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1 Hor Before Attack Confirmation
Location: CNS Iron Prince, Fondor Dry Docks
A sweaty ensign was the first to greet Cypher as he first stepped into his new half-completed flagship. He didn't expect to be greeted by anyone however as he specifically stated that he wishes to tour the ship for himself. "Speak, son. Don't bite your tounge" It seemed as though the young lady was almost incapable of talking until her words sent shivers down his spine.
"Hostiles at Talay. High Marshal Brayde and Grand Marshal Von Soreen have engaged hostiles at Talay and Rodia respectfully"
"How soon can the Defender get thier" The Defender was the ship Brayde had given him after the destruction of the Salvatore due to an "unfortunate" hyperspace accident. Needless to say, terrorists had bombed his ship. "A day. Sir, you have to take a fighter. It's the only way you'll get thier in time. I have a Vane Squadron ready"
---
The trip to Taly was rocky in a starfighter. He almost threw up...three times. The other two, he did vomit.
"High Marshal, this is Blue Leader. Fleet Marshal Rage. Requesting orders"
Location: Rodia Objective: KILL ALWINE DAYE (closing in) Wearing:xxx CIS:Muad Dib
| open AoC:Alwine Daye
| Rashae
Daegon eyed the man who stood next to him on the loading ramp. His words were many like Derek’s but carried a darkness which his friend often tried to hide with the many layers he liked to present. Perhaps had the two met under different circumstances Daegon would not find Maud to be so plainly dark and one dimensional. Did he care at this point? No. Alwine had shot his Angel. Alwine had put a bullet between the eyes of his best friend. Both rest in bacta tanks on Thyferra, comatose. One would live, and the other was still inconclusive. If either died, Daegon’s rage would overflow, and there would be no cup that could contain his wrath.
“They will know who it was that killed them, and they will know why.”
Today was not a day for fancy speeches or silver tongued promises. The day for talk had been on Olanet, and it had failed them. For all the propaganda which poured from the terrorist cell known as the Agents of Chaos in regards to how evil the Confederacy was, and to how they did not kill civilians, two things had seemed clear over the past two weeks.
The refugees they collected came from worlds they attacked or “liberated,” and they cared nothing for innocent life. Over the past two weeks the Rodian capital had been the grounds for a vicious serial killer. Bodies, unidentifiable, were found in the factory district, innocent lives snuffed out, and for what, to send a message? To incite fear and panic? All of it coincided with the message sent to Rodia and Talay to the point that even a simpleton could connect the dots.
In the two weeks he had been on Rodia prior to the invasion the Nighthaunter had been committing actions that many would find absolutely terrifying and inhumane. Those that lived within the Weapons Factory District had began to become fearful of the night as that was the time that the Nighthaunter would pick his victims. The Silencer's targets were often Rodian guardsmen, or those involved in the Rodian military's command structure. He would then display his work to the people of Rodia by hanging the dead mutilated, and tortured bodies from buildings. In order to instill a sense of fear within the Rodian people. While all the bodies were badly mutilated they all had one thing in common... The victims faces were completely removed. The Nighthaunter would remove the eyes, noses, mouths, and ears of his victims making them completely unidentifiable for authorities.
“It seems that the innocents of Olanet and Ryloth were not enough for them, now they leave mangled corpses for the populace to find. These Agents of Chaos are a disease which this galaxy must be rid of, and we shall be the cure.”
His eyes flashed as the pair walked down the boarding ramp. The ship had landed just outside the city near the site of downed medical frigates and the domes which the Agents had attempted to erect. Shots had been fired, as per the order adopted by the Viceroyalty. Any ship which was not broadcasting a CIS indentification code would be shot on site, and they had been.
The smell of burning flesh coming from the wreckage was fresh.
“They were here not long ago,” Daegon said as he looked around for any kind of indication where they had gone.
Finally his eyes settled on the jungle. It made sense, if the goal was to hide, and the Agents of Chaos had many reasons to hide. Two of them would be fast on their trail. If only they knew how close they actually were.
A groan could be heard coming from the ground, followed by more. The blood colored stone of Daegon’s lightsaber ignited into a crimson stained plasma blade cutting through the nearest body. It was both swift and brutal. Eyes which matched the blade looked to the psychopath which had traveled with him.
“None of them are to remain alive.”
It was with those words Daegon continued to kill any that had survived the bombardment before rushing off toward the jungle. They would follow the path which seemed to be cut through the trees until they either found who they were looking for, or lost it.
It hadn't taken long for the remaining TDW forces to regroup after their drop. At the tip of the spear, the survivors of Ryloth, now known as the Ghost Company, were right behind Sergei with their TCD-1Ds and TCD-2Ds right behind them. 70 men and women who'd survived the fighting on Ryloth, the hell that the Agents of Chaos had unleashed. Each who knew exactly who was responsible for the death of every single one of their brothers and sisters at arms. For taking their home from them. For forcing them into the precarious position of having their very way of life nearly extinguished and their Dire Wolf almost executed for deciding the lives of many mattered more than the lives of a few. Their way had been warped by the Agents. And while they still retained the discipline, self control and training that Sergei had given them all, they had a new source of energy fueling their actions.
PURE HATRED AND RAGE
If it wasn't for the fact that their force dead armor kept this black aura contained inside each and every one of their suits of armor, there would have been a massive wave of negative energy that would have now entered the battlefield. And while the newer blood would advance behind the ghosts with their own weapons and equipment, their movements were pure and untainted. They hadn't lost like the ghosts had. They didn't have that utter rage one knew when someone had taken almost everything from you and then had the nerve to tell the Galaxy they were the good guys. That their intentions had been pure and noble, and that they had done no wrong.
The dead begged to differ. The fallen crew of the Aegis had been forced to sacrifice themselves to stop a threat while the AoC had done nothing. They had brought terrorists to a planet and had refused to neither condemn their actions nor act to either stop or eliminate them. The dead cried out for justice. They demanded vengeance. And now the only fear each member of the survivors and to a lesser extent the rest of The Dire Wolves, was the fear of a job undone. A mission incomplete. A debt of blood unpaid. They had observed the laws of war and had not unleashed their full fury on Ryloth, and their enemy had spat on them for thinking they could be held to the same standard. Even here the Agents' had proven it would more of the same. Sergei would accept nothing less than seeing every last one of them dead or broken to the point that they would never truly live again. The Dire Wolf had nothing holding him back this time.
Valeria was strapped into her seat on the pod and, while she awaited the impending launch, looked over the controls. For the most part she would not need to use them but in case she needed to make any course corrections, because things move, she wanted to be ready and despite not being an expert pilot or having flown in a pod before felt she could handle it.
Once she familiarized herself, the best she could on short notice anyways, she heard Voph’s voice over her comlink, apparently they were now being redirected to the surface of Rodia. Valeria viewed this as a…..mild inconvenience but nevertheless was still ready to eviscerate some terrorists. Shortly after the communique ended she could feel the Hope leveling off and prepared herself to feel the resulting g-forces from the launch, no sooner had she braced herself then her pod was fired and she felt the force of the acceleration push her back. The pod hurtled out of the cannon and into the void of space though it was not long before Valeria could feel the pod vibrate some as it entered the atmosphere, externally giving off a slight glow as the atmospheric resistance increased the temperatures around the pod. As the pod continued towards the ground and as it lost some of it’s excess velocity and the temperatures began to cool some on the pod Valeria could feel the pod begin to rotate a bit on it’s vertical axis, fighting the forces acting upon her she was able to correct it, or so she thought, thanks to her unfamiliarity with the pod’s controls and display as well as the gravitational forces acting on her body, as the pod now was upside down with the landing gear side pointing towards the sky.
