Exsibilation | The Sovereignty Invasion of Galactic Empire held Zenith Prime Hex

[Cynan Hague]

Defense Battery - Rocky Approach​

A covert chevalier​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyFMG2766vs​

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The time had come. Two hours before the naval Vanguard, a single covert vessel using Imperial Identification had deployed them. The AECOs had fought before, in a few skirmishes, they had trained hard for months, though that was all just simulation. This was a different flavor in their mouth, the taste of war and blood. This lack of experience was their weakness, but what brought with it was a sublime strength of substantive quantity. Nobody knew who they were. Nobody knew what they were. Atmospheric Entry Covert Operations was but a whisper, even within the upper echelons of the Sovereignty itself. Their entry hours ago would've offered little warning - a harmless meteor shower over the rolling thunderous clouds above. The garden was rife with snakes, and they hungered. Who was the hunter and the hunted? This would soon be revealed, but if there was another actor in play, the chances that they so much as knew of their existence was absent at best, incomprehensibly slim at worst.

They advanced down the narrow valley they had landed and regrouped in, there were hills to the east, a low tropical jungle to the west, their objective lied to the north and behind them sat mile after mile of rolling plains. All Team 12 had to do was mark a target at worst, fire a few rockets at best. Either case, their job would be completed and, considering the chances of a force having detected them, there was but little worry in either case. Still, the invasion proper had begun, and there would no doubt be patrols starting to sweep the area, searching for infiltrators.

Cynan and his valorous compatriots had come prepared, armored suits fitted and mounted with every utility and privilege that money could buy, a necessary crutch for the obtrusive nature of their work. Their efficacy would bear witness to the investments, unwitnessed by grander eyes or not. They were to be the very embodiment of a whisper, the clandestine will of the Sovereign Himself, the embodiment of the Navies zeal, Zedd's Black Blade - as a few ONI handlers had jokingly called them.

Silence and thunder battled for supremacy in this kingdom, a chorus of tears falling from the very skies above in reverence of their dark craft. This innate chaos suited Cynan just fine, rough intelligence from the Sovereign himself dating back to his time in this world indicated several defensive sensor nets and encampments, which would be easy to avoid. The jungle to their 9 o'clock was to be avoided for this, among many other reasons. Wars were won or lost in such terrain, lessons had been taught long ago this was not the realm of invaders, Cynan was a slow learner after all, but he did respect the knowledge of those who came before.

This left only a craggy narrow pass ahead, with one flank often open to peering at this jungle, offering the occasional glace, in either way. Should they be assaulted by a stray patrol, their position brought with it as many boons as burdens. Cover would be aplenty and their advance easy enough to continue, though this advance would be slow and hazardous, the wet jagged rocks temping a death of the most brutal sorts.

Lightning reflected in pools, offering chance illumination from above, a fleeting advantage to be exploited. Dry cracked lips separate and strain as hoarse whispered cries of deceit escape "Leave your lights off, low-light mode. Don't look at the lightning, a good flash could temporarily blind you. Slaask ya big lug, you're the only one of us here who doesn't need the shabbing visor. Cover us and keep an eye out. If you see something that looks half as mean as you, shoot it." So that was the order of the day, a dangerous plan, but often the path of risk was that of reward.
There were still more challenges on the road to success, but the AECOs were very much a step-by-step organization, even if most of those steps involved buckshot.

Spoiler: OOC Clarification/Actions

Just making it clear to our lovely Death-Trooper opponents that AECO is in a unique situation of being never before seen covert troops. Even if inexperienced ones. Look forward to seeing how Sovereignty Special forces do against the scary monsters. Sorry if that wasn't clear enough by my original post. Look forward to seeing how this plays out, none the less!

As far as actions, just ordering the squad to avoid the obvious death-jungle and instead advance a somewhat exposed craggy path, so y'all can still intercept us here if you want. Just be aware, we have a lot of objectives to fight over, so we'll be trying to move quickly. Don't get too attached to the defensive battery.

[member="Cassus Stoma"] [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] [member="Slaask"] [member="Vash Rico"]

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[member="Corric Tassadar"] [member="Labkahip Mordulla"] [member="Mark Hawkins"]

 

[Proxy-1]

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Objective: Ṵ̼̱̫ͧͩ̌͛͛m̨͚̳̜ͦb̧͔̜̟̹̰Ṙ͙̙̘̻ͮa͍͖͉̼͈̻̲ͣ̐̾-͈̻̪̘̭ͮ̃4̛̥͖̤̣̰̄̿̋̉̐ͅ ̩̝̘͓̤̟͕̌͂ͧR̰͙̳͔ͯ͋̅ͯ̈Ḙ̡̼̪͕͓̳̪͐̐̅͌̑̍̇s̙̎̊͌̓̌ͯ̆͡tr̘͕̗̺̬ͯǏ͇̩̖̱͕͖̔͝C̪̘̫̕t͎͍̩̫͕̙͈̿̎̽̓̑͘e͕̞̹̦̒͒̓̽̽ͧḎ̼̜̻̏͛͑͂̑̃̏͞ | Fort Tal'verda, Zenith Prime​

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A lone imperial tradesman made his lonesome way through the hall making up the forts intelligence offices, with a corps of electrical and mechanical engineers insignia sewn to the top of his sleeve and a small tool pouch hanging from his silver-buckled belt. Even midst the organized chaos that makes up any defense against a hostile incursion, the base still had to run; for this lone electrician, bulbs still had to be changed and electronics still had to work. His face was a young one: youthful and clean shaven, with a chest bare of any meaningful rank squares.
"Two more years," the electrician muttered to himself as he drummed a tune against his thigh, "then I get a trade and a pension..." The thought might have been more comforting if he hadn't been reminding himself every other rough hour for the past 7 months, but it kept the light at the end of the tunnel fresh in his mind. He had his family back home, after all; and with a son on the way, he wouldn't be letting them live poorly anytime soon.

