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Ayra's senses were attuned to the dangers around her and so she felt the same daggers that she had just dodge come loose. As Vulpesen guided them with the Force Ayra performed a sequence of moves. The crimson blade came up and intercepted both daggers while her body moved fluidly away from her aggressor. As she moved the Force guided her Lightsaber around to intercept the second attack. Her blade cleaved through daggers with ease leaving them destroyed on the ground where they fell against her Soresu technique.
As a believer in the ideologies of the dark side Darth Ayra was taught to always be the aggressor. Dun Moch was a technique designed to force the opposition into mistakes. Soresu to provide an indomitable defence for a small woman that would be easily overpowered by taller, much stronger foes. Her training under Darth Pandeima had been too outlast the opponent, tire them out, and when they were at their weakest: destroy them. But whereas these techniques were designed to prolong duels Ayra had access to the more subtle arts of the Force that were twisted in their machinations and power which would see her become the aggressor.
After defending herself from the flying daggers with Soresu Ayra raised her free hand into the air. It begun to twitter, twirl and motion as if to grasp some that was there, but clearly incorporeal and unseen. As her hand motioned back and forth her mouth ushered the memorized incantations to the Sith spell that Ayra had studied from the Holocron of Heresies. A powerful dark-side illusion was about to be unleashed onto the mind of Vulpesen but the draw back of the technique was that it would take sometime for it to be ready, and therefore Ayra gave her opponent an opportunity to stop her before it was too late.
The planet was nearly torn asunder by the clashing Forces several years ago. Much had happened since. Amani had become the NJO's Chief Healer, a member of its Council, a Jedi Master in her own right. She had found love (on this very world no less), been married, raised a family. She had accomplished almost everything she ever dreamt of in that time. It was strange to encapsulate it all so basically, but here she was.
As for Tython, when the dust began to settle, the earth quaked all over again. Amani had lived her for a time. It pained her to see the world be cursed in such a way. Which is why she was among the first to respond when it became clear Tython was under attack. The Sith had returned, and not just any Sith: The Maw.
Or, the Dark Empire, as they now called themselves. It made little difference to Amani. They were the same band of killers, led by the same supposedly dead Sith Lord. Last time, the Maw failed to take Tython. She would make sure the Empire failed to do so as well.
Amani had pushed into the forests outside the temple to act as a vanguard. She felt a dark presence approaching, but made not move. She stood out in an opening with her weapon at her side, so when Damsy eventually came into view, she would see the mirialan simply waiting, as if expecting her. Amani didn't know this woman, but peaceful parlay wasn't exactly on her mind. She ignited her saber pike, "You're not going any further." The healer stated plainly.
Zaiya was utterly lost about what was going on, but she knew that it wasn't good. Aris had stepped into a protective stance in front of the teens, and Seszil had flown to hover close to her to protect her.
"What is goin--" Zaiya's words were abruptly silenced as Braze summoned his saber with a dramatic flourish. She couldn't help but be taken aback by the spectacle, even as she found herself amused by the string of insults Braze hurled at the imposing Twi'lek now advancing menacingly toward them. Confusion washed over her, mingling with concern and growing alarm, as she watched the unfolding confrontation.
[ Young Masters, step away from the adult. I shall take care of this. ] Nana abruptly instructed, waddling forward in front of Zaiya, Aris, and Braze to interject Lord Kalrath
's path to Braze.
[ Sir, please step away from the children. Should you continue, I shall have no other choice but to alarm the authorities and potentially cause you harm.]
As Nana, the babysitter droid, stepped forward to intervene, Zaiya felt a surge of gratitude mixed with apprehension. The situation was escalating rapidly, and it was clear that the creepy Twi'lek had aggressive and violent intentions. There was something frightening and twisted about the masked Twi'lek that activated Zaiya's internal trigger of fight vs flight.
Zaiya chose flight.
With a jingle of her bracelets, Zaiya brought up her Solid State Hologram and Light Band clasped around her wrist, the vibrant colors of citrine flecked with blue in determination flickering across her mottled markings. She may not have been trained in the Force, but she was resourceful and quick-witted. With swift motions and swipes, she activated the tool band, conjuring a halo of blinding white light that could potentially distract and disorient the creepy Twi'lek.
Side-stepping from behind Aris towards Braze to get into position, Zaiya snapped her silver-hued arm up to aim the beam of light, trying to hide her fright as vibrant canary yellow glints brightened the paler hues of fear, a rush of foolish courage. Aiming the blinding beam directly at Lord Kalrath's eyes, Zaiya hoped to buy them precious moments to escape, combined with Nana's intervention.
"Aris, Braze... run!" she called out, extending her hand as she focused on keeping the blinding light trained on Lord Kalrath
. With any luck, her makeshift distraction would give them the opening they needed to flee to safety.
Where his father had been concerned with age and how quickly their reunion had been moving, Casteel was laser focused on his lack of proper planning and etiquette in the entire process. Between the two of them, if they got together and joined forces, it would be a powerful storm of nothing but disappointment. At this point it was becoming amusing rather than the irritation he first felt.
While Casteel tried a button (really old chap? the power is out.), Makai was just going to pry the doors open once again. Once there was a little gap in the seam they were quite easy to push open, forcing them back along their track. Light filtered in and he pushed them open far enough so they both could step up and out, moving quickly to the stairwell. They didn't have far to go ; a couple floors at that.
"Tell me how great your self control would be Casteel when she tosses her arms around your neck, presses her body against yours, and whispers in your ear that she wants nothing more than to be your wife. If you tell me you can keep all logical thought in that moment you're a damned liar."