Valeria did not notice this until shortly before impact as the standard planetary gravity pushing her down was now more able to be distinguished from the g-forces from the flight and she used the thrusters on the pod to slightly slow her descent. The pod impacted the ground harder than she had expected, probably because it was upside down and wasn’t really intended to land in this attitude but with the armor she had been provided and the, in her view, high quality construction and materials she was fine, if not a bit annoyed. Thankfully the door was still working and Valeria managed to open the door and crawl out of the pod. Soon after she saw Voph’s pod and heard his orders to form up in order for the hunt to begin.
“Another Happy Landing.” Valeria said as she stood up, this would be the first and last time she’d agree to use pods, she’d decided that next time she would just fly a ship to where she needed to go.
Shortly after Valeria heard the orders from Luna regarding any Rodians they found. Valeria found it odd that there were Rodians considering the civilians had been evacuated perhaps though the terrorists managed to find some and now were trying to hide behind them, the reason was no factor however to her. She was slightly annoyed though that she may have to incapacitate them instead since a traitor is a traitor and they deserve to be wiped out, all of them, but she would abide to attempt non-lethal incapacitation if she managed to find any stray non-Confederacy Rodians.
With a firm nodd of determination, Safira unclipped her helmet from her side and smacked it over her thick curls. “I think I’m in love.” She spoke in a teasing tone to Tiria Reinhart
, coupling her words with a friendly clap across her shoulder. “Annihilate it is.” The second member of her group, Typhan Berrezz
, was nothing short of charming. Safira was pleased Haastal had picked out this little team to work together. She could already tell they were going to be amazing. “Pinkies, arms, legs… whatever you can get ahold of. Preferably the head.” Helmet now secured firmly, smiling was almost pointless if it weren’t for the eager amusement punctuating her tone.
With the orders given Safira headed for the door of the command post, p[assing a weapons cache on the way past where she furnished herself with a choice cut of thermal detonators and neat little hand cannon. Just beyond the doors, the empty city of Iskaayuma waited. The perfect playground.
“Haastal said we’re lookin’ for some sneaky terrorists that like to take pot shots at people with snipers.” Her words were directed to nobody in particular, but she did have a few people following her. It was a strange sensation for Safira, to be considered good enough to lead a squad of her own. A sniper squad, to say the least. It had been so long ago that Isley Verd had given her her first ever sniper lesson, and now she was considered good enough by vode and strangers alike to lead a team of them. For both Haastal and Safira, it was a first. Perhaps a nerve wrecking one, but hell, at least it wasn’t a whole kriffing army. Haastal must have been beside himself, better him than her though.
As she crossed the street opposite the base to dip into an alley, where shadow would be their greatest ally, word from Grand Marshal Luna Terrik
came flooding into her comm. She wasn’t privileged enough to reply, nor did she have anything to offer, but she could hear the orders. “Getting word from command that they’re hitting up the factories something awful.” With another hidden smirk on her face, Safira motioned to the team to follow her deeper into the alley. “Where do snipers like to play?” Her tone had an eerily playful note to it. When they reached a suitable place where no light could reach the beskar clad mandalorian lifted her gloved hand up, one finger pointing toward the lip of the particularly tall building in front of her.
The war was now waginging in full. Booms, crashesh, the steady zip of bullets flying through the air. It was a sound Safira rarely considered missing, but in the moment, she always found herself remarking that she did. Another order slipped through the comms. “Operation Nightfall is a go.” She nodded to the team, and pushed a button on the side of her helmet that cast her word in various shades of vibrant green. It made no difference to Safira, it would have been done anyway, to scan the roofs for the snipers in question. “Right, time to heave our shebs onto this roof.”
It was all the warning she gave before a hot blast of air escaped her jetpack, propelling her up in a straight, clean line toward the top of the building. Not entirely sure if the rest of her team could follow, but deciding it was something she would handle in a moment, Safira immediately crouched down on the roof. With the moon blaring the way it was tonight, any movement she made to someone watching from a roof would be as plain as day. The next thing she did, following ensuring that she wasn’t visible, was to complete her own scans. Her HUD blared loudly in her ears as it did a preliminary sweep of the roof tops, looking for anything that might indicate life. Nothing. Until…
A tiny flash of light flickered in the corner of Safira’s eye. She spun her helmeted head to face it, just in time for her HUD to beep wildly. A flame. A flame followed by a softly glowing ember that only barely registered in her field of vision. Where those dumb ossiks actually smoking? "Are you seeing these di'kuts?" She asked Nyx N1X3
specifcally, the sniper that Haastal had tagged into her team. Stealth clearly wasn't high on their list of priorities. Safira audibly laughed, following it with a shake of her head. “Swiggity swooty... “ She spoke into the comms to her team as she locked onto two distinct life signatures, pulsing away near the weapons factory, entirely unaware of the hell that was about to rain on them. “We comin’ for that terrorist booty.”
For a few blocks, Daiya thought she had left the Rodian patrol officers behind. The streets of the factory district were mostly empty otherwise, though signs of life remained. Here and there she could spot overflowing trash bins, along the walkways there were a few speeders parked by expired meters, and advertisements blared along the walls of buildings to no one in particular. It was as if the entire planet had just picked up and left in a short time. The girl shuddered at the eerie vibe, it gave her the creeps.
It didn't take long for that creepy sensation to turn into a full-blown pit of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn't enough to duck down side-streets or into alleys anymore as the streets became thick with extra patrols. Like, seriously thicc. The addition of armored Dauntless troops, a facet of the Confederacy's defenses she had only seen from a distance so far, gave the patrols all the smoothness of a Corpo's swagger. It would have been funny had she been back on Denon, or if Tawrro were here to share the joke with, for now it was just beginning to scare her.
That meant only one thing, it was time to get back to Tawrro.
The buildings of Rodia's capital city were far shorter than those of Denon, by several orders of magnitude, but they still provided a variety of cover for a girl from the streets to navigate her way toward their pre-arranged rendezvous zone. The deft dance of avoiding confrontation should have been an exhilarating run for the Denon native. Yet today, it only made the pit in her stomach grow larger and more vile.
Tawrrowaldr, the Wookiee companion —and self-appointed guardian— of the teen, had insisted on accompanying her this time. She should have known, Daiya had followed the news of the Battle of Ryloth home, and Tawrro was none happy with her for it. Instead of getting in and out of a tense showdown between galactic powers, she'd found herself engulfed in the very battlefield she had meant to skirt around. The talk Tawrro had for his ward had been incredibly uncomfortable for her. And judging by Tawrro's unwillingness to meet her eyes in the hours after that, for the former general as well.
Even knowing it was just as uncomfortable for the old soldier still didn't make it any easier for Daiya to return to him now.
The new HUD system in her equipment gave the girl an indicator for Tawrro's location as she got closer. The overlay's information also helped her avoid some of the district's choke points, as well as any surprises left by her Chaotic allies. It gave her a small relief to know that much. Enemy positions showed up as she drew closer to them, most still far enough away to react and avoid them.
At least, it should have been. By the time she was still a few blocks away from Tawrro's position, Daiya found her facemask's display lighting up with figures in all directions. No! She turned back, hoping she could skirt around them instead, only to be faced with the same barrier. The pit in her stomach tore into an open wound, bleeding out waves of fear and despair that seeped into the core of her being. "Tawrro..." the girl pleaded meekly to no one around her. It was only after a few minutes that she reached out with her comlink. "Tawrro, I'm only a few blocks east from you but there's Confederate troops in between us. I need your help to get through."