Shattering and muffled, ragged breaths ripped the electricians attention away from his thoughts, instead forcing it towards a room only a few doors further along the hallway. At first, more promiscuous assumptions passed through his mind, or at least until he approached the plaque on the doorway. 'CAPT L. Venau, 43 SIGINT', the plaque read. The electrician knew of the man by reputation: a personification of imperial martial discipline, trusted with overseeing secrets over communicator arrays. The electrician could feel his heart sink in his stomach as his concerns wandered to something more sinister - was the Captain in trouble? He was only an electrician, after all; sure, he'd been trained to fight at basic training, but his job was his trade. Surely, it would just be easier to forget about it and keep walking?

The electricians thoughts went quiet as, without really thinking, he reached forward and tried the door handle. Surprisingly, it gave way, pressing open towards ajar. With bated breath, the tradesman swallowed and burst into the room.
"Captain, are yo-!?" he asked, concern in his voice, before the sight in front of him tore the words out of his mouth. There lied the captain, with his stern brow and tight mustache, spread across the floor with a red line carved around his neck. He was lifeless. He was dead.

Panicked, the electrician swung around to run for the door, but his eyes spun to meet the same dead captain - now standing over him with a clean neck and positioned on the other side of an elongated pistol. If the tradesman wasn't so bewildered, he might have opened his mouth to scream in time.
Pcth, pcth. As blood hit the wall, the electrician - with two ragged holes bored about his nose - fell to the floor. Lowering his weapon, the would-be captain - or rather, just another face of the shapeshifter Proxy-1 - lowered his firearm before simply tossing it onto the desk, now turning towards the first of the two bodies to begin unbuttoning its clothes. Another agent would be joining the fake captain soon, after all, and they had much work to do before the invasion could get into full swing.

 

[Seto du Couteau]

Location: Inquisitor Garrison​

Enemies: The Sovereignty​

Allies: The Galactic Empire [member="Esmond Morcus"] | [member="Lannis Morcus"]​

Directly Engaging: [member="Inyri Takan"]​

Seto scowled as he marched through the Inquisitor Head Quarters, along with his own compliment of Stormtrooper guards Seto felt even more anxious and annoyed. The whole planet was on high alert, the Sovereignty had begun their invasion and Seto was required to patrol and ready themselves for these invaders. Insanity all of it, Seto knew that if there were to be any invaders to push back it would be closer to the ground level. The sheer lunacy to attempt to land so close to-

The entire ground shook, something large impacted their Fortress and Seto wondered what happened. Alarms blared as more troopers and officers began to scramble, Seto looked back towards his Captain of his guard, "What is the situation report?" Seto asked.

"There appears to be enemy combatants inside the premises," The Captain reported quickly.

Seto merely stared wide eye, Pure insanity, how am I suppose to fight someone with even less sense of self preservation than myself? Seto simply shook his head, "Captain, send some of your men to grab some heavy weaponry and the rest follow so we may remove these unwelcome guests," Seto ordered.

With his Captain, Seto was showed the way towards the breach and with much haste to meet and push back their opponents. Seto's armor had little effect on his movement, as it was simply Stormtrooper gear minus the helmet. Seto hardly needed protected from his armor, but he did not want to ruin his own clothing and Seto was certain he could shield himself well enough from any danger up ahead.

Not like they could have brought much in the way of heavy equipment Seto mused as he quickly approached his target location. "Captain, assure these hallways are secured, when your men bring up the Heavy Weapons have they create a kill zone. I'll act the vanguard alone and draw them into it," Seto explained. With a nod the Captain began to organize his men as Seto continue to move quickly, he sensed his enemy, one possessed with Force Aptitude. Greater than me if I have to guess Seto mused, a small smile grew on his lips.

Seto paused, a few feet away from the stairway where he sensed the approaching enemy, both his lightsabers ignited. One crimson and the other a dark green, a duality of a personality that Seto did not care to admit. His armor bounced the light and made Seto appear a rather strange with that combination of color. Seto knew that the Sovereign Force User must have sensed him probing around, seeking for invaders.

"You all aren't here for our Inquisitor's Sabaac night?" Seto called out, "-Because your gamble ain't going to pay off today," Seto added. His lightsabers held in a defensive position.

 

[Esmond Morcus]

Imperial Inquisitorus Headquarters​

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Defeat [member="Koda Fett"]​

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The Galactic Empire​

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Once his lightsaber flew by [member="Koda Fett"], Esmond realized his mistake. At once he summoned his lightsaber back, but he couldn't focus. Esmond dropped the lightsaber, letting it deactivate and dropped with a thud to the hangar floor, and did his best to dodge the bounty hunter's shots. But two landed their targets on his left arm, making him singe in pain. It only made the next part that much more painful. He could see Fett coming, but aided by jet pack, his only options were to use the force and jump several meters up, no doubt using most of his energy, or take a nice leap off the hangar. Instead he came up with a plan and closed his eyes tight, tensing up to prepare for the pain.

The hard Beskar of Fett's armor hurt like hell, especially where Esmond was already wounded. But he did his ebst to stay conscious and fighting. He had little time, Mandalorians were renown for having all sorts of gadgets for close quarters combat, he had to do what he needed to do before Fett got one too many blows on him. Esmond held on as best he could, as he threw a concentrated force push to bend the right nozzle of Fett's jetpack. Esmond shut his eyes once more and let go, letting the metal deck skin against his thin training robes. His back felt wet, but he couldn't focus on that, he pounced towards his lightsaber, sprinting for it, unable to use the force without passing out.

