Junction Iron Resolve | Junction of Enclave-Excarga, NIO-Krownest

[Shai Maji]

+W A R D O G P A G E C L A I M+

KROWNEST | ORBIT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | 501st LEGION
16th COMPANY | SURVIVORS
ALLIES: NIO/ENCLAVE | Eliz Krayt | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Dante Corvus | Volgin Alto | Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Nukth Kelga'an
ENEMIES: SITH REMNANTS | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Xeykard
ENGAGING: Come at me bro
GEAR: In bio | Basilisk War Droid | Standard loadout

​

While Kranak rushed off to get some air support on the bunkers and trenches offending the ticked off Shistavanen, Shai didn’t simply stay put. After firing a few rounds at the next trenchline, she ducked down and moved along the route to get a better angle. Though the encroaching artillery was becoming a problem. Funnily enough… she wasn’t bothered by it.

Apart from the possibility of losing more men or clanmates in this fight, it was actually quite enjoyable. No, there was something far more pressing on her mind and she was going to address it while they waited for the air support to arrive sometime before Life Day. Opening a private connection between Alora and Kranak, she simply kept firing at the enemy as she gathered her thoughts on the situation. :: Alright, you two. I gotta quickly… yo, that dude can’t shoot to save his life… I gotta address the whole picture thing real quick. :: She started, clearly a little annoyed as she spoke.

:: When we get back home, we’re retakin’ the photo. Ideally burn the old one ‘cause I’m bein’ a petty mutt, but I ain’t gonna be missin’ that one out. That’s one consequence of my actions I ain’t gonna be carryin’, I want that photo. :: She grumbled over the gunfire and explosions around them, realizing very well just how petty she was sounding.

But she was going to get that photo.

Opening the comms again, she repositioned and moved back to regroup with the rest. Soon the howling of ion engines echoed through the air and in the distance Shai could see the TIEs highlighted in her thermals. :: Tuck in ladies, fireworks are coming. :: She radioed to the others as she crouched down until only her visor peeked over the ground.

Explosions tore through the remaining defenses between the Mandalorians and the fortress for the most part. The bunkers were out and a good part of the trench as well, the explosions lighting up the night sky for a moment. Shai and several of her men cheered heartily as a lot of the bolts seemed to let up for a bit.

:: All units, move up! Let’s take that fortress! :: She roared over the comms before she blasted into the air towards what remained of the next trenchline…

999​

Jetpacks ignited and soldiers went over the walls of the trench, pushing ever onwards as their rifles roared and missiles soared through the air from their jetpacks and wrists. Majority targeted the repeaters and groups of soldiers still remaining from the airstrike. The snow and wind battered against the Beskar skins of the Mandalorians moving forward.

:: Gira, take three guys and go through the right side! Lesha, those moon jockeys missed a bunch of them, go check that rubble! :: Shai barked at the troops, sprinting through snow with her rifle hurling bolt after bolt. Jumping into the air again, she headed straight for the center with the rest of the unit.

Touching down, her vambrace sprayed a group of troopers with searing flames before she pressed on. ”Don’t stop for nothing! Eliz, Vulcan, follow that pathway and clear out th-” An explosion erupted in the trench, sending several of the Sixteens as well as their commander sailing backwards. Another explosion landed just outside the trench, then three more… in a matter of seconds, the entire line was peppered with dozens of rockets landing all around them with disturbingly accurate precision.

Several men groaned and coughed around the trench. A few managed to fly upwards and avoid the salvo of rockets, but they didn’t get very far when the whistling of mortars closed in and burst in a cloud of flak in the air.

”Medic! We need a medic over here!” One trooper called out. Another screamed as he clutched what remained of a mangled arm.

Barely a minute later more rockets roared overhead while their engines lit up the trail. Chaos enveloped the trench as the combination of mortars and rockets pommelled the last line of defense, with repeater and blaster bolts raining down on the position. And with less than a hundred meters between them and the outer walls of the fortress filled with an enemy desperate for survival, they were getting everything thrown at them.

Shai’s ears were ringing as she laid on the trench floor, dirt and snow splattering her and the white armour of the men around her. Fire soared around them and soldiers ran around, dragging injured comrades into a different pathway away from the attacks.

