Skirmish Incoming Storm [TSE vs. SJO - Velmor]

[Wyatt Morga]

Location: Velmor, Science Facility
Allies: Allyson Locke
Enemies: Taeli Raaf

Wyatt’s robes hung limp on him as he wandered ever closer to the facility. The wind brought the hood of it down as his cold, azure stare fell upon the facility - and the darkness within emanated ever outward through his senses. He offered nothing but a slow exhale that drew moisture from the air - chilled by the morning temperatures, and the dew that stuck to the grass.​

​

“Allyson.”, he said quietly as he lowered himself in the treeline that still shrouded them.​

​

“You’re better at sneaking around than I am-”, he mused - though only half-heartedly. There was a pervasive solemnity that held his voice in a tight grip.​

​

“-and I believe we should leverage that. If I cause a distraction, could you sneak in? Shut down whatever they’re doing, free who needs to be freed.”, Wyatt offered quietly.​

​

“If you can do that - I can cause a distraction to draw them out.”​

​

With her agreement, Wyatt slowly brought himself to a zen state that would allow him the most strength in what was to come. Ordeals the Sith often approached with the blunt force of emotions, Wyatt much preferred the skilled apathy of disconnection - of being one with the force in all but glowing physicality. As he neared that peace, he stood, walking from the treeline into the open view of the front gates.​

​

“Stop!”, one of the guards said as his hand rose to the Jedi - but as the robes fell away, the all too familiar face of Wyatt ‘Terror of Tython’ Morga greeted them with a sudden recognition they couldn’t deny; likely from the variety of credit bounties posted across Sith space.​

​

10 Million Credits for this man.​

​

Their guns shot up lighting fast as they fingers began to feather the triggers of their rifles - and another spoke in to his comms to raise the alarm; something no doubt Taeli would soon pick up on. Wyatt’s blade, however, was faster than the blaster bolts - and it sprang to life in a blue shimmer that seemed more wall than blade as it threw the bolts into trees, walls, and everything but the two before him.​

​

As he neared, they took a step back to compensate for the sudden distance they found themselves at - trained to stay at distance from a lightsaber-wielding opponent. Yet, as their balance was off - Wyatt’s cold gaze became ever closer as he seemed to almost teleport next to the one. A lightsaber ran across one man’s midsection in an upwards slice, and the others were lifted from his feet as Wyatt’s vice-like grip held his throat.​

​

There was no time for saving these men. War was a costly thing, and for the lives of many more innocents, they were a cost Wyatt would pay wholeheartedly. The man struggled for air as Wyatt’s force enhanced grip walked him towards the entrance, and he pressed the man’s helmet to the screen - letting the biometric scanner acknowledge his presence before the gate began to open.​

​

It was flashy, gruesome, and all too much for a Jedi - but Wyatt hoped it would be enough to garner most of the attention towards him and allow Allyson and her technical ways into the backend of the facility. If trouble hit, he would sense it - and would rush to her; but for now, he needed to draw more towards him.​

​

He tossed the man aside and stepped into the gate - leaving him to slowly pass out, and the Jedi Master into the facility.​

​

Taeli would not doubt sense his presence.​

 

[Bernard]

Den Volmor

With a loud crunch, the visor shattered into several hundred pieces as it impacted the durasteel wall, leaving behind a serious dent. The legionnaire slumped to the ground, unconscious and likely heavily concussed. Bernard felt a moment of pity; a brief instinct to call for medical assistance for the young warrior, but as he gazed out the window he saw nothing but embers and smoke. All compassion faded as the screams of the innocent echoed through the city. The Force kept him connected to all life. The pain and suffering he felt from all those people acted as a catalyst for his determination.

He pushed himself against the wall to get a better view of the situation from his vantage point in one of the towers. There were several landing sites spread all across the city. Sith forces were slowly advancing through the streets, just below he could make out a small squad. The red flash of blasters caused him to flinch. He closed his eyes for a moment to hope the departed a peaceful existence in the afterlife. Breathing a sigh he moved again, breaking open the window with the Force, clean and without risk to himself as he climbed the frame and proceeded to jump out.

The shards announced his presence. They tinkled quietly on the duracrete floor as Bernard plunged towards the ashen-haired man leading the legionnaires. Though he slowed his descent with the application of the Force, the speed behind the fist he aimed directly for the man's face was nonetheless alarming. His knee was pulled forward also, ready to be brought into the man's chest to break his fall. The legionnaires would present a problem, so his free hand already hovered above his lightsabre, ready to draw and ignite it at a moment's notice.

Bast'rom'arosti Imperial Warlord Zovesa

 

[Khyron Zharost]

Khyron had never gotten use to any sort of flight; it had been many years since he had conducted any sort of aerial operations and by aerial operations he meant ANYTHING related to space. In the short time that he had been with the New Imperial Order he had flown a lot and he didn't hate it, in fact he marveled at the stars and their wonder but his body wasn't use to it. No, Khyron was at home on the ground and he was at home in conflict. When the High Knight Marshal notified him and the rest of the Aegis that they would be, rather suddenly it seemed, deployed to a combat zone to combat the Sith in a capture mission, it appeared he would be flying again but luckily it would be interrupted by fighting. Khyron had been instructed to prepare some of the newer Imperial Knights for the assignment prior to their departure to Velmor; something he took with respect as a Knight Commander in the First. Khyron had once been taken underneath the wing of the Sith and had been brutalized by them, it was the fortuitous rescue by the High Knight Marshal that had landed him as a Knight Commander within the First.