 

[Inyri Takan]

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Allies​

[member="Varik Ice"], [member="Koda Fett"], Various NPC Guardians (10)​

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Enemies​

Inquisitorius Garrison​

(Directly engaging [member="Seto Du Couteau"])​

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Fear​

god, i'm running in fear, fear, fear...​

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Much like a wary predator, Inyri could feel her metaphorical hackles raise upon sensing both the new, evidently hostile presence and hearing the quip that accompanied it.

At once her focus went inward, choosing to communicate through honed telepathic links she had established with the rest of her team -- Simple orders, she issued. Move ahead. I'll deal with this one and catch up. At once her fellow Guardians diverted in their movement, splitting off to head further in. They had rudimentary links through the Force anyways, and it'd be easy for her to find her way back to them even in foreign territory such as this.

Little did Inyri know she had just condemned her team to her opponent's kill zone trap. But how could she have known that little tidbit? She couldn't have. All of her attention and focus was on this impending duel.

Nonchalantly beginning to head up the stairs from where she had heard the statement from the enemy Force user, Inyri replied with a voice low and cautious, her accent not offering any favours there as she briefly stumbled over a word or two in her response, "I beg to differ." A simple reply, but suitable. With a seamless, simultaneous movement, she flipped her hilt into a reverse grip, and ignited the snowy-white blade once she was halfway up the stairs.

"You're young," She continued, taking the steps slow as she began to reach out through the Force, returning the probe that he had begun, "And you don't need to die today." Reason would most likely be lost, but it served to soothe her honour. If he does not back down, what comes next is not my fault. Beginning to reach the top of the stairwell, she caught her first glimpse of the enemy, and him of her.

This isn't going to be fun.

Spoiler: Fight Notes

Feel free to totally smash her squad that split off with any NPCs you're controlling, if I didn't make that clear enough -- They're sort of intended to die so do whatever awful things you'd like to them Here's to a good fight.

 

[Seto du Couteau]

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Location: Imperial Inquisitorial Garrison​

Allies: The Galactic Empire​

Enemies: The Sovereignty​

Engaging: [member="Inyri Takan"]​

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Seto was slightly disappointed, he had hoped that this Sovereign Knight would had brought along her soldiers in attempt to quickly finish this fight. Either she's confident or she's simply a distraction Seto thought, the fact she took a few moments to respond Seto felt inclined to believe his former thought rather than the latter. Regardless Seto felt disappointed with the Sovereign's response, it sounded typical and serious.

Slowly Seto lowered his defensive position to a relaxed stance, and stepped closer. The young Du Couteau offered a shrug and since they were closer he had no reason to raise his voice to that of a shout. "You speak truthfully, I am considered a boy by some and I do not gamble with things I'm not willing to loose, such as my life-" Seto answered, he raised his right hand and lifted the crimson blade up with the Force, "-But neither of us are naive enough to believe that my surrender to you or yours to me will satisfy even a single iota of ambition our leaders possess," Seto smiled, a sense of sadness of his own thoughts, "-Let alone enough to stop all the death around us." Seto explained, he gestured with his free right hand to himself and his opponent.

"It's always a pleasure to meet someone different from the usual folks here in this garrison," Seto continued, his right hand slowly reached and grabbed a deck of sabaac cards from his belt, "If I'm being honest I'm not that good of an Inquisitor or even a Sith, so perhaps we can play a few hands of Sabaac and save me from any future embarrassments I might pull," Seto finished, gently he placed the deck on the floor in front of him. He disliked lying and shrouding his emotions, choosing to wear his heart on his sleeve, it made interactions with interesting people much like the woman in front him fun. Unfortunately, Seto learned to be an Inquisitor for the Empire he needed to learn to be cunning.

The plan originally was set to catch the group of soldiers and the Force User in a deadly cross fire, and perhaps if she had been with her soldiers she might have saved one or two of them. Unfortunately for both Seto and the Sovereign Soldiers, plans always seemed to fall apart the moment they start. Well a bit fortunate for me Seto mused. Any Force User would sense the ripples that death sent, and enough ripples would even cause some to flinch and lower their guard. But the amount of death doesn't matter, sometimes a small number who die with anguish, surprise and even guilt could be enough especially if they were close.

Which Seto wagered, his opponent seemed more attached to life and the lives of others and with the sudden death of her soldiers it would give Seto a very brief moment to strike. Gently he lowered his crimson blade back into his palm, his eyes closed as he stretched out his senses and focused intensely. The ambush triggered and his Stormtroopers tore through the unsuspecting Sovereign Soldiers, doubtful any had the opportunity to fire back before being cut down by heavy blaster fire.

"But we live in a cruel galaxy, specks of cosmic dust in the face of it all as we fight and fight and fight. . . . " Seto lowered his blades along with his voice, to waist height. Both blades angle downwards on either side with his legs spaced outwards. His smile remained, a tad smaller than before, after all the galaxy had already taken a lot from him.

Seto lunged forward to meet his opponent's blade, his left emerald saber to cause a glancing strike as his right crimson saber to protect him from a counter-attack. The intention of the attack was to put Seto behind his opponent and not get their sabers stuck. The reason for his initial attack being very light with no killing intent. Seto continued his momentum past his opponent to allow his second distraction, a torrent of regular Sabaac cards rush into his opponent. Seto launched both his sabers at his opponent, this was his real attack, his crimson blade aimed at her lower legs and his emerald blade aimed towards her shoulders.