Stairwell echoed as they quickly made their way up, Makai was certain the vessel was three or four stories above them, he had lost track of what floor they had been on when the turbolift had come to a halt. Too busy with Casteel and the hang-ups on his upcoming nuptials. The more he said, the more it threw the straightlaced businessman for a loop.
"Elope? It briefly crossed our minds but....Does it make you feel better if I told you we already know where we're getting married and I've already booked the honeymoon. See? I can pre-plan and put thought into things. Just in that moment...spontaneity worked. Neither one of us would change how it happened."
Elise Vizsla Mandalorian Protector. Student of Mia Monroe
. Pupil of Siyarr Ahan-Mitharran . Third Dreamrune of the Novanian Shamans. Alor'ad of Vercopa Squad. Dreamseer.
The opponent Elise found was a dark haired man, arms crossed. He was strong in the Force, and Elise recognized the Dark Side in him. Of course, she could not count on all Dark Siders being good people like Mia Monroe
and Darth Malum of House Marr
. She had to be careful. Crossing the rubble infested, empty street, she approached the man with her spear at the ready. His taunt did little to phase her, but she tensed up upon seeing that his sword was made of beskar, a sacred metal of her people. As she approached him, she narrowed her eyes beneath her buy'ce.
<<"That sword should not belong to you-">>
The Force flared powerfully, and she skidded to a halt as she felt a powerful gust envelope the air around her. Her red kama bellowed in the wind as she retracted her boot spikes and dug herself into the pavement below. She defensively held her arms up, covering the weak spot around her neck with her plated gauntlets. Around her, she activated a Force Barrier as the debris started to roar around her. The Force Barrier remained up as she focused on deflecting the heaviest of the debris. She lowered one hand, reaching for the lightsaber on her belt. One chunk of metal wall broke through the barrier, prompting her to activate the purple blade and slice through it, deflecting the harm it could have caused her. As the tempest roared around her, she grimaced as the barrier started to flicker. She was best at using the Force with subtleties, not bursts of raw power.
Meanwhile...
The molton rock flung towards Olivia, who was unable to really do much to protect against it. She doubled backwards, contemplating using her jetpack, but she was hardly skilled with it. She had to-she was hit. Heavy kinetic energy slammed against her beskar plating as horrid heat burned and charred the armorweave gaps. She cried out, flying backwards as the heat and knockback threatened her consciousness. Before she hit the street, however, Ori' rocketed behind her and caught her. As they skidded backwards, Dinui leapt to the side of the monster and tossed a grenade in front of it, to keep distance between it and her squadmates. As the squadron rapidly retook positions, Ori' rocketed Olivia upwards, landing atop some ruins as he held her wounded body. <<"Azalea, she has multiple third degree burns, we need you!">>
Azalea fell back as well, to treat her teammate's smoldering wounds. Olivia looked up at Ori', and she managed to mutter a thank you as she faded into unconsciousness.
Dinui drew her heavy Mandalorian ripper pistols, shouting as she fired at the beast, <<"Choruk! Get down here!">>
Vhekad ran up to the beast from behind, raising his beskar hammer as he aimed for the limbs of the monster, to break them, as Dinui drew its attention with fire.
Multiple paces down the street, Elise had been struggling as well. Finally, the storm died down. Sliced, smoldering debris were scattered around her as she took a deep breath. Her lightsaber deactivated, and she placed it back in her belt. He's strong. I'll need to be careful... maybe even use that...
Arr'Huwal's face flickered in her memory's eyes. Elise was positive that the Novanian Ancient One was enjoying this fight right now, if he was watching.
She held her spear in hand, entering an offensive stance. Well, I should try to not let Arr'Huwal down.
She used a burst of Force Speed, darting towards the opponent fast enough to hastily close the distance. She was a mere blur, flickering in and out of visibility too swiftly to be seen sprinkling seeds on the ground around her. She lifted her spear, aiming a thrusting stab for his heart, but able to flick her wrist into a block if he moved his sword.
The monstrous terentatek loomed over the squad with only one specific goal. A simple goal of a primal nature to feed. To sate its insatiable hunger for the flesh of the Force Sensitive. A task that was undoubtedly impossible to truly accomplish, but the terentatek was still hell-bent on accomplishing just that. After injuring Olivia, the beast sensed that she was injured. And like any hungry driven beast of nature the terentatek started to chase after her for a moment.
Yet again the prey was taken away from it, anger soared through its core as several more came to fend it off. First came the barrage from a pair of Mandalorian Rippers to which the terentatek protectively shielded its face with one large hand. Only it provided Vhekad the opportunity to slam his hammer against the monster’s limb that had been protecting itself. The impact caused the arm not to break like bones to limb, instead it crumbled into a shower of volcanic rock coated in molten fire. Globs of liquid fire rained upon Vhekad’s direction from the open wound where the terentatek’s arm used to be, with his beskad armor it shouldn’t inflict serious damage but he would still feel the indescribable burning sensation where the globs had landed.
Dinui would quickly find that the fiery bolts that were ripping into the monster before had little effect as the monster roared in frustration. It had no interest in those who weren’t Force Sensitive, but the terentatek recognized that these people were preventing it from having its meal. It swiped at the squad with its one arm as it scattered chunks of molten pavement like before in their general direction. Thus began the horrific charge towards Dinui in front of it as it would aim to do what beasts were known for. The brutality of nature.