Khyron listened intently to the High Knight Marshal and simply remained silent; it suited his personality. Growing up on Iridonia, regardless of the Sith or the Imperials or the Republic or the Alliance or whoever controlled it, it was a permanent conflict zone. One might classify it as a "war world" or a "conflict world" according to galactic rights organizations; the Zabraks simply loved war and fighting each other. Naturally that was the most basic version of the story, there were dozens of other factors that outsiders could not understand or simply chose not to. What this did, besides kill thousands of Zabraks a year, was provide a people that were hearty and fierce warriors. The Zabraks across the galaxy are noted for their toughness and durability. It was not simple reputation, Zabraks had two hearts, they had a biological toughness that made them tolerant to even the most serious pain, something that the Zabrak people prided themselves on. Something that Khryon had prided himself on specifically.

If Khyron disliked flying, he certainly hated jumping out of a perfectly good starship. Khyron conducted the jump with little problem, except internally he kept telling himself that he would be guided by the Force and his so-called "Will of the Order". Khryon landed in a team close to the High Knight Marshal and as he landed, he prepared himself immediately for combat. Some members of the First enjoyed the use of conventional weapons, while he was proficient with them, he understood that his best strength lay in the Force and the use of a lightsaber. Khyron had grown adept at sword fighting prior to his capture by the Sith and when he had begun his Force training he found himself incredibly skilled with a Lightsaber and his connection to the Force itself was, in his own mind perhaps, "deep" as some would say. That didn't prevent him from carrying a blaster pistol in a thigh holster but in this instance he remained without a weapon in his hand but his lightsaber hung ever so close on his belt. "Gameplan Imperial Warlord Zovesa ?"

 

[Lirka Ka]

Allies: TSE and any friends
Enemies: SJO and any friends
Location: Den Velmor
Tag: Beltran Rarr (Round 2 let's gooooo), K Kaine Australis

Lirka's blade swung, it's beauty was resplendent as the sun gleamed off the Songsteel whilst the burning emerald of the elctro-plasma filament sliced through flesh with easy. Heads rolled and limbs flew to the sky while the bodies they once inhabited were torn asunder by the rampaging beast. The drugs that sustained her being, the elixir of "magical" combat stimulants that allowed her to operate far beyond normality, began to slowly surge through her veins. And with them came the bestial savagery Lirka had been gaining a name for across the Empire. Her fist swung wide, not even slashing into the poor fool as he neck was obliterated by the sheer force brought alongside the gauntlet.

She strode forward, the slaughter was a show more than it was an operation for Lirka. After disappearing from the wider happenings of the Empire for some time following the nonsense of Mandalore it seemed only suitable to return in style, and the ever common wicked bestial grin plastered across her features once she began to properly reach the defenders. Be they soldiers or those worthless vermin that actually had the gall to take up arms against an Immortal like herself.

Then of course, the sky-men came. She knew them well, and her helmet knew them ever better: at least, it knew one in particular much better than she did, the bio-signature of one Beltran Rarr , Lirka's favored plaything within the ranks of the Jedi bootlickers, and upon seeing the unit and their commander she began to break into a stride, heavy footfalls crashing into the ground: occasionally crushing those underfoot that had been bashed aside. Throwing her headback, the ponytail of her helmet rolling even more wildly in the wind. A roar, amplified by the helm, shouted her challenge to the sky.

"YOU OWE ME A FIGHT, BOY!"

And just like she had done in their prior meeting, she spat the insult of boy out. Charging forward like a half-deranged Reek she stalked after the signature that burned in her HUD, having every intention to surprise the gathered Jedi dogs by not approaching their position: but instead by slashing and bashing her way through the nearest building to pop out and catch them by surprise. Of course, there was no knowledge that a Mandalorian laid among them. Making it an even sweeter deal, and one that would surely drive Lirka into that proper psychotic frenzy that everyone had come to cherish and adore.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Den Volmor
Enemies: Shira Varanin
Allies: Sith
Objective: 1

Kyrel had all but eagerly continued his bloody swathe as he cut down the civilians one by one. Looking at them all without pity nor remorse. The dark side had taken ahold of him. As it's carrier unleashing death and pain to anyone in his path. The troopers slowly encroaching upon the city. Returning fire upon enemy forces and moving swiftly to create a defensive perimeter. Kyrel stood at the front surrounded by Purification Legionnaires. New troopers made to purge Jedi. He had requested to see a demonstration of the troops, and towards the Jedi, the Master of Ren would see to it that their metal was tested.

The crimson blade that was Vader's Bane began to crackle in furious anger. Fueled by the dark side and has been at his side. It had carried an unstable nature after years of use. Yet it spoke to it's Master. Feeding power and adrenaline to the dark warrior, anyone that came across his path was quick to find his blade that brought forth the end of their miserable lives. A wall of fire was quickly spreading as the troopers advanced, entire families, being gun downed, save for the children. Orders were given to take the children alive. The rest beyond that did not matter. The Emperor's message was clear. All that side with the Light shall fade into the dark abyss, as would all the galaxy.