This was Seto's gambit, his lightsaber form was Niman (Seto enjoyed calling it the Way of the Rancor) and his maneuver required a great deal of concentration and focus to control not only all the cards but deliver a heavy lightsaber throw. The tremendous strain of his attacks would certainly exhaust the young Du Couteau heir quickly but if he managed to cripple his opponent enough and give time for his Stormtrooper guard to catch up, thus Seto figured this was worth the gambit.

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Objective: Survive​

 

[Aryn Teth]

Vash Rico

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Zenith Prime, Bothan Sector, The Mid Rim​

Objective: Assist the Sovereignty​

Allies: The Sovereignty, AECO Team 12​

Enemies: The Galactic Empire​

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Rico had been quiet, content to watch and study the AECO team he was working with during the assault on Zenith Prime. He had been among the Alliance's own special forces for years, he had seen how they functioned and even worked with their own drop troopers, but so far the AECO troopers had impressed upon Rico a unique kind of skill and mode of operation. They were experts in their field, and unique in that they trained heavily with slugthrowers, as opposed to blasters as was common. It was something which made sense in Rico's mind, most governments hardly bothered developing protections against slugthrowers these days, considering how crude and sometimes inefficient they were.

However, as he felt the weight and heft of the loaded slugthrower in his arms, Rico felt quite content with his position helping Team 12. Even as they moved along the pass, the weapon tucked into his shoulder, he felt strangely at ease with his new allies. Rico's own black armour suited well that which was worn by his own allies, and his movements matched their own with an assurance that spoke volumes to the man's significant experience. Carefully his one eye darted over the display behind his helmet, carefully tuned and searching for any movement or enemy waiting for them.

For a moment, his eye flicked over to [member="Cynan Hague"], the man who had taken charge of their mission. He had an assurance and confidence within him that Rico found comfortable to see, the man was evidently skilled enough as a soldier and warrior to be a member of the AECO team, but to be a leader, it was comforting if not reassuring for Rico to understand the man deserved his position. That same eye flicked carefully over the other members of the team as they moved in silence. Rico had known little of the Sovereignty itself prior to his assignment alongside them, but he had progressively learned more as time had gone on, he knew all he needed to up till now.

Now he just needed to see how well they all fought. He was fairly sure that he was not going to be disappointed, either.

 

[Lemon]

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Allies: The Sovereignty​

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Adversaries: [member="Esmond Morcus"]​

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A path as confusing as the next.​

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The Mandalorian found himself atop the Acolyte who he believed to be a Master or at the very least a Knight of sorts. His appearance was certainly deceiving. The age of such a force user led him to come to such an assumption. Typically the older one seemed the more experienced the were- but one thing Fett hadn't counted on was the individual in question being a clone of another, with accelerated aging much like his own, or as it once was. As confusing as it may be. The Bounty Hunter happened to be a clone, but he wasn't offered the privilege of living a normal life, or at least what seemed like one, instead he aged twice as fast - until he halted such a thing. It was now that Koda aged regularly, or even perhaps twice as slow; not even he knew what was real anymore.

The force push reached the Hunter. The jetpack nozzle had been targeted directly, however such an action had forced the Mandalorion off of the Imperial. Fett landed on his back with a hefty thud, each movement he made created some metallic noise as each rubbed against each other and the under-suit rustled. The brown and cautious eyes beneath the T-Shaped Visor followed with haste, witnessing a dash for said lightsaber but such a thing couldn't happen, no, not at all. The Mandalorian rotated onto his chest, extending his right arm outwards as a whipcord cable was fire in tow, aiming towards the legs that may very well prevent Esmond from reaching his weapon, or perhaps it allowed him to fall right within it's reach - if it landed at all.

 

[Madison M. Maxwell IV]

Allies​

AECO Team 12​

[member="Cynan Hague"], [member="Cassus Stoma"], [member="Slaask"], guest-starring [member="Vash Rico"]​

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Enemies​

The Galactic Empire​

[member="Nyx"], [member="Isaac Stover"], [member="Corric Tassadar"], [member="Labkahip Mordulla"], [member="Mark Hawkins"]​

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Call Me Devil​

They call me devil, and you should be afraid.​

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As Cynan began to speak, Sekhmet cracked a smile behind that visor. This is when the fun begins.

If her tail had not been carefully coiled into her armor, it would have been swishing in excitement as their team trekked on, her horned helmet a distinct landmark amongst their faceless men. This planet was unlike any she had ever seen, but their terrain was familiar; at least, in the sense that she had trained for it. the Sovereignty's Warfare Operations, Research & Defense facility was state of the art when it came to training their beloved operators, and whilst it prepared them for every inevitably, nothing could compare to the field. Ever-mindful of this fact, her reflective eyes kept watch on the jungle below them and the mountains ahead, keeping her weapon close as they trekked along. She felt comfortable in the dark, it was like she was home -- Reminded of endless nights out hunting on Orenda, stalking all manner of fauna through grasslands and plains with her kin. The armour made that stalking bit a little harder, but the protective tradeoff was more than acceptable.

It wasn't beasts they were tracking, anyways. In fact, no tracking at all was taking place. Yet still, they hunted.

The company was utterly unique, as well. Sekhmet had never had the pleasure of meeting a Trandoshan before but was delighted in Slaask-- Or perhaps she was delighted in his affinity for explosives, didn't matter really --and whilst her experiences with the Galactic Alliance were extremely limited, her intrigue in the operative assigned to their squad was almost at peak. Yes. Today was going to be a good, fun, bloody day, no matter the outcome. She would just have to obey orders and shoot straight, and the odds would favour them. There won't be another Orenda so long as we're here. The oppression ends today.

