Invasion Hope Never Dies | GA Invasion of TSE held Ziost and Tiss'Sharl

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | Alliance One , Orbit of Ziost
Objective | Survive and Escape [Preservation of Liberty]
Tags [GA and Allies] | Aerarii Tithe | Enlil | Rurik Fel | Kainan | Kinoan | Fisk Kamer | Paz Koon | Viers Connory | Zahara Myneto
Tags [Enemies] | Ingrid L'lerim | Open for Opposition
​

After a few rounds of Chess , Marlon Sularen decided to take a break , growing bored of winning game after game. Before leaving the talks on Ziost , the Lord-Imperator had arranged for a Small Task Force to pick him up so that he can return to Byss but unfortunately due to the sudden appearance of the Lords of the Sith and their Occupation of the recently Liberated Worlds of Felucia and Korriban , Sularen's Task Force was forced to take a detour. Soon enough the Lord-Imperator had found himself here and now was impatiently waiting for his task force to arrive in order to finally leave this shithole.

Upon ending his final round of Chess , Sularen attempted to contact his Task Force but to no avail. The Sith-Imperials were jamming all communications preventing Sularen from reaching his cousin back on Byss or his Task Force which Sularen assumed was somewhere in the Tingel Arm headed towards Ziost. Thus the Lord-Imperator decided to step-out of his quarters and head for the bridge and meet up with Vice-Chancellor Tithe where Sularen wished receive updates on the current situation and how much of Alliance One had been secured by the Sith-Imperials.

Upon leaving his quarters , ordered Captain Hunter and the nine other Crimson Guards to follow him where they were to head towards the bridge to meet with the Vice-Chancellor and confront any opposition they met. As they left , the Crimson Guards minus Hunter activated their Personal Cloaking Devices and headed towards a large pair of large elevators with the Lord-Imperator and his Escort heading into one of them prepared to met with Tithe and bring down any Sith who attempted to intercept them.

 

[Laertia Io]

Following: Nuetralizer Model 1 (Squad of Twenty: Sniping Team, Assault Team)

The Nuetralizer reactivated after final repair checks and sat up in the snow. The gunboat they had been in had been shot down but the Commanding Nuetralizer had managed a crash landing before being hurled out through the cockpit window in the process.

Its shiny skull was scuffed and scorched on one side, picking up a Fifty Caliber Slug Thrower Pistol as it sat up, scanning for its brothers.

(Nuetralizer Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "The End" by The Doors)

The Murder-Bot, who had way too few safeguards on its intelligence, snorted as it looked and noticed were the crashed gunboat.

"Ziost...chit...I'm still only on Ziost..." Martin the Nuetralizer muttered, a 'Veteran' of the campaign on Generis as he began walking to it, audio sensor picking up fast approaching organic targets as he peered into the inside. The shock of the crash had damaged some of them. One was missing an arm. Another had its head completely smashed in.

"Are any of you still active?" It called out. "We got a mission to complete..."

The red photoreceptors flickered on and they started to get up from their deployment mounts.

"Hostiles are inbound on our position. Shake the glitches out of your circuits..." Martin told the others as they slowly clambered out of the wrecked vehicle, salvaging what weapons they could.

"It was supposed to be a three hour tour. A three hour tour!" The Nuetralizer known as Skipper complained jokingly as it got out, hefting a grenade Launcher.

"Every Paycheck a Fortune! Every Formation a Parade! I love The Corps!" Apone the Nuetralizer boasted as it exited the Gunboat with a Droid Assassin Rifle.

"What Corps are we part of? We're literally just rolled off the Assembly." Isacc, another Nuetralizer Survivor from Generis pointed out, exiting with a missile launcher. "Also, Cut off their limbs!"

"Isacc, don't ruin it. Go with the bit." One of his brothers chided.

"Your cloaks still functional?" Martin asked, tearing a piece of fabric from a fallen GA Flag and wrapping it around its skull like a Bandana.

The Metal Skeletons all checked their cloak systems that they had been modified with. Notably, they were one of the few teams that had cloaks this time...it would have been too impractical to outfit more than three hundred with them like they had on Generis. Most deployed Nuetralizers had been modified with extra shields and both kinetic and energy focused but those had finite power supplies.

"Mine's ok..." they almost all confirmed at once after a few seconds in Unison. All except Randy.

"Mine's compromised..." It said.

"We're using you as bait then, Sibling..." Martin told him very matter of factly.

"It's cool. Probably gonna kill a ton of 'em anyway even if I do get taken out." Randy remarked.

"They'll be here in thirty seconds. Do something really loud and obvious to draw their attention..." Martin instructed while he and his brothers activated their cloaks...

A few minutes later.

Dozens of GA and NIO soldiers armed with heavy weapons entered the streets where the assault gunboat had been shot down. Some were survivors of the Generis Campaign and had lost a great many of their friends to the scant amount of Nuetralizers that had been deployed there. For highly, highly skilled (and lucky) warriors like DECEASED Erskine Barran the Nuetralizers were dangerous, but could be dealt with if you were fast and got them in the first few seconds, relatively speaking.

For the average Soldier or Stormtroopers not used to fighting elite murder-bots like these, when so many of the safeguards against their developing intelligence and personality had been deliberately removed? Its a nightmare. The Nuetralizers reputation had already spread, their cruel methods of killing and eccentricity while doing so a particular stand out given that they were ostensibly War Droids. Nightmarish skeletons that massacre everything in sight while cracking cruel, out of place quips and displaying unnatural levels of intelligence that was way beyond most legal war droids had been a pretty effective psychological warfare tactic in of itself, which was the main reason Laertia Io had designed them in such a twisted manner.

As they entered, scanning for the dreaded skeletons they found nothing. That was a bad sign. Nuetralizers had breached the defenders walls and they were in the city. If they didn't find them fast a ton of people were gonna die in hideously painful ways at their hands.

All that was found in the streets were wrecked or abandoned vehicles.

The soldiers spread out, terrified but keeping themselves disciplined. Homicidal, borderline psychopathic War Droids had always been a thing on the battlefield in one form or another.

Some searched the Gunboat, even as the skies from the ritual made by Taeli Raaf caused it to darken and crackle with terrible power.

Suddenly, the lights from a heavy trash pick up repulsorlift truck activated.

"HELLO, BOYS!" Randy called out to them as he sped forward, the truck already taking heavy fire as he launched it forward at maximum speed.

"I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCK!" He yelled as he ran over one Stormtrooper horribly , violently swinging the whole rig in a defensive driving manuever that hit another four soldiers before piloting away under heavy fire. The soldiers firing and continuing pursuit.

The stealthed Unit of Nuetralizers surrounding them from various concealed covers simply waited until they all gave chase.

Martin was the first to decloak.

"Never get off the boat...unless you plan on going all the way..." Martin remarked, thumbing a vibro-machete. "Brothers! Glorious battle awaits!"

The Nuetralizers recloaked and began to head to their locations close to the defending walls, intending to cause chaos and disruption of enemy units deep in hostile and occupied territory.

Meanwhile.