Before he continued to step forward, looking ahead past the fleeing people, he saw the sight of what looked to be a Woman, a woman he had sensed some odd familiarity. He had sensed many during the Siege of Mustafar. When he eyed the horizon before him, his anger slowly smoldering, before turning into an inferno of rage. He had cursed them all, hated them for even desecrating Vader's sanctum with the Light. His own dark citadel and they took it from him. Drove him off nowhere to go as if a common beggar.

Death would come to her, to them all and nothing would stop him. He will kill the entire city if he has to. Have them beg for mercy right before ending them. Anything to make the Jedi suffer, to come and face him. For it was the shadow's will that this world burn, these lives taken, and ultimately gain good deaths.

Looking upon her, watching her ignite a Saberstaff, he gave a look of amusement, and almost laughed at the sound of her words. Normally he would have more humble opponents. Ones that showed a certain formality regarding combat. This woman seemed rough around the edges. All the same, she would die. With the purification legionnaires at his side readying as if to engage her. He moved in a swift offensive stance as if to pounce at any moment. Raising Vader's Bane he retorted. "Careful what you wish for girl, you just might get it

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Objective: Loot and pillage.
Location: Den Velmor - Den Velmor Museum
Opponent: Kirie

Distant thunder struck from clear skies, shaking dust from the ceiling and rattling the displays. Yet, within this darkened room, the battle seemed far away to Joycelyn Zambrano. There were soldiers here, she could sense their presence when she tried to. However, there was something else that called her to this room, a subtle, but powerful attraction.

She picked up a vase as it nearly shook off the edge of the counter.

Joycelyn turned it between her hands, looking at the faded gilding and its portrayal of soldiers shooting their Jedi masters in the back. It was painted as a tragedy, but to her it was inspiration.

Sounds of scuffle drew closer as Joycelyn felt the force surge, once, twice, a lull, a greater third surge. She heard the crashing of debris and precious things, and felt a life go out among those crushed beneath. Footsteps and radio-chatter touched her ears, but she did not pay attention. Instead, she had closed her eyes and focused on a sense more ethereal.

A door closed nearby, and Joycelyn opened her eyes, turning to the direction of the sound.

"What a shame."

She walked to the direction of the door and the pull of the ethereal, coming around the corner of the museum's storage space to see the young woman, Kirie, by the door.

"To keep something this beautiful locked in the storage."

She looked down at the vase again and held it up so the gilding caught the light. A smile spread on her lips as she golden reflection scattered back against her face. She was not dressed in full military garb, but wore a solid metal breastplate and layers of red and black cloth. At her hip was a sword, large and oddly menacing even in its sheathed state. It was, to some, as if the sword itself stared at one like a vornskr stares at prey.

 

[Leon Avar]

Velmor Orbit - To Den Velmor
Aboard the Curt Cthon

The Cthon shook violently as he dropped out of hyperspace. Alarm klaxons began to blare, but not just because his ship was threatening to fall into pieces.

Images flickered over viewscreens and sensors, depictions of ships both small and large. A curse pulled from his lips and he quickly flicked half a dozen switches to turn off some of the systems on his vessel. It was difficult to put out a friend or foe call when you didn't know who your friends were.

He had come here to answer a distress signal, one put out by the Silver Jedi.

It was funny out circumstance changed your mind, how one day you were at the bottom of a bottle and the next you were risking your life simply because you had nothing else left to do.

His lips thinned at the thought, but he slowly pushed it from his mind as he activated the Cthon's meager stealth systems and punched in the coordinates for the emergency beacon on the surface of the planet.

 

[Imperius]

Den Velmor.
Equipment: Solarion, Armor
Allies: Taeli Raaf , The glorious Sith Order
Enemies: Wyatt Morga Allyson Locke
Objective: Slay Dem puny Jedi
Escort: Hades' Oathkeepers
Imperius strode along at a moderate pace, as if the chaos erupting all around him was a dozen systems away. He was, in all honesty, utterly bored, and the lack of a strong opponent was unsurprisingly unexciting. Where were those brave, gallant Jedi when you needed them?
The oathkeepers were in front of him in a crescent moon formation, and if not for their total loyalty to him, Imperius might have actually suspected that Ophidia had once again ordered some troops to protect the captured manpower from Imperius.
For a second the sith Lord paused, almost as if he had heard or felt something, but the following silence almost lured him into ignoring his instincts. Almost.
One did not live long enough to become a Sith Lord by ignoring their instincts. So, he gathered the force, and let loose.
The fear and the hatred and anger in the air would, hopefully, bring the Jedi running to him. And then, they would dance.

 

[Sol Stazi]

BIOTAG - MAJOR SOL STAZI
ALLIANCE PATHFINDER
OUTPOST ZULU
IFF TAGS: Romi Jade Riamah
SITH OPPRESSORS: Ruek Tast (engaging) TE-236 (engaging) Grand Moff Aut-X Skorvek Poker

---

Stazi's face was a wild mess of mud and oil. He blew a battle droid's head off with the SSK-7 in his hand only to be tackled back down into the trench by another droid on his flank. He plunged his vibroknife into its chassis over and over screaming like an enraged animal. Two Sith commandos appeared around the trench corner and the duros barely dug his heavy blaster out of the muck in time to drop them both taking a graze to his left shoulder for his trouble.