 

[Cassus Stoma]

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Allies: [member="Cynan Hague"], [member="Sekhmet Sarang"], [member="Slaask"], [member="Vash Rico"]​

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Adversaries: [member="Nyx"], [member="Isaac Stover"], [member="Corric Tassadar"], [member="Labkahip Mordulla"], [member="Mark Hawkins"]​

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The rain pelted down. The once dry dirt beneath their feet changing in consistency, texture and it's simple reaction to a man's foot landing onto it. The transition into mud was clearly complete by now. Few sounds existed as the Atmospheric Entry Covert Operators trekked the relatively foreign terrain; that being the pitter-patter of footsteps, rain against their gear and the odd spoken command. There wasn't much, but it was expected. They were Covert Operators for a reason.

Cassus himself followed the pack. Unlike few others present he wasn't a hunter, no primal instincts of his told him how to act. It was the training he received, it's all he knew and so it's all he could do. As always he kept quiet, listening intently like one often does when operations as such. A feeling swelled in his stomach - perhaps they were being watched, or maybe he was wrong. He didn't know what it was but he just didn't like it. What else was there to do other than carry on?

 

[Esmond Morcus]

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Imperial Inquisitorus Headquarters​

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Defeat [member="Koda Fett"]​

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The Galactic Empire​

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Esmond ran like his life depended on it. In many ways, he really was running for his life, if you believed in the philosophy of a saber being a force user's life, or that the lightsaber was all that Morcus had to defend himself from the bounty hunter's attacks. Regardless, nothing in the entire galaxy felt just as important as getting back his lightsaber. It was a shame he didn't reach it. The metal of the hangar deck felt hard against his falling body. [member="Koda Fett"]'s cable wrapped around his ankle, tripping Esmond. Esmond shouted in frustration, less than a meter away sat his lightsaber, undisturbed by the battle happening around it. Esmond had a choice he didn't want to make, but it seemed he didn't have many options left, the design of his enemy. The Mandalorian was good at that. Esmond summoned his lightsaber via the force, activated it, and severed the cable with a flick of his wrist.

For a second, Esmond had trouble standing up. His extensive use of the force exhausted him, and without good force conditioning, it felt all the worse. But the heir to the Morcus line pulled every ounce of strength left within him, to stand up, and hold his lightsaber at the ready to deflect blasts targeted at him. Although he careened like a drunkard, Esmond took step after step forward, keeping his focus on every movement the bounty hunter made. His grip tightened, his anger flushing to give him one last spurt of energetic thrust, and prepared for the next move in the dance the two warriors had conducted.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

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Grand Commander Vestille Thumahra​

1st Legion Group​

Zenith Prime​

851 ABY​

Objective - Camp Verd :: Secure Camp & Imperial Recruits || Capture Enemy VIP​

Post Three​

Theme​

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The air was on fire.

It hadn't been long since the First Legion Group had made planet-fall and engaged the defenses of Camp Verd. Missiles had been fired and mortars had been lobbed at the walls, leaving burnt out remains of defensive turrets and garrisoned towers that bellowed smoke up into the sky. Despite the fact that they had not only been caught off-guard during an inspection and being outnumbered quite heavily by the large Sovereign force, the Imperials fought hard, throwing their lives on the line and dying in their batches to keep the fort from falling into enemy hands. Despite the sheer destruction caused by the missiles and other munitions thrown at the wall and the bodycount rising on the side of the valiant defenders, yet they pressed on. It was no surprise either that the Golden Company, with their unique and quite frankly terrifying weaponry, played a large part in holding the line. As the magnetically-accelerated quarrels flew down at the swarming mass of black and gold cloaked soldiers, the show of force from both side was beautiful to behold. Streaks of blaster fire, the red-orange glow of explosions, the shots from Golden Company. The beauty of destruction.

It was art, to some. To the men on that very battlefield, no doubt they were singing a very different tune.

The Grand Commander wasn't a patient man when it came to war. Whilst some were happy to play a game of cat and mouse in the war room and have a conflict last for as long as it took to humiliate and toy with their foes, Vestille was one to take a different, less tactful approach to conflict with his enemies. He wanted results and he wanted decisive ones with little room for error or problems to arise from it. Utter annihilation and victory; none of that artsy kark. War wasn't meant to be a game or a piece of art, war was bloody, ruthless and the reaper of lives. For all the bad it causes upon the Galaxy and its people, it nevertheless never stopped, never ceased; armies were built up, destroyed and built back up again. Cities and their population were put to the sword only to get back up on their feet and carry on... Endure. His men would endure, even as they looked all around them and saw friends and comrades fall around them and the flying munitions from the Imperials and their allies never ceasing. Whatever their reasons, the brave men and women of the First Legion pushed on, utilizing what cover they could to begin to reach the base of those walls. Hordes of soldiers moved in unison as some form of charge to reach their objective and, perhaps as weird as it seemed, among the sea of enemies flew several flags of the Sovereignty.

Standard bearers, perhaps not the most useful of combat units thanks to the fact they had only a pistol in one hand and a giant flag in the other but to the First Legion, it gave them a serious boost. Every gaze upon the flag reminded them of what they were fighting for, the families back home waiting for them and the glory and heroism being part of such a mission granted them. Zeal, not through fear but through encouragement. As the first men began to reach the bottom of the walls, some space away, small contingents of troops began to form and plant their ordinance at the base of the selected walls. Scaling the walls wasn't part of the plan and bring the entire wall down only suggested an easy access point if there was ever a large scale counter-attack by the Imperial Forces. The First Legion, however, needed to get inside. Those who had fallen during the advance became small martyrs to the invading force, knowing that the deaths of their comrades would be for nothing if they took one step back now. That wall was in the way of their true goal, a way through needed to be found.