Meanwhile, back to Rath and Elise…
The response regarding the sword in his hand was about what Rath expected from a Mandalorian. The dark warrior merely shrugged his shoulders before he responded. ”That is a lie.” For it was he that forged the weapon in hand from the armor of slain Mandalorians, and it was he that imbued it so heavily with the Force. Of course, at the time it was merely a means to serve as a battery for the Force. To keep the energy that had overwhelmed Rath’s incompetent body in the past from killing him and annihilating everything in his vicinity. To Rath, the sword was equally as much of a life saver as it was a weapon in his hands. These days however, after Rath had completed his transformation the sword had become a reminder of what he once was.
The dark sider observed how the armored warrior before him responded to the sheer raw power that Rath demonstrated. Between the barrier and the use of her lightsaber, Elise had kept herself from being pummeled by the debris. Rath knew that he could maintain the whirlwind for a bit longer, but such was a waste of energy. The instant that the winds had calmed and the kinetic energy that had swirled around them dissipated. The Mandalorian was swift as she was deadly much like the beskar spear she held in hand. Rath didn’t need the Force to know what her target was, but visuality was limited as she flickered from view.
Very few in the past has anyone bothered to dabble into the illusory effects of the Force. To play tricks to the senses aside from their minds. It was a clever sort of power. It only meant that Rath had to adjust his perspective, but as Elise thrusted her spear with the intention to skewer his heart. There was a lack of impact as well as a fleeting shadow that moved to her left. It was only a moment, but a moment was all Rath needed as Elise’s form materialized. For he utilized the burst of speed himself to circled around Elise. With sword in hand, Rath would swing his Force-imbued blade in a horizontal slash at Elise’s midsection.
Only that Elise would’ve whipped around quick enough upon realization that he had moved and brought her spear in a defensive position. A necessary precaution as a clash of beskar on beskar made the familiar chirping song of steel that the Mandalorians were always known for. The impact alone despite Rath using it with one hand felt overwhelming on his part. The intent to punch through her defenses is similar to how those who practice Djem So crush through the defenses of a lightsaber. However, fortunately for Elise between the teeth of her boots and her spear there wasn’t much success in that department. Now it all boiled down to how Elise intended to go from there.
A few more strides carried her into a small clearing. She stood on the threshold, still shaded from the muted sunlight by the canopy above. Her gaze was fixed on the Jedi all the while, even as her blade was activated. Damsy's face knit into an expression of anger, a reaction to arrogance, but probably not exactly for the reason Amani might expect.
The shi'ido hybrid's aura thundered like a storm cloud.
Then she shrugged, countenance more or less wiped clean.
“A'ight by me.” She meant it sincerely. The Temple was undoubtedly already a hotspot. She had no desire to see what had, was, and had yet to unfold there: she was no sadist; just, unfortunately, a sithspawn.
Somehow, the frigid rain and flashing lightning remained confined to the condensation.
“Ya really oughta have a buddy, Master.” And no one met on accident, right?
When she caught the irony of why she didn't ask that aloud out, a very small smile tugged at her lips. It was out of fear that she might make the Jedi mad.
They were isolated by a sea of turmoil and death, surrounded on all sides by the encroaching oblivion amidst a relentless apocalypse. Artillery strikes whistled through the air, striking the buildings towering overhead, sending chunks of duracrete falling to the city streets like hail, bricks and mortar tossed like shrapnel.
Kane had her hand on the ISB Agent, pulling him up to his knees by his armpit among the hellstorm of the barrage striking around them, hammering the bridge and asphalt leaving impact craters and damaging buildings. She could not hear her Sergeant and Team Aurek over the unit comms, so she could only assume they had died already, gunned down with no blaze of glory to remember them by.
“They are trying to take out the bridge!” She howled, the thick mechanical accent added to her voice by the annunciator cracked and growled due to the volume of her voice. She relayed the man’s message to Commander Kroeger, some officer she had never heard of who was on the planet spearheading an assault to the south and before long, friendly artillery began coming down in a suppressive pattern on the far side of the bridge, an avenging counterpart to the Alliance battery raining death upon them. “I don’t know, a dozen? Maybe more.” Her helmet sensors were only so good, debris, obstacles and other mitigating factors limited her ability to see them clearly. For the moment, most seemed to be taking cover from the counter barrage.
“Besh, cross. Now!” KN-967 yelled, pushing to her feet and taking off sprinting across the bridge. That side of the river was salvation. Not only for the moment, but for the future. The bridge creaked, shifting as her boots first slammed onto the broken pavement. Steel groaned under its own weight, the damage of the bombardment dropping pieces to splash into the river below.
It was do or die now.
Each step took her closer to damnation and salvation simultaneously. If the bridge held long enough for them to cross, then at least for the moment they would live. If not, they would die in the frigid waters, crushed by falling debris and doomed to die beneath the shadow of the Planetary Shield. Short bursts of blaster fire lanced out from the smoke and dust on the Alliance side. Kane watched as High Light in front of her took three bolts in the chest, dropping him to his knees. She was cold. She was ruthless.
She was merciful in the end. He had a sucking chest wound and was done for. Bravo was still on the back end of the bridge, sprawled and twisted in the rubble like a doll smashed with a cinderblock. As she ran past him she planted a single bolt from her carbine through the back of his head. Short. Quick. Painless. Better than laying there on the bridge until it fell to drown or be crushed to death. She knew Recon and Lane did not see her selfless act, they would not understand. The odd one out was Jon, and whether or not he saw the kindness in her methods.