He breathed heavily. The trench was clear for a precious few moments. He stripped a fallen rebel of his Firelance to replace the one Sol had lost and started bounding towards the closest sound of OPA blasters. After outflanking the droids pinning them down he linked up with a squad of partisans. One of the troopers was carrying a Windtalker comm booster on his back that appeared to still function.

"Major!" the comm operator didn't salute, that wasn't the OPA's style.

"Tell anyone who dropped short to link up with the 41st and push in. Keep the pressure on these clankers! Pathfinders proceed to-"

A speeder bike cut him off whining over their trench.

"Check that. Break out the big guns and lets take on these outriders."

Sol slapped the comm trooper roughly on the back before moving on. He could hear more blasters going off along the trench's parallel side so he tried to hurdle himself over. The sniper's bolt caught him in the neck and he felt agony wash over him like a wave falling back into the trench. He tore away a burning collar and glanced down at the scorched ruin of his neck and right shoulder.

The Major could feel shock starting to settle in and he fumbled for his medkit. He took a deep breath and tried to stifle a scream when he poured burn powder over the wound. He slapped a bacta patch on top with another grunt of pain and then wrapped his neck up in bandages. Then he pulled out the medkit's small mirror and snapped it, holding up a fragment over the trench until it caught the light and crawled up and over again.

"Hey Sssstazzzzi," he nearly shot the sluissi commando taking cover in the next trench, "You're sssstill alive. That'ssss good."

"Got your X-45 on you?" Sol asked the cold blooded sniper everyone called Snake Eyes.

"Alwaysssss."

"Good," he dug out a pair of macrobinoculars, "I'll spot. Target's somewhere on the mountainside, about half a kilometer of elevation on us."

---

OPERATION WAMPA

Spoiler

OPA REBELS
STANDING ORDERS:

• Partisan Rebels
  • Engaging platoon A-63.
  • Light casualties.
• Alliance Pathfinders
  • Engaging speeder bike squadron O-Delta with heavy weapon teams.
  • Targeting outer wall defenses for tactical insertion.
  • Light casualties.

OPA CRUISER WILD STALLION
STRIKE COMPLEMENT:

• 12 U-Wing Transports
  • Returning to Carrier
  • 4 Destroyed
• 6 U-Wing Gunships
  • Engaging Droid Armor
  • 2 Destroyed
• Starfighter Escort
  • 2 Squadrons Providing Air Cover
  • 2 Squadrons Returning to Carrier
  • 2 Squadrons Held in Reserve
  • 6 Fighters Destroyed

JEDI CORVETTES

• THE REPERTOIRE (Den Velmor)
• JADE'S TRIUMPH (Above Outpost Zulu)

 

[Decimus]

Objective: Outpost Zulu
Post: 2

Aut-X sifted through tactical data emerging from the battle now raging outside the outpost. With minimal effort, he redirected squads to counter offensives from Silver Jedi forces, keeping their advance stalled to the best of his ability. The second wave of his defensive forces would soon be unleashed.

Units of B1 Heavy Battle Droids, armed with E-5C Heavy Blaster Rifles and energy shields emerged from inside the outpost, moving to support the defensive lines and unleash torrents of blaster fire against the enemy infantry. They were supported by a wing of Hyena-class Droid Bombers that emerged from the skies above, dropping their payloads onto clusters of enemy troops and vehicles to ensure maximum casualties.

"Continue to whittle down their offensive, TE-236. For every inch of ground they take, make them lose as many troops as possible in the process. If we stall their advance with a wall of corpses, we will force them to withdraw and give ourselves an ample amount of time to retrieve as much data as possible."

TE-236
Ruek Tast
Skorvek
Poker
Sol Stazi
Romi Jade
Riamah

 

[Kyra Perl]

Location: Fringes of the city, close to the outpost
Objection: Protect Civilians
Tags: Romi Jade

Oops.

Kyra had dropped hard and wrong, a gust of wind and a panicked yank of her cords sending her parachute well off course. She had landed alone and in the center of chaos. She hadn't been ready for it, but the moment hadn't spared her any time to linger on her panic. Her arrival had garnered attention, and not the good kind.

What happened next was a bit of a story, one Acaadi was sure to be serenaded with constantly in the upcoming weeks. All that mattered currently was that she was now she trapped in an alleyway.

Two civilian children quivered behind her as she stood between them and a sith solider. She had been trying to sneak them to safety. She hadn't pulled her saber; when the call went out she had been in plain civilian clothes and she was disinclined to break that facade with the solider standing before her.

"You three, come with me," he ordered, his voice muffled by his helmet.

"No."

He raised his gun, no patience spared for the three random children disobeying orders in an alleyway. "I'll give you until the count of three."

"One."

The two behind her squealed in panic, groping at each other and shying flush against the dead end.

Kyra raised her hand in a plea. "Pleas-"

"Two."

... A shiver ran down Kyra's spine, her nostrils flaring with fear. "We're just ch-"

"Three."

Screams rang out through the air. Kyra squeezed her eyes closed, a shield of force light erupting from her finger tips. She peaked through her lashes to witness as it absorbed a spray of shots. Through the haze, the solider visibly faltered.

"Jed-" A shot rang out from the street behind him. His body seized. He dropped to the ground.

 

[Shira Varanin]

DEN VELMOR
Kyrel Ren

As defenders and Cloud City Sentinels clashed with purge troopers, Shira bore down on the man at the centre of it all. Her role right now was individual, not strategic: her job was to take down the Ren if she could. Her stance matched his for aggression - well, let's say being proactive.