Provided that everything went to plan, the charges that were set down and armed by the contingent of Combat Engineers would detonate and create the gate to which allowed entrance to the compound, into hell. Ordering forward troops armed with flamethrowers to enforce something akin to a shock trooper doctrine with the regular infantry pushing it not too far behind, the idea was simple. Burn them all and have the rest mop up what remained. The anti-armor would be utilized to take down the walkers and hover-tanks that the Empire had as armor support and, once what was white was turned to ash, move their way deeper into Camp Verd's interior and take what their Grand Sovereign had requested; both the Camp itself and the many Imperial recruits that had treated the walls as their home away from home.

Even now, home became a graveyard with every death.

[member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Theodosia Naphrite"]

 

[Inyri Takan]

​

Allies​

[member="Varik Ice"], [member="Koda Fett"], Various NPC Guardians (10)​

​

Enemies​

Inquisitorius Garrison​

(Directly engaging [member="Seto Du Couteau"])​

​

Fear​

god, i'm running in fear, fear, fear...​

​

​

Truth be told, Inyri had never been one for sabacc.

Her father was quite the player, but she never picked up on the game herself despite the familiar encouragement. The cards employed as weapons by her foe inspired long-dormant memories of late-night games in their home, of soft-spoken words and the smell of old cigaras. Mama never could get him to quit. Despite the brief wave of misplaced nostalgia, the Guardian's long white blade flicked out to parry, pushed backwards and towards the stairs she had come from by his strong offensive front. Shab. Fate had to go and give me someone with two of these wretched things. Back-up may be required. Reaching out through the Force, she silently hoped her team hadn't gotten too far away to back her u--

Her train of thought died and her concentration slipped for just a brief second, enough to just barely catch the red saber swinging to attack with her own blade, exceedingly difficult to manage both as it was. And all the Guardian felt was death, the bonds she shared with her companions being snipped like threads of yarn through sharp scissors as they died to the Imperials. The death bred the rage, and her face twisted from that neutral mask it had maintained since the beginning of their duel. Her own style had begun out something comparable to Djem So, if someone had been taught it by an awkward teacher who had shown her a wayward version. But now her form was shifting into something else, something that lost the fluidity of traditional Lightsaber forms into something more instinctual and base. She was angry, and it was fueling her fight now. Now there was no time for clever quips or jabs between the two.

Spoiler: Fight Notes

Let the hate flow through you...

 

[Seto du Couteau]

​

Location: Imperial Inquisitorial Garrison​

Allies: The Galactic Empire​

Enemies: The Sovereignty​

Engaging: [member="Inyri Takan"]​

​

The one thing Seto was certain of was that gambles don't always work out, and now he stared directly into his mistake. Once in some seedy bar Seto had persuaded an old grump to tell him a story, after a plenty of drinks, the old man retold a story of a Mandalorian that went on to hunt his prey. He thought he prepared himself enough to nab him his target, but when he realized he was ill prepared. His focus returned to his opponent's blade and surge of anger he felt radiating. Seto assumed that his opponent would be greatly affected by her comrade's death, he assumed correctly, unfortunately Seto now faced something he was not prepared to fight head on.

Seto reached out with the Force and recalled back his blades, neither attack landed a hit and the distractions were unsuccessful. Both hands tightened their grips on the hilts, and Seto breathed in deeply to slow his heart to calm down. His Sabaac cards useless, his Stormtrooper guards too far away to help and Seto felt his use of the Force begin to tax him. Seto raised his blades into a defensive posture, options limited to his swordsmanship to keep himself alive. Using the Force for more than quick defensive abilities would put too much strain on the young Du Couteau Heir. Since he only needed to survive for a certain length of time before back up would arrive he figured it would be enough. I got this, I'm sure I got this. Keep her here and only attack if she moved to escape. Simple.

"That Mandalorian hunter walked into the cave prepared to kill a Nexu, instead he stood face to face with a krayt dragon and she was none to happy with him."

"What happened next?"

"Huh? Buy me another drink and I'll tell you kid,"

​

 

[Mark Hawkins]

After a quick acknowledgement from his superior, Mark took the lead of his troopers and set towards a set of coordinates he'd determined on the ride to their last position, his orders explicit in how the squad were to move. He made it very clear to keep as quiet as possible, and their light low when necessary, otherwise, it was night vision. Coming to a clearing, a break in the trees rather apparent as he caught sight of the mountain, he looked about, seeing other openings, and blind spots within the surrounding jungle.

Gesturing to the troopers, he split off 3 to scout ahead, worried of the looming threat the position posed while setting his remaining 3 in the best protected security positions within the clearing. He took accountability of his troops while he waited for his other 3 to report back,

Knowing it'd be awhile before such, he took in his surroundings, he scanned the ridge, his troopers covering his forward fire vectors.Nothing seemed out of place or disturbed, but the report of his troopers might probe him wrong, and he hoped they would.

After long silence of the held position, the scouts finally reported back.

"SCTETORORPSU."

"SWPTDOETAUMRUURRRCEPABTOKCALKINHLDAAFOOFSNOTIOXTNITEEHNEMASY. YRDETNEOTERONALBBEEPNTIOTIPHUMTNAAPISNISDAFHRWUEREAYMWYAREOTOSIINXXXXXTYEHREGTNEITGA."

Mark smirked before giving the order.

"OWOOOTROMKWNVUEGDO!" Moving with as much speed as they could without losing noise discipline, the squad made it's way it the edge if the jungle near the mountain, the 3 trooper that'd spotted the enemy leading the way, before they hit a subtle firing position they could stay hidden from, and pin the enemy. Positioning his squad, Mark zoomed in on the pass, and saw what the trooper had reported for himself.