Nothing.
The comlink returned only silence, a glaring omission where she would have heard her partner's reassuring growls. Despite her apprehension of facing him again, despite his irritating insistence to accompany her, despite her flagrant disobedience to wait for him on their scouting mission, despite the times the girl wished she could be trusted to do things on her own, Daiya's heart fell at the sound of silence. If he was going to forsake her, why would he even come along to begin with?
Her mind raced in confusion, but at least her armor's HUD was focused. It was engaged in a search for hiding places, and having scanned the area surrounding her, was directing the girl to one of the homes nearby. Daiya had no idea what to expect, but any guidance was welcomed by her now. She kept signalling on the comlink, kept reaching out, only to be met with silence. And in silence, she ventured on toward the civilian residence.
Peeking around the corner, the girl sat back glumly against the metal bars. From her vantage point on the alley catwalk, she counted four Confederate soldiers patrolling the street between her position and the lowrise her HUD had highlighted for her. The display also marked the positions of a few more troops outside her line of sight. Not quite a squad, but enough to be some serious opposition.
She sighed. Now would have been a great time for Tawrro to appear.
A loud roar from out of sight echoed through the street, drawing the attention of the soldiers in her way. A Wookiee roar. Daiya sat up, her face bright again as Tawrro barked a call out for her. The girl grinned beneath her facemask, drawing her favorite 434 blaster from its holster under her arm. Scooting forward to the edge of the catwalk, she took advantage of its position a few levels above the street, took aim at one of the soldiers maneuvering toward the sound of her devoted guardian, and squeezed the trigger.
One, two went down with a little effort. These Dauntless soldiers had different armor than she was used to, and weren't as squishy as CorpSec. It took her longer than normal, and by the time she was onto the third, the Confederate trooper had moved beyond the alley's opening. From beyond it, though, the teen heard Tawrro's automatic shotgun popping off rounds, and took the opportunity to grab her slugthrower this time. By the time she looked back up, the only movement in front of her was the racing blaster bolts between the soldiers' positions and where Tawrro was on the other side.
Daiya climbed out of the catwalk, hopping down to a short ledge outside of a window of her building. Creeping to the edge of it, she leapt to the next one, clinging to the window frame around it for support. In this manner, the girl made her way towards the corner of the building, her mind clear at last. This was a shootout, this was what made her focus. Reaching the corner of the building, she poked around it, just enough to aim her weapon at the three troopers taking cover below.
Three shots, and then she was back around the corner. The bullets weren't aimed at them, but just above them, filled with glitter dripping with acid. It would eat through the duracrete sidewalks and buildings, and any exposed metals of the street or their cover, though the soldiers' armor might fare a bit better...if it was built well enough. Still, the cloud of shimmering glitter —definitely a prettier sight in the daytime!— would offer a momentary disorientation. Time enough to swap out her blasters and lean around again for...
One.
Two.
The last shot didn't come from her, and took the girl by surprise. She nearly lost her footing, grabbing the window frame again for balance. Letting out a low breath, Daiya tried to see the moment in her mind again, as if it were a vision. She breathed in and out for a second, seeing the event in her mind's eye, watching herself shoot at the Dauntless soldiers below, then spying a third shot come from...just above her.
Daiya looked up, seeing only the top of the building. But no doubt about it, there was someone up there. A growl from below turned her attention down, and she waved to Tawrro standing just under her now in the alley. He still held Giggles at the ready, and his shaggy coat was a little singed here and there, but the old soldier stood steady. Not even out of breath, the girl noticed, something she still couldn't manage. Her mind might be clear, but her chest still heaved from the stress of the conflict and her near-fall from the building. Motioning for Tawrro to come up inside the building, Daiya turned to find her own way in.
The teen met up with Tawrro at the stairwell, and melted into his arms. The shotgun still hung between them, and her armor didn't allow the closeness Daiya preferred, but none of that mattered now. He was here, she was with him, and nothing could go wrong now. The Wookiee's arms wrapped around her at first, and then he took to straightening her hair, slightly frizzy from the district's warm and humid air. She looked up at him, all her cares and fears forgotten for a moment. Then it was time to be serious once more.
"How did you find me? I tried to call you, but you didn't answer!" the teen said, her voice rising like the heat still did from Tawrro's shotgun. Tawrro had appeared when she needed him, but why hadn't he responded before? She thudded a closed palm against her partner's furry chest, "You were just going to leave me here?"
Tawrro's string of concerned barks and growls gave her confusion pause. Of course she knew he wouldn't abandon her, he made that annoyingly clear on an almost-daily basis. "Yeah, but then why didn't you answer!"
She blinked in confusion again at his current answer. Her eyes sought comprehension as her mind raced. Only then did it dawn on the teen to check her new equipment. Raising a wrist up to her face, she tapped into the communications system, seeing the interface appearing before her left eye. And there, in the corner, was a slashed-out symbol showing that her receiving line was muted. The mute she had set when she'd set out on her excursion earlier to scout the factory buildings for her job.
Daiya laughed, a mirthless laugh to herself as she slid down toward the ground. Tawrro's arms caught hers before she touched the floor, looking down at her, and offering a small growl. This time, he was the one confused. "Oh, I, uhh." The girl chuckled nervously. "I must have turned it off so I couldn't hear your calls when I..." ran off "you know, when I went off scouting."
She swallowed her fear. What could Tawrro say about it now, after all? Before he could, Daiya offered, "You'll like this target, it's perfect. Like that one, one time in the Volgho Hollows."
The Wookiee nodded gravely, his silence carrying more weight than words now. Daiya choose to put aside his meaning for now. He'd have plenty of time to lecture her after their mission was over.
If they survived.
On that note, the girl sprang up again, "Oh, come on, let's meet whoever joined our firefight."
Daiya led the Wookiee up the stairs, pausing before the rooftop entrance to take out her blaster again. She glanced behind at her companion, his automatic shotgun at the ready, before they burst out of the entrance to confront their rooftop acquaintence. The girl squinted at the darkened figure in front of them, his armor making him nearly invisible in the nightime light. "Thanks for the help, friend, but are you with us or just against those purple freaks?"
A growl from her side made the girl glance over at Tawrro, "What? They're all obsessed with that color, I was totally being respectful!"
I have permission from Nighthaunter
for use of his character.
John wished he could say that he was surprised, that there was anything about the current situation that he hadn’t expected. The terrorists who had invaded their territory had already revealed their colours on Siskeen, the pretty words that acted as a mask to cover the ugly truth. All they cared about was their objective, no-one, nothing else mattered. They would do anything, hurt anyone to get what they wanted, and if things turned against them…well they’d shown they were willing to kill and maim in what was little more than a temper tantrum.
John had come to them with open arms once before. The Confederacy had sought to talk…and Derek Dib and Seraphina Corvinus had paid the price.
No-one else would suffer for the pretty words that hid the ugly face of the terrorists.
“Open a channel.”
The cyborg raised a hand to forestall any further comments, spinning in his chair to face the viewscreen, dark eyes settling on the enemy commander facing him as he slowly stood. Metallic hands smoothed down the lapel of his suit, ironing out the creases as one hand slipped into his pocket. It was a well-practised gesture, the effortless culmination of years of practice. The suit he wore, just like the mask over his features was as much a part of the man now as the prosthetic’s that made up much of his body.
It was something he’d learned time and time again, the importance of control, the importance of the mask to hide what you were feeling. To not give an opponent any sense of your thought or emotions, to not give them a weakness they could pounce on. The world John lived in was filled with sharks and monster, people who wouldn’t hesitate to tear you to pieces if they thought they could. It was a world he’d thrived in, a world he’d come to master.