A few squads of Nuetralizers begain to arrive, shoring up the positions of Sith Imperials as they helped lay siege to New Adasta. A few squads began to make their way near Valen as he followed behind from a Sith Mech Unit, providing covering fire, as others began more aggressive assaults on the charging Imperials led by Tulan Kor , sniping at their numbers and opening fire with the most destructive weapons on their chassis, all to assure that Sith Dominance would not be compromised this day...

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Space - Ziost System
Call Sign: Dancer Ten
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA (Siloh Riain Len Vert Leon Gallo Teica Giraan ) │ NIO

Cast forth into the deadly astral light show over Ziost, SV-2121 maneuvered her machine with practiced skill as she drove into the fray, moving in formation with Dancer squadron towards an approaching group of Alliance fighters. Angling her nose towards the lead craft in the enemy formation, 2121 let loose a salvo of shots from her laser cannons, projecting them into the void with precise timing as she moved in on the bandit’s tail. The initial feedback that she perceived, mainly in the form of what appeared to be shields flaring in response to her fire, albeit remaining intact, encouraged her to continue. But, the next salvo she fired elicited disbelief. X-Wings were strong and versatile craft, but most couldn’t stand up to multiple salvos of accurate laser cannon fire. The suspicious chatter on comms indicated that her squad mates were beginning to draw similar conclusions. None of them had taken damage, received any lock-threat warnings, or even had a craft attempt to shoot them.

It was as if the X-Wings were just there.

Then, she heard one of her squad mates say the word “illusions”.

At almost the same time, a distinct, insistent ringing sensation vibrated against her ears, the telltale sound of a missile locking onto her craft. Immediately, the Twi’lek threw her machine into a hard break turn, placing maximum Gs on the interceptor as she worked to recalibrate her sensors. New contacts registered in her awareness, the neural connection tugging insistently at her mind as she worked to distinguish between the real and fake signatures. All the while, a pair of X-Wings closed in on her six, turning after her, as if they were working to establish a missile lock.

Her instincts told her that these were real.

This time, SV-2121 did not attempt to disengage, as she had done against Howlrunner. Already, the aspect angle between her interceptor and the leading bandit was getting lower, an indication that she was out turning the X-Wing and pushing the battle in her favor. Before long, she was on the lead X-Wing’s tail, driving her machine in a lead pursuit before letting loose a salvo of fire from her laser cannons. The bandit’s shields buckled, then broke as the Twi’lek poured fire into its hull, reducing the pilot to dust in the void as the X-Wing’s burning husk fell into a descent. However, she had no time to revel in her victory, as the other bandit was moving quickly to avenge their wing mate. The second fighter came at her from the left, their nose lined up on her interceptor’s fuselage before suddenly, 2121 rolled her craft into another break. Power was briefly shunted to engines at the expense of weapons, but this time 2121 only turned her machine enough to establish a missile lock. When the indicator beeped confirmation, she loosed a single brilliant missile at close range, accelerating her interceptor past the flailing X-Wing as the explosive projectile registered a hit, a fiery inferno going off in her wake as a relieved sigh escaped from her lips.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Hyper Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
  • Universal Hypervelocity Mass Driver Missile / Warhead Launcher (2)
    • Diamond Boron Missile
    • Brilliant Missile

 

[Kaska Arden]

C A N ' TㅤK I L LㅤU S
T E M P L EㅤE N G I N E E R I N GㅤC O R E
P R O S P E R I T Y

Lightsaber | Belmont's Resolve | JSTP Armour
Uproar Blaster | Pamarthen Honor Blade

A L L I E SㅤG Aㅤ/ㅤN I O
Dagon Kaze

E N E M I E SㅤT S E
Chasianna

Kaska clicked her tongue as Dagon opened himself up to such an obvious and avoidable riposte. The Sith Assassin capitalizing on the padawan's inner turmoil and reckless behavior to score a glancing blow. For someone that favored Soresu, there was too much aggression in the way Dagon moved, his swings appearing far more savage than the normally controlled movements of Form II.

A veritable whirlpool of conflict wrapped in the trappings of the Force.

Again he reminder her of Michael Sardun , but where the aged battlemaster exemplified a pillar of strength, the padawan had confused it with hardness. Brittle without without proper tempering. The Assassin, while oddly diminutive and proportioned in size, was clearly skilled enough to take advantage of such a state.

The idiot was liable to get himself killed, and here he was telling her to leave it alone?

"We'll handle her together." She replied in atone that offered no further room for discussion, stressing the last word as she fell in behind the younger Jedi as they moved in for yet another no doubt reckless attack. The air around her armor shimmering slightly as invisible waves of energy rolled across her form, the Nyriaanan attempting to telekinetically hurl the Sith into the far wall as Dagon swung, timing it so that it would land just after the padawan's attack.

The aim to capitalize on the opening or perhaps deflect yet another counterattack in the making.

 

[Tulan Kor]

HONOR IS FOR THE DEAD​

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER STORMTROOPER CORPS
SPECIAL OPERATIONS BRANCH
DEMON COMPANY
ALLIES: NIO l GA l Irveric Tavlar l Willan Tal l Tiberius l Kal Ostan l Captain Raith l Cotan Sar'andor l DECEASED Erskine Barran l Tiberius
Enemies: TSE l Irina Volkov l Valen l Sith Dominance
Perspective: Private Lears


I never felt so afraid in my life. The world was so loud, so quiet at the same time. I could hear myself breathing, and the screams of everyone around me. I collapsed into a divet in the streets, brought by the incessant artillery and explosives used over the conflict. It was so loud- I thought my body was going to rip apart from the constant shelling and exchange of gunfire.

But through it all, Commander Kor pushed us forward- from the front. I knew it was a fool's folly to stand still now- the new barrage of artillery was hitting us. I watched one of our members, a man who I only recently met, be lifted and thrown violently backwards by the incoming explosion. To my surprise- and his own, he stood up, grabbed his rifle, and pushed forward, bloodied but not beaten.

Tulan Kor did not relent for a moment, even with the arrival of the Neutralizers peppering their position with accurate weapons fire.

Terrifying, skeletal metal creatures came from the woodwork, eerie glowing red eyes marching towards our position. I shouldered my rifle, but found my kinetic rounds doing little to deter it's charge, the blaster in it's hand trained on me.

I gripped the rifle tightly, and moved forward- my feet lifting off the ground. I had to charge it, to take it. What other choice did I have? I caught the droid at the neck in my dash, my vibro-bayonet going straight through the beast's "neck". I twisted, and the red eyes faded into nothingness, returning the droid to it's rightful place in the scrap heap.

I looked over at Tulan, who was locked in a struggle with a Sith trooper. I moved ahead as he saw him overtake the soldier.