The asphalt rumbled, behind them twisted metal ruined by artillery strikes began to fall away, dragging the bridge down with it. At the last ten meters Kane realized she was beginning to run up hill behind her rookie troopers as they dove for cover on the East Bank. “Feth, feth, feth,” she panted between breaths, jumping for the other side as the splits in the duracrete widened and the bridge tore away.
The Sith had come to Tython with the intention of striking down as many Jedi as they could, that much was clear. They had come to Tython to pillage and burn. They had come to Tython to strike a blow at the Galactic Alliance. They came come to cause war. It was up to the Jedi defenders to stop them, it was up to Caden to do his part in stopping them.
Under his helmet, Caden's eyes darted between the information on his heads up display and the battlefield in front of him, attempting to process as much information as he possibly could. The first time he'd worn his armoured robes, the information overload had almost been too much for him. Since he'd gotten used to it, he was finding that the information was a lot more simple to process than he'd assumed.
Someone screamed, a gutteral scream fueled with hatred. It was just one word, the word Jedi. It echo'd across the battlefield, drawing the young Jedi Knight's attention. Caden had to admit that felt colder, like the temperature had dropped around him, a sign of the darkness and anger that had approached the ancesteral home of the Jedi.
He spun on his heels, and let out a smile under his helmet. He could see the Sith who had shouted, could feel the darkness and hatred pouring from him. Caden had trained for much of his life to fight, and he was certain this would be just another fight. The young Jedi raised the metalic hilt of his blade and thumbed the weapon into life, watching as the yellow plasma extended from the weapon.
He snarled towards his foe. The boot to the ribs had landed flush, knocking the darkside user off balance and knocking him to a knee. Something had crunched and pain had shot through his side, leaving Cairan almost certain a rib had been fractured. Honestly, it just left him furious. He was mad at himself, wanting to know how he'd been so stupid to get distracted by a feint.
Frustrated and annoyed, he grunted and spat to his left. The Force was guiding his every action, fueled by the hatred within the man. He climbed up to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his ribs the best he could. The Jedi would pay for that, an eye for an eye and a rib for a rib. Cairan had already decided, once he was done with the Jedi he would butcher him and take a rib of his to pay for the one that he had broken.
"I gave you a chance to be special, brat". He reignited his weapon which had deactivated when he hit the floor. The crimson blade shot from the damaged hilt and Cairan pointed it towards his foe. "I gave you the chance to save your pathetic, feeble little life and you decided you'd rather be the hero" he snarled, feeling the force flowing through him.
"Hero's are just villains with a different perspective"
Cairan reached out in the force, imagining a vice closing around the throat of his foe. He raised his non-dominant lightsaberless hand and funneled all of his hatred into a grip around the throat of the Jedi who had caused him nothing but frustration and pain and who had been nothing but a defiant waste of the darkside users time.
Location: Tython - Reaching the Elarian Trail, just outside Kaleth
TAG ALLIES: Elias Edo
TAG ENEMIES: Maestus
"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)
"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)
Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt
Starship: Spectre, HK-88 (NC-1000 X-wing (Jedi Variant) in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)
He was there, in Kaleth. No matter how dead the city was, the Dark Side still permeated the region, thus was the history of Tython a Force Nexus. Normally Caltin would appreciate the history of the planet and imagine himself in the middle of its heyday, but this was not a normal day. The Sith have again banded together to damage the planet in some manner. He did not know the details, nor did he care, he had skin in this game but that was a conversation for another day. Right now, Vanagor was pulling “That stupid statue” as he often called it in the past up off of the ground to throw it at the two Acolytes who had just found him.
They were twins, heh, didn’t see that one coming. Young, energetic and insane, even for Sith. They seemed to embrace all facets of “the life” and took to it like a Hutt to a buffet. Laughing and giggling as they brutally killed Alliance troops, it was when they took down a very young Padawan in a manner that will not be documented that the two Assassins caught the attention of the massive Jedi Master. They knew exactly who he was and were wanting to engage him to make a name for themselves, “it will be fun” was their collective wish.
Be careful what you wish for.
“Look Toxam. It’s the ‘boulder Jedi’.”
“Whoah! You were right Maxot, he IS big. Let’s kill him!”
“I love the way you think!”
“I love the way you think.”
“Let’s*GUH!”
Caltin was tired of waiting for them, centering the Force in his legs, he sprinted with the will of the Light Side in him and “speared” Toxam hard to the ground sending the assassins blood orange lightsaber flying until Maxot could pull it to his other hand. Caltin, utilizing the momentum to his advantage, rolled through the move, landing a knee into the face of the fallen would-be Sith and to his feet. He would see that any childlike giddiness, and schoolboy joviality was gone in Maxot, he was psychotically enraged. In this case the old wives tale “one twin feels the other’s pain” was true, Maxot was clutching his abdomen but it was driving his anger.
“Feth you Schutta! You hurt my brother! You’re going to pay for this in unimaginable ways.” It was Maxot’s turn to sprint at Vanagor, the problem is, Caltin was expecting it. I mean come on, he just used this himself! Sidestepping the assassin, he simply said Are you done?
Now Toxam was slowly getting to his feet as his brother offered the weapon in his off hand back to its owner. They both stood in a menacing formation, “off-set I” with Toxam at Maxot’s “4 o’clock” and they charged. This deadly move was an effective one as Maxot charged forward and Toxam leaped into an aerial based attack. The move was to push the opponent away from one into the other, but again, Vanagor was prepared. He spent much of his life learning all of the lightsaber forms and practicing defenses against them. Ultimately where Vanagor “should have” dodged left, he dodged right. This brought the Horizontal attack from Maxot directly into the diagonal attack from Toxam. Taking a couple of steps, Caltin just shook his head and pulled “Vanguard” into his hand. His dual bladed lightsaber ignited quickly with a
SNAP-HISS
You clearly do not stand a chance, and only live because of my charity, so I will give you one word of advice…
Lowering his posture, widening his base and increasing his center of gravity, Caltin pulled his off-hand down in front of him and his main-hand (with lightsaber) up behind. Now he was in an attack stance. Especially since he just discovered the presence of another (Maestus
) in the area.
