolishness, the emerging resistance at the tower was being led toward their doom.

[member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Cleru"]
 
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ALLIES: [member="Voph"] [member="Adron Malvern"] [member="John Locke"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Veiere Arenais"] [member="Xobos Yakieer"]| CIS
ENEMIES: [member="Quoron Caldera"] [member="Kaine Australis"]



It was rather odd - not exciting, just odd - how what had been a battle of melancholy had quickly turned into some disturbing portrayal of a child's mind infused with several too many helpings of sugar. The small fleets of Mandalorians had been exciting, yes, but now as millions of archaic snubfighters soared through Tanaab's orbit and the positions of the Confederacy fleet, things were starting to get out of hand. There were two million of them, and there was nothing in the galaxy that Kiff wished for more than a thousand or so good anti-fighter frigates. Sadly, this battle was not some child's fantasy, despite all the signs pointing towards the fact. The bright supernova was enough to shake Kiff out of his existential contemplations. It blinded Kiff and everyone else on the Victator, but readings instantly told that it was not some new Mandalorian weapon; rather, a clever move made by someone that Kiff had yet to make an acquaintance with -- [member="Visanj T'shkali"]. He vowed to buy the Baroness a drink when this was all over, if they made it out alive; but first, he would have to focus on what was currently at hand.

"Lieutenant Commander, how are our orbital autocannons doing?" Kiff asked as he bent over the battle management hologram, the projections of the Confederacy fleet almost completely obscured by the swarm of T-65 X-Wings.

"Charged and ready to fire, sir," Jol reported.

"Let's give those Mandalorians a taste of their own medicine. Instruct the artillery battlecruisers to fire their orbital autocannons on the three Crusader-class dreadnoughts. If that doesn't destroy them, then I'm not sure what will," Kiff said with a rueful chuckle. He flipped the hologram a few ways, rearranging positions before deciding on his next move. "Instruct all fighters to return to our position and form a defensive screen against the X-Wings. Escort frigates, move in to protect your Star Destroyers, and feel free to try and take out as many starfighters as you want. Hits will be monitored, and the most successful ship gets an extra week of shore leave; tell the Captains to use that as an incentive to stay alive."

With those orders, the Task Force seemed to move with a revitalized energy; point defense cannons opening up with such a ferocity that those tiny teddy-bear pilots didn't stand a chance. The massive squadrons of droid starfighters began regrouping, and they were determined to not be beaten at their own game. Meanwhile, the star of the show -- the Thoros-class Artillery Battlecruisers and their deadly beautiful orbital autocannons -- roared to life as from each battlecruiser two massive bolts of red death flew to meet the already damaged Crusader-class dreadnoughts. Kiff words rung true -- if that wouldn't destroy them. then nothing would.




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FLEET ACTIONS
  • All starfighters are regrouping with the main force; all starfighters are countering the offensive push made by the Ewok-piloted X-Wings
  • All escort frigates are protecting their Star Destroyers and capital ships. Any ship with anti-starfighter capabilities is using those to the fullest.
  • All three Thoros-class Siege Battlecruisers are firing their orbital autocannons at the three Crusader-class Dreadnoughts.


KIFF'S FORCES
509th Heavy Battle Line - Assault Group
514th Battle Line - Escort​ Group I
515th Battle Line - Escort Group II
522nd Fighter Line - Carrier Group I
523nd Fighter Line - Carrier Group II
543rd Artillery Line- Artillery Group
 
Location: Pandath
Objective: Survive and Fight
Links:
Allies: UCM and Defenders
Enemies: CIS and Attackers
Tags: [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Voph"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] @Vytal Nocture [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] [member="Orn Pharr"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]

Adenn
EDIT: I have edited this entire passage under Adenn to reflect the amount of firepower fired towards the column
Their attack was doomed to fail, or so it seemed. The odds were stacked against them, practically everyone was gunning for them, but it dind't matter to these warriors of Clan Mortui, much less to Adenn. They knew the odds when they had come, now they would suffer for it, but they'd still fight. Mandalorians excelled in these situations, and even though many were despairing, they also recognized this as their chances to be recognized forever in Clan Mortuis memory, and the memories of other Clans. If they also completed their ultimate objective, then that'd just be an added bonus for them, and would bring even more honor to them.

That all didn't matter though when the attacks finally came. Clan Mortui was attacked mercilessly by countless enemies, and they suffered under the guns of all these enemies. No, they were slaughtered under their fire. Nothing suffered more than Hell's Angel though, the massive walker that towered over everything in the area. It was targeted first, and thus the first dozen shots were shot at it. 4 shots hit the walker, the rest hitting the area around it or flying a bit further. The walker shook under the impacts, but the shield managed to take most of the damage, thanks for the most part because of the protektraks adding their shield power to it where possible.

Sadly though, those weren't the only shots fired, the shots that impacted around the walker hit the titan tanks and troops located there. These troops and tanks were destroyed or knocked far and wide, being blown apart under the barrage. Those in the column had expected to be bombarded, just not so soon, especially not with such ferocity. As such many soldiers and tanks were caught in explosions and died in horrible ways very quickly.

Hell's Angel turned around as best it could and then began to make its way back to the hospital. They'd be safer there, for if they continued, they'd lose the walker completely. As such, they made a tactical withdrawal, even as they were still shot at. The rest of the column meanwhile was devestated under the fire. Many died, many things were destroyed, and even moreso, Clan Mortui knew they'd have to keep fighting. They scattered as best as they could, with the only exceptions being the Beskad Elite with Adenn, they stuck close to their Alor, working to defend him. So far they'd stuck together, managing to survive by distancing themselves from everyone else.

The column separated as best as it could, doing anything to survive while still advancing. They were being decimated, pure and simple, but they continued on. Some elements went over the rubble to spread out to the sides, others went into cover, and some others were ordered back by Adenn. He hoped to keep them alive as best as possible, but it was no guarantee. That's not to say the column didn't advance, they did, but it was under heavy fire, dust, smoke, debris, and death everywhere.

The column had split as much as it could, going over rubble where possible, and on still passable streets. With the troops scrambling to spread out and avoid annihilation, the remaining titan tanks continued on, going over things as they could. Many couldn't, but those that could did, spreading themselves over several blocks while still advancing towards the FOB. They fired as they could, shot munitions at any CIS people they came across. Meanwhile the buildings that someone collapsed in their path(I can't find the person currently, but whoever blew the buildings up in the path of the column), was smart. Now the corridor was being used against Clan Mortui. They still fought on though, not giving up or in. The Mortui column wouldn't be able to advance much more properly, but they'd do their damnedest to keep fighting, even if those buildings were in the way, they'd keep going.

At the same time, the 2 fighters in the air did their best to continue fighting on, but soon they'd be forced out of the sky. Then they'd either be shot down, or would have to return to either Hell's Angel or one of the ships from the fleet. Neither option was something they wanted, but they'd do it if they had to. For now though, they fought on against those attacking them, doing their best to avoid damage while dishing it out, but they still took hits. It was inevitable, still they kept trying to stay flying and fighting.