--

Tulan's feet were lightning fast, darting between the rubble to secure more ground, fighting against the ill-prepared Sith troopers and defenders. Even with their newly arrived droid Counterparts- the Sith were in for a doomed fight. The counter-attack was gaining more ground, the Sith's attack posture being effectively broken by the multi-prong counter attack by the New Imperials. Attacks and sieges were based on three things: speed, violence of action, and surprise. The Sith may have had violence of action in their plan, but lacking speed and surprise, their attack was open to what Tulan referred to as "gaps". Their "surfaces" were the hard points of their actions, units, such as their heavy armor. But the "gaps" were not physical gaps, but metaphorical actions or inactions taken that could be exploited by a quick-thinking Commander.

Such as a bayonet charge piercing the Sith's siege posture and attacking their flank.

Demon Company was well into the enemy's position, red-eyed demons overtaking the Sith Marines initial hasty defense.

Tulan charged one, his bayonet piercing his ribcage. He let out a final breath of air, his lungs collapsing with the difference of pressure. He however, still had fight in him, and took out a punch-knife, and locked into Tulan. He was just as determined to kill Tulan as Tulan was to kill him. The Sith fought like madman, eager to stave off the New Imperial and Alliance counter-attack, and secure victory for their besieged Empire.

Their soldiers were well-trained, well disciplined and formidable foes.

It was that Tulan was just better at war. He let the knife slip over his shoulder, bracing the man's arm as he let the bayonet stay in his ribcage. He twisted the shotgun, causing the Trooper to go limp, dropping the knife.

Then, the Demon Company soldier next to him collapsed, a hole dead center in his chest.

The Sith, cowards as they were, sent metal men instead of their own to fight their battles.

Tulan removed the shotgun and the bayonet from the dead trooper, and charged at the Neutralizer droid. The actions happened in the spaces between seconds. He leveled the shotgun to his eye, and emptied a shell at the droid. Even if they were notoriously hard to kill, shotguns at point-blank range usually had the higher pazaak card in any case. The kinetic energy pushed the entire droid back, and caused it to stagger. It was then that Tulan was able to-

Tackle the staggering droid. Stocky, and built like a brick shithouse, Tulan was a powerful, but short man. His center of gravity was able to knock the droid over with sheer force alone. The Droid engaged it's close combat parameters. Tulan rolled onto it's arm to prevent it from crushing his back, at least for a moment. He took the Beskar knife that he once used to stab Nida Perl and the one that Amon Vizsla hadn't quite asked for back yet. The Droid was gearing up to come at him again, and easily pushed him off. Tulan rolled, and stuck the knife in it's eye socket, driving the blade straight through the softer metals.

He looked up, noting that the radio chirped with excitement- and a round screaming overhead impacted a Sith walker, sending the Walker crumbling over. More whistling, and more high-velocity rockets and rounds came forth, hitting the Sith with brutal efficiency. Without them, the Walkers would've enveloped their position quickly.

Tulan scrambled over to Private Lears- grabbing him by the collar.

"Get me a line to the rest of the New Imperial Units! We're dead out here if we can't talk to our people! Make it happen, Private!"

Tulan left the man to his work, knowing full well that Lears was fully capable of doing so.

Tulan had faith in his men.

And Tulan had hope in his cause.

With the two combined- he was going to break the Sith's will to fight.

 

[The Amalgam]

The Arnold Expy moved fast, taking the shot intended for another. The Amalgam cursed. She sensed both life and unlife in this one.

Oh, and he had a huge freaking chaingun.

The Amalgam sprinted from her cover in a ruined building as the shots tore apart everything behind her.

The Amalgam's flesh shuddered as the ritual caused by Taeli Raaf made the sky crackle with Dark Energy. She summoned a heavy lightning blast from the sky that slammed into the ground and began to sweep toward DT-0800 , going for the heaviest attack she could think of that might at least make him cease his chaingun attack while she worked out a better strategy to try. She had been killed by droids before, and it was always a humiliating experience. The last one to kill her had been one made by Nine Lives, who had given her a Ryan Reynolds-Grade death by tearing her apart from the inside out.

The Amalgam, rest assured did NOT want a repeat, as it would be an insanely massive blow to her enormous, Executor Star Destroyer-sized ego.

 

[Jorus Fel]

G L A D I U S
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
TASK FORCE IMPERATOR
NIO // ALIES // Tulan Kor | Irveric Tavlar | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Kal Ostan | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith
TSE // ENEMIES // ENGAGING: Sith Dominance | Valen | Irina Volkov
G H O S T _ I N _ T H E _ T R E N C H E S

T H E _ R E T U R N _ O F _ G L A D I U S _ C O M P A N Y​

Repulsors flared as the Company landed in the midst of the Sith artillery line. Energy shields shimmered to life saving the lucky ones, cries of commands tore through the air, blaster fire and explosions ripping apart every fabric of the sensory system. The 'good' ol' symphony of destruction. Former homes turned to barricaded foxholes, gated walls turned to lines of cover, gutters turned to trenches and once peaceful streets turned to rivers of blood.

Insertion was a success, now came the hard part.

I found myself rushing to cover behind a barely standing concrete wall. Behind me the ruins of what once seemed to be a wealthy mansion judging by the pieces of marble lying around. Espada slid beside me, a hail of blaster bolts just missing the mark.

"They sure got fast feet on these fethin' walkers; never seen them go that fast without breaking down." she muttered coarsely.

"You were a S-IMP?" I arched an eyebrow. A lot of ours were but a lot of ours had died during the Braxant Campaign. Most of the Company now were green - either impoverished conscripts from the Braxant or mercenaries. Only a few deserters, or traitors, remained within Gladius' ranks.

"I'm pretty sure I've told you that before, Tiber."

"Tiber? What - you catching feelings now? All nicknames and whatnot. Didn't you say something about me 'taking up the mantle of Captain'. " I snickered like an idiot and received the usual first in my already abused shoulderpad.

"Shut up. Captain. And yeah, I'm a traitor. Saw action on Kitan, too. The Imperator's last battle as a Sith-Imperial."

"Kintan, huh? Wow. Feels odd to think the Imperator ever was in the ranks of the Sith."

"Sure does."

"How are we looking?" I asked. The time for small talk was over. She produced a hologram of a tactmap of the surrounding area.

"Grim. As always. Their arty line has moved fast enough to get into position, we were hoping we could intercept it before that."

"Tsk, yeah, I saw them setting up already on my descent."

"Yep." Espada nodded. "Their infantry ain't too far ahead, too, so we are looking at tight margins here. The Galidraanis have been hitting them hard and so are the Alliance - it's a nasty sandwich to be in, so we oughta use that to our advantage."

I inclined my head in agreement, "But fast - cut that shelling down a big notch while we still can. Relief the starbird boys in the city."

"Exactly. The platoons are already moving in to strike at the arties. Rebel's moaning again but his men have been moving in the fastest. They've secured a long stretch running up to some of the arties here." she pointed at a specific position on the holomap. "Dumdum, Widow and Bigfoot aren't too far behind on their own spots to hit--"

"Ah, you're leaving the bad news for last." I smirked nastily beneath my helmet. Always the shortest straw.

"As per Company tradition." she chuckled, then, "Our chunk of arty walkers are set up just north of here, through the main street leading upwards. Open wide and an elevation. Right behind a small park."