The smoke cloud emanating from the ruins finally cleared with the arrival of the Jedi, parting as he chanced upon the knight. The Kandaran stared the newcomer up and down, rolling her eyes in disrespect as she moved her cape aside, gloved hand resting on her dormant and unsatiated lightsaber, which had not tasted Jedi flesh yet in quite some time.
"Which Jedi nursery did you crawl out of, padawan."
A rude, dismissive remark, born from a knight who had been repeatedly beaten and put through intensive combat training and deprivation that had produced some of the biggest killers in the old Empire. Fels finest knights and final line of defence against traitors both big and small. The Jedi didn't know what that was like; they were just molly-coddled force users who were just glorified entities that served the senator's pockets, given that many had died in the hyperspace wars both by her hand and others.
It wasn't a surprise to her, at least.
"Shame, if you were a bit more on time, I might not have to had to make do with these worms you call footsoldiers."
"If you would be so kind," Korr requested, his tone measured yet firm.
Shifting his stance after delivering the kick, Korr settled into a semi-defensive posture, noting the effectiveness of his maneuver. He observed his opponent with a hint of amusement, chuckling softly at the notion of being labeled 'special.'
"Special?" he echoed, the emerald glow of his lightsaber casting a subtle flicker across his face. "If being what you call special leads to the suffering of others, then I will embrace a hero's demise."
Before he could launch into an offensive onslaught, a sudden constriction around his throat halted his movements, causing him to stagger and fall to one knee, overcome by the sensation of suffocation. As darkness threatened to engulf him, a fleeting thought crossed Korr's mind: 'Perhaps I've pushed too far.'
Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, Korr reached out to the Force, grasping desperately for anything within his reach. With a surge of determination, he seized the same rock his opponent had hurled earlier and propelled it toward the source of his assailant's grip.
If successful in loosening the Sith's hold, Korr would seize the opportunity to gasp for air, then swiftly close the distance between them, executing a diagonal strike with his lightsaber.
The artillery barrage descended upon the bridge and its surroundings with the ferocity of a wrathful god. The earth trembled beneath the relentless onslaught, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Men and women of both sides stumbled and fell, their bodies torn apart by the merciless barrage. Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring vision and choking lungs.
Kroeger had come through.
Now it was their turn.
For rookies, Kane and her team were well drilled; a testament to the indomitable traditions of the Stormtrooper Corps that remained steadfast through all times, be it through eras of ascendance or decadence. The stormtroopers charged ahead at their leader's command and Jon followed, forming the rear guard of their advancing formation with the Corporal. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon caught Kane's blaster discharging a single bolt into a fallen stormtrooper. Their gazes met briefly and he curtly nodded, a grim understanding, then dryly uttered, "Mourning comes after."
Chunks of duracrete and twisted metal were flung into the air like discarded toys, raining down upon the battlefield as the Imperials stormed onwards. The bridge, once a symbol of connection and unity, began to give in -- fracturing and breaking, its steel girders twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes with each step the ex-stormtrooper took.
But as he was about to reach the other side, the bridge groaned its final breath and buckled beneath its weight. With adrenaline shooting through the roof, Jon lunged forward in a leap of faith as the torn ground beneath his feet disappeared. Callous digits grasped desperately at the edge of solid ground as he hung suspended over the abyss. Then, with a final heave, he pulled himself up and rolled onto safety.
If the Corporal was hanging at the edge, he would pull her back up and hurry for cover, before chuckling coarsely, "Business as usual, eh?" the adrenaline kept the usually laconic and irritable veteran to continue, "The spooks screw it all up and leave the mess for the Corps to clean up. Semper serve." Jon clicked his tongue, "Some things never change."
He threw a glance back at the now-collapsed bridge, his mind briefly wandering over the stormtroopers that had perished and his own brothers-in-arms that were laid to rest forever on Ziost.
"C'mon, Kane -- double-time to the buildings. We're few, they're many -- only way we are gonna make it." use your environment, use your surroundings, exploit every possible situation that you can, turn your weaknesses into strengths, do not miss your opportunity, do not hesitate. The excerpts of his training and experience as a storm commando rushed into his mind as a plan began to form; a plan to get the Imperials off this death trap. Outgunned and outnumbered.
This was his element.
Jon surged forward from behind cover, leading the charge towards the nearby buildings. His movements were calculated, each step deliberate, as he methodically picked off the Allied soldiers that stood in his path. Blaster bolts whizzed past him, but Jon remained unfazed. A cold mask of determination painted over his features. No hesitations, no doubts in each and every step, every aim of the rifle, every pull of the trigger.
A few minutes later I was on the speeder and moving away from this temple in the direction of my target. Riding on this... brought back painful memories; I'd only travelled once on the planet in a similar vehicle and it didn't end well. The only time others could accidentally see us together for a few moments, though they might not have suspected anything. When Asher sent all the marauders away, I was the only one who didn't move and told him that if anything happened, I was still going with him. It wasn't because I was Mongrel's Shadow or because I was his chief confidant to the tribe. It was because he was… he is my husband; and I swore that for better or for worse I would stand by him and never leave him. He was still "alive" now, only in spirit, but he was physically real in the Netherworld, more real than what we had built in our minds…
Despite what I felt, it physically hurt to be on this planet. Despite another life and a long life with Nether, it still hurts. It still hurt as I remembered him disappearing from my mind, the link between us broken as he died. The link was restored, but the memories hurt. And in the Netherworld, the Avatar agents kept us from going where we wanted to go.