'SSNSAIETEBTAOEWTRHAOHYTTRXXYXXTTAHPA..' smiling, Mark took aim at one of the enemy, his night vision disabled so as to keep from blinding himself, and squeezing the trigger.

"Give em' the imperial special." He said with a smile before hearing the round impact, the silence broken from the sound of discharged energy impacting flesh, a sudden thud ringing out from the person Mark knew he'd hit, and wounded.

"Death awaits those who resist the empire." He said before unleashing a rain of more fire, with his squad.

 

[Corric Tassadar]

Defense Battery - Outskirts​

Enemies: [member="Cassus Stoma"] | [member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] | [member="Slaask"] | [member="Vash Rico"]​

Allies: [member="Isaac Stover"] | [member="Mark Hawkins"] | [member="DT-2319"] | [member="Labkahip Mordulla"] | [member="Nyx"]​

Mega Drive - NARC​

​

Out of your depth and against the Big Leagues.​

​

---

​

---

​

'43 was quick to respond when he saw '11's tracker moving further away from the group. Each Gorgon operator was an independent agent who acted and lead by action: the new guy had found something worth deviating from their course, and Corric wasn't going to let another trooper to hang dry. Quick firing rapid hand signals at his group, Corric gave the orders to immediately follow suit.

There was also the question of the unwanted baggage: the doctor and the latest addition of mercenaries that '43 had no intention of interacting beyond giving simple directions. It wasn't enough to hope that the doctor would know basic military hand signals, so he allowed his own team to move ahead, leaving the command to '19 as he quick paced it to the [member="Labkahip Mordulla"]. He pointed back the way they came and took off his helmet to reveal baggy eyes and dry lips.

"Go back," he rasped. "Go get the mercs that have been trailing us and you tell them to double time to our coordinates. You-" he jabbed an armoured finger at her chest. "You stay away from the shooting." His orders delivered, the officer quickly slapped his helmet back on and broke into a sprint to catch up with his unit, leaving the doctor possibly bewildered and feeling violated at the breach of personal space. The forest enveloped the running figure, and very soon even his heavy steps disappeared in the thick silence of the jungle.

​

​

He immediately heard the distinct crack of Gorgon's favoured rifle before being drowned out by the Imperial's standard 72s as the rest of 11's unit opened fire. The lieutenant's own unit was still hidden, albeit watching the fireworks display as the trespassers took fire from Gorgon 1-2's posse. Not for long, judged '43 as he pulled out a detonator.

Just because they bypassed their spider's web didn't mean their gifts were entirely useless. Selecting the right frequency, he squeezed the detonator once and nearly dropped it as all thirty of their planted flares shot up to the skies in a screaming trail. The bright flash of light was sure to blind anybody stupid enough to trace back the source Gorgon 1-2's shots, NVGs or no; as the light came from the rear, Gorgon's vision was relatively unaffected.

Speed, he remembered as he quickly positioned his unit to fan out along the tree line, crouched behind a tree overseeing the gun show.

And overwhelming violence of action, as he broke radio silence and contacted the local artillery battery.

"Basque , Basque this is Gorgon 1-1 requesting fire mission. Over."

The voice that replied was strained in anticipation, a woman's voice whom Corric envisioned as pretty as could be from her voice. Inconsequential, he remembered.

"Gorgon 1-1, this is Basque, send it."

"Grid ES 3798 1008, over. Multiple foot infantry, estimated platoon size in the open, over."

"Roger: grid ES 3789 1008. Enemy troops in the open, out. Message to observer, Fire control number Echo Zulu 1027 break. 1 Battery, 2 rounds HE, 25 seconds, out."

Corric quickly mirrored the reply and held his breath. It was going to be very eventful in a few seconds for the invaders: to add pressure to the group, he gave the order for volley fire, primarily focusing on their lead and rear elements to stun the unit into paralysis. He had his doubts that they were merely shooting at rank-and-file Sovereign troops, not this far back from friendly lines. Every attempt they made had to target whatever leadership the group possessed, and only then to neutralize them as a whole.

They weren't going to have the same problem, not with their training regime. He glanced to his side, watching 19' take aim with his rifle- the squad's marksman was deathly quiet as always and it always creeped him out how the trooper was able to tell it was '43 walking in the dark of the night without any vision assistance.

'43 pinged '24 on the squad's encrypted intercom with further orders. "R1UD4EIVNRIGESUBQAEOXXXXXGGNOO." That being said, he left the final firing adjustments to the unit's demolitions specialist. "YTRPONTOLUODIIETRDCYXXSXXTNTRO."

 

[Savoh Muska]

Objective: Sabotage Medical Base
Location: Fort Mason
Allies: Soveringty
Enemy: Galactic Empire

Savoh had sneaked up o the base, needing to duck and crawl most of the way to avoid spotlights and the gaze of an imperial storm trooper. Getting himself quite messy in the process. Putting himself on the wet ground. Getting most soil all over him. The medical base had a nice wall around it, making him wonder how he was gonna get in. Prone and nearby the wall he looked for possible ways to get in.

After a quick look he could see that there was a tree that stretched over the wall. The large branch was about 15 feet off from where the walk way on the wall was. That meant that it was about 20-25 feet off the ground. That was his ticket into the base.

Sneaking his way back away from the wall some he hid behind the tree. After knowing of a time he wouldn't be seen he'd climb up. Grabbing branches and lifting himself up Savoh would get to where he needed. Now looking directly down at the complex he could see it much more clearly. Seeing the main administrative building for Fort Mason, as well as many small, box shaped structures. They were simply quick and portable shelters. Probably for barracks or medical rooms. Looking down below him he could see the metal walk way that lined the wall for patrols to look over. There were some narrow watch towers placed at each corner of the wall where guards with spotlights were stationed.