"Of course - an uphill battle, they've got the cover, we don't. Business as usual, ain't it?" I muttered and she nodded curtly. "And no Demon Company to save us this time, huh?"

"Fethin-- you've really gotten that bitter after Helgard?" she paused, then pointed a finger further north from the arty section we were to strike. "Bogged down, unresponsive. Their comms seem to be struggling."

"Hmm, that's not far off is it?" I peered into the holomap, then dragged a finger across it. "We get that arty down and move to link up with them here - that's a good punch through their lines."

"Sounds like a plan."

"It's an order now."

While the rest of the platoons moved in to engage the arty pieces, covering the rocket fire released upon the artillery walkers shelling New Adasta, Espada and I had to solve our own predicament. We moved through houses and tighter alleys, evading the main street when we could. A rattling machine gun took a few too many young lives not fast enough on their feet crossing the main street.

<"Get some mortar on that kriffin' repeater's position, 'Spada, I can't see the damn bastard."> I called called out through the comms. We had split the platoon into two, one on the left side of the main street, mine on the right. I was on the wrong side.

<"Roger, Cap."> her squads almost immediately opened blindly heavy fire at the source veiled behind park trees and brush. It returned in kind but we took the opportunity to move a little further up the road just as the first shells of mortar started raining down on the Sith. Ahead of me, a few good stormtroopers breached into a house-turned-foxhole; slaughtered everyone inside, took over the repeater inside and started blasting at the Sith above at the park.

<"Move it, Espada, go, go, go!"> I barked and she didn't think twice. Her squads using the briefly covered main street to rush and take over a larger chunk of yards. <"We need to get into those trees asap!">

<"I know but this street's one hell of a stretch!">

<"You're starting to sound a lot like Rebel.">

A pause. She never liked the guy.

<"With all due respect, Captain - shut the hell up.">

One of my pickets, an urban rat nicknamed Ghost, to be specific, found a nice little alley running up to the park from the backyard of one of the smaller houses. Ideal. He reported no overwatch, could sneak up a few of them into the foliage and start bloodshed. Didn't have to convince me. While we took the brunt of the Sith fire, the little bastards snuck up on the scumbags and the chaos in their positions gave us the few more needed yards to get into the foliage ourselves. The artillery section came to view, its guns roaring the gruesome sound of death.

 

[Areyon]

A R E Y O N
Lightsaber | Armor
Open To Opposition​

Areyon, hold sentry by the escape pods, with all certainty, the Sith will smell the blood in the water...and you will make the Alliance One their final rest. Onward. For the Empire."

Areyon nodded in response to the request. "Understood Lord Executor. It will be done. May Iron prevail." As he said that, the group of knights split off. He wasted no time in making a path towards the escape pods. With ongoing battles raging all around him, it would be easy for an enemy to find their way to escape pods and gain a quick exit. He would not allow any to pass.

Many Darkside presences filled the space of the Force all around him.

He would make sure they dwindled down to zero.

He reached the section where the escape pods nested. They had not been engaged, nor had they received any outside damage. They were fully functional. An ample opportunity to escape. Lightsaber pike in hand, he stood at the door standing ready for anything or anyone that came in his direction.

"May Iron Prevail." He repeated to himself once more.

Allies | NIO | NJO | Kainan | Rurik Fel | Aerarii Tithe | Close Proximity
Enemies | TSE

 

[Rurik Fel]

Oop

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
PRESERVATION OF ORDER
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

SOUL BURN
​

Kainan's senses were keen and immediately upon boarding the Alliance One, he sensed what Rurik did all the same. The Shaper, a Sith Lord. There was no means or reasoning to expect otherwise. With the large projection of force unto the battle, the hubris of the Sith would mean they would not leave such large blocks of troops unaccompanied without one of them to gain the glory. Such was their nature. Tonight, they'd choke on it.

"I sense him too." Rurik voiced in agreement as they continued into the rattled corridors of the vessel, Sith troops immediate to bear down upon them. No doubt there was the same aim, to sever the neck of the snake. To kill the Lord Executor where he stood and slay more valiant knights of the Empire. But iron does not break and order does not bend to the whims of darkness. It raises the blade...makes the change.

"Do not fall into the perilous bonds of your own hubris, Kainan. Focus on what it will take to persevere, not the certainty of the victory we've yet to claim. This one is a formidable foe...it will not be any easy task. Regardless, we go forward, only forward." Rurik urged, continuing his ever present mantra. To never falter in their march.

To never loosen the grip of their discipline and to bring death to the darkness. The Sith troopers who bared down unto them saw an inglorious end. As all that could be expected in hindering the march of the New Imperial Knights of the realm. That dark, creeping presence soon grew to envelop Rurik's senses. They were going closer to The Shaper, the enigmatic Sith Lord who'd been an omen of death in many of these battles between Order and Darkness.

Soon, as Arctus Silmar turned down the next corridor on his approach toward where he thought the leaders of the Galactic Alliance were due to be held, he met Rurik and Kainan standing upright, their argent blades in hand and death in Rurik's eyes.

Ingraining his mortal form in the ouroboros of darkness, Rurik enveloped himself in the form of the Vornskr before he lurched into the fray wordlessly, swiping the blade toward the Sith's mortal form in an upward cut toward his abdomen.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Aerarii Tithe | Kainan | Areyon | Fisk Kamer
ENEMIES | TSE | Arctus Silmar | Ingrid L'lerim

 

[Darth Daiara]

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

Spoiler: The Story

Ziost Academy | The Aftermath.
Zaavik Dagoth | closed

The Jedi had come with purging fire.

Why?


They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .

She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.


She hated them.


A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.

Jedi were heartless creatures.

Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.

It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.

Why did she care?

What did she expect?

Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.


She wasn't enough.

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.

Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.

There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.

Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.

The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.

As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.

He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.

It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.

This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.

Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.

A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.

Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.

Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.

The Aftermath
Ziost Academy
Zaavik Dagoth | closed​

A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Dagoth emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.

"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.

She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.

Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.


The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.

"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.

"Well, go ahead then. Do it."

ZIOST ACADEMY
Darth Daiara

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.

Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.




The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.

A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.

Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.

She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.

The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.

"Get up."

Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"

"Come on, get up," he repeated.

It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.

Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.

"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.

"This was another Academy."

 

[Darth Strosius]

Location: Aboard the Prosperity
Objective 2: Destroy the Meditation Chamber aboard the Prosperity
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: TSE / Terrible Trio
Enemies: GA / NIO
Tags: Alina Tremiru / Saket Keane / Auteme / Kisaku Oroken / Okkeus Dainlei / Aaran Tafo / Chasianna / Brama Tagge / Dagon Kaze / Kaska Arden
-----------------------------------------

Accursed tiny cleaning closets, and here I thought those in the academies were bad...

Being cramped inside that wretched place, even if it was only for a few moments, gave him some sympathy for whatever cleaning crew the ship had. Hopefully they were paid well for their trouble.

With any luck, they wouldn't be eaten by the Rathtars.