It was a control that eluded him at this very moment. There was no way to hide the soft note of anger in his voice, the way his free hand clenched at his side.
“You beseech us to leave? You ask us to just abandon this world that looks to us for protection? If you truly are here in the best interest of those that live here then why not actually talk to them, ask them what they want instead of just listening to the raving of terrorists? It was the people of this world that asked us to come here to protect them, who chose to leave the world rather than be left to the tender mercies of those who have shown that they care nothing for the fate of those on the worlds they attack. Chaos by name, Chaos by nature. They don’t care about the people or they would have talked to them as would you. Would have realised that they didn’t ask for this. YOU forced them to abandon their world. The very fear of your arrival drove them away.”
John forced himself to sit down, one hand gesturing towards the empty world below them.
“If you’re going to come to my house to threaten me, I suggest you educate yourself. We have never forced a world to join by force, look at Siskeen, look at the conference that your ‘friends’ recorded and broadcast to the world. If a planet wants to leave, we let them, we even embraced them as friends. No planet in the Southern Systems is forced to remain, and yet they do. It’s their choice.”
“What gives YOU the right to come here and dictate terms to the people who chose to join us? The people who want to stay? Are you so self-righteous that you know what’s best for them? Do you intend to speak for them, to tell them what to do? Do you intend to control them for the rest of their lives? There’s a word for a government that does that. Empire.”
John let the final word hang in the air for a moment.
“We will not allow our citizens, those who look to us for protection to be dictated to and threatened. We will not abandon them. Our forces have already engaged yours. However, since you appear to be misinformed rather than malicious I will extend to you the same 8 minutes that we were given on Ryloth. You have 8 minutes to withdraw your fighters and leave the system. 8 minutes to prove you’re more than the terrorists and empire wannabes that you appear to be.”
“Please…prove me wrong. Just this one time, let me believe in the good of people.”
It took a thought for the man to switch off the camera, to shut down the feed as he sank back down in his chair. He could see the data streaming across his screens detailing Kiff Brayde’s conflict with the smaller enemy force. He had to trust his ally to handle that, his attention focused on the fleet that filled the main screen.
Don’t let me down.
It would be one more let down but in his heart of hearts, John wanted to be wrong. He wanted to see those ships turn and leave, see logic and understanding win out over avarice and hubris. But, that would have been asking for too much.
"Launch all fighters and have them screen the assault line. Grievous Destroyers acquire targeting solutions on their Procursator-class Skirmish Destroyers. Artillery Destroyers are to acquire targeting solutions on their Siege Destroyers. All ships, we will fire in exactly 8 minutes unless they open fire."
8 minutes to be proven wrong.
8 minutes till he’d unleash a nightmare. To protect the people of the Confederacy he’d become the monster again, but the line would hold.
The line would never break.
Post 1
Fleet in orbit of Talay deployed in a defensive formation.
True to the orders that were given, the Resolve monitored the movements of the medical corvettes and though they would attempt to hide, one could not hide from mathematical calculations. Factors such as velocity and direction can easily be used to predict where one was going, especially as close to the planet as the Resolve was. When the guns had acquired their new coordinates the bombardment began again with another volley raining down from orbit for the ships that sought to hide beneath the water they would find it inadequate as the blaster bolts flash boiled the water that shielded them as they fell.
As for what was going on in the space above, she felt through the force a disturbance even before her comm chirped once more. “Darth Phral, we now have an enemy fleet in the system.” Her eyes slowly opened while the amber color of her eyes only brightened, “Lieutenant, you are not to advance. Engage at maximum range and activate orbital defenses, all ships are free to engage targets at will at the maximum effective range; make them come to us. And Lieutenant, open a channel to the Grand Marshall and patch me through.”
Sabine rose as the image of the Grand Marshall appeared before her, and while they had not met Amelia von Sorenn, it would be likely she would know the name of another Vampirika bloodline when spoken; information was after all paramount to Sabine so she knew exactly who she was speaking to. “Grand Marshall, my name is Sabine Delacroix. The Lord Commander has placed me in temporary command of Octarchy forces in the system, we will continue to provide support to the planet while you deal with the invaders in front of us. Should you require assistance, we will break away from the planet and support. Will this be satisfactory?” her tone was even, matter of fact and to the point. Rather unusual for those that knew her but given that her name alone may cause concerns in the Grand Marshal she decided to play things safe and not appear aggressive in the slightest.
Regardless of the response of the Grand Marshall when the communication ended she simply returned to her kneeling position and once again began to bolster the force below with battle meditation, each man and woman who fought under the banner of the confederacy would be emboldened, coordinated and have a resolve that would not break.
There was a moment when Shamira appeared to consider the offer to just stay behind at the Covenstead and help how she could there. It was probably for the best. In her mindset, there really wasn’t any reason at all she should be on a battlefield. All the dark cloud in her mind did was feed her negative thoughts, making her feel like more of a failure than her homeworld ever did.
Then there soft touch of the Nightmother on her shoulder, that practically felt like it reached into her mind and pulled her from the fog. At once, she began to feel as though maybe she should go with the rest of the witches. That she did still have things to offer. Though there was still lingering doubts in her mind about the validity of her skills, Vytal’s logic did hold more weight than practically anyone that Shamira trusted.
These monsters, the ones that had dared attack their new home, must be stopped here. In this place. No longer would they be allowed to move unabated. They had dared step forth on another world, intent on crushing the freedoms of the beautiful people that lived here. If Shamira could help it, she wanted to be one of the people that did what they could to make sure they never did attempted something like this again.
It was in that moment that Shamira decided to step through the gateway…and immediately regretted the decision.
Not because she no longer wanted to help. This swamp just..stunk awful. Terrible. Worse than anything she had ever experienced. Plants must be extremely hardy to survive in an environment like this one. If things went according to plan, Shamira might just have to drag Viana Morreth out here for a flower and flora hunting expedition.
Convincing the white haired witch to trek through a swamp could be bothersome.
Any thoughts about data collection were dashed from her mind the moment the ground around and in front of the witches began to shake. Her eyes flashed and turned quickly to the nightmother, who seemed as though she was beginning some sort of ritual. In front of them, out of nowhere, the ground opened up like a maw into hell. If Shamira glanced over the edge for long enough, she could’ve sworn there was movement in the oppressive darkness. Shadows beginning to shamble all about.
For a moment, she just stood there, allowing the Nightmother to complete whatever task she felt necessary. After a moment of thought, however, Shamira reached into her pack. It took a few moments of searching, and eventually she pulled out a small bundle of what looked to be tree fibers. While she kept a few for herself, the redhead tossed the rest into the pit. Knowing a look of confusion might come from the Nightmother, she turned, giving her a little smile of confidence as she did so.
“Falyood tree fibers….thought that the dead could use a little boost in armor.”
Yes, Nyx replies to @Safira Verd's question. However, I am at present engaged in tracking the priority target.That the woman whom Haastal had assigned to work with Nyx had picked up on Judd Hunter in her area was worth noting, but not her primary concern. Sector 21 Alpha. Crossroads of Tola and Vheri. Rooftop. Three targets. Wookiee, and two humanoids. Two male physique, one female. Positioning indicated it was the humanoid male that was the probable 'sniper.'