With wide eyes she brought a hand up to rub at a sore spot on her forehead. She only noticed that her helmet was off when she felt actual contact against her brow. She blinked and wiped at her eyes as her ears continued to ring, trying to sit upright only to fall over again. Calling out, she couldn’t even hear her own voice.

The last trenchline was absolute carnage as the remaining troops continued to fight. Sith remnants were still in the trenches, trying desperately to move in on the weakened attackers while using the artillery as cover.

”To our left! To our left!” One shouted as he knelt down and dumped his fresh magazine down one of the trench’s corridors. Others tried to fire back at the defenders on the walls, but they were at a horrible angle to shoot up at their enemy on the walls and battlements. :: We need a medic! :: Another called out over the comms. :: We got simps moving in on the right! ::

The ones still on their feet tried their best to cut off the regrouping enemy with grenades and anything else at their disposal while others tried to get the injured out of the killzone.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

B R O K E N A N G E L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL WARLORD

9 AM IN BASTION
Rurik Fel Carlyle Rausgeber Aemilio Valaar The Quartermaster

And just like that, his part of the meeting was over and done. Lucien let out a quiet sigh as the remaining two were dismissed, giving a nod to his brother before sparing another glance towards the Quartermaster. Raising from his seat a few seconds later, Lucien offered up a half-bow out of respect, his otherwise impassive visage just momentarily shifting with the wind of the room, a brief smirk curling onto his lips.

"Till next time, miss Quartermaster.."

He allowed his gaze to linger a few moments longer, then pivoted fluidly off to the side, and exited the meeting room first. He'd be posted upon the wall next to the door, a foot pressed against it, his arms folded across his chest. Once the doors reopened, and the Presbelt Warlord was in sight, he'd break from his lax posture to accompany his fellow Warlord on the walk back to the Command center. Even if he wasn't a fan of Carlyle, his fiefdom, or even his conniving demeanor, in relative private the two were still colleagues in an unfortunate sense of the word.

"We have business to discuss, Rausgeber."

​

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

OBJECTIVE: Iron Dawn
Equipment: Blaster, Rifle, Detonators, Armour
TAG: Eliz Krayt | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Dante Corvus | Volgin Alto | Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Open

Vulcan made steady progress through the ever-increasing bedlam all around him, it was a slow creep from Chaos to unrestrained Pandemonium. Ducking and managed to avoid several shots as he charged forward. Earlier he and a few others managed to destroy a defence weapon so that no one had to deal with it as they charged through that spot. Climbing over a fallen warrior he got ever closer to the target. He didn't want to step on the guy or woman but there was no way else to go about the obstructions, every minute was critical.

During any fighting it is unwise to dwell on what to do, thinking is a good thing, a certain way to stay alive but in other situations, pure switch off helps with the horror. Because not distancing yourself from it would be even worse. So he steeled his mind against what he saw.

He had to shield his visor from the bits of flesh sent flying by a well-aimed enemy laser. He felt nausea at the sight but knew he had to keep going. Helped along by another Vod, who shoved him forward as he was slowing down. He never noticed; he waved thanks as he got his feet back under him. His sensors strained over the mass of weaponry whizzing above and to the sides of his position.

Vulcan idly and with humour as he thought about how he had to dig through Beskar'gam boots to find ones that fit him. He never noticed he had small feet, which needed custom boots made for him, He skidded to a stop and ducked behind a boulder as a hot bolt of plasma whizzed close to his head.

That WAS close!

That was far too close for comfort, what was closer still were dead bodies in a heap a few feet away. It is very real, and he was in the middle of it. He defiantly fought every instinct to flee, not when he was being counted on. He was not going to break or abandon Shai or anyone else.

With this firmly in his mind he moved with a fire in his chest, he was close to the trenchworks and he like the others ignited his jetpack to scale the wall. Up he flew rifle ready as soon as he could see what was firing at them, he let loose a volley of fire at the enemy. He landed back on the ground when he was being inundated with enemy gunfire.

He also noticed the snow beginning to fall and lash in sheets, he got shunted to the side by another Mando which saved him from death, a sneaky sniper had Vulcan in their crosshairs. He still needed refinement; his mind was too prone to wander still.

Snapping things into focus and wiping at the snow to clear his vision he again pressed forward. Soon he saw it in full, that's going to be one heck of a fight coming. But he was looking forward to it, the passion was there and it tingled from his head to his toes.