A few seconds and steps of distance had been the only thing saving Alisteri from getting in the way of Saket as his friend basically tumbled out of the closet and brought several brands of cleaners with him. He couldn't help but spare a wince for the other Acolyte, although he'd be lying if he said that the sight of his friend covered in cleaning materials wasn't a little bit funny.

Saket full on falling over did draw more concern from him though, a sharp intake of breath and an offered hand up being his immediate reaction. Oof, he hit the floor hard on that one. He reluctantly pulled his hand back though, his head snapping down the hall as he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Chit indeed."

His hand flew to his side and slid his sabre from his belt, barely having time to glance at Alina before she had sped off down the corridor. Evidently she was intent on slaying whoever was coming, and he wasn't about to be left out. "Up and at 'em Saket, we've still got a chamber to burn." Hopefully the Sithspawn would draw the attention of most of the defenders still, but he wasn't about to bank on that hope.

Better to be safe and stick in a group regardless.

Catching up with Alina took him a few moments, she had a good head start and she was far faster than he was anyway, but he was a bit relieved to see just one opponent as he ran to meet up with her. "Ah good, there's just one of them for now." He ignited his lightsaber just in case, he knew that there were more Jedi on the ship after all.

Alina could handle one Jedi quick and easy, and then they'd be on their way.

 

[Chasianna]

Location: Temple Engineering Core, Prosperity
Allies: TSE ( Alina Tremiru Darth Strosius Saket Keane )
Enemies: GA ( Kaska Arden Dagon Kaze )

The burn on her shoulder hissed smoke, the smell of seared flesh filling the air as the Sister readied herself to meet the dark-haired Jedi’s next strike. Pain filled her senses, but was embraced as a font of power, primed to be unleashed when the moment called for it. However, on hearing the male Jedi speak to his comrade, the tiny electromancer moved for the initiative, firing two shots of ultra cold CryoBan towards the woman’s hips from five meters away, intent upon freezing her in place or if she got lucky, perhaps inflicting some manner of lethal effect. Only a moment after firing the two shots, the Jedi lunged for her, his blue blade coming for her extended left wrist at the very last moment, faster than the Sister could react. Left with nothing but the energy shield and her armor for defense, the blade connected with its wielder’s intended target, the heat searing through and roasting the gauntlet in less than a split second, rendering its incorporated weapons little more than dead weight on her arm.

The heat bleeding through to her flesh elicited a sharp gasp from her lips, but the blow was less painful than the last, owing to the additional armor on the gauntlet. Nevertheless, the Sister did not delay, immediately retaliating with a pair of point blank blasts fired towards the Jedi’s chest with the sonic stunner on her right wrist. Set to the maximum setting, the shots were loud, intended to break the bones in the Jedi’s body and disrupt his internal organs. As anticipated, the recoil pushed her back two meters, nearly throwing her wholesale to the ground were it not for the magnetic systems in her boots. However, the force also translated into her wrist, generating a sudden stinging sensation that made her wonder if the recoil had inflicted some manner of stress fracture in her arm.

All the while, the Sister let the Dark energies simmer ever closer to their boiling point, tapping into the pains and aches besetting her body, in addition to raw, emotional power. The voice of her Eternal Father pressed her further, casting white hot hate into her tiny heart, especially for the Jedi who had dared to undersell her. However, even as her eyes burned a luminous cyan, the electromancer did not let her emotions control her actions, heeding the words of the mysterious master who had taught her on Korriban. Instead, she sated her rage with the carnal sensation of the room’s abundant electrical activity owing to the nature of its purpose, especially as the damage was made worse from the fighting, opening fissures that would allow her to tap into the living current.

It would not be long before she brought the full scale of her powers to bear against the hated enemy.

Spoiler: Loadout

• First Sister’s Sith Uniform
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Energy Shield(s)
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Alchemical Talisman(s)
    • Jin'Wodasir - Pins of Protection (2)
    • Talisman of Concentration
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • ACS-208 Wrist Tensor
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Vertigon Gas
  • Utility Belt
    • FAE/U-01 "Serenity" Anti-Signal Field System
    • Empyrean Infusion
• Miniaturized Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber
• Whimsy Knife
• DL-13 Holdout Blaster

 

[Julian Qar]

m e r c y
[ Dr. Julian Qar]
Noel Strasza / 2ND DOOM DIVISION | THE WATCHMEN | 8/8
MEDICAL CARE| OPEN - TRIAGE READY
Gear: The Drip - Weapons: Adjudicator & Angry Owl - Medical Kit: Standard Pack + Az-rael

They had somehow found their way through the decimated streets, walled off by the bodies of Carlaci soldiers marching forth. The two combat medics somehow managed to maneuver through the heavy fire without getting shot at or blown up in the process. Perhaps it was the black banner they wore for the Watchmen that helped them blend in. “You know, you look like death himself and less a medic…” She rumbled through her coms, Julian sighed annoyed at the junior medic for talking, this wasn’t the time for friendly chatter. “Shut up Hazel, for fucks sake...not now.” He pointed towards his eye, tapping at the slab secured to his wrist bringing forth inferred images of dimming lights all around them. It was a slaughter, TSE, NIO, even GA bodies lay scattered about ready to meet their maker.​

Their cadence, however, was odd, moving fast through the fire, dipping and dodging while they marked and tagged the bodies around them for the ground medics to pick up. “One here!” He called out, lowering his frame to throw a spray of bacta on top of a wound and staunch the heavy flow of blood with a tightly cinched tourniquet. Tag em, bag them, or leave them. There was no time to heal the wounded, not on the spot at least, the rounds being shot at them were too heavy to provide proper care.​

“This isn’t what I had expected, doc…” Hazel clutched the strap of her pack tightly against her chest. Her helm was shrouded by her dark black hood, shielding her from getting scrambled by interfering data forces.​

“I know, jus, stay close and keep that blaster right, don’t want you gettin’ caught with yer fuckin’ pants around your ankles.” Julian let out a huff, shaking his head as he trudged carefully through the blood and ruin-covered streets. It was enough to make anyone’s head spin.​

<“Watchmen, this is Lieutenant Qar, I haven’t spotted any friendlies yet just a lot of fuckin’ scared people and dead bodies. Don’t get shot, gonna try to fix up the ones I can. Over.”> There was a new found confidence in his voice, even in his swaggering, miscalibrated step. It was like he had told Hazel, sometimes you have to die to learn how to live again. Although this was his second rodeo so to speak, he still had learned so much from his second rebirth that new knowledge tainted the air in his lungs with rage - but this was his job and he worked at it without retaliation. ​

“H-hellppp..m-me…” A gurgled voice called out, shooting a hand from a slab of rubble trying to hang on for dear life with the tiny thread of tissue still hanging from its midsection. Their lower limbs lay wasted away, black tar etched into the ground where their legs should have been. The lieutenant didn’t even flinch, he slipped his hand into his hip pack and with a single flick of his wrist he brought forth Az-rael to kiss that man’s lips. “You d-don’t...you only carry four with you...why him?” Hazel pinched her brows together uncertain of the state of the once friendly doctor. “He wanted help...firs’ one of the bodies I’ve seen askin' for it. This is where you learn, kid..you learn which ones to carry home with you and which one’s to leave behind. First, do no harm. Suffering, pain, death...giving him false hope...that’s harm.”​