Continuing his advance, Adenn chose to keep charging down the corridor. He'd fight anything that got in his way, scramble over anything he had to, do anything to defend his aliit. Any further bombardment of his forces would kill far less than the initial attacks had, but there would still be deaths, still be the destruction of vehicular assets. They still went forward though, hell bent on avenging their dead and killing the CIS, with Adenn leading their charge at the enemy.

Hospital
When the zombies had attacked, they'd been recording, they had also shot at them with a lot of firepower. In the end, it seemed to destroy them(I didn't see a follow up post to continue the attack). But who knew what other depths of depravity the CIS would fall to eventually to crack this nut. The Mandalorians within the hospitals shield were ready for a siege, and they'd fight to the last if need be before letting someone from the CIS enter the place. That's why it surprised them when Taozi Fuyuan said to let the 2 or so Jedi in to help with patients. They knew the patients needed the help, and gladly welcomed it, but the hypocrisy seemed to be so evident in those moments it was almost laughable.

The warriors of Clan Mortui decided to ignore it though, instead doing as she had commanded, putting several guards on the 2 Jedi to keep an eye on them. They wouldn't go anywhere without supervision, and none of the Mandos could be persuaded since at least 2 of each squad(10 Mandos per squad) had void stones or similar restrictive materials against the Force. That and their minds were strong, so they'd be immune against Force manipulation. Any use of the Force within the hospital would be monitored, if used on patients, the guards with the stones would stand back enough to ensure there was no interference, while the other guards stuck close and kept an eye on them.

There was one exception to this rule though, the triplets of Adenn and Aditya. She had made it clear to them that the Jedi weren't to go anywhere near them, and Adenn himself said he distrusted any Force users who came with the CIS here. It simply showed they supported the violence of the CIS, that they weren't truly peacekeepers, but solely warriors. Adenn didn't mind warriors, he just minded having to worry about his family. As such, the Jedi who came to help out those in the hospital would be told none to kindly that they weren't allowed near the triplets. There were other patients on the same floor as the triplets though, some near their room, but the room itself was off limits to them. If they asked to see the triplets, then they'd see this simple answer.
"You aren't allowed near them, leave them be. Focus on others jetii."

Meanwhile outside a new development occurred, a water attack. While the Mandos had ensured they'd be prepared for any sort of attack, the ferocity of the waters movement was a lot of strain against them. The attack worked rather well for the CIS all things considered. With the suddenness of the attack, not many Mandos were able to get out of the way. Thankfully due to the jagged and turning nature of the trench, the water didn't spread as far with as much power, but it still flooded half the side with water that was facing the river. Most of the Mandos began to take up different positions within these trenches to fight back against the suspected attack that would soon come. Instead, they were greeted with electricity and pain or even death.

Many Mandos had conductive boots, but not all, and those that didn't suffered for it. They were electrocuted and died horrible deaths, being cooked alive in their armor. The sight just reaffirmed the resolve of those in the trenches, they'd fight to the last man to prevent such atrocities against the civilians and wounded. As such, while many Mandos went to the 2nd line, an area that was affected far lesss than the first line, they wouldn't retreat further. With these new lines set up, engineers began to reconstruct the trenches as best they could using what was on hand. It wouldn't hold against much in this new stage, but it would have to do. They'd fortify more later on, but for now, they'd settle for something hasty.

These troops were all ready for combat now, and some even yearned it, not that they showed it in any way, shape, or form. Hell's Angel was returning to the hospital as well, something that boosted moral for the troops, ensuring that even more would fight harder than ever before. As it returned to their lines, Hell's Angel opened fire in the general direction of the CIS forces that had done this water attack. Nothing more would be given, but they'd take it all from the CIS. As such, any movement from the CIS that they could see was fried upon, hoping to hit someone or something important.

Chulan
These Chulan fought bravely, attacking and being attacked in equal turn by deWinter, Vytal, and Marek. In the end, even with superior numbers, their inferior armor was their downfall, along with their targets having the Force on their side. Now was a time when they truly wished they had brought some void stones, that would've worked wonders. However, they didn't, and now they were receiving reports and seeing with their own eyes the shield had fallen, that Clan Mortui was being bombarded.

To these warriors of honor, that stung to them. It was a cowardly move, to bombard the enemy so, when their was little danger to themselves. So the Chulan decided to disengage the trio they'd attacked. Throwing more thermal detonators at the trio, the Chulan then broke and rushed their way towards the hospital, towards the column of Clan Mortui troops. While running was also cowardly, they had little choice in the matter, it was return to their people, or die pointlessly in the here and now.

The snipers remained behind longer, shooting a dozen more shots towards the trio each, before turning and returning. However, the Chulan had suffered much in this engagement. Out of the 30 that had originally attacked, 14 were dead, 5 were wounded, and only 11 had escaped relatively unharmed. These Chulan had died or been wounded by the ground attacks from Vytal, lightning from Marek, or various attacks from deWinter. But now they knew to not underestimate these people, and they had footage to learn from their mistakes.

Space
All the attacks on the SSD weren't doing much of anything, somehow the ship was still afloat even after everything that had happened. No matter, it distracted the person in command enough, at least for now. When the shield went down though, they knew it would be only a matter of time before the Clan Mortui column was targeted. The explosion from the 1st Hammerheads self destruction wasn't as grand as was hoped, while the 2nd Hammerhead and the Kanjiklub Deceiver had done neglible damage to the engine block it seemed.

Even as the Resolve turned its guns towards the city and towards Mandalorian emplacements, the last Hammerhead alive made its last move. It was a desperate move, one destined for failure, but one that hoped to accomplish something in the end. Before going through with their last maneuver, the crew of the Hammerhead sent one last transmission to Clan Mortui and over open comms to anyone listening.
"We give our lives to save our vode, remember us for eternity. For glory and honor. For our aliit!"

Then the Hammerhead used its remains to fling itself into the way of the fire from the Resolve. Of course they weren't fast enough to get everything, nor were they strong enough to stop a lot of it, or even big enough to absorb the width of it. That didn't stop them though. A dozen shots or so(idk exactly how many fired, so yeah) had been fired already, and those flew towards the ground and the targets there(damages detailed in "Adenn"). But then they stopped for a few precious seconds, no more than 30 seconds towards the ground, but enough to give them more of a chance in at least that section.

The Hammerhead had placed itself in the way of the weapons, or as many is it could, and mainly those directed towards the column of Clan Mortui troops. Aliit looked out for aliit after all, and such was the case now. With their sacrifice they bought precious time for the column to evade as much as they could, even if that wasn't all that much. Then it exploded as one too many explosives was finally hit. With the Hammerhead below the Resolve, perhaps some damage would travel up and hit the underbelly and the engine block, but no one in Clan Mortuis fleet held their breaths for it.

Debris fell down towards the city, raining down and the warped metal created little pockets of broken cover. Some larger chunks fell near the hospital, as that was were the ship was near, and some of those pieces helped stem the tide of water from Allya's gambit. Not all, but some. Now, with their essentially best gamble now gone, the fleet made to leave, heading away from the fighting, but staying near enough to the city and the hospital. There were still Clan Mortui soldiers there, wounded inside the hospital too, along with some assets. With the sacrifice of the Hammerheads, the rest of the fleet was hoping to evacuate some last groups of wounded, then hopefully the soldiers. If not, they'd remain for as long as possible to help as many of their vode as possible.