Fortunately for him there didn't seem to be any guards walking along were he was. But before he'd jump down the seemingly 15 foot drop he'd wait. Patiently in the rain for his golden opertunity. Then it struck, the sky lit up and he fell. The moment his metal legs hit the walk way thunder roared across the wet air. His cyborg legs helping to better cushion the by making the impact more drawn by bending his legs with the fall. Now he had finally infiltrated the base.

Spoiler: Action Summary

Finally got behind the walls of Fort Mason.

 

[Bast'rom'arosti]

​

Objective: Unknown | Fort Tal'verda, Zenith Prime​

[member="Proxy-1"]​

​

​

The second he stepped into the operations center, Tobias knew retrograde wasn't a possibility anymore. The chipper guard was still chuckling at their little encounter, with Tobias simply shaking his head as the man missed the forewarning. Seemed like a nice enough fellow but he was far too easy on the eyes to last long in a scuffle.

The sensor and scanning crews waved him through, though only after they'd practically rummaged through everything he carried. They marked and tagged the rifle slung over his shoulder and the sidearm resting precariously on his hip. Seeing as he had all the proper ID work and wore the same grey battle armor they did, suspicion lessened by the second.

"Thanks," he rasped, grabbing his helmet off the table before tucking it underneath his arm. "Wait, stand fast, Private."

A young man turned to him, looking away from his sensor console. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Do you know the whereabouts of a Captain Venau. I'm here to see 'im." He cocked his head towards the west wing of the facility. "I assume he's back in his office?"

"Yessir, either in room one forty three or the ops floor." The private motioned towards the center of the building. "Right down there."

Garo nodded his head in thanks and proceeded down the westward corridor. Offices lined it, though many of them seemed vacant. The absence of officers was rather peculiar, leading Tobias to feel rather uneasy. Though that feeling in his gut only increased the second he heard two unmistakable sounds of a silenced weapon. To the untrained, human ear they were no louder than a pen hitting the floor in another room. Though for an Anzat, it was a sound he'd heard far too often.

The agent continued on down the hall, gauntleted hand resting upon his sidearm as he came before room 143. One peek inwards told him all he needed to know. Tobias slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

"You're messy," he chided, peering down at the electrician. His face was mostly gone, almost completely unrecognizable from the man he was about seven seconds ago.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

​

Location: Zenith Prime - Camp Arceneau Outskirts
Objective: Criminal Collusion
Allies: The Sovereignty

Clelon of Pol'Zum, the hardened and battle-tested commander of the ruthless Hell's Heralds, rubbed his perfumed and smooth-shaven chin in delicate contemplation. He sat on the command bridge of a modified HAVw A6 Juggernaut - the first in a convoy of six, plus a few artillery pieces. They would have normally barreled forward towards the industrial city of Camp Arceneau at some ridiculous speed, but they were under the escort of several dozen light and heavy walkers. It is better to approach these things slowly and securely rather than recklessly. Such was Clelon's philosophy. And what a good philosophy it was! He had rigged the tops of the Juggernauts with anti-air batteries. The skies above them would be secure enough for his purposes in their slow march towards Camp Arceneau.

They were not there for the whole city. Just the industrial outskirts, the parts where the mines and factories were most productive. Once the Hell's Heralds had secured the most valuable outer parts of the city, a larger Sovereign force would bring up the rear and push further in. Enough pressure would prompt the retreat or surrender of the Imperials who holed up deeper in the city. But to do that, they would need a foothold. This bill for the Hell's Heralds operations here today would be footed by the Sovereign.

Clelon intended to make sure they got their money's worth. "You, droid," Clelon commanded one of the many operators on the command bridge, "Play some music."

"What music would you like, General?"

"Something to help me focus."

"Of course, General."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDh9LcmYyA4​

 

[Varik Ice]

​

Allies​

[member="Inyri Takan"] [member="Koda Fett"]​

​

Enemies​

Inquisitorius Garrison​

(Directly engaging [member="Lannis Morcus"])​

​

​

As Varik waited, he realized he was going to be using precious time staying in this position - besides, Morcus would be crafty, and likely waiting for him to make a move, if not preparing forces to surround him. He had to move to a position that even if he drew him, would be away from other forces. Ice glanced around the room, examining his surroundings. He had a few options. Takan and her Guardians had gone upstairs, even though he could feel things were not going well. He resisted the urge to follow and aid; bringing the Grand Inquisitor there would only make it worse for them. They weren't ready for someone like that.

There. He saw the opening he needed. Heading back towards the transport shutte, he made his way out through the hole it had created. The Sovereign found himself outside, moving along the ledges on the outside of the mountain. Though they weren't artificial, they had been shaped to act as functional walkways in case it was needed; it was wide enough for a few people, though it seemed they still hadn't installed safety railings. He supposed that was part of his neglect, originally.

Varik travelled up the walkway that snaked up around the mountain, his lightsaber a glowing white beacon that stuck out on the mountain amidst the chaos of starfighters dipping in and out of the base's shield, along with turbolasers firing at them to try and desperately avoid serious damage. For now, the tower was standing; at least, until a bomber got lucky, or someone interfered with those pilots. At this rate, he may have to. Whoever they were, there was at least one elite squadron up there, and the rest of their starfighter forces were engaged for the time being.

Amongst all of it still, Ice continued to feel Morcus' presence. It wasn't exact, though. With a mix of so many force users in one place, it was hard to differentiate someone he was less familiar with; he had only seen the Baron a few times when he served, even when he was the Regent in his absence. Perhaps now he'd find out why he continued to hold such a high position in the Empire.