Was it appropriate to call him a sniper at such close range, however? The female had engaged in surprisingly accurate shooting of her own. Neither met Nyx's personal criteria of a sniper. Then again, she took pride in her own capabilities; and she had the benefit of not being organic. There was no overwhelming, biological need to breathe that required compensation or precision timing for a shot. No need to blink or struggle to keep one's eye focused. And certainly no need for some external device to tell her how to shoot the railgun in her hands at that moment -- though admittedly a dedicated device would require less personal resources committed to the task.
Most importantly, however, was her chassis' ability to withstand the recoil from this particular sniper rifle. Such a thing might easily damage an organic, or cause them to waste time trying to relocate the target. Every second mattered when it came to sniping someone from vast distances.
A map of the city was laid out along with a path to follow to take her closer to the targets. True, ordinarily a sniper wouldn't try to close the distance, but after the first shot there was a high probability the enemy would avoid exposing themselves further. To loiter in the tower waiting for them to come to her was inefficient. Better to hunt down her assigned target and receive a new one afterward.
I am taking the shot.
Fortunately, the rifle had a built-in suppression system (activated for this particular shot) to keep a thunder clap from giving Nyx's position away. That did nothing for the target (Nighthaunter
), however. A solid piece of metal electromagnetically propelled through the barrel and across the distance at extreme velocities would shred light and medium armor. Heavy armor had a chance of survival, but most would feel the energy transferred into their body -- perhaps it would dent the armor, or knock back the one wearing it. Of course if it hit the head there was little chance, even if the helmet survived that the wearer would. There was always hope with a great many armors in existence, but Nyx wouldn't place any wagers in their favor. When it came to a railgun, the best defense was not being in the path of its supersonic projectile.
Nyx would wait to determine if the target was downed or not, but after that she'd begin to rapidly relocate. Even if the priority target was neutralized, there were at least two allies to clean up and the additional target Safira identified.
Despite being smaller in frame, the pod was still fairly uncomfortable. It was hard to situate, hard to find a comfortable seated position, and it caused Eenia to fidget. However, her body went rigid when she heard word come across that their target location was being changed. "Wait, did you just say-" she hadn't been the only one to ask if they were really being launched down to the planet. "Will these things survive that?" Perhaps that was a silly question, but its not as if Nia really knew anything about these pods, and there was no time for her to receive an answer either. Moments later, the pod lurched and threw the blonde's frame against the uncomfortable support of her seat.
Discomfort gripped her, and all of her organs felt as if they touched the back of her body. The ride through the atmosphere down to the planet felt too long and yet short all at the same time. The impact of the pod to the ground earned quite the loud, protesting sound from Nia, even if the pod and her armor absorbed most of the force. She felt the pod skid until the momentum wore out, and then she was left there on her back, staring up at the door above her. "Okay, no pods...ever again." The words were groused out as she unstrapped herself from the harness. The door to the pod took a bit of effort for her to work open, but once it gave way Eenia was quick to escape the pod.
There was a moment where she checked herself, making sure there were no cracks in her armor, and that her lightsaber was still there and in one piece, and once assured the blonde gave a quick look around. Well, at least she hadn't been the only one who had experienced a rough ride, not that she had expected anything different. She had only just started to move towards the other pods when orders came across explaining basically that anyone who wasn't one of their own, was a target.
There was a part of Nia that found this distasteful, but it was a small part. The larger part, the darker part that she had spent so much time and effort keeping held at bay flared briefly and sought control. It took a steadying breath for the young woman to keep herself on the thin line of balance she walked, but that touch of Darkness did drive her forward. These Agents of Chaos wanted a fight? Well even usually sweet tempered, healer trained Eenia was ready to give them one.
Location: Rodia, Weapons Factory District Objective: Bang-Bang Boom-Boom? Allies: AoC and Allies Enemies: CIS and Allies Tags: Asaraa VaasheCaedyn Arenais
What was going on? Malerina had not a clue in the world. Or really what a Rodia was, the various flash memory training crammed into her vat-born skull hadn't been particularly keen on providing such things. Instead she had fumbled her way to AoC space, rambled on about the visions telling her to burn things down in a metaphorical and literal sense, they had given her a pretty gun and by far the most uncomfortable excuse for armor she had ever seen. But the shiny death cannon made up for the latter. The Sephi had helped somewhat in the initial chaos, before deciding to slam a cigarra from the ground into her mouth and engage in the magic of a ground-smoke.
Hoisting the heavy weapon back up, Malerina peaked her head quickly out from behind the corner of the alley she had slithered into for a brief moment. Seemed everything had gone to a couple levels of hell and back during her impromptu smoke break.
"Huh, this whole thing really did go right to chit."
The Sephi spoke to no one in particular before sauntering out of her hole, the LMG leveled and ready to blow away anything that seemed unfriendly and or loosely Confederate. But...nothing was really showing itself in her spot of the war. How disappointing, hollering out to the sky Malerina disregarded such silly things as "stealth" and "combat protocol". Imp garbage, that's what those dumb words actually meant.
"Hey! Hey Confederate bootlickers! It's me, awful mean thing! Come fight me!"
As she walked forward, her blaster scanning her surroundings like a watchful predator...that was not watchful enough to notice a rock on the ground. Sending the Sephi tumbling forward some while she hunted, a spray of wild blaster bolts following the trip: alongside a colorful slew of curses.
Tell me, when you last stood among the ashes of your nation, did you for a moment contemplate mercy? Neither did I.
Voph looked down at his wrist and his brow furrowed as he processed the information streaming in. Positions of the Agents as relayed to Voph both by his own senses, and the sensor data of the ships above them. But one signal stood out against all the rest. A signal from one of the CDF soldiers requesting a commanding officer to a specific place within the city. Voph frowned slightly. The Com had gone dark. The Agents wished to parlay, it seemed. "All units, form up. An Agent has requested an audience with Confederate High Command."
Darcy sent images to each of Voph's team, pinpointing the location from which the signal had been sent. He offered no further orders. They would know what best to do when they arrived. Voph deactivated his lightsaber, and began moving into the capital. As he drew closer, he recognized the individual requesting his presence. Gabriel. Voph's grip tightened around his lightsaber, but the blade remained off. He had asked to speak, and Voph intended to hear him out.
Voph soon heard the sounds of an Alderaanian Opera drifting through the night, and he knew he was drawing close. He drew a breath, and stepped into the street. Voph let his cloak fall about his figure, obscuring it within the darkness. He simply stood for a long moment, brow furrowed underneath his helmet as he watched Gabriel mimic the music.
"If it's any consolation to you, the girl may yet live," Voph called across the street. He of course spoke of the Angel of Thyferra, who was critically wounded in the firefight Gabriel had started on Siskeen. Not that the young pup cared. Voph stood alone, facing down the man that had killed so many who simply sought a peaceful secession from the Confederacy. And now, he wished to speak with a commanding officer. What was his game? "Not that you care. Children like you never do. You never weigh the value of a life against your own."
Voph looked at the scrapped droids laying around the street where Gabriel had dispatched them. Voph remained unmoving. "You wished to speak with someone. I am here. Speak quickly, for my patience is finite..."
// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // BLAZING SUN
// OBJECTIVE // BATTLE ON RODIA // DUEL MADALENA ANTARES
// FOCUS // Madalena Antares
// Nerium
@Eldroc Quasat Zaldros Sabolte
// Shuklaar KyrdolIshmael Verd // Anyone in the area
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets
// THEME // WHAT’S UP DANGER // BLACKWAY AND BLACK CAVIAR
Theo’s HUD alerted him to the oncoming danger as usual. If he’d been legitimately hired by the Confederacy, their gunships might’ve thought twice about firing at him. Instead he dove to cover, activating his shields to protect himself. The Agents took the brunt of the attack. The young warrior knew little of the Force but he knew it when he saw it. The barrier cast by Madalena was impressive. Soon, though, his focus was drawn to the woman’s words.