She took the measure of her enemy. He looked about her size, no reach advantage, probably about the same age. An even fight at a physical level, ideally. But she didn't waste too much time on the analysis. She moved in.

"I guarantee you've got no idea what I wish for, you scrawny ferrik."

Her double-bladed saber built momentum through a whipping figure-eight, batting stray blaster shots into the purge troopers' ranks. The blue saberstaff settled into both hands, and she pressed in on Kyrel with a dense, professional assault that threatened everything from his face to his feet. A saberstaff had its share of liabilities, but use it right and the net benefit went through the roof.

 

[Bast'rom'arosti]

Den Volmor
Friends: The Sith Empire
Foes: Bernard , Imperial Warlord Zovesa , SJO & their nerd buddies.

Freedom at last. That boy was the last one for this little portion of the city, as many of the others had already been snatched up by the legionnaires and marched off towards the shuttles. Now Lyka and the rest of the little squad with him could handle other things. More exciting things! Like sitting back and watching the city burn to ashes, watching the rubble of homes and shops fall to the ground in tiny bits and pieces.

The glory of it all. The strong toppling the weak. Taking what they so please. The typical stuff. The simple stuff.

"Good work, boys," Lyka mused as they slowly strolled away. "This stuff ain't easy but you sure as hell make it look easy."

The faceless soldiers said nothing in response, simply following their lord like obedient dogs. How drab. After some distance away from the boy's burning home, the Sith acolyte turned back to inspect his work. His handiwork. How beautiful! How riveting! He should get a promotion for this, or at least a kind word or two if nothing else. Dealing with kids was always the hard part and he figured he did exceptionally well.

Good Lyka. Smart Lyka.

He smiled at the burning home. His eyes followed the pillar of flames and smoke, shifting upwards to watch it all bloom in the sky. And then something came out of the smoke - a person.

"Kill-" The command fell short as a fist from the sky hit him square in the mouth.

The pain sent him recoiling as much as the force of the blow. Lyka toppled backwards as a terrible sensation spread through him. He rolled backwards, grunting loudly in pain until his back found solid, dusty ground. Lyka tasted something coppery and immediately despised its taste. The Sith propped himself up on his elbows, peering forwards to see an ashen-haired man. A man who stunk to the high heavens of the light side.

"Kill him." He sawed a hand across his face, and it came back bright red. "Now!"

 

[Ruek Tast]

Location: Outpost Zulu
Engaging: Sol Stazi and allies.

_________________________________________​

"IT ISN'T OUR EMPIRE!"

Ruek clutched her helmet, yelping in pain as she crumpled behind the boulder.

The incorporeal brother paused. He hadn't meant to shout so. Tast felt Ruek move, stretching out a shaking hand to seize her rifle again. He began to withdraw from their consciousness, "...Our Empire died centuries ago."

Ruek sat up, back rested against the boulder as she craddled the rifle near her chest.

"Leave then. I made a mistake, only fair you make one too. Traitor," She spat.

The helmet's targeting HUD hummed onscreen. She retracted her hand from the visor to adjust the grip on the rifle. Slowly, she inched upward to scan the field.

The rag-wrapped barrel slid between some stones. Down below, an enemy soldier wore a large backpack and a belt with too many pouches to count. He looked like he was a technician. The bolt lanced through his exposed face.

Did she have time for another? She lined up another target several meters away from the last. A medic? Survival called it a viable move, but rhetoric from the academy deemed it a "cheap shot" and "unsportsmanlike," as if killing was some game. She spared the medic, but the big ugly that was firing two rifles while getting slapped with a bacta patch? Fair play.

 

[Amani Serys]

Location: Schoolhouse, Den Velmor
Allies: Whoever wants to save kids
Enemies: Whoever wants to stop me from saving kids

“Oookaayyy.” The word dragged out in a long sigh. Amani peered down into the room, now removed of the rubble she had just cleared. Inside, a collection of school children varying in age, huddled together in fear. If she knew there would be this many she would probably have gotten backup, but they were short on time as is. The fighting had moved away from this street for now, but no one could say when it might make its way back.

“Is everyone alright? Can you move?” She tried to put on a calm exterior for the kids, but she was all nerves, sweating bullets and flinching at any stray blast or explosion in the distance. Live war zones were as new of an experience to her as it was to any of these children. Luckily most of the children seemed capable enough, and those that were a bit slow were helped by their friends. Amani helped to pull out the last few kids, running over each of them for noticeable injuries, healing what she could. She needed to conserve energy, but she could at least make it easier on them for the moment.

It was too dangerous to try and lead a class of kids out in the open, “Is there a way out of here? Somewhere safe?” One of the students pointed to a floor hatch across the hall, “Perfect.” Amani muttered, they might get to make it out of here after all. She ripped the rusty latch off with the Force, jumping down to make sure it was safe before anyone followed. The darkness made it near impossible to see, forcing her to ignite her lightsaber for vision. It seemed to be some old escape tunnel, apparently unused for some time now. “Everyone, follow me. We’ll make it out of here safe if we stick together.” Once the children filtered down into the tunnel, she pulled the hatch closed again, turning back towards the long walk ahead. “Just stay as quiet as you can, okay?” She gave a final reassuring smile, though her eyes betrayed her words.