Did he enjoy this, no? But is he turned away from it, again, no? For now, he had no opinion on the matter, nor did he let himself think, just do. His Comm fizzed to life, he almost forgot that was there. He clicked it on, Shai's voice filtered in sharp and crisp. Again, the orders were clear, stop for nothing and follow the pathway. The line now lay dead, the static of a Comm that didn't connect.

Then, a sudden ominous whistling cracked through the air, Vulcan for his part didn't hear the end noise, in fact when he opened his eyes, nothing was heard except a shrill ring in his ears and the fact he was now upside down, far from where he was. The Beskar protected him from being badly hurt, but he still felt pain and shock. Adrenalin prevented him from knowing exactly what was wrong, the Teen righted himself and waited for the screeching in his ears to stop.

As soon as it dropped a few octaves he stood up, wobbling slightly, blood was running into his eye was the first thing he noticed the second was that his helmet was off. Must have come off when he landed. He dared not touch the obvious and deep gash on his head.

He needed to get his helmet back before his breathing gets bad. As soon as he located it he placed it back on his head. What Vulcan needed to do now is wait out the noise and figure out what to do next. He was so close to getting to where he was needed, so close he could almost picture it. He will stubbornly see this mission through to the end.

 

[Eliz Krayt]

This wasn't the same as his war against the maw. That was something he quickly realized as he stepped onto the edge of the trench. His suit flickered in and out before the fractal coating finally shorted out for the last time. They were working together as units. Side by side, trusting each other to watch their backs and continue ever forward. It was nothing like his desperate attempts to survive the Maw and help the few Chiss he could. Hit and run tactics, hiding away in ruined buildings as the bulk of those twisted demagolka passed by.

This was what he was missing in his time away. Comradery. What would of happened if he reached out to his Vod sooner? Would he have had this? No, no looking back. Only forward. Shai Maji and the others were still moving, still pressing on. All he needed to do was follo-

:: Tuck in ladies, fireworks are coming. ::

He was too far ahead of the group. On his own, flanking from the other side. In range of the air strike. His red eyes widened as he turned, kicking on his jetpack to launch forward and away from the incoming strike. Panic gripped at his heart as he started to fly. Just as the first TIE flew overhead. "Chi-"

Ringing.

That's what woke him up. Muddy snow caked his armor as he laid sprawled out some distance from where he'd been. "What..?" He lifted his head. For a moment his HUD glitched, the concussive force of the bombs causing it trouble. But it clicked on regardless, scanning the area around him. Right. There was little left of the trench he'd been in. Behind him, just a smoldering crater. He'd been lucky. Not that the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears had him feeling that way. Slowly Eliz pushed himself up. Where were the others? Behind?

He turned his head at just the right time to see hell let loose on his people. Mortars brightened the sky, erupting in fire and pain. He was away from it all, able to watch. Unfortunate to watch. His red eyes widened as he forced himself to his feet, half stumbling a step forward in the process. His balance? Chit, what balance? Had his ears blown out or was it a concussion? The next step was steadier, so likely just the later.

It was a wonder he didn't hurt. No, right. His armor. How many stims had been pumped into him to keep him moving? A quick med scan with the right eye gestures to his hud confirmed there were no life threatening injuries on him. But his people? Shai? Kranak? Alora? The others? It hit him he hadn't even bothered to learn the names of the others he was fighting with. The boy's lips thinned. His HUD flashed, locating one of his pistols close by. Then located where the mortar strike had come from. He reached down to lift up the revolver as he turned from the trenches and looked towards the wall.

He'd learned some on how to be a medic from Kranak, but he was better at killing.

Even without the Fractal Pattern Eliz had learned how to stealth properly. Moving with shadows, avoiding the attention of guards. Utilizing his suits other features to blend into his environment. Within the wall's fortifications chaos was everywhere. The Sith Remnants were running around, carrying munitions to the front lines to refill the rockets. The artillery. His lips thinned again behind his helmet. His hearing had returned. Good thing he made sure his new buy'ce was better protected against such things. As much as he loved his father, reforging his armor was the best thing he'd done.