A grin spread across the warrior’s face. Clear the area and they could fight. Theo stood and deactivated his shields, prepared to face the Confederate soldiers in the area…
Only to realize that they were positively swarming on Rodia.
His HUD indicated thousands of active IFF signals within the city, and even in the vicinity it would be tedious to incapacitate all those soldiers. His opponent soon retreated into a nearby building with her own forces. If Theo did indeed clear the area, what would stop Madalena from sending her underlings to battle him? His duel with Beric Layne
on Ryloth had been exciting, but the young warrior understood that conditions would not always be ideal. A great Sun Guard needed to adapt and keep fighting.
Theo intended to be a great Sun Guard.
The war on Rodia continued -- he could hear the battle raging, and for a moment the bellow of a Force user before the aural dampener in his helmet prevented any damage to his eardrums. He would not allow this fight to slip away. The warrior’s eyes focused, far from the wild and ragged excitement he’d felt prior. Confederate gunships flew overhead, likely moving to attack Antares in the building. He needed to be there first. His weapon in hand, the Sun Guard dashed across the war torn street before crashing through the front door of the factory.
He was met by the sound of jetpacks and Mandalorians crashing through the ceiling. It was an impressive sight, but Thyrsians had a disdain for jetpacks for a reason. True combat should not require any particular equipment. A Sun Guard was dangerous because of his training, not because his armor made him stronger. It did, of course, make him stronger, but he did not rely on it in the same way the Mandalorians relied on their jetpacks or worshipped their beskar’gam.
Then again, he knew that he would need it to contend with Madalena Antares.
“Mandalorians!” He roared. “I have claimed a duel with Madalena Antares. Do not prove that you are the honorless and treacherous fiends that so many believe you to be by interrupting our battle.” He didn’t expect a response from these most stoic warriors, but he did expect them to respect the honor of his combat. Terrorist or not, when an honorable duel was declared any Mandalorian worth their beskar would respect it. If not? He’d wrest the metal from their still-warm corpses after snuffing out their flames.
He focused instead on Madalena. For just a moment he closed his eyes, finding the hum of the electromagnetic waves flowing through his brain. The stabilizer mask was good protection, but his focus, drive, and training made his mind an unassailable fortress. The Mandalorians could hide behind their ysalamiri and slugthrowers. He would fight hard against an opponent who he was not entirely equipped to meet. Perhaps that made him a fool, but he would keep fighting nonetheless.
His eyes opened, glancing at the Mandalorians engaged with the other Agents of Chaos. Good. Madalena waited at the center of the group, and Theo roared a challenge once more. “The Confederacy has lit a fire under you, Madalena Antares! Show me how much hotter your flame burns!” He gripped his pike tightly and charged towards the woman, aiming it for her center.
He recognized the weapon she wielded as a double-bladed lightsaber and knew he had the advantage of longer reach. With a weapon as deadly as a force pike set to its highest setting he knew that even momentary contact would cause intense pain and likely pierce the armor of his opponent. Accordingly, his strategy was simple -- Theo darted in, focusing on barrages of thrusts to keep his opponent’s focus on deflecting or blocking them rather than using the Force.
Location:Iskaayuma, Rodia Allied: Confederacy of Independent Systems Hostile:Agents of Chaos
The Nightmother's breath grew heavier while the green glow of her eyes grew brighter. Months had been poured into the creation of numerous instruments of the spirits' will; enchanted items able to focus that will into a desired effect. Much as one would channel and harness energy into ever higher voltages between two points rather than the same energy distributed over a wide area.
Vytal knew the art of conjuring the Dead. She had once attempted to use that knowledge long ago to stop such things, only to later discover they had been fueled by nanotechnology. It had been quite disturbing to learn such a thing was possible. Was nothing sacred, she wondered back then? Of course, the Nightsister had been relatively new to technology back then. Blasters and starships she knew well, but the more... curious uses of technology had yet to come up until she joined with the Confederacy.
She had also continued to explore this Art that the Nightsisters knew well for her own edification, though he not had a reason to use it out in the world. This power was not well received by most in the galaxy. Something about respecting the Dead -- said by people that did not understand the power. Could she command the unwilling Dead? Possibly. With greater effort or less effect. Such was why a Witch took the time to reach out to the spirits, as whole or fragmented as they might be over time, to find those that would come.
On Rodia, the Nightmother had some concerns about raising the Dead because of the condition of the bodies. Some power was needed in sustaining the skeletal remains, which reduced the number a bit; the Circlet would help supply additional compensating power though. More worrisome, however, was how much damage such summons could be in the world. Even a normal flesh and bone 'zombie' was only as good as a Living body in terms of abuse. Such concerns, however, were soon alleviated when Shamira Karuto
-- creative Witch that she was -- supplied additional components to the spell released on the world.
A curl at the corner of Vytal's lips followed Shamira's explanation.
At long last the pale Witch stepped back with a heavy exhale. "It is done."
Slowly, out of the darkness, a figure climbed toward the surface through the tunnel bored into the ground. Its bony digits clicked and clacked as it hauled itself out of the deep. Plant fibers woven throughout the skeletal remains flexed as joints moved at slower than Living speed, but move they did. Behind the first came a second, and a third... Ever more figures crawled forth and stepped out into the city. They slowly moved forward in the direction of the Factory District to make room for the rest.
Vytal looked over to the side at Shalita Verd
before she gave a wordless nod in appreciation for her own contribution. Circle Magic (joined magick) was always welcome and an Art that Vytal herself stressed among the Solanaceae. Each of them could conjure power like a Jedi or Sith, but they were even more powerful when joined in spirit -- something a few Jedi and Sith over the centuries discovered, but often forgot.
Then she looked to Solana Arasne. "We have our own army now. It is time." Whether they were as effective as an army of soldiers with blasters hardly mattered. Psychological warfare was as important as sheer power or numbers; and another force advancing on the Agents from the opposite direction should be quite disturbing on its own.
Just one thing to do as Vytal set off toward the Factory District -- notify the War Marshal using an encrypted channel. "Command, this is the Nightmother. We are coming from the direction of the Residential District." They would know them when the Dauntless and Defense Forces saw them.
Allied Command: Confederacy of Independent Systems Hostile Command: Agents of Chaos
Word came down from on-high that Alpha Squad was to locate and neutralize a young woman. Within ten minutes. Tiria seriously hoped the timeframe was a reflection of this target's capabilities or threat against mission objectives, and not Command dropping unreasonable deadlines for the sake of 'time management.' Don't even get a Dauntless Commando started on excessive conditions either. At least they hadn't been forced to take a walk on Mustafar recently.
Tiria looked over at Safira Varad when the woman claimed to be in love. Oh if only such were true, then Tiria might convince the other officer to Join the Hivemind. What more intimate could a person be than to become one with them? Of course Tiria wasn't inexperienced being among those resembling herself. That was why his body had been sent back into the galaxy long ago in order to truly understand how to act like them. "Time to see which of us bags their target first," she replied. A playful rivalry was more palatable than a deadline; not that it changed the fact the Grand Marshal expected results and soon.
Tiria's personal squad, Alpha, double-timed it out into the District taking care to check corners and stay out of the main thoroughfare. It was always exciting when you had to be both fast and stealthy. Slow roll up on corners, check, quick relocation, repeat ad nauseam until you arrived at your destination.