It all depended on the continued outcome of this battle. They were semi confident in their chances, but Clan Mortui was being decimated. The leaders of the ships silently shuddered at the rage and grief their Alor(leader; Adenn) would be going through at the death of so many of his family. Then they had their ships prepared for wounded, both civilians and soldiers. The civilians from the hospital, the soldiers from all over. Any ship that neared the fleet would be set upon by a barrage of fire, while the fighters from the fleet flew around the ships to defend them from enemy fighters. Shuttles were dispatched towards the surface to get any people they could, hoping to get medical attention to those in need.

A few shuttles were sent to the hospital, they went with engineers and medics, all hoping to assist the people there, whether in strengthening the defenses, or bringing ease to others suffering. Some shuttles would no doubt be shot down, but many more would make it, and they would set about fixing anything that was broken(IE: trenches, etc.), and ensuring the shield was at peak efficiency. The medics meanwhile went to help Clan Tal as they could, sparing nothing in their effort to save the wounded. It may have been late, but it was better than never, something that would be the case if the CIS succeeded. So the hospital and its occupants were prepared, they would resist until the column could return, until the CIS had been pushed back. And so they prepared for a long siege, the wounded healed to the best of their abilities, but by far most would still not be in the best of shape, as these were the critically wounded ones, while those who could be moved had been moved.

Mors Classemque (Death Fleet)



 
[member="Mig Gred"]

If he was expecting Daxton to dodge the attack, he would be surprised when the blast took him in the center mass, errant arcs of electricity sparking off like liquid fire as the Sith bathed in bright light. At first he stood tall, then bend his knees as the energy flowed through him, grounding spikes shot into ground from the soles of his boots as his reflective armor did its job of soaking the majority of the energy and storing it away. The excess cooked flesh, boiled blood and for a second Daxton’s vision blurred as his left eye popped out of its socket like a wet grape.

Pain wash over him, beautiful exquisite pain as his body was on fire, every nerve point overloading to point of a spasm, and then the Orbalisk colony did their magic, injecting restorative toxins setting his world on fire for a second time. Then with an inhuman gesture of pain Daxton began to laugh like a mad man. “Was that all you had, boy? That hardly even tickled, surely you can do better than that.” Daxton taunted him between chuckles, “Don’t hold back now I sense you can do more. Show me what you’ve got got little puza (criminal slang for mangy mutt).”

The Sith gestured at him in a dismissive manner, mocking and goading him to attack again.
 
Orn nodded to his Jedi compatriot as they strode through the lines, tall and proud as a monk of the old way, a Knight of the Green and of the Living Force to a place of healing. However once inside the ancient being frowned with sorrow and sadness. “They turned this sacred place of healing into an temple of death.” He muttered low, clearly distraught at the soldiers peering through windows with rifles, patients still inside.

The moaning of wounded and sick echoed through the hallways as Orn leaned heavily on his staff. There were so many soldiers inside that it seemed more like a barracks than the buildings he recognized as hospitals and surgery centers. Still, there were those in desperate need of his skills.

Some soldiers waved them off, others waved them towards certain rooms. “I will see whoever has the greatest need. I do not care for your politics or allegiances, nor do any receive special treatment from me.” One set ordered them to heal a group of triplets, another demanded they stay away. Not that it mattered, they were already in an incubator. Any kowakian monkey-lizard could load an incubator and generator onto a hoversled and move them. It didn't take a Jedi Master for such a simple job in the first place.

Little one, work on the wounded soldiers coming back from the trenches. Let them triage, focus your efforts on those who need us most.” Orn stooped by a young Mandalorian woman who was shot in the stomach and had part of her chewed away by one of those, things the CIS had raised from the corpses of the dead. “Take those stones far from me!” He demanded, snapping on one of the Mandalorians who strayed too close, as though he were the man’s father snapping on a misbehaving child.

Grumbling to himself the tree set to work, “How is a healer supposed to work without his tools?” He jabbed the woman with a needle-like branch grown from the end of one of his fingers, filling it with a foamy sap, “This will numb your pain. I must excise the damaged tissue. It will hurt young one.” And then he set to work removing the pieces of the bite.

[member="Gianna Aegis"]
 
All Things With Love
Codex Judge
Wardens.png
Location: In the Hospital [Hey-Friends, pls don't bombard me. I like live. Kthx]
Tag: [member="Orn Pharr"] | [member="John Locke"]​
Allies: Confederacy + Silvers + Wounded​
UCM Tags: [member="Mig Gred"] | [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] | [member="Adenn Kyramud"]​
Status: Blindness does not only affect the eyes.
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Watching [member="Mig Gred"] walk away was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. In all honesty, she didn’t know why. She’d been on plenty of battlefields, on plenty of sides, for a variety of reasons—but this hit home. She knew that Mandalorian Alor heard her, understood, but he had to do what he felt was best in the moment. Right now? It involved sacrifice.

The man that escorted them past the Mandalorian defensive lines and into the hospital itself seemed regretful of the way @Taozi Fuyan had spoken to them. Gianna had not taken offense. Emotions were high and if their positions swapped she could have easily reacted in a linear fashion. She empathized with her, deeply, but this was not a scenario in which she could take her darker sentiments and banish them with a smile. This was war. Destruction. A blood bath. With that in mind …She could only fix things where, and when, she was able. The stakes were high, which made it essential that both she and the Master Jedi with her, conducted themselves in a way that upheld their principles. In the eyes of the Confederacy—These Mandalorians were enemy combatants.

It was true even in the eyes of some of her own people.

“The difficulties that Ms. Fuyan are going through are no less important than the injuries of her people. All that being said, physical wounds, will fester and kill faster than the mind if left unattended. You should look for someone she trusts to watch over her. Even if they do not interact. Watch.”

He was not wrong. This woman had the Darkside within her—Even if she didn’t know it. Gianna felt her eyes linger on the woman while profound sadness wound itself around her heart like a snake. It was a very visceral form of agony. Some people managed to take that suffering, that pain, and let it form a sort of callus so that they could survive. It became a reminder. A memory that chased away the shadows with thoughts of sweeter, kinder days.

Some people got pulled beneath waves of sorrow and never returned. Some people used it. Harnessed it and wielded it as a weapon while they became undone. Those people? They became Sith.

Typhon got distracted as he took them inside the hospital itself. Even if the Jedi had time to see to the shadows building up within the pink-clad doctor—There wasn’t time. The Gred soldier explained that one of the triplets, an infant, she assumed, was the sickest in the building. He seemed upset by the whole of what lay before them. She could hardly blame him. Or the doctor. The patients in this wing were of a stubborn sort and the medical staff had a heck of a time keeping them in bed. Gianna was not typically one to advocate for sedatives, but in this case, it was entirely negligent not to use them. These injured, proud warriors, were walking through the front door to die for nothing more than a show of strength. They knew they would die. The crying nurses knew they would die. Those in power, those controlling the flow of personnel, armor, and weapons—Knew that these patients would die.