She pushed back the lump in her throat and slowly moved forward, the dim green light of her saber leading the way. If they were lucky, they’d reach the outskirts safely, but a schoolhouse would be a prime target for the Sith to search if it was in fact children they were after. And with the narrow path they were on, someone following them would need little effort to catch up with them. She could only hope they could make it to the outskirts of the city safely. It was only a matter of time.

 

[Ura Iolar]

Objective: Den Velmor
Allies: Caedyn Arenais Jessica Med-Beq Elise Thal Mantis Irveric Tavlar Shira Varanin Kirie Reggie Faayare Moira Connell
Enemies: Kascalion Giedfield Lirka Ka Kyrel Ren
Equipment: Teal lightsaber (stored in her body)

Ura nodded to Caedyn, remembering the lesson. She could do this. She could handle this. She would follow the others, and ignite her own lightsaber, which seemed to shoot out from where her right hand was, when she saw Caedyn's. A Force Barrier naturally seemed to form around her arm like a protective gauntlet. She looked on in horror as people were running, and Sith troopers had come behind them. Her eyes widened as she tried to figure out how to fight this threat. Caedyn order her to comm for help, and the Lervon was quick to answer. Even with her monotone voice, in a rare show, urgency came through her tone.

"Come in! Come in! This is Padawan Ura! We need the location of civilian evac!" She did this over every Jedi channel she could think of, and then focused, trying to form a barrier behind the civilians. She then looked at Caedyn and Jessica, appearing ready to fight. "Ok. What now?"

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// LOCATION // Den Velmor
// OBJECTIVE // Snatch Sith scalps // Bag a Dark Council member
// ALLIES // Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Khyron Zharost - New Imperial Order
// NEUTRAL // Silver Jedi Order
// ENEMIES // Kascalion Giedfield [Coordinated] - Sith Empire
// THEMATIC // Soldier Side

Spoiler: 'Deathshead' Squadron

// I Company | Armored Infantry // Stormtroopers [90 - 9 x 10] 79 -11 Support Teams [30 - 3 x 10] 26 -4 XV-60a APC [x6] 6 -0 SD-60x Battle Droids [x12] 9 -3 XT-60a [9 - 3 x 3] 9 -0 AT-TD [x3] 3 -0 // II Company | Armored Infantry // Stormtroopers [90 - 9 x 10] 83 -7 Support Teams [30 - 3 x 10] 28 -2 XV-60a APC [x6] 6 -0 SD-60x Battle Droids [x12] 10 -2 XT-60a [9 - 3 x 3 ]9 -0 AT-TD [x3] 3 -0 // III Company | Armored Spearhead // AT-SAT [9 - 3 x 3] 8 -1 AT-TD [6 - 2 x 3] 5 -1 XT-60a [18 - 3 x 6] 16 -2 HMP-60x [9 - 3 x 3] 8 -1 // Support Element + Reserves // TIE Slasher [36 - 3 x 12] TIE Bruiser [16 - 2 x 8] TIE Mauler [8 - 2 x 4] PURGEGRU - Task Force 'Gauntlet' IV Company - Armored Infantry + Full Unit Extraction +

// DEATHSHEAD SQUADRON // // PERSONAL EQUIP //​ // ARMOR // // MAIN WEAPON // // SIDE ARM// // MISC // // MELEE - POLEARM // (Placeholder) // MELEE - SWORD //

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The familiar voice ruptured the alarm within Irveric's being -- siphoning adrenaline through his form almost immediately as he turned to face the Devil Lion. Fitting that the only Dark Councilman he encountered as an ally on the field of battle be the first he encounter as an enemy once more. Of all the Sith from which he loathed and held as begrudging ally - toward the Devil Lion he was indifferent.

To the threatening gesture offered up by the Sith he was still even as his T visor visage peered down the wretched pike looming dangerously close to the glasteel. Darth Bellum offered a similar maneuver in the Warlord's second meeting with the Anzati, none too dissimilar to The Bloody Handed Bastard, Vaulkhar 's gesture when he'd first met the former 'Wrath Of The Emperor' and even still the Devil Lion on Mandalore did the very same. Irveric's fear of the Sith and their 'power' had long been calcified in his senses just has his fear of death and everything else had been.

"Were you subjugate like I was you would not be so willing to die for your Empire, Devil Lion." Irveric remarks in his characteristic cold and stoic cadence - the very same to which he initially addressed him on Mandalore, slowly lifting a hand to stray the lance from its path before he'd holster the hybrid pistol into the gundark leather pouch at his hip.

"You are one of few who commands their own fate under the Eye Of Soloman, everyone below you. The Grand Moffs, the High Lords...they are nothing. I did not cast this stone selfishly, Sith. I embarked on this crusade because if I do not those who I owe my loyalty to..." He says, gesturing in the direction of the raging battle on the other side of the city block from which they posture toward one another as he backs up a pace to reach behind his back, slowly pulling a gruesome weapon from his belt.

Sourcing from a haft of phrik the gruesome head of a weapon protruded in the form of an axe head coursing from one side whilst a hooked blade protrudes from the other all the in the shadow of a vicious plasmatic spike at the weapon's end. Pressing his palm against a bottom on the side of the haft it detracts into a long pole arm as the plasmatic blades lining the phrik heads of the weapon spark alight. Clutching the vibro-arbir halberd toward the head in his right hand and lower down the polearm in his left he angles the gruesome spike at the base of the weapon toward Kascalion before speaking once more.