I had to stop and open my helmet to wipe away the tears streaming down my face. I remembered riding a shared speeder to the place where Barran was waiting for him, waiting for us. I should have known, I should have known, but I didn't want to realise that he had come here just to die, to set me free. Like I said, some wounds never heal. For me, these are the ones. I remembered hugging him while he was driving the speeder, both in reality and in our minds. In our minds, him, and in reality, the metal body. I was happy, I loved him, and I still love him, more than anything. From the minute I first felt it and a long time has passed since then, but still. I loved it in the other life for seventy years, here, when it was in a robot body, and I love it now, when it's in a real body again, but in the Netherworld.
I faltered for a few moments; I wanted to go home and hug him, kiss him and sob in his arms, in his embrace. But no, I was Mercy, I couldn't do that, not yet. I'll do it after the siege. The work is not finished; I came here with a purpose and a task, and I wanted to carry it out. I wanted to kill Solipsis and I wanted to close this thing once and for all. If possible, I even wanted to tear Solipsis' soul apart to prevent him from returning once more. I've heard quite a lot about this among the Valkyries, but I don't know if I can do it telepathically. I really hoped I could.
I couldn't give up, not now. I was strong, I was able to fight a war against Tu'teggacha that lasted for years, and I finally won. I just had to overcome that pain; turn it back into anger and then I would be able to stand. If I end up dead, it doesn't matter, dead or alive, I'm going back to the same person. It took me a few minutes to be able to get over the crying and the shaking. I can do it, I can do it. I was Asher's best man for nearly a decade for a reason, and since then I've only gotten better, not worse. Same young body, but with many, many extra years of experience. I just had to remind myself that I wasn't doing it for me, but for the man I love. And for him I was capable of anything in the past, and yes, I will be capable of anything in the present.
I can say that fortunately I had enough confidence to convince myself in a minute or two that yes, I could do this and I could kill Solipsis and everyone else. True, that didn't make it any less painful. Eventually, I put my helmet down and moved on.
I said that some wounds never heal, the Valkyrja said that every wound can heal, it just takes time. Maybe what I needed was for my wounds to heal, for my vengeance to finally be fulfilled and kill all those who made Asher and me live in the Netherworld and not here. Maybe that's what I really need, for my soul to begin to heal, for there to be no one left alive to fan the flames of my vengeance.
Location: Empress Teta
Objective: Defend the capital
Tag: Ardana Vorco
"Prepare to cover me, if one of those blaster bolts hits the grenades we're all going to be dead"
On the floor, the soldiers had either rolled or placed their grenades just below his feet. They were fairly spaced out and gave him enough room to carry out his plan "Okay, rain fire in 3... 2... 1!" and with a roar from the troopers, they all got up at the same time and began to pepper anything that was in front of them. Anything in the street wasn't safe, nor was anyone who had stationed themselves in the buildings. If they weren't shot, many were very much pinned behind their cover.
In a swift movement, his lightsaber switched off and flew into his pocket. The knight's hands opened and gripped all the grenades with the force, and before long all of them had been flung in different directions. At the same time, they'd be set to detonate in five seconds, giving their attackers very little time to react. A few moments passed, but soon enough multiple explosions set off at the same time in the street, sending the gunman flying and injuring many.
Silas reignited his saber and looked back briefly to see they had made some good ground, all they just needed was a final push to finally seal their safety. Kicking his legs the knight moved forward with lightning speed, his saber soon stabbing into the chest of an invader who was deadset on taking him down. Another group of three came to his right, but they were swiftly taken down with a forced push that sent them through a house window.
Right now, it seemed like Silas was cutting through their ranks like butter.
Up ahead, a different individual with a helmet was his next target. She was different compared to the rest and seemed to have a way about her which suggested she had confidence in her ability. Either way, he was going to make her question it. After using the rubble as cover on the way up, he jumped up high into the air and slashed his saber downwards at her chest.
All he could do was delay their advance. His own escape came later...
Unnatural shrieks of pain echoed strangely each time the Jedi's blade amputated a grasping branch. Despite its monstrous size the creature hesitated in primordial fear of the axe. Ko reached out with the Force and nature answered his call. Entangling roots burst from corrupted soil while creepers coiled like snakes around animated branches. Monstrous eyes glowered with depthless malice at the young kel dor through gaps in rotten bark.
"Koh-too-yah. We meet again, my young apprentice."
Darth Howl emerged from the forest as if on a casual stroll. He pulled back the dark cowl to reveal Sith tattoos once hidden by illusion magic for most of their first encounter. As always the masks they both wore kept emotions well-hidden but the dark sage's voice sounded calm just like they were old friends.
"It is time for your first lesson."
With a wave of his hand, the restraining vines became infested with even more corruption. Dark roots burrowed out from under the sithspawn tearing itself free. It swung another branch at Ko, this one covered in twisted stems that groped for their prey.
"Everything decays," Howl observed with crossed arms like a temple instructor, "Alchemy is the fine art of bending nature to our will."
"Tell me how great your self control would be Casteel when she tosses her arms around your neck, presses her body against yours, and whispers in your ear that she wants nothing more than to be your wife. If you tell me you can keep all logical thought in that moment you're a damned liar."