In this case, they came upon the downed squad and called it in before picking up the trail of the one responsible. Tiria coordinated with other units in the area as well in case any of them got eyes on the target. They were almost certainly going to be sticking to the shadows, however, and staying out of sight. A far, far smaller force wouldn't survive more than a handful of minutes trying to take an full blown military deployment head-on.
An incomplete transmission from a nearby squad caught Reinhart's attention, however, and she held up a fist to bring everyone up short. From the Colonel knew of troop placements and routes, it appeared their target (Daiya
) was nearby.
As they began to move again, what sounded like a thunder crack pierced the air from a nearby rooftop. Tiria's eyes snapped upward. That sounded like a high-speed projectile of some kind.
A knife hand signaled for the unit to advance on the ground level of the building, with two setup to hang back and monitor the rooftop for activity as the rest approached. The Colonel paused to check through the doorway into the building for hostiles and obvious traps. They'd have to take this cautiously. Urban warfare was hell because of all the different places and vectors the enemy could spring. Every corner and closed door could have the enemy lurking behind it.
Tiria in particular had her Tri-Blaster in its carbine configuration as they ascended toward the roof careful not to make noise and given away their position. Hopefully the target was here, because they were running out of the Grand Marshal's precious time... and Safira was likely closing in on her own objective.
Rann’s lightsaber continued to hum as he moved towards the proposed rendezvous. Which each step, a nagging grew inside his mind. Why are we going this way? The fighting is the other way! We’re going to meet up with everyone else just to turn around anyway and head into the City, right? Just leave them. They’ll catch up.
Rann’s steps slowed down and he was staring ahead. It made sense. Why not just go straight to the fight?
So we can work together. We can unite and overwhelm the enemy. It isn’t the fun option, it’s the smart one.
Rann nodded and continued towards the rendezvous. All the way, he kept debating with himself about the rendezvous versus charging himself into the enemy. The entire way he wondered where the AoC were. He imagined a very strong presence would have been here on the planet, but it seemed like there were scarce enemy combatants here. Or anybody at all. It was a good thing the civilian population was evacuated.
Rann knew that any soul not wearing Confederate uniforms were enemies. They had to be. The planet was evacuated by the CIS when news of an invasion were spread throughout the channels. Anyone left here were opportunists or outright enemies.
Rann didn’t mind. It seemed par for the course so far. On Ryloth, Twi’leks were the enemy he fought. Why wouldn’t the AoC have press ganged local Rodians into their suicide mission? It seemed to be their prime tactic. Gather the downtrodden, unfortunate, and malicious members of society and turn them loose upon the government under the false pretense of ‘freedom.’
It was a good thing. Rann wouldn’t have to worry about getting civilians out of the line of fire and keeping them safe like he did on Ryloth. Here, everyone not explicitly his friend was his enemy. Had to be. AoC and Rodian insurgents alike, it didn’t matter. A part of him lamented this new dark path his thoughts had been taking as of late, but an ever growing portion of his mind had begun relishing the changes, especially when it came to combat.
No remorse, no regret, no hesitation. These were the new pillars of his combat style. Given him thanks to AoC sponsored terrorism. Were they using Rodian soldiers? Highly likely, but it didn’t matter. Rann knew for certain who his enemies were: Everyone else.
He pondered the implications of the new Rules of Engagement as he arrived at Kyyrk
's position. Before he had a chance to greet Voph, new positional data and a new order appeared.
"All units, form up. An Agent has requested an audience with Confederate High Command."
Rann’s face shifted, though thanks to his helmet it was unnoticeable. He gave a nod to Voph and deactivated his lightsaber, gripping it tight in his hand. He turned and ran off towards the position marker he had been given. Using every ounce of his training he received on Vjun, Rann proceeded as quietly and as quickly as he could. The sounds of music filled the air, but Rann paid no attention. It only served to hide his approach better. He summoned upon the Force to shroud his presence, furthering masking him as he drew nearer.
Once he reached the positional coordinates, he rounded the back of the Command Post and leapt up on top of the main structure, preparing for an attack on the man below. Rann knew he had to wait for Voph’s order, but it strained him to do so. Rann has seen this man’s dossier before and recognized him as a Belligerent from Siskeen. Rann was unfamiliar with the extent of the man's crimes or personality, but he striked Rann as unhinged. He had the look. Dancing around a droid graveyard and apparently some Rodians?
“Huh” Rann remarked, taken aback. “Rodians? There aren’t any Rodians here. Why uh… why are there dead Rodians?” he said quietly to himself.
Then he shrugged and kneeled down. It didn’t matter. If they were still here, they were his enemies. Far as Rann was concerned, Gabriel did him a favor. As he sat there, waiting for the farce of a discussion to come to an end, he wondered. If this fella, Gabriel, was as good as he seemed to believe he was, he had to know doing this was a bit of a silly move. He had to expect to be surrounded.
Once this would have filled Rann with a bit of dread and worry. If he’s as good as he thinks he is, then he knows Rann is there or planned on him being there. And If he knows, or planned on Rann being there, then he feels he’s good enough to take Rann, Voph, and whoever else might have shown up.
Once, this would have been scary.
Now, Rann was excited. If Gabriel was as good as he thought he was, then Rann couldn’t wait to kill him, and prove he was better.
Location:Talay, Abandoned Facility Objective:Shut down signal Allies:CIS Hostiles:Open
Nodding in response to the answer of her question, all other thoughts in her mind were pushed aside as the task at hand remained. Whatever contingency had triggered within the target facility she didn't know. Really, there was only one way to find out, but first she just had to get inside. Making a final check of her gear, she stood up shortly after the others. The CDF were rather impressive when unified, though this team had seemed to be less seasoned than others. To what degree, she couldn't say. Reaching up to take hold of a handle, she awaited their arrival in silence.
Feeling the shuttle shudder around her, she made her exit after the first of the squad had disembarked. Having an escort made her feel a bit important... and more of a target. With a battle raging high above in orbit, the belief that this would go smoothly was rather slim for her liking. Watching the pair work who had been sent to the door, she had to stifle a chuckle, gloved finger brushing her lips. "Might I ask why Granny was what that one has come to be called?" Choosing to address Tien, preferring to allow the two of them to focus on their work. If she was going to work with them here, she migh at well learning something in the process, and it intriguied her a bit, despite the slight amusement.
Rather than standing idle, she drew her blaster, quickly inspecting it to ensure it was ready in the event of a welcoming party. Though as the doors opened at last, the corridor beyond was vacant of life, a similar appearance as the landing pad as papers were strewn about. The people who left were surely in a hurry. While the thought crossed her mind of stepping past the commandos into the facility, the decision to play along with their protectice plan was chosen. At the same time, her eyes began to glow as her contacts were activated, data crossing her vision as she followed their lead. From her pockets, she pulled a pair of small droids which appeared spider-like in design. "Locate the nearest ports and gain access to the system." With a pair of chirps, the droids would quickly crawl along the walls in seaarch their objective.
From here on out, it would be business. But, first thing was first.. she needed access and to keep the Commandos on task.
"Tell me, Master Sergeant.. What do you know about this place?"
Location: the surface of Rodia
Objective: Vengeance
Allies: CIS, Daegon Corvinus
Enemies: AoC, open
Daegon was a curious fellow. Darkly disturbed with the weight of grief about him. However he did not wallow in the muck of despondency but chose vengeance and rage. This Muad could easily understand, for the same fervor burned in his bones. Acrid smoke rose from the wrecks of ships as the two men advanced upon the camp hastily erected this side of the forest. Foolishness is what this was. Poor judgement for a camp of any sort with hardly any defensive positions. The dried grass crunched under boot as they moved through the smoke as wraiths hunting for the soul they were both due. A very particular soul in fact.