"They'll die for nothing. So that worlds like Mandalore and Kintan can be torched into nothingness...for what?" Tavlar retorts as he stands at the ready to bait Kascalion into the first strike.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Location: Hangar Deck on the Chariot-Class Transport Frigate "Deliverer", enroute to Velmor (Den Velmor specifically)
Objective: Save the children! (translation: Kill the Sith)
Allies: K Kaine Australis K Kaine Australis , SJO
Enemies: Sith, Lirka Ka Lirka Ka (Ding! Ding! Round 1! Fight!), open
Personal Assets: Icarus Platoon
Equipment:
Armor: OS-114 "Katarn Mk. II" Combat Armor
Primary Weapon: OS-109 Fate Assault Rifle (chest rig)
Secondary Weapons:

• OS-104 Reaper Blaster Pistol (drop holster, right side)
• Solan Rarr's Lightsaber (On belt)
• Krath Itak Sword (back scabbard) Note to Force Users/Force Sensitives - this blade emanates a strong Dark Side aura
• Beskar Sword (back scabbard)
• 8 x frag grenades (chest rig)

Misc Gear:

• OS-112 "Valkyrie" Jump Jet System (Mounted on back)
• OS-108 Energy Shield (Left wrist)
• 2 x OS-107 "Hermes" Sensor Drones (chest rig)

The fight was already in full swing as Beltran and the rest of Icarus' soldiers fell rapidly through the air. Enemy fire lashed out from various points within the tangled mess of buildings as they approached. At this range it was still difficult to pinpoint individual enemies, so Beltran held his fire. There was no use wasting shots when it was unlikely they would do any good.

From somewhere up and to his right, a pair of bolts flew past him, and embedded themselves into a pair of Sith Legionnaires manning a portable blaster emplacement on one of the rooftops. Beltran didn't even need to look up as he opened up his com. "Nice shot, Doss."

Corporal Jesson Doss was his squad's premier marksman, and Beltran suspected that he was probably one of the best in the whole of the Antarian Rangers-if not the galaxy itself. "All part of the service, El Tee." The not-so-gentle giant replied, ostensibly while siting up another Sith soldier with his Precision Support Rifle and firing. The slight twang of the man's backwood Saleucamian accent would have made Beltran smile, if Beltran was a man who was prone to smiling.

Seconds later, Beltran landed-using his jump jets to slow his fall enough that the hundreds of meters long descent felt like little more than a hop.

Immediately, he was under fire. Breaking into a furious sprint, he dashed across the intersection which he'd chosen for Icarus' rally point and ducked behind the wreckage of a burned out speeder. Looking up, he saw the rest of his people were about to touch down. Coming to a kneeling position, Beltran raised his rifle and began laying down fully automatic suppressing fire at the group of Sith Legionnaires who were rushing forward to engage them.

A few small groups of huddled civilians broke into dead runs of their own as the Sith soldiers temporarily forgot about their "recruiting" efforts in the face of a fully armed and determined enemy assault. Some were adults, who ran straight for a group of children and picked up any they could-regardless of whether it was their own child or not-and disappeared between the various buildings. Another, a young boy who could have barely been more than ten picked up a blaster pistol, which had been dropped by a now deceased Sith and turned in on a pair of Legionnaires who had been holding his mother at blaster point.

His wide, scared, eyes only grew wider as the blaster fired, dropping the Sith and freeing the terrified woman. But he ran over to her, grabbed her hand and led her away, dropping the weapon to the ground next to the now dead men who'd tried to take him away from his home.

As the rest of Icarus landed, they quickly formed something akin to a skirmish line and began to move forward. Beltran could here the voice of his 2IC, Sergeant Lota, giving orders over the squad's com channel-splitting the unit by fire-teams and pressing forward. Icarus might have been outnumbered, and outgunned, but they they had mobility and aggression on their side. That might have been a strange thing for someone affiliated with the Silver Jedi to say, but wars weren't won by being more serene than the enemy.

Wars were won by killing the enemy.

::Something very nasty coming your way. I'll hit whatever it is in the flank. Hold fast.::

That was General K Kaine Australis ' voice, coming over their comnet. Beltran hadn't bothered to keep track of the Mandalorian. He knew the man would make himself useful and was more than capable of taking care of himself. He also knew that the General had a lot more experience with battlefield tactics than even he himself did, so without even really thinking about it Beltran replied.

"Acknowledged," He said simply before adding. "Lota, we're holding."

Though he was speaking to his Sergeant, everyone in the unit heard and quickly found cover. Beltran turned his head, suddenly aware of a growing crashing sound coming from a nearby building. He'd had barely enough time to even register the sound before the wall of the building he was nearest seemed to explode outward. Pieces of duracrete flew in all directions as the massive armored figure of Lirka Ka was revealed standing only a few short meters away from him.

"Oh," Beltran said aloud, as if he'd been surprised in a caf shop line by an old friend. "I was hoping to see you here."