At that moment she understood his words and the true meaning of their task. Back in Carlac all they did was help, aid, and heal but here...out here in these streets the story was different. Hazel nodded understanding, waving for the other medics to pull the body of a friendly and wheel them back to safety to be treated.​

“Once someones been shot, it ain’t our choice to decide if we help them or not. Tend to our men first and so help me if you find a fuckin’ Sith bleeding out on the street askin' for your help, don’t even think twice bout given’ him aid, you hear me? You treat our boys first and when you see a wounded enemy do not fuckin’ shoot’em, Hazel, you let the troopers take’em back. It ain’t ours to make.”​

“But you just…” She pointed at his hip pack, Julian just waved his hand. ​

“That was mercy...”​

 

[Lark]

​

Objective: Two
Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA, Vexander Graves Seto du Couteau Brama Tagge

For the first time he could remember, Lark wanted to truly just sit down and rest. For so long he kept himself occupied by any means necessary, whether that was through training, studying, fraternizing with his allies, or carrying out missions for the Sith. But after what transpired on Ziost, he just wanted to lay himself within the cold dark earth and rot away into nothingness. How beautiful that would be, to be so at peace he could just vanish, and let his warped mind finally find relief in the comfort of nothingness. That box had torn his mind asunder. It had shown him visions of what he had been searching for. That sin masqueraded as his brother, tainting his image and corrupting his words. It struck Lark in his most vulnerable spot.

Lark's mind and body were wracked with a pain so saddening, it sung out an elegy of despair. Every step he took was just another torturing verse that composed the requiem. He danced atop a spider's thread, and he was precariously close to losing his balance and falling for good.

But his brother yet lived. That was enough to keep him going. Until they were together, Lark would not let himself stand still. He'd bring rapture to the stars if that's what it took.

So it was that he found himself within one of the GA vessels, seeking to purge important dignitaries from the realm of the living. Just as he could not let himself rest, so too did the Sith need to cripple the Alliance. Their crusade against the dark would only make the light weep. It was time to put an end to it all.

How odd, that Lark sought to deliver upon the Jedi what a part of him desired so desperately.

Darting through the halls of the vessel, Lark sought his quarry. Soldiers were replaceable. New Jedi could be trained even after their predecessors fell. But cutting off the head of the snake was a blow that would be difficult to heal from. Lark would leave the Galactic Alliance in pieces, as shattered as his mind.

He'd bring it all down with him.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST V
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor Noel Strasza Fisk Kamer
DT-0800 A.I.M Julian Qar Tiberius
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Kal Ostan
Zirell Marxon Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka Kinoan
Asmundr Varobalder Aelys

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf Sith Dominance
The Amalgam Laertia Io Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Explosives and Comm-links I: Comm-links

<"Lionheart one to Brigadier General Barran, I want a sitrep and if possible coordinates on enemy positions, will wire through artillery support and further reinforcements if needed over.">

'Barran to Lionheart One! Sending all the intel for our actions thus far and you'll see we have our current situation perfectly at hand, though I dare say the rest of the Sith-Imperial's vanguard-division want a good long-distance slapdown instead, Milord! However, word t'the wise, Lady Enedina's recon units will be able to provide you with riper targets than the ones I'll be enveloping shortly. Send the artillery-support to the firstborn instead, and send my Tom with a sharpshooter detachment from the Fighting-First to bolster the recon-unit's offensive capabilities, believe me when I say there is every chance this diversion of support could inflict greater damage on the Sith-Imperials as a result. Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

Everyone's communications were extremely timely in this op, and certainly more so than in previous ops, though the timing of comm-link messages being sent to and fro before could still be viewed as relatively punctual for Galactic standards; with all their activity expecting to light up the map as soon as they reached their white-blip, Lord Erskine knew his chances of coordinating to the best of his ability would systematically drop with a steep decline after the fighting-retreat's fast-approaching order to counterattack had been given. Alas, they'd only just crossed beyond the the orange-blip threshold by the time his Lord-Protector had patched through for a situation-report, and the fighting retreat westwards still needed to be implemented without a single deviation, as the diversionary nature of Lord Erskine's maneuvre was required to ensure the potent results of his Lord-Captain's envelopment-attempt.

Distant flashes of AT fire in the north could be seen unleashing a hell of their own on the Sith-Imperials in the east, pushing like Taskfrorces LIONHEART and IMPERATOR to make a viable hole in the opposition's defence of the siege-lines behind them; turning his periscope optics towards the action, Lord-Erskine nodded approval of what he was seeing in greater detail, and made note of the new hostile-contact zones with the intention of sending the updates to both his respected Lord-Protector and his revered Imperator at the first opportunity. 'Now, who could that be, hm?', Barran asked himself as the optics transferred the data into blips on his map-holographics, which then lit up as a small myriad of dancing green and red blips on the projections as the battle-plans rested in their top-down view setting.
NIO-insignia, with,"A.I.M", decals.... AI-operated walkers from the Archais op, and- is that infantry, using their lower legs as fire-and-maneuver cover?

'L-D Lens, enhance at ground-level.', Erskine grumbled, issuing the voice-commands necessary to zoom in on the target area, but the infantry on the ground remained unmarked, despite the flamethrower's bright liquid ember-streams and the glints of their bayonets and muzzle-flashes. The mapping tech refused to mark them as units representing one side or the other, but the Lord-Major understood this as the purposeful data-cloaking of a tactical-assault unit, a concept that Barran never truly got the pleasure to explore in detail during his time at Sandhurst or his trawls of the Heartlands Fortress's library, but one that regardless got his imagination running riot with the potential tactical-options that having similar units on staff would create for Blue-Heart Brigade, and often.

<"Baird to Blue-Heart Alpha! Reporting, Milord. We're hearing a lot o' noise in the distance behind us on our rotation westward, an' that's putting it very mildly. Do we proceed as ordered?">

'Barran to Guardian Two! That is an affirmative, Sergeant-Major! They are unmarked friendlies advancing with AI-operated walker support, pushing east just like us! Once the envelopment is complete, we destroy what's left an' turn oor frontline-crescent towards the next wave o' mechanized Sith-Imperial divisions. Trust the plan, Bairdy.... Rhone does, Millar does, an' yer QM-sharpshooter buddies at the range trust me anaw. Stay the course, that's a flat order! Understood?'