He nodded to the objective. Kill them all. As the viceroy spoke Muad grunted his agreement before splitting off to the other man’s right. At the ship the Knights of Aegis were unloading with their equipment. A mechanical roar echoed from behind causing the mad man to grin. Talon would be joining him shortly. His eyes were drawn to the skies as other support craft neared their location proudly bearing the crest of House Dib.
Knowing the ships’ crews knew their duties, Muad moved through the blanket of burning mist. Whimpers were heard from the interior of one of the tents still standing. However flames were currently lapping at the north side of the exterior. It wouldn’t belong before the shelter would be fully aflame. Shoulders rolled as with his advance to the entrance he limbered up a final time. Slowly he entered the partially open flap. Dozens of bodies lay in repose, the violence of their deaths easily evident.
One of the tables in the center had a large stew pot, the heat of the food sending a negligible amount of steam into the night air. Walking to the table he lightly hopped onto the top and tossed the lid behind him to bounce on several bodies, one of which twitched and ground but did not rise. Leaning forward he inhaled the aroma and sighed. A pleasant smell caused his stomach to rumble. It had been over a day since he last ate and this wouldn’t take much time to grab a few bites.
From his kama he retrieved a spork and reached in to collect a generous portion. But right before it met his lips, two of the bodies laying upon the ground leapt to their feet and lunged at him. Spinning as they flew through the air he drove his spork forward at the diving rodian, the utensil driving in as the vibro function engaged and let the spork slide even deeper, the little teeth driving out the back of the green skull.
The man however collided with Muad and they rolled across the table even as Muad tucked his knees to his chest and drove them out straight into the chest of the Agent of Chaos who flopped across the table top. The pot of stew flew from the table and was upended upon the floor sending its tasty goodness to soak into the earth. The AoC soldier tried to rise but let out a cry of pain. Pulling the beskad from its sheath along his back, Muad leapt to stand on the table and placed his boots on his enemy’s pelvis pressing down. With a snarl the mad man drove his blame through the man and the table, effectively pinning the soldier who went from crying to whimpering.
“Oh stop you big baby. We haven’t got to the fun part just yet. But we will.”
Lightly he hopped from the table and strolled to the dead rodian to yank out his spork. Moving to the cauldron he flipped it over to see if any was salvageable. It wasn’t. With a sigh of exasperation he collected two knives from the ground to walk back to the babbling man.
“Please don’t kill me sir! I haven’t done anything! I was just helping the rodians stay safe … it hurts so bad! But see, I’m the good guy! I never done nothing to you. Please don’t kill me, please please …”
Muad sighed as he moved to stand at the end of the table where the AoC soldier was pleading. With a resigned shrug he made to turn but stopped. Looking at the man once more he saw the burns from the recent fires. Brow furrowed as he leaned down sniffing. Suddenly he jerked straight and drove the knives into either shoulder, pinning him down even more as the man screamed loudly. Hooking the bench with his armored boot he pulled it to him and sat right in front of the soldiers head.
“This is the game we are going to play. I ask a question and you answer it. If you lie, I’ll know. And if you are truthful all the way through, you have my word I won't harm or kill you anymore. Deal? Good, lets begin. Where is Alwine? Where are they headed? And what cologne is that you're wearing? It smells fantastic.”
The soldier blubbered as Muad waited.
“I don’t know who that is. And, uh, I don’t know where we were headed. It hurts mister! Uh, Zeltron #5. Now please free me like you promised!”
Muad leaned back and shook his head at the young man.
“Tsk tsk tsk. You lied to me twice pretty boy. Now I have to keep my words.”
The soldier blubbered with tears as Muad reached across the table and pulled a cloth to him. One side was stained in blood but the otherside was still pristine and white. Humming to himself as the soldier began asking what he was doing combined with a plea for mercy. Yet Muad pretended he heard nothing. Taking the spork he detached the blade from it and set them on either side of the soldier who tried to thrash but couldn’t move from his place as blood dribbled from the blades sticking from the bottom. Reaching over the man’s face he retrieved the salt and pepper shakers and began to shake them onto the man who had gone sheet white from realization of what Muad was about to do. The mad man reached into another pouch on his kama and removed a small flask. He took a small sip and then splashed some of the Whyren’s Reserve onto the soldiers burned face causing the man to squeal out.
“No don’t! Alwine was here earlier but then headed to the city through the forest! There’s a bunker in town that some of the big wigs were using! Please, I told you the truth!”
Collecting the spork and knife in his hands he leaned down to where he was staring directly into the AoC soldier’s dilated eyes.
“You didn’t play by the rules. You lied. And since you are disqualified and you ruined my midnight snack I have to find some other morsel to fill my stomach. And I hear eyes and tongue are a delicacy. And, let’s face it, you are already flame broiled.”
The screams echoed from the tent as Muad had a late snack.
Meanwhile two Aegis diamond formations dropped from the heavens. Two Diamond Class Cruiser MK IIs landed and began disgorging their droid soldiers as the ships raised their shield to become forward operating bases. Three thousand spider droids poured from one as over three thousand B1s, two hundred droidikas, and three hundred and sixty super battle droids. The four Nest Class Carrier Cruisers birthed seven squadrons each above the skies while the four flying tanks, Blastoise Armored Escort Cruisers, circled the clearing acting as a floating patrol.
Muad walked from the tent that was now completely engulfed in flame. Pulling the cloth from his collar he lightly dabbed his mouth before cleaning off his spork and stowing it away. Moving at a nice trot he reached the edge of the forest as a massive object slammed down beside him. The Basilisk moved over to stand behind it’s master as behind Talon the Knights of Aegis landed upon their own steeds. Nine armored Knights ready for orders.
“Fly ahead and find our quarry. Harass their groups but do not put yourself at too great a risk. Slow them and fear not for the Demon and the Mad Man will join you shortly.”
The Knights shouted and as one leapt to the skies upon their Basilisk droids. Smirking, he turned to look at Daegon.
For probably the thousandth time Domino thanked her lucky stars that some gear-head had figured out how to cram a radar into her museum piece of armor as it picked up the dropship. Nevermind that she could hear it, now she knew exactly where it was. She unleashed the force she'd been holding in a quick pulse at the wall across the side street they'd been moving down. "In," she barked at Sasmay, "Mind the walkers, fire and maneuver. I'll catch up in a bit" With that she pivoted towards the danger and opened the ion-lift jetback's throttle to maximum. Suddenly she wasn't just wearing a rocket, she was one.
The street around them was a blur to her as she careened towards the junction of the two streets, missing the intersection as the strike team's point-man rounded the corner to bring up his gun, coming to a screeching kneeling halt some thirty meters further on. Her thermal detonator however didn't miss, the normally silver orb now painted a drab brown ricocheted off the far wall behind the formation and bounced back into the midst of it. Domino's eyes narrowed, she could feel the presence of a Ysalamiri or rather the absence surrounding one. No matter, if the grenade didn't get it then the bearer would soon learn that they were no defense. The grenade detonated, rocking the block as the blast reverberated in the confined streets as Domino onca again triggered her jetpack. A short bust was all she needed this time to send her soaring to her next target, the Vuhyr'galaar Gunship Beroya 1-1.
Magnetic boots locked to the ship's surface with a twin 'thunk-thunk' as dispassionate brown eyes surveyed the slabs of metal making the upper hull of the vessel. It had an almost brutal elegance to it, very Mandalorian.
Edit-Removed most of last paragraph and clarified the location I see myself in at the post's start.
Kiff Brayde