Moving smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabbed a frag grenade from his chest rig-pulled the pin and popped the spoon. He then tossed it, underhand, at the beast-woman and activated his jump jets-flying out of the way even as the grenade exploded. He would come to rest behind another speeder a few more meters away and turn to raise his rifle not even bothering to see the result of the explosion before he started firing.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

\\ REQUESTING DATA ACCESS...
Input Security Clearance: Processing...
Security Clearance Level: Black
Access: GRANTED //

• Location: Den Velmor
• Objective: Defend the Empire from SJO Forces | Round up any and all escapees | Destroy Tavlar
• Allies: TSE | Cognus Legion - 8th Battalion - Three-Hundred-Eighty Infantrymen
• Enemies: SJO | Irveric Tavlar (Coordinated)
• Personal Vessel in Orbit: Guardian Phalanx (Ferrata-class Planetary Assault Carrier)

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Abaddon smiled a humorous smile beneath his featureless helmet, yet the golden eyes of his Proxy Prime were narrow slits blazing with intrigue, fury, and...sorrow. Some level of sorrow. He hated that. He could not explain that. And he hated not being able to explain things more than feeling feelings that he had never felt before, or at least not felt for a very, very long time. This man, this military titan, had betrayed the people Abaddon considered family, estranged and distant though he thought of them to be. Abaddon had every moral and ethical right to hate this man for what he was. A traitor. A betrayer. A disgusting whelp of a maggot who felt that he had power where he had no reason to think so.

And yet his words still struck hard.

The Devil Lion let the lance loosen in his grip which allowed the blade to scrape ever so slowly downward against the plated neck of the traitor's thick armor, light sparks of metal on metal flying off into the air to be dissipated as burnt ozone. His gaze followed the traitor's motioning, looking upon the battle as hundreds died in the chaos, falling unaware of Tavlar's backing away and retrieval of his own weapon. Are they dying for nothing? Are they simply fighting to become something? Do they truly battle against those they feel had subjugated them from their fate? Now filled with nothing but anger and hate?

The voice asked him these questions yet could not answer and spoke nothing after them, and the Devil Lion was left alone, unsure of his own feelings yet again. He always had been unsure. Nearly seven-hundred years of life and his mind was unsure of most things he had learned and witnessed. Lorale was the only thing he was sure of, and yet even he had buggered off to who knows where with his "holy crusade." Seven-hundred years of uncertainty, of feeling lost. Tavlar, or perhaps more likely the specific situation placed before him, only made him feel more so.

Sorrow. Come again tomorrow.

"You speak as if you understand the meaning of your words, Lord Tavlar. With conviction," Abaddon finally muttered with his gaze still locked on the battle and tightening his grip on the lance's handle. "I commend you for that. But you must understand this: Subjugation - you welcomed it like a coward until you finally decided you were 'above it.' That you had suffered it enough. The Empire lives to subjugate. To destroy. To conquer. It has been that way for millennia! Do you think you will be better with this...New Imperial Order? Do you think you can defy the Sith so successfully that you will not still feel it? That you will not lay it down upon the rest? Fate - you signed yours when you challenge us. When you walked away...you sentenced yourself to die. And Loyalty...do not speak to me of loyalty. You know nothing of it. You are nothing more than a traitorous, lecherous, vile, unforgivable coward who seeks to DESTROY. MY. FAMILY."

The Devil Lion made the first move, shucking his hand forward with a violent push towards Tavlar and would follow up with a series of spinning slashes of his lance aimed for any and all weak points he could perceive in the man's tank-like armor.

 

[Dax Perl]

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[ D A X...F Y R E ]

Location: Den Velmor
Objective: Protect the civilians
Allies: Shira Varanin
Enemies: Kyrel Ren

............This was the second battle of this body's lifetime. For the person occupying the body? He'd lost count a long time ago. And even still, he could only remember perhaps one or two conflicts that wreaked as much wanton destruction as this. Den Velmor would live in infamy from this day forward. For the people that survived this day, ushered quickly away from their homes before they were all killed, the stuff of nightmares. And the children that the Jedi couldn't save? This would be nothing more than a bad dream, if they remembered at all.

............These were all things that Dax knew. And they were all things he couldn't think about right now as he fired his Shacklebolt Rifle at a pair of Sith Trooper, the bodies hitting the ground with a thud. "Go on! Get outta here!" the Forcer called to the family of three that the Troopers had cornered. They scurried away without a word. Gotta keep going.

............Dax kept moving down the streets. Sometimes he caught troopers off guard. Sometimes they caught him. But he was still standing. Running away was just what had to be done sometimes. He couldn't save everyone. But it wasn't more clanking machines or the white clad soldiers of the Empire that caught Dax's attention this time, but the rapid humming of lightsabers, and the electric crash of two force adepts duking it out. That's where Dax needed to be.

............There were some advantages to having an absolutely ravaged Force signature, little more than a ghost of it once was. In a battlefield full of powerful Force users, Dax flew well under the radar. And that meant that neither of the two combatants would take particular notice of the ruggedly dressed man carrying slugthrowers and lightsabers come upon their battle. That being said, Dax himself was a little busy shooting back at the Troopers shooting at him to make a thorough examination of who was fighting. Blue and red flashed in the corner of Dax's eye as he squeezed off another short burst from his weapon. Behind cover, the Rogue took a deep breath, and focused. Those presences, they were familiar. He didn't know them, not well at least, but he recognized them. One, he knew from almost every major battle that Dax had ever fought in...that could only mean one thing. Ren.

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by Dax Fyre​