Casteel regarded Makai with a level stare, opting to remain silent on the topic of the Half-Galan's conjecture. Yet, a subtle twitch along the length of his jaw betrayed his inner thoughts. Despite the circumstances, Casteel had contemplated pursuing a courtship with Myra. Although the Arceneau heiress had not indicated any inclination toward such a union, with Lord Blythe entering the picture, Casteel had resolved to proceed. Many marriages began without the foundation of friendship, much less mutual respect. Casteel was prepared to fulfill his role to meet Myra's requirements, anticipating her loyalty as a wife and mother. Their relationship might have lacked love, but it would have evolved into a harmonious partnership.
"Small wonders, but are you going to remain at the Arkuhn farm after your nuptials?" The importance of allowing the newlyweds their space was evident despite the close bond between the Arceneaus and the Dashiells. As they ascended to the rooftop, a faint sheen of perspiration adorned Casteel's brow, and his attire bore signs of disarray, his pristine shirt now smudged from the exertion of trying to pry open the turbolift doors. Surveying the skyline, he observed distant smoke columns and blaster fire flashes, indicating an ongoing conflict between opposing factions. Casteel's lips formed a taut line.
"This situation may escalate into a prolonged conflict," the Anaxai remarked, punctuating his statement with a curse. Turning to Makai, he delivered a brisk nod. "Let us depart swiftly. The longer we stay here, the more exposed we are... the last thing we need is Myra hearing about our demise after being found under rubble. "
Soresu was a fine form to use, though its back footed nature made it an odd choice for the usually aggressive sith. Makashi however, was ideal for any lightsaber combat, its efficient nature cutting straight to the heart of a fight to end it swiftly. It wasn't about strength or power, though Vulpesen's Zorren anatomy offered him that in spades. It was about technique and the skill, something he had honed over decades.
Between the waggling of her fingers and the currents of the force, it wasn't difficult for the Valde to ascertain what she was doing. It was time to escalate. Darting forward, he twisted his saberstaff into separate blades, activating the other end as he did so. Thankfully, it seemed there was one advantage he could bring to bear against her in a melee situation, the use of a second blade. Moving both arms forward, he sent one to tie up her blade, attempting to catch the sith woman in a bind while he slashed up with the other at her empty arm, aiming to cleave it off just past the shoulder. The comatic components of even the most simple sith spells would be difficult to do with one's limbs laying on the ground.
Objective:Disrupt Scar Hound positions and destroy their vehicle and ammo depots
Colonel Anakwor Farlorn had long recognized that the front was simply too wide for his force of three thousand Rangers to cover. Rather than wasting time, men, and material defending the entire front, he would be willing to give ground in exchange for every good advantage that could be had in defense.
Instead of having a single solid line of defenses he had focused on constructing layers of mutually supporting strongpoints, mostly at the very edge of no-man’s-land. He would not hold onto these strong points bitterly, ordering his men to mount a brief but painful resistance before retreating under the cover of alleyways and tunnels. This would grant the enemy a false sense of victory as they seized the first few lines, no doubt causing them to rush a mechanized attack to overrun what they saw as shattered and cowardly local GADF troops.
Then they would fall into his trap.
Farlorn had used the famed recon ability of his regiment to identify various junctions and street meets that a sizeable enemy force would have to use to attack in force. He had blown down corners of buildings, entire buildings, or even lines of buildings to create rubble piles up to fifteen feet high, which he had liberally sown with mines and booby traps. This rubble blocked the narrower streets and would force the enemy down the open and exposed main roads where he would be waiting.
His men were hidden on rooftops and basements to confound the depression and elevation angles of enemy vehicles with rocket launchers and satchel charges ready. He had several mass-driver cannons from the GADF vehicle depots disassembled and reassembled on the higher floor of buildings to provide superior lines of sight and angles of fire. The Carians had used their famed stealth abilities to disguise most of their positions amongst the ruins in camo-netting and rubble. This wasn’t the first time they had tackled urban combat.
All the while he made sure to liberally sprinkle snipers at every block, charging them with the duty of killing enemy officers and striking paranoia into their hearts.
The enemy was a blind hand grasping in the dark and Farlorn would chop off its fingers one at a time. Once that finger had been cut off a warren of mouseholds and tunnels would spirit away the ambushers to the next location. He would make them for every inch they advanced.
Of course, all this worked so long as the enemy attacked.
“They’re being passive,” Farlorn muttered as he stared through his marco-binocs, seeing glimpses of care packages being dropped onto the Imperial positions. No doubt they were shoring up their positions before massing for an attack. Farlorn was hardly going to allow them such a free hand. He called to his second-in-command, “Fennstrum, I want you to take a company from 1st Battalion and another from 3rd to launch a raid on the rear of the enemy lines. Objectives will be disruption of enemy depots and destruction of as many of those drop-packages as possible. Whatever is in those was important for them to take the risk of air-dropping them so close to our lines.”
“How are we getting to their rear then?” The Major asked.
Sewers.
Captain Fred Hey hated sewers. Not for their stink, he had long gotten used to the smell of cooked flesh, but for their walls. The walls seemed to constantly close in on him like a plate of steel caught between the two heads of a hydraulic press. The suffocating embrace of darkness and filth constrained each step. He and his men had been forced to squeeze through gaps he wouldn’t trust a feline to get through in the past half hour. Combat webbing, rifle slings, pouches, everything got stuck on everything.