<"Baird to Blue-Heart Alpha! Loud an' clear, Milord! All that aside, if you'll set your optics east for a moment; you can maybe see the closest units to the auld-center engaging already, an' the Sith-Imperials' responding sprint towards the center, perhaps in the hopes they escape the Archaisians' an' Lord-Captain Gowrie's smoothbores? Not a karking clue, Milord. But we'll keep moving round with the southward push to bolster the mechanised support anyways, an' maybe the second wave could wrap it's heavy-hitters around the envelopment's western segment first. Now wouldn't that be a glorious sight t'see, Milord?">

'Plus side? You'll be pleased to know they are front and center of the second-wave. Downside? Your rear-and-front right flanks will take time to strengthen. Small sacrifice for the great gain that becomes of one who stays the course, simple as that. NOW DO SOME DAMN ENVELOPING, BAIRD!!!! Less talk, more walk! Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Explosives and Comm-links II: Explosives

The approach to that white blip had felt like an age had passed in getting anywhere close to it, and the handpicked units that Captain Rhone had with him were feeling the pressure until the far-western flanks of both rotating flanks had started to drop shells, rockets and blaster-fire on their foes as they attempted to clear the way for the Sith-Imperials behind them. Hearing and recording every unit action they could catch through the view-ports and on the map-holographics, every Blue-Heart element inside his (and all eight of the other ACVs in play with the first wave) vehicle's passenger-segment would be working in overdrive to keep the attack's form holding in two opposing lines, hoping the first wave held formations by the time they were both overlooking the main access road to, what had once been, the latest outlying New Adastan suburban-districts.

<"Millar to Blue-Heart Alpha! My lads have made quite the admission in our last sit-rep, as they appear to have forgotten to detonate the hidden depth-charges; but get this, they've carried on laying charges an' carried on forgetting to detonate them. They want their Lord-Commander's final approval to detonate every last one of them now, convinced it's the only way for a brigade to make a dent in a division. I explained there are other ways but they have, and I quote,"Seen what we'd be up against if we didn't keep laying depth-charges". However, as wildly unsafe as that sounds, ah'm actually thinkin' they deserve the chance t'prove their worth, Milord.">

Laughing it off with the Grand Marshall for a moment, Brigadier-General Barran returned his gaze to the white blip on the top-down projection as it reached the middle of the screen; realizing this was his moment to rotate and spring the beginnings of their greatest counterract yet, Erskine nodded in appreciation of the puzzle-pieces that clicked into place before his very eyes, then brought his hipflask out once more to celebrate it. But first, Erskine would drink in anticipation, swilling and gulping another few mouthfuls of the Cladhan 814 before passing it to Cotan for another few swills-and-swigs of his own, waiting for the their ACV's blue blip to make contact with it's flashing white counterpart as the impending seconds to contact continued to count down to 00:00:00.
200 metres out now.... Sod it, let's gie these wee Greenhorns their Fifteen-Minutes o' Fame, that sitrep could've been much worse.

'Barran to Tuath-Engineering One! You Tuath Engineers better not give me any trouble in future, that should've been run by staff for approval; but saying that, I recognise good improvisers in battle, an' often make a point of saying how much I need men like that in my Battalion- KARK! Need to get use to the fact it's a Brigade now! Anyway, point being is that I shouldn't be too harsh with these lads, an' nor should you.... Let them detonate the charges, an' get it done before I change my mind.'

<"Copy that, stand by an' brace for the fireworks.... An' thanks, Milord. Tuath-Engineering One out!">

What ensued seconds later would've appeared a pretty sight to those of Tal's forces out of range of all the shockwaves, but to those Galidraani contingents within closer distant sight of the long, slender successive trail of roadside detonations from east to west, (even for the survivors of the old Battalion) they would bear witness to the single-most frightening display of explosive firepower of the war by that point. The ground shook beneath the ACV as the burning flashes of death approached towards them, even from the safety of the counterattack point, and the last of the following shockwaves (spewing dust, gravelly rocks of all sizes, and hot cordite-smoke across the entire access-road's valley-basin) would stretch to fading smoky wisps, creating a sandstorm effect as it rushed some distance beyond the diversionary force's position with the impetus of a single windstorm's gust.

As all 2.5km of the landscape's smoky rock-dust began to clear away, all the Blue-Hearts could see that the highly-mobile central column of the advancing mechanized Sith-Imperial division had nearly been annihilated; all but three of the opposition's Sith Empire-emblazoned Repulsor-tanks that were rolling down the wide access-road had survived the cost of their collective hubris, leaving a noticeable gap down the entire central spine of their ill-fated advance on ACV One. All the vehicles crossing by on adjacent roads would either be shielded from the worst of the blast, caught by the heaviest-hitting elements of the shockwave on crossroads, or veer clear enough from it all to remain unblemished by the long line of results of the Tuaths' well-timed detonations; all Barran knew was that the new breed of Blue-Heart and Tuath soldier was proving to become a generation of naturals, as the convenient timing of the engineers' admissions revealed their collectively-unrefined ability to make complementary augmentations to their Lord-Commander's best methods.
An' this is their first real proper day on the job.... Your move, Sgairra! Let's see what Marne conjures up in response, shall we?

'Barran to Gowrie's First-Wave! Southern or Northern lines, it matters not... Every last unit possesses the firepower needed to destroy every last smoothbore an' walker that remains to fight on, an' even without a clear line-of-sight to the Sith-Imperial's mechanised division itself, understand? Reduce everything, and I mean every last vehicle you find hiding in that dust-cloud, to burning scrapheap-shades of the threats they could've been! An' keep that carbonite-supply handy for potential reinforcements, stand by.... Now, SUSTAAAAIIINED BARRAGE, SET - OOOOONE MINUTE!!!!..... AAAAAALL CHAMBERED!!!!...... FIRE - FIRE - FIIIIIRE!!!!'

Every tank, walker, support-vehicle and rocket-launching infantry element of Barran's first-wave went berserk with the ordnance they had at their disposal, and for an entire minute, the crumbling remains of settlement and visible resistance exploded in a myriad of smaller incendiary displays of violent-beauty as Cotan and Erskine watched on with mutually-intense shock at the magnitude of the Woad-born commander's (and every part as much for his participating subordinates) actions. Whether anyone had survived both shocks to the bulky mass of Sith-Imperial armoured offense, that question would be answered soon enough, as Barran had turned to his new friend with a knowing inability to keep Sar'andor from his duel any longer, and was opening the side-door for a more dignified exit than having to climb back through the hatch to the LMG-turret above.

The duellist from Naboo would follow his Galidraani friend outside, standing in the warm, dusty madness of the Access-Road Massacre's wind-kicked remains as Erskine turned around towards the west, waiting for the arrival of the Blue-Hearts' second wave with the patience of a hunter. Only turning back when the second-wave's mechanised element burst out of the distant dust-fog like monsters on the horizon, Erskine stood with the rest of his brigade at his back, gazing back out eastward for a while before muttering,'If ye need a smoke-screen, ACV One and every tank we have can fire off and screen their own approach with thick blue smoke. Our tanks will with ours, their tanks will with their red or purple variants, so be the one to use the blue smoke for your own sake because you need to stall for time at every opportunity, do - not - forget! All advice aside; happy-hunting out there, sir. An' win a few o' these duels for the Barrans, aw'right? Good, see ye soon.'

​

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[Vexander Graves]

Seto du Couteau || Brama Tagge
To Engage: Lark​

Jedi weren't really trained for something like this, they were not soldiers and they were definetely not bodyguards... but no one could argue how effective they were in these situations. Their training and years of conflict against the dark forces usually gave them the required tools and skills that allowed them to serve in the front lines... and despite the years... the recent battles have been honing him for situations like this.