The sensor in his helmet alerted him to movement behind him. He turned, intent on tucking in behind some cover. Too slow. No, perfectly fast enough for the normal trooper. His gaze fell on a masked figure in a black robe. Sith? Eliz lifted his pistol. So much for stea- Before he had a chance to pull the trigger he was lifted and thrown back. Out into the falling snow among other Sith troopers who all stopped to stare in surprise.

"Chiiiit."

Yeah, this was going bad, quick. His helmet sent out a pulse, scanning the targets around him. Too many to take down on his own, especially with the Sith there. The masked figure stepped out, igniting their blood red saber as they slowly advanced. "Interesting. For a moment I thought you were fake. I feel.. Nothing from you."

"That so? I certainly don't feel anything from you."

Eliz pushed himself up as his sensors picked up the numerous blasters now pointed his way. "You're dead to the Force." There was a bemused tone to the altered voice as the Sith spoke to him. The Chissalorian tensed, his grin forced under his helmet only to keep himself from grimacing. That's what he'd been counting on. The Sith wouldn't feel him running through, so he wouldn't get caught.

So much for that.

"If you'd like, I can do the same thing for you."

Nothing went to plan. Eliz hobbled his way deeper into the compound as he shot out the lock beside him with the Charric on his wrist. His suit was scarred with blaster fire and saber strikes. The damn Sith made use of their soldiers, keeping him from being able to really fight back without being exposed. On the other side of the door an explosion rocked the fortification. His jetpack had been sacrificed as a make shift tripwire bomb to at least slow the coming reinforcements and that damn Sith.

Now with a chance to breath Eliz pulled off his buy'ce. Blood dripped from his forehead onto the ground. When did he bump his head? Ha, no. When didn't he bump his head. He ran a hand over the T-visor, staring at himself in the reflection. He looked horrible. His armor did it's job to protect him, but damn did he look like he was dead. ".. No rest for the wicked."

He pushed himself up, limping forward. He still had something he needed to do.

Finally he found it. The munitions room. Eliz had lost those that had been following him. His suit and his deadness to the Force must of been frustrating as hell for the Sith. Good. With a grin he half stumbled into the room. Now he just needed to set the charges and get ou-

Snap-hiss.

"Well that figures. Guess I was a little too obvious?"

Eliz pulled free the large pistol holstered on his thigh. It hummed to life. He hadn't bothered using it yet. No, more like he hadn't had a chance to use it yet. The Sith simply lifted their saber. Around him more guns hummed to life.

"Beskar can only protect you for so long. You were foolish to come here alone."

"No, not alone." He cracked a grin as he pulled back the hammer on the revolver. "Just early."

Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. Around him blaster fire erupted as the Sith charged forward. Bolts slammed into the Beskar plates and against the flightsuit between it's gaps. He twisted from the impacts, them too numerous for him just to tank. The Sith front of him ducked under the shot. And Eliz only grinned. "Dumbass." The 'bullet' hit against the door just behind the Sith and went off. Air forcibly ripped inward as the charge imploded. The Sith tried to scream as he was pulled back, but no sound came out. Only one sound came, a deafening roar.

The munitions' room went up in a ball of flame. Behind the walls, chaos erupted all around. A large portion of the wall blew outwards at near the same time, breaking their fortifications. Eliz hadn't just been searching for the munitions. Instead setting charges throughout to give Shai and the others a chance to break through. The infiltrator had done his job. Now it was their turn.

Kranak Vizsla | Shai Maji | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Lesha Priest | Dante Corvus | Volgin Alto | Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | @Others I'm lazy.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Location: Ursa's Redoubt Trenches
Objective: Make Some Noise, Break Some Artillery

Alora reached down and unlocked the heavy repeating blaster from its mount. Hefted in both hands, she slowly turned and carefully crossed to the opposite side of the dugout. One foot propped up against the wall, she grunted as the weapon was shifted into alignment in her grasp.

:: Alright, you two. I gotta quickly… yo, that dude can't shoot to save his life… I gotta address the whole picture thing real quick. ::

Picture thing? She tore loose on the enemy position with the repeater as Shai needed to drop something heavy on them during the fight. Well, it wasn't heavy like the big gun in her arms, but it was emotionally charged which was about the same on a battlefield right? Not really, but Alora wouldn't complain.