Memory of Carian damn this all. Hey had grown up on the beaches of Cardigan Bay where had known only the endless sea and the endless skies where there was nothing but vast open for miles around. Here there was only claustrophobia paired with the noxious cocktail of rot and sewage. How much he would give right now just for a brief gust of salt-laden wind.
He could tell the others wanted to moan and whine. The only thing stopping them was his strict order of silence. The men and women of Caria, as hardy as they were and used to the thick woods of their homeworld, could barely stand being in this stinking sewer. Though at the very least they contented themselves with the fact they didn’t have to fight the undead under here again.
The distant thunder of artillery shook the ground, sending tremors through the narrow passage. Hits were happening directly above them. Dust and gravel shifted from the ceiling with each impact. Hey hoped that it didn’t cause a collapse.
What happened next made him wish that it had. They’d been operating with low lumination to avoid detection. Night vision only worked if you had some light to work with. It hit the point man like a tidal wave. A river of squealing, matted bodies, surged forward at hip height. Rats. Tens of thousands of them panicked by the shelling and now seeking the deeper parts of the sewers.
Hey had to lean against the wall or be carried away. There were low moans and groans from his troopers but they kept noise discipline.
The point man lost his footing and virtually disappeared into the streaming mass. He made the mistake of screaming but no noise came through.
Minutes seemed to pass. They could see nothing but the onrushing black mass and feel nothing but their wet furs. Some of the rats clambered onto them to bite and scratch at their exposed skin. Hey had to silently draw his bayonet and gut one coming dangerously close to his jugular, drawn in by his heightened heartbeat.
As suddenly as it had begun, the vermintide ceased. The last few scattered away, their squeaks echoing down the tunnel.
“Status,” he whispered to his men, receiving affirmations from all but one.
The point man was still on the floor. His skin was pale and his eyes wide open but blank. His mouth gaped in a scream that he would never finish. Something black and furry was logged in this throat, naked fleshy tail spasming in death-throes.
“Awwww, feth,” Hey muttered. Two decades of non-stop warfare just to meet their end in vermin.
“Leave him,” he mouthed to the others. The death of one of his men always hit them hard, but he had long learned to ignore the grief. At the very least none of them had families he had to inform, “Tanna, take his ammo and explosives.”
They continued until the sounds of the shelling grew louder, but not because they were closer. There was a faint, cold light ahead.
“Berran, Tanna, and Kardin,” he jabbed his finger forward before drawing his thumb across his throat. The three of them nodded and drew their blades…
Kardin’s bulging arms wrapped around the neck of the first aspirant and wrenched hard, snapping the neck in one twist. Tanna plunged her bayonet into the armpits of the second, his heart bursting before he could even gasp. Berran simply placed the muzzle of his suppressed Dissuader KD-30 slugthrower pistol to the third’s nape and pulled the trigger.
“Clear,” Tanna commed Hey.
The rest of Echo "Easy" Company filtered out of the sewer. Something big had hit the sewer tunnel a few hours ago and left behind a massive crater that opened it to the air. if it was from the shelling or orbital bombardment, Captain Hey didn’t really care since it put them right behind the Scar Hound lines.
He quickly moved them out into the surrounding buildings to secure a perimeter to allow Captain Otikan’s Anarch Company to follow. The Rangers wrapped their camo-cloaks around them as they silenced several dozen more Aspirants with silenced pistols and blades. Hey knew he had to move fast before enemy command noticed the lack of contact from this sector but maybe they would be distracted by the attacking GADF remnants.
“Eye’s on a vehicle depot and an ammo dump in a courtyard, behind the gate,” called out the Company’s sniper, “Also got my crosshairs on several of those air-dropped packages the Colonel wanted us to destroy.”
“Get your explosive charges ready,” Hey said to his men, “We use shock and awe to take them. Plant the charges and then we get out.”
The front gate was clean thrown off its hinges by the det-charge, sailing across the courtyard and crushing a group of aspirants into bloody mush.
“Come on you sons of Banthas, do you want to live forever?” bellowed Hey as he charged through the smoke and flames, firing his heavy repeating blaster from the hip and cutting down cadres of stunned Scar Hounds. Like an onrushing tide, dozens of Rangers surged forward to his left and right yelling bloody murder and committing bloody murder.
One of them fell as they started receiving fire from the second floor of an adjoining building. Tanna lifted up her rocket launcher and fired. The bulbous missile passed clean through one of the windows. The flash was blinding, and the concussion wave was brutal. Fragments of ferrocrete and pieces of enemy aspirants erupted out of the windows in the fire wash and pelted the courtyard.
“Charges planted. Thirty seconds!” called one of the Ranger Pioneers sprinting away from the ammo depot like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. The other Rangers followed quickly, executing an expert withdrawal as snipers several hundred meters away punished any perusers.
Twenty, ten, five, four, three, two-
One.
Farlorn watched the massive explosion from his headquarters with a smile. Tons of rock and ferrocrete were thrown sky-high and the resulting shockwaves shattered windows for miles around. Several nearby blocks were flattened as the cook-off continued.
He could see several more firefights occurring behind enemy lines as the two companies continued to wreak havoc on other Scar Hound depots, seeking to cause as much damage before the hornet’s nest woke up.
Farlorn was counting on exactly that.
Carian First and Only Rangers digs in, focusing instead of strongpoint on ambush tactics and drawing the enemy in. Wanting to draw the Scar Hounds into his trap, Colonel Farlorn launches a raiding party composed of two companies of elite Rangers (320 in total) through the sewers in the enemy rear to wreak havoc by destroying air-dropped care packages, vehicle depots, and ammo dumps.
Vulpesen