To the eyes of the galaxy…Letting them pass the threshold was little more than medically assisted suicide.

To a Mandalorian? It was better than to be forgotten. Just another body, lacking a legacy, lost in the rubble.

Gianna reached for [member="Orn Pharr"] when his voice rumbled to life beside her. The Neti could feel what this place had become. In a very misguided effort to protect those who needed it the Clans had unintentionally turned a place of healing into a tomb. “I know.”, she murmured, to her credit, trying to keep her tone steady. The scene was dire. Morbid. It reminded her of small encampments on poor worlds than were doomed to a life of violence. This was the only way they knew—A life by the sword. A life by the gun. That was the only reason she could think of to keep the fighting focused here.

It was either that, with honestly good intentions, poor tactical advice, or a well-conceived form of manipulation. Most nations knew of the relationship between the Silver Jedi and the Confederacy. It wasn’t a secret. Could this be a way to use that connection, to expose mercy, for weakness, to secure victory?

Gianna shook her head slowly to remove the fog. The reason didn’t matter at the moment. All of these people…Young and old…They would suffer for it.

Abruptly—Gianna became confused. Some said that one of the infants needed the most care and that they should heal those patients first. Others, disagreed. Then others still simply didn’t want them near the newborns at all. Gia reached up and brushed a long red tendril of hair behind her ear. “All of you need to decide. We’ve come here of our own free will, at risk of capture, or worse. You can either set your hatred aside or you can let your people suffer longer. Lock us up afterward if you need to. If a child is one of the patients in most need of care—My friend should see them immediately. Guard him closely, if you wish, watch every second. Don’t deprive an infant care out of fear and pride.

They could hold a gun directly to her temple if they wished while the Neti did what needed to be done. Jedi could heal a lot…But that? No. There was no one that called themselves a Jedi who would willingly deny a child medical assistance in order to win a war. Not if there was a sliver of hope, and even if there wasn’t, they would try anyway. A blameless youngling had nothing to do with this bloodshed. They shouldn’t even be here at all. A parent, placed with the decision of life, or death for their offspring, would always make the correct choice in the end.

Wouldn’t they?

Gianna would have gone on but the Master Jedi at her side gently interrupted. He was right. They could lead a horse to water but they couldn’t make it drink. The flame-haired woman felt her eyes close while her head inclined briefly, respectfully, before turning to see to the incoming soldiers that were most grievously wounded. The Tertiary Center that had been referenced by [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] was overflowing with bodies. Whereas the Neti ordered the Mandalorians with the Void Stones to stand back, Gianna bade them softly, while she fell into the metaphysical place that let her draw from the Force.

The Master Jedi with her held a practical approach to healing. It was a mix of naturalistic, conventional, and unorthodox techniques. Gianna could do both. However, in this, she relied on the flow of the Force. Traditional methods would be too slow, too ineffective, or too excruciating. If a regular medical droid could have done the trick these people would have already been on their way. She headed toward the first bed that the medical staff pointed her toward the Tertiary Center without hesitation. The patient wasn’t screaming in pain—But it was because they’d already lost consciousness. Too much blood loss.

“Vibroscalpel, please.”

She removed the stitchwork that had begun to blend with the synthskin that was intended to act as a sterile covering for what appeared to be a sucking chest wound. Gianna couldn’t tell on sight what made it, however, removing foreign objects would be paramount to ensuring that the patient remained well when everything was said and done. None of them would be battlefield ready for a long time, however, they would be stable and recovery would be less of a journey. “These patients will all need to be treated with an antisepsis field following care. Ideally, they should be kept beneath the umbrella until it’s time to leave.”

In most situations, the fields were used on worlds that had an excessive amount of harmful bacteria and micro-organisms. It was standard for most hospitals to have them, but, it wasn’t a necessity for everyday use. Yet—when the facility had been turned into a breeding ground for illness? Newly grown skin, newly healed patients, would need that secondary line of defense. “Don’t forget the pro-biotic showers and the intestinal flora repair tabs.”

Her hands quickly became slick with blood. The protective coverings that had been offered could only do so much to keep the pale color of her robes from turning something garish. The small stones that sat around her ears, hidden by her hair, began to glow faintly when she was finally ready to close the wound. Her hands lay on the patient, softly, and the Force began to flow through her being as if a dam had broken. She was a conduit of life, with a gentle heart, and a will that was almost indomitable. “It won’t take long. Stay with me…Just stay.”, she murmured, more for the patient than anyone else.

Even if he couldn’t hear her.

Stimulating cellular regeneration was not something for the faint of heart. A faint light poked from between her fingers while lavender tinted eye-lids closed over hazy jade orbs. Those in her immediate vicinity, save those with void stones, would feel the edges of their nerves calm. No longer would terror rattle away in the minds of the sick and weary. Light. She was a child of it, a student, and embrace it with everything she was.

When her hands withdrew she sighed softly and the faint radiance she emitted faded. The machines that were monitoring vital signs showed holographic details that were favorable. She breathed. Deep. As if she had forgotten how in the wake of letting the Force pass through her. She turned and cleaned her hands thoroughly in a basin. “Order over a nurse for a follow up in an hour. He should be fine, but, if his oxygen levels drop—Send for me.”

Gianna took a moment before she nodded her head toward the coordinator. Things were fairly haphazard but she could see that the woman was trying her best. She reached out and rest a calming hand on her arm while she flipped through cases on her datapad. The woman froze, almost, as if she were expecting to be attacked. “Take me to the next one. I won’t hurt them—Or you. I promise.”

She could not say the same for the Confederacy. It would take time to ensure that all of the patients who couldn’t be moved were stable enough for it. Then—She needed to find a way to appeal to someone in charge who would be willing to listen to reason. The building suddenly shook as pieces of a Hammerhead came down, not on top of them, but close enough that everyone felt it like an earthquake.

Ginna could only steel her nerves and press forward.

All of this wouldn’t much matter if they didn’t evacuate at their earliest possible convenience. Even if the hospital itself had never been a target—There was something called acceptable damage. While the two titans clashed all around them, this one, relatively small militarized infirmary would become nothing more than collateral. ‘May the Force be with You…’, her mind reached for the Neti [[member="Orn Pharr"]], more of a feeling, than actual words.

This would be the longest—Darkest of days. Against all odds…They would be the light.

Her next patient was conscious. He had internal bleeding and shrapnel that would need to be removed. His breath hitched and his body was wracked with what she could only describe as intractable anguish. He kept asking for his sword. For his weapon. Insisted he could fight. “Your fight is over…”, she murmured softly, glancing around, to see if they had any pain killers left. Gianna could only guess that they were running low, out, or that the staff was intensely busy. Her hand fell to his forehead the Knight closed her eyes to let her mind brush softly against his. There was no intrusion. She did not break through his faculties forcibly. Instead, she waited for him to relax so that he could choose to allow her passage. He was in so much pain…He did.

Who could say no to a bastion of comfort when the alternative was cruel torment?

“Rest, now. Let me ease your suffering…”, she breathed, while her mind wrapped around his, and decreased the receptivity to pain. Some people used this ability to increase pain. Gianna never would.

Slowly, he seemed to settle.