:: That's one consequence of my actions I ain't gonna be carryin', I want that photo. ::

Sithy Troops didn't like being shot at so they started shooting back -- as one should in a kill or be killed situation. Bolts pounded the ground in front of Alora, to the side of Alora, and behind Alora -- and not once did those happy-fun goons manage to actually shoot Alora. How many did she get with the repeater? Well, hardly mattered. All she needed to do was keep their butts planted while air support apparently swooped in to rain fire. They shot at her, the barrel pivoted a few degrees at them, they ducked, and -- most importantly -- they did not move.

<"Course,"> Alora replied back over Shai's private frequency with Kranak on-board. <"One condition though: it happen again and the only picture Kranak's taking is after you've been taxidermied."> What? She figured it'd be more memorable if she'd said it. Shai was probably getting used to Kranak yelling at and threatening her -- even if it was with good reason. Big Guy was the squad lead, right? Kind of his job. Still, only so much complaint you could give before it became rote.

Shai called out fire was coming. Kranak called out it was coming close. Gambit called out Alora didn't need to worry.

Yes, Alora cheated at war. Kill smarter, not harder! She was sure someone famous said that once. Well, her ship analyzed the flight path, computed wind speed, took into account friction and likely payload design, laid the math out over the battlefield and superimposed the Mando positions and... told Alora she wasn't going to get vaporized. So that was cool.

Hey and you know what? A Sithy type managed to get a blow in on Alora's beskar'gam before they went fwoosh. They probably died happy. Wait, no, they were Sith... they probably died angry. A... happy angry.

When the word was given to advance, Alora tossed the heavy blaster aside and jetpacked up too break into a run with her mates however far parted they might be physically.

Both disruptors out, Alora charged forward with both barrels running hot from a constant barrage. Even when a pack ran dry it only took a moment to pop in more candy and get back to dispensing tough love. Maybe they hadn't figured out how to be decent people in this life, but they'd get a second chance in the next!

Just after the young Mandalorian hopped the last trench, prepared to advance on the enemy fortress, a cacophony of explosion ripped through the air and shook the ground. "Shai," Alora cried as her head whipped around to witness the debris being sent into the air and begin its descent. Before she could do more than cry out in alarm that probably her closest friend in the Enclave may have gotten seriously injured again -- or killed -- an oversize bolt of energy plowed into her breastplate. The sheer force of the blow sent the gunmetal Mandalorian off her feet and into the trench the way she'd come. Her back hit the far wall before the metal suit collapsed to the burnt out trench bottom.

A moment passed. Then another. The HUD inside Alora's helmet flickered before the image stabilized once more. Her fingers twitched as she slowly recovered from the sudden impacts. Slowly, Alora rolled onto her side exposing the carbon scoring that painted her entire chest black. "That... hurt," she muttered to herself as another explosion soon rocked the air.

With her teeth clenched, Alora began to push her upper body up from the ground to right herself. Shai could be in trouble. They all could be in trouble. Now wasn't the time to be napping! Alora hadn't managed to carve a way through numerous candidates only to be stopped short here. Best of the best of the best... Right? Right?! With a growl, the violet-haired woman threw an arm up on the edge of the trench and pulled her head up to stare forward and then down the line in Shai's direction. Right. No time for naps.

Her jetpack ignited and sent Alora up and forward with Eliz's explosion drawing attention. Both disruptors still in hand -- she built them, she Manda-well wasn't going to abandon them -- the burnt Mandalorian rocketed out to find the artillary hurting her friends and family. Time to have the Sith dancing to a different tune.

Location: Ursa's Redoubt Fortress

POYO! Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Kranak Vizsla | Lesha Priest
POYO Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Volgin Alto | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair​

 

[Lachlan Sinclair]

ᛒᛖᚨᛋᛏ
THE BEAST OF GALIDRAAN
KILL COUNT: 14
Dante Corvus | Michael Barran | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Volgin Alto | Shai Maji | Alora Vizsla
Delilah Jones | Jon Kovacs | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Lesha Priest

​

Cursed ichor hissed in defiance of the open air, blood brought to boil by blaster bolt in the darkness. Trickling streams slicked his wounded hide, the mixture of his own blood oozing into the painted streaks and splatters of his prey's across his shuddering form, an offering to the very deities who had made him what he was. The chamber was silent save for the echo of his heaving breaths, the hollow expansion and collapse of his bleeding rib cage scattering the mists of red from his nose and gaped maw, where strings of viscera and gore lodged between his