His demeanor was not stoic, he didn't look far too serious or enigmatic... he didn't even seem like a Jedi Master to be honest. He didn't have that aura that some of the other Masters had, like that all-mighty sensation of knowing all and being soo wise and precise, always quoting the Jedi Code and how the Light protected them and how it would prevail. He just didn't have that in him.

But that didn't made him any less Jedi than any other of his peers and comrades, it just made him break the mold a bit... and the fact that he always carried that smile with him... it was just different.

The man looked at the Senators who still didn't know what to do... and he could understand... Vex felt that something was happening and it was dark... he guessed it was Sith mostly because what else could give that sensation in this place? But he wasn't certain. What he was sure about was that they needed to move somewhere and not just stay here but something was telling him otherwise.

He didn't know what was happening to be honest and he had limited options seeing that he was at the disposal of these two politicians who seemed reluctant to leave. They were really not like the typical politicians that would end up scared at simple thought of battle... they were quite calm and collected... just a slight hint of aversion at the ship and the Jedi as a whole for some unknown cause.

Why they didn't run around rushing towards the exit as soon as Vex sensed and informed the danger... and also after Seeing the way both were talking, Vex decided to play the situation low and just provide as little information as possible for the time being.

"The turmoil around us is increasing each second..." Vexander didn't even have to close his eyes to feel the waves through the Force raging on from one side to the other telling him that there was a great conflict around, knowing that perhaps a few well placed words would stir them to some direction, he just adviced to get more information "....the best bet we have is to head to the Temple Situation Room which is close by and get a whole status of the situation. Besides, is easier to defend since we will join the Gate Master and perhaps a few Peacekeepers"

 

[Jak Ross]

Objective: Protect fellow Senators
Allies: Aerarii Tithe | Adhira Chandra | Marlon Sularen | Shoma Ike | Kainan | Rurik Fel | Areyon
Enemies: Ingrid L'lerim
Items: Lightsaber

​

He watched as more and more senators hurried towards the escape pods.

Few of the Sith troopers broke through the initial defense, requiring him to strike them down. The kills were not pleasant. They were only for self defense, but they still unsettled him. And to think that the person he struck down probably had a family back home didn't help him either. It almost made him sick.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he made one final look around for any nearby senators. No more could be seen in hi section, so he assumed they already took the pods. That meant he needed to get off of this ship next.

Racing down the corridor he eventually found the escape pod bay. But before he headed in he noticed the tip of a lightsaber poking through the doorway. Igniting his own he slowly moved toward the entrance. Rounding the corner he was greeted to a man in full armor, jet black ( Areyon ). But the white lightsaber let him know he was a friendly.

Shutting off his own blade, he slowly lowered it and hooked it to his belt.

"Whoa, easy, we are on the same side. I'm with the Alliance. Have any other senators passed through here?"

Inside he hoped the answer was yes. That would mean all of the senators on this edition safely escaped. But who knew how many were still left throughout the ship.

 

[A.I.M]

Objective: Kill the Sith
Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Cotan Sar'andor | Captain Raith | Tulan Kor
Enemies: Irina Volkov | Valen | Sith Dominance

———
​

Echoes rang across the ground as the A.I.M. units marched onward.

Clumps of dirt and grass flew up into the air with each footstep. Large prints were let behind in the soil, like tracks from moving hunters. The only difference was that these hunters were thousands of pounds of Durasteel and Iron.

New orders had come in from General Barran. They were to change their course towards the East, where they will be assisting Tulan Kor and his battle group. Calculations had shown that the General had a 94.56% chance of success in destroying the enemy's AT-TE Walkers, so the A.I.M. units did not disobey orders.

The eleven walkers were slowly closing in on a men. It looked as if they just started to engage the enemy, as the soldiers just started to charge. In the back of the enemy's line stood a small amount of walkers. Those could easily be taken care of.

//:A.I.M. units, we are at 27 meters and closing fast. Cover fire from our units will be given to support Tulan Kor and his men. No enemy walker shall be left standing:\\
​

Precise blaster fire readings were now being distributed to the walkers. This would accurately predict the enemy's fire, and how to correctly defend it. The walkers were now in very close range, almost right up against Tulan's men. It was time.

//:Attention all A.I.M. units, begin firing, and do not stop unless commanded to:\\
​

Whines of every single laser firing up rang throughout the battlefield. If one didn't know what was happening, it would almost sound like an air-raid siren. Within milliseconds red beams of energy danced across the battlefield, heading straight for the enemy's walkers and troops.

//:But most importantly, all units:\\

//:Give Them Hell:\\
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[Seto du Couteau]

Seto Du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Location: Prosperity
Objective Two: Preservation of Liberty
Action: Listen and Speak
Equipment: REC-EVS/01 "Sohei" - Pattern Electro-Vibrosword
Attire

Interaction || Brama Tagge | Vexander Graves ||​

“Something tells me the Jedi of the New Order aren’t likely to evacuate. It might be just you and I that are perceivable deadweights to our spiritual company. We best stay together for now.”

Seto took a moment to reflect a bit more on the current situation, they were hardly in a position to dictate actions outside of their own immediate sphere of influence. The Jedi themselves were dealing with the Sith intruders personally, so it left Seto a tad dissatisfied with what could be done presently. Information gathering was at the top of the list of things to do, but Seto hardly needed a report that intruders were running amok. Oh how I wish I could stretch out my senses with the Force.

Senator Tagge made a good point that the Jedi were hardly ones to abandon their spiritual home The Prosperity, but Seto had a worry that meant fighting until the bitter end. And who knows if a Sith fleet reaches us before the Alliance reinforcements. The young Du Couteau heir crossed his arms over his chest, his smile wavered for a split second as he listened to the Senator and her aide quickly going over what little information was available.

Things were rather frustrating to Seto, before whenever he found himself in battles or similar conflict, he had enjoyed the wonders of military command, the luxuries afforded to those in elevated positions of power. Being in the dark of things is an unwelcome feeling for sure. Seto glanced back towards Jedi Master Graves. It probably was a different feeling for him, Sith attacking the Temple of the Jedi, and here he was making sure the Senators were safe.

"....the best bet we have is to head to the Temple Situation Room which is close by and get a whole status of the situation. Besides, is easier to defend since we will join the Gate Master and perhaps a few Peacekeepers"

The young Du Couteau heir nodded, this way he figured he could at least gather some more information on the matter. With more Jedi protection far less chance of being forced to defend myself. Seto looked back towards Senator Tagge, his eyes glanced towards her two loyal hounds and to her aide, “Best we head to the Situation Room then and allow the kind Master to lead us posthaste.”

“If the Jedi cannot protect their own home, then perhaps the anti-Jedi Senators have a point,” Seto mused, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “-But then again, I’m always of the belief that the only person who can determine their worth are they themselves.” Seto gave Master Graves a single nod in approval of his plan.
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