“…Who are you? N-Not one of us. Not vod.”

“My name is Gianna. I’m here to help you.”

The patient seemed silent for a moment. He had dark, expressive, and distrustful eyes. They were filled with the death and terror that he had seen on the battlefield. His mind echoed within her own. He didn’t think he deserved to be here. He should have never escaped. No one should have saved him, they should have saved the person next to him. Ginna had to pull herself from his thoughts for her own stability and the young woman watched while they flickered away from her face. He caught sight of [member="Orn Pharr"]. “I know h-him. My whole unit. From Utapau…A l-long time ago.”

She caught sight of a memory. A place that she had not been. But, indeed, it was the Neti that had been so concerned with her well-being. “You’re right. It is him… May I?”

Gianna couldn’t force treatment on a conscious patient. He still seemed uncertain, but with a final glance at the back of the Master Jedi, he nodded his head slowly, and the young woman gave him the most comforting smile she could.

Even with her mentalist interjections…This was going to hurt. A lot.

I did post in the Hospital but permission was given within posts. Not assuming/metagaming.

Heaven's Touch
Heart of Aceso
Lightsaber [Though, it is not readily seen, hidden in her robes, and rarely makes an appearance.]
Redwood Staff: [Given during the thread by Orn Pharr] A combination of Ankarres Wood and several others. A botanist might recognize the traces of Norris Root and Veshok Wook.
Other Items...May be picked up from various sources, the FOB, etc along the way.
 
In the deepest darkness when all hope wanes, one must only look for Light and they will find it.

If this was the darkest hour, then Gianna and Orn were the light to be found within, setting about helping the injured coming in from the trenches and defenses as much as it pained Orn that the Hospital had been turned into a command post, marking it as a military target rather than its intended purpose. Violence corrupted everyone who surrendered to it, no matter where they hailed from or how noble their intentions. The quest to inflict violence on others was the end of reason.

From the Neti’s fingers sharp needle-like and scalpel-like appendages grew as he operated on the woman, carving away the necrotic flesh from her bite. He wasn’t sure how infectious the Dark Side corpses were, but he was unwilling to risk this woman’s life on lack of thorough care. Blood trickled down his branches, dripping to the floor as he worked on the disemboweled woman carefully. “There, young one. I think that,” His hand pressed to the wound, gleaming light pearing from beneath his fingers as he surged the Force into the wound, gripping her nerves and hastening the body’s natural regeneration. “Should help you.” The light faded, but her body continued heal at an accelerated pace as he pulled his fingers from the wound.

He turned to one of the nurses, “I’ve closed the perforation in her intestines and removed the infected flesh and cleaned the wound. You can take her from here?

The nurse nodded, moving to assist with caring for what was now simple lacerations to the Mandalorian’s injuries.

As he looked for the next patient, he felt Gianna reach out with the Force and met her presence warmly, opening himself to her as she made the connection. It was a good idea, to meld their minds. Even two Jedi working in concert, were greater than the sum of their parts.

<We save as many as we can. The rest, we ease their suffering until the Force reclaims them. I am glad to have met another like myself, Gianna.>

Her name. He would need to remember this one.

Orn smiled warmly as he walked over to the Jedi Knight, giving her a nod as he knelt to deal with the next critically injured person. He knew these people needed off this planet. They needed to be moved far away from the battle and to be kept. This one was not going to survive.

Orn touched the man’s shoulder, feeling the fading light within dimming as the warrior’s eyes flickered. At Orn’s touch he snapped his eyes open for a moment, the pain from his injuries wilting away, letting the man sigh with relief. Gia might notice that Orn had pulled the pain into himself rather than letting the man suffer. She might notice that he had done such for everyone he had touched in varying degrees. It made his body feel like it was burning, and every move hurt to make, every fiber in his body felt raw.

That was what a life was worth. What hope and life it could provide for others gave his life meaning. “Tell me your name.” Orn said, keeping his eyes on the man even as an extra arm grew from under his robes so that he could begin working on the warrior next to the dying one.

Dorn… Caldera… Clan… Skirata.

Tell me about yourself.” The man knew what it meant, but he had probably known he was going to die when he was pulled into the hospital. Still, the Jedi’s presence was calming, doing everything he could.

His hands dug into the other soldier’s flesh, withdrawing pieces of shrapnel around the heart as carefully as he could, applying the saps and pollens from his body to the wounds as he worked. The soldier was writhing in pain, and Orn’s presence only helped some, but he had to be still in or risk further injury.
Another, wearing the same colors and emblems that the soldier Gianna was working on came and sat beside Dorn, the dying man. She was missing one arm above the elbow, the wound bandaged and the smell of burnt flesh emanating from the stump. “It’s okay vod. You are in good hands with these two.” She was clearly still suffering from shock, only barely mobile, but she was there comforting her dying comrade alongside Orn.

[member="Gianna Aegis"]
 
[member="Mig Gred"]

Sparks were arcing all over Daxton’s reflective armored form, yet his voice was confident, sly and taunting as ever. Hands clenched in fists, knees bent from the blast of Force Lightning, he stood there like an nightmare made flesh steadfastly refusing to bow down. “Surely you can do more, child. Where is your vaulted Mandalorian skill or was that all hot air? I have fought your kind before, proud, unyielding, too stupid to know they have lost. Where are they now? Dead, buried and forgotten. Yet here I stand, unbowed and unbroken. Kneel before your True Master and I will spare your life. Resist and I shall add you to those who have come and challenged me and now are forgotten. All Hope is lost child, there is only the Dark Side of the Force.”

The Sith wasn’t expecting on the Mandalorian to surrender, in fact, he was counting on their pride to resist him even more. According to the dark green HUD on front of him the blast had charge up the storage cells of his suit about 70% he needed more power for what he was about to do. Hopefully the Mandalorian would try to fry him again and then he could show them the folly of their resistance.
 
Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii
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[SIZE=9pt]Location: The Capital[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Allies: UCM + Jedi Healers[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Enemies: CIS[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Tags: [/SIZE] [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] [member="Kat Decoria"] [member="Aditya Fitz Kierke"] [member="Tamar Fitz Kierke"] [member="Voph"] [member="Adenn Kyramud"] [member="Veiere Arenais"] [member="Adron Malvern"] [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] [member="Corran Conner"] [member="Krest"] [member="Livia Maddox"] [member="Gerhard Manndorf"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Xobos Yakieer"] [member="Cypher Rage"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Luna Terrik"] [member="Gianna Aegis"] [member="Orn Pharr"]
[SIZE=9pt]Gear and Forces: Bio +[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Mando'ad'jetii[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Basilisk[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Enigma[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Gred Fleet[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt], a [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]V1 astromech[/SIZE]

Typhon looked to [member="Gianna Aegis"], sighing. "I don't know her well enough to know who to ask. I just know Ilik always speaks of how he was a Mando'ad'jetii. How head fell, and had to separate himself from the Force to keep from going further...." Before he could continue though, he heard [member="Orn Pharr"]'s comment. He flashed a hint of anger, but quickly reined it in. He was trained to keep his emotions in check, both to better him melee combat, and to keep the path of a Grey Force wielder. By the Manda though, it wasn't always an easy path. If anything, he thought it needed more discipline than being Jedi or Sith. He just eyed the tree, glaring at him.

"Mando'ade don't leave Vod behind, no matter what. A Chiss had told us things that happened during an attack on his people, so I'm sorry we're dedicated to protecting our own. Last I check, we weren't the ones attacking a medical world, at least not my clan." He knew he couldn't speak for the others. Mig even mentioned one wanting to punch Kaine in the kisser after he heard about H'ratth. He then looked to Gianna again, seeming to be worried about something. How would they treat the clans dragged into this, he thought? The CIS would probably want them all dead, and the Jedi would probably be more precise in their work, be he didn't know. "I'll help any way I can, but I'm no baar'ur (medic)."

Meanwhile, one of the injury, a Gred based on the lighter armor, grabbed at Orn, trying to get his attention. She looked up, breathing lowly. "Jetii. Let the baar'ur deal with us. Find the patients. Get them able to leave. Light freighter.... outside...."

Meanwhile, outside, Mig glared at [member="Daxton Bane"] . Mig's only true "master" in Force training was his father, and this piece of osik didn't have the honor to take his place. "You... will never be my Master, Sith! You've attacked my vod! The Dark for your kind is fueled by hate, fear, death! The Light can blind you if you're not careful. I am Mando'ad'jetii. A Grey. I... will never... kneel!" Mig then charged with his odd weapon in a guarded position, quickly coming in for a strike. He wouldn't let this... this... Sith win the day. Not now. Not ever! He couldn't let him win. If he won... then those in the hospital were probably doomed. He couldn't lose.
 
[member="Mig Gred"]

If a voice could sneer, Daxton’s would, a mocking tone he continued to taunt his opponent. “Fool, then your Master mislead you all this years. Such a shame to waste so much potential but if death is what you seek then it has come for you.” Standing straight, the Siths reflective armor still cackled with the stored electricity, dark purple veins of naked power creeping all over like living things. The three lightsabers floating around him seemed to pulse with the excess energy as he plucked the blue and green blades while the third red blade snaked like a pincer as he launch as vicious Juyo stanced series of blows, high and low striking simultaneously barely giving his opponent time to breath, much less lower his guard without risking suffering a major strike.
 
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Location: Fortressa Hangar
Objective: Destruction
Allies: UCM
Enemies: [member="Naedira Darcrath"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"]


The world was chaos.

All around them sparks flew as the Lord of Lies crashed down upon the Jedi Master. The smaller, deft Jedi bobbed and weaved through the hall trying to avoid the colossal giant. It was staggering just how much reach it gave the giant, sparks flew as all around him the halls broke. It was as if the physical world simply didn't apply to the man, rather existing it its world, it existed in his. A deadly dance of crimson and blue sabers sparking when they occasionally collided, their fight turned into what became a chase. The Jedi Master thought he was dancing around him, he thought that he could draw him away into a battle of chasing after the patriarch of House Arenais. He was wrong. Veiere Arenais was a smart opponent, powerful, wise, he knew all too well the costs of playing the games of the Dark Titan. But he wouldn't have a choice, he would be forced to stand before him, to feel the brunt of the Mountain's fall directly. In doing so he would play upon the direct weakness of the Jedi Master, a weakness he knew would send him running, and with that his attention turned back to...

Naedira.

The battered, broken Knight Obsidian as she laid in the hall behind him, a pool of blood forming from her broken form. The Sith Lord thrust an outstretched hand and unleashed a devastating blast of dark side energy, but this was a feint, merely to create distance. The Shadow Hand then proceeded to reach out through the force into the pipes, the supports, the wires, the plating on the roof, and with one pull he ripped all of it down. A deafening crash preceeded a shower of sparks, and falling debris from the collapsed hall temporarily separating the two. The giant said nothing to the Jedi as his attention was turned back towards the broken form of Naedira, he beckoned her form through the force as he walked away from the collapsed hall, pulling her into his open hand. Darth Prazutis attached the lightsaber back to his side while he turned to face Veiere, gripping her in both hands. Power. A surge that rolled through his body as pure, scorching, blue dark side fire rolled down his arms. "Typical....it's no wonder your world burned while you hid. Your wife taken right out of your nose. You're just a fumbling, worthless insect. You always are, and you always will be a coward." Darth Prazutis said his voice booming as he engulfed her in dark side fire. But he was far from done.

Not by a long shot.

"Now COME, FACE ME!"

The Lord of Lies ripped a metal rod from its placement on the roof, pinning Naedira against the wall with one hand. He drove the rod clear through her chest with the other. But he was far from done, even as she burned, even as she hung. The Sith Lord reached for her arm, her dominant arm and in one feral growl he sought to rip the arm clear off.
 
Malphas.png
Location: The Fortressa.
Inventory: Jedi Robes | Ring | Lightsaber | Dagger.
Allies: The Confederacy, [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Opposition: [member="Darth Prazutis"].
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Forced back in order to evade the disruptive blast of dark-side energy, the roof of the corridor soon collapsed down between Veiere and the Sith Lord, [member="Darth Prazutis"]. 'Damn it...' he cursed himself silently, the Jedi Master's lightsaber disengaging and he returning the weapon to his belt in order to free both of his hands for the needed application of power to remove the barrier between himself and his foe, [member="Naedira Darcrath"]'s life was hanging in the balance, nay, she was close to deaths embrace.

The flow of the Force rippled, causing the very walls to shudder as Veiere focused with all of his will upon drawing in as much strength and power as he could manage to his center, soon shaping and harnessing this power to his arms and unleashing a violent wall of Telekinetic Force that tore through the debris of pipes and metal that had been blocking his way. The Sith Lord being showered in scrap metal as some of the debris burned away from the very energies that Veiere sent sprawling back in response to the would-be giant's games, tired of playing into Prazutis' sick and twisted ploys any longer.

As soon as the barrage had been released from his hands, the Jedi Master surged forward, picking up immense and unbelievable speed within such proximity with the pair. Veiere's form would become a blur to the eyes of the opposition, yet for the Jedi himself, it felt as if everything else slowed as he hurled himself towards the Sith with all of his will and control of the Force, his left hand reaching for his lightsaber and tearing it from the magnetic clamp upon his belt, blade erupting from the emitter as Veiere moved to re-engage the Sith Lord just moments after he had taken Naedira up into his hands, the stream of energy lashing out against the back of the Sith Lord's knee's, using his speed and momentum to carry the attack through whilst Prazutis would be distracted with his victim.

The flow of time resumed as Veiere found himself skidding to a gradual halt, his shoulders rising and falling, breathing staggered and the unstable charge of his lightsaber's blade echoed within the room. The Sith shouldn't have had the time to focus on his torturing the woman whilst also seeking to defend himself against the Jedi Master's aggressive change in tactics, instead being forced to choose between losing his legs, or ending Naedira's life then and there.
 
Malphas.png
Location: The Fortressa [Lower Hangar Bay]​
Tags: [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]​


She felt his focus shift like the all-seeing-eye of some great deity. It wasn’t something she could see or truly sense, however, she knew it to be true. The Mountain knew her name and she could hear the deep tenor of his voice, filled with silk, and obvious disgust. He spoke as if she were something filthy to be found beneath the sole of his boot. Sightless, powerless, she couldn’t move or fight when kinetic force moved her broken body.

Blood dripped. The sound that it made when she was lifted from the floor was nauseating. A wet squelch, as if, she had been suctioned to it. Naedira heard it louder than anything else before she was pulled through the air to the waiting claws of the Mountain. The movement was jarring even while the Immortal yelled at the Jedi—Taunting him. The bait was low hanging fruit, and even in her hazy mind, she could recognize the ploy. The Light-sider had been knocked away…Separated from the battle.

Trapped behind wires, debris, and pieces of the Fortressa that had come undone. She could feel him, distantly, like a star that burned bright—Amidst deep and endless night.

He was too far away.

Flame began to lick up her body and the distant sensation of burning began to push it’s way back through her mental blocks. She could only invoke the Force as long as she had the presence of mind to do so. It was slipping. She was slipping. The Mountain held her by the throat, again, and this time there was no witty retort nor the will to spit in his face. She could feel the skin of her torso peeling, feel it crack, and every second that the fire lasted—Her control waned. Her will to deny this beast was slowly crumbling. It was all right. Okay. It had to be.

Her duty had been met.

She had denied the Mountain from murdering the rest of the Knights and the CDF that were on the ship. Naedira had distracted him, long enough, by being the mouse that a great black cat thought to play with. It was not a death of glory. It was nothing that anyone would care about, or write stories for, but it served a role. She had served her purpose. Protecting those that fought at her side. Sparing, those that helped keep this vessel afloat…It wasn’t glamorous.

Every breath was laborious. The agony was coming back. The stench of her own burning body was impossible to ignore. A crash sounded, the Jedi moved, and Naedira had a fleeting thought to warn him away. The Mountain was more than he appeared to be. One step ahead. Two steps ahead. This was a trap. Why else would the Sith Lord bring up the wife of his opponent?

Her arm was saved. There was no piece of rebar that ran through her chest. She had time. The young woman embraced the pain and let her mind move, briefly, brushing against that of the Jedi Master. It was soft. Faint. Like the wings of a hummingbird that were slowing to a stop.

‘…You tried, Jedi. You tried. It’s okay. Y-You have to protect yourself now...Tell…Tell Alkor. Tell him I failed. Tell him—’

Time was up.

Her body gave in. The initial damage was too great, and no one, could lose that much blood and survive. Her mind shuddered as her form shut down and her breathing stuttered to a halt. A fragile, human heart, beat loud. Louder than thunder. Then…Nothing. It beat it’s last.

She was gone.

 
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Location: Fortressa Hangar
Objective: Destruction
Allies: UCM
Enemies: [member="Naedira Darcrath"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"]


A trap.

The Shadow Hand released his iron grip on Naedira the minute that the Lord of House Arenais came charging in, blue blade at the ready with a shot aimed directly at the weaker back portion of his legs. The woman so quickly used was discarded into a burning pile on the floor as he used the full length of his size, speed, flooding it with the force he charged right into the Master Jedi like a wrecking ball. If the lightsaber was to strike him now it would be forced to strike the fully reinforced impervium plating. A roar as the giant attempted to skewer the master jedi with rebar in the one hand, while he attempted to cut loose with a blast of dark side energy through the other on his approach.

But Naedira?

The excruciating pain of the hellish fire ravaging her form burning it open. For someone attuned it might've been absolutely agonizing to see how she squirmed, she tried, she really tried to withstand it. If she was to be commended, her resilience was far stronger than most even after the nightmarish endeavor she'd been through. But she was done. Despite the defiant beating of her heart she could take no more and it slowed...and finally fell silent. That was almost the end, in any other instance she would've, no she absolutely should've died long ago. But something kept her here forcing her to remain, forcing her mind to slog through every torturous moment. Just when her soul was being dragged from its coil into the hands of the netherworld a voice rang out in her consciousness.

"Your done when I say your done, little mouse."

A complex spell woven earlier placed a lock, a block on her soul. When the netherworld came for her it recoiled from the darkness that surrounded her, his darkness. It was by the grace of his iron will, the will that so boldly defied natural law which held her in its iron grip. Just like that she was denied a peaceful death like she should've gotten and that was wrong. Instead she was dragged and chained no...sealed into the obsidian ring she wore so proudly in life. It might've been a symbol of something before...

Now it would be her prison, her tomb...
 
All Things With Love
Codex Judge
Wardens.png
Location: In the Hospital [Hey-Friends, pls don't bombard me. I like live. Kthx]
Tag: [member="Orn Pharr"] | [member="John Locke"]​
Allies: Confederacy + Silvers + Wounded​
UCM Tags: [member="Mig Gred"] | [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] | [member="Adenn Kyramud"]​
Status: Blindness does not only affect the eyes.
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“Find someone. Anyone.”, the young woman returned softly to Typhon. She sympathized with his position. Normally, she would have sat with the pink-clad physician herself. Friend, enemy, it didn’t really matter when the darkside came to bear. There could be no emotion here, though, her compassion would pervade ever corner of this bleak place. The short story that he gave about one of the others that they had met along the way caused her to nod her head in understanding. “She must release her hate. Whether it is through tears or silence, she must, let it fall away lest it begins to take hold. My presence would only worsen it. A staff member—Someone she trusts—Is better than nothing at all.”

Gianna did not have the heart to say that [member="Taozi Fuyuan"] was standing on the precipice of blade. She could only report what she could feel. What she had seen. There was always a chance that the Force obscured a truth that she was not yet ready to know. With that in mind—She could see the doctor slipping. Perhaps not today, nor tomorrow, but one day. Her emotion and grief would overcome her. The Force was a mountain rising from the water. The dark-side was submerged, covered in ichor, and beneath the waves. It would trick Ms. Fuyuan into seeking it while presenting itself as a missing piece.

A solution to solve all of her problems. Power to defeat her enemies—All the power that she would ever need to combat the Confederacy and push away the notion that the Clans could have any responsibility for their fate. If she chose to dive beneath the surface…The shadows would trap her.

The once good, caring woman, would devolve into a pit of her own making. Perhaps she could climb free.

Perhaps she would not.

Either way—Gianna could not stop. Not now. The most she could hope for was that some sort of human connection would bring her back to balance. If they survived, perhaps, perhaps she would be willing to talk to someone.

The same Mandalorian that had been so patient with her did not seem to share that kindness for the Master Jedi that was already choosing a patient. Gianna could only breathe in through her nose, then out through her mouth, before jade eyes fell back to Typhon. The Neti was wise, but, set in his ways. “Please…My companion means no offense. I beg that you understand no two wars are the same and I am sure that your Chiss friend only meant to warn you. You and I both know that the actions of the few can often define the many. If we do this correctly, use the proper channels and tags, we can evacuate all of the innocent.”

The remaining Clans, if they made themselves combatants, would be a different story. If they put down their arms and surrendered? Gianna was certain she could appeal to the Confederate Exarch’s for mercy. There didn’t need to be anymore blood. But, one problem at a time. The flame-haired woman offered Typhon a reassuring smile and ushered him along to aid her. “You might not be a medic but every hand will help here.”

By the time she was through—She would probably need his help just to stand.

These tasks was not easy. It was bloody, painful, and gruesome. Gianna used a combination of modern methods and Force techniques to stabilize the wounded. It involved removing shrapnel, so the damage, so the damage could be mended. Undoing what had been done before so packing and stitches were not left inside to fester. Feeling the Jedi Master [[member="Orn Pharr"]] hard at work, with his own, unique flavor of a life signature gave her a boost of strength. He was a warm comforting glow to her back. She could see him without eyes. Feel him without touch. When her mind reached for his…

It was welcomed. They were able to share one another’s burdens—Share knowledge, their gifts. He would know very soon that her greatest strength and weakness were one and the same. Her heart. <I will keep going until I cannot. I could not do this without you Master Pharr. So many…So many have already passed. Thank you for being here.>

Through this connection she finally knew his true name. Orn Pharr. She was grateful to the Neti beyond words. There was a Mandalorian that seemed to be ushering patients to a light freighter as they were deemed safe enough to travel and Gianna did her best to keep sending out those who had a fighting chance. She had to pace herself. She could stabilize patients—But to heal them completely? It was impossible. There were only two of them. And hundreds…Hundreds of people in need.

Even still. It was an impossible task. But, impossible would be made possible. She held hope and always would.

Gianna left her last patient resting. He was exhausted, eyes closed, with a mop of sweat dotting a blood-stained brow. Next on the list wasn’t a soldier at all. Just an elderly woman with a terrible chest cold. Every time the hospital tried to move her, her body protested, and her lungs began to fill with fluid. She could be moved no more than a few feet without oxygen. Once again—Gianna introduced herself but it seemed wholly unnecessary. The woman was struggling to breathe.

Light passed through her hands, much as it had before, and her earrings began to glow. She let the Force flow and fill the parts of her lungs that were infected with bacteria and flushed it away. Then she began to make adjustments and repairs. It was slow, but eventually, she could see the elder woman breathing easier. Her vitals normalized.

Good, good.

“Okay…Let’s keep our momentum. Find me another…”

She stayed still for a moment. Finding her strength—Her center. Mass healing this way…

It could be deadly for the practitioner.

I did post in the Hospital but permission was given within posts. Not assuming/metagaming.

Heaven's Touch
Heart of Aceso
Lightsaber [Though, it is not readily seen, hidden in her robes, and rarely makes an appearance.]
Redwood Staff: [Given during the thread by Orn Pharr] A combination of Ankarres Wood and several others. A botanist might recognize the traces of Norris Root and Veshok Wook.
Other Items...May be picked up from various sources, the FOB, etc along the way.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fuq4CeO1gxg​

Why was it that the young ones were so callous with their own lives? Did they not see that they had so little time among the living that they could travel their whole lives and not see one tenth of the galaxy?

Did they value themselves so little?

Orn could feel Gianna tasking herself immensely through their manifested meld, the pressure she felt was intense, taxing. Draining. Even life threatening. The young Jedi felt that she had to make a difference in this battle, this war. <Little one, slow down.> Orn urged her, but he knew she could not. Her heart was so full of compassion and warmth for others that she could not bear to slow down and risk losing one of the patients at risk.

Dorn Caldera passed before his eyes, with his ally wrapped around him and peaceful without pain. But still he passed despite the Neti’s wishes. He had been too wounded to save without risking not providing others the time they required. It was his burden, that he had prioritized the lives of others over the young man’s in the hopes of saving more of the wounded.

The Neti could feel it building in her chest. Responsibility. Was it something he had lost over the centuries or millennia? The willingness to sacrifice himself for the good of others? He had thought not, but after so long here he stood and others did not. It was not that they valued their own lives so little, but others so much. Here he was, healing the wounded and yet he was not the one risking himself.

It was her.

No more.

No more death. No more watching young jedi sacrifice themselves. No more suffering, No more pain.

Orn felt her in the Force, he could see Gianna’s aura shimmering, wavering here and there as she exerted herself to heal the wounded. Orn began pulling on the web that constituted the Living Force, submerging himself into its light as he drew upon it. His aura reached out to those within the hospital he could sense, those that were not Force-Dead or suppressed by the use of Void Stones, connecting them all together in an intricate lattice of intertwined energy with himself at their center.

What was one life worth if not to aid many?

Gianna,” He asked, his hands withdrawing from the wounded Mandalorian he had been working on. She could certainly feel what was happening in the Force, of that he had no doubt. “I know not what the Force has in store for you, but I do know that your journey does not end here.

The Neti’s aura extended into the earth, grasping hold of its roots and the leylines of power that lie within in a manner only Neti could. But it was no beam of energy to ward off the enemy that was his intention. He was merely acting as a conduit for its life-giving energy, directing it through himself into those he had connected with.

Concentrating his effort, Orn surrendered himself to the Force one last time, filling all those in the meld with his own Life Force, bolstered by the roots of Taanab itself.

Look to the light and you will always find me there.

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[member="Mig Gred"] [member="Gianna Aegis"]
 
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Location: The Fortressa.
Inventory: Jedi Robes | Ring | Lightsaber | Dagger.
Allies: The Confederacy, [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Opposition: [member="Darth Prazutis"].
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[member="Darth Prazutis"] was a goliath opponent, yet Veiere had the edge in speed over the Sith Lords brute strength. His lightsaber clashed against the Sith's whilst Veiere stepped sideways and used the momentum to aid his body into a full rotation, his knees buckling and bringing himself into a low spin, his second lightsaber flaring into ignition in his left hand and once more streaking out against the Dark-Sider's legs, Veiere soon forced into the retreat once again in order to avoid any follow up whilst Prazutis concentration was split between he and the faltering presence of [member="Naedira Darcrath"].

She was just barely clinging to life and it seemed to be more by the will of their aggressor than it was her own. Gripping tightly to the two hilts of his Lightsabers, Veiere didn't need the force to see that time was swiftly running out for the woman, Prazutis keeping her strung up by his playing the puppeteer; the Force around the Jedi Master swelled to his position, accumulating within his center and being directed down to his hands that whitened at the knuckles around the two weapons; an aura of light spreading throughout the workings of the lightsabers and soon engulfing the blades of energy themselves, as though an acting force-saber, the two lightsabers harnessed into blades of pure-light. A sustained and controlled practiced focused solely around empowering the duel swords.

"Enough of this!" Veiere exclaimed, shouting back at the Sith Lord in anger and out of desperation for the flailing life held within his hands; "Release her Prazutis, or not even your armor will halt these blades from severing you in two..." he demanded, and didn't await the chance for the Sith Lord to respond, but rather reinforced his words with action, the force around the Jedi Master bellowing as Veiere pushed off from the surface of the hangar, throwing himself directly before the Sith once again, both blades wound back, the lower sweeping out for the legs of his opponent, whilst the other swung higher, aiming for the monsters throat. The full influence of the Lightside of the Force churning within the harnessed energy of his lightsabers, empowering their effectiveness and threatening to end the Sith Lord's life once and for all.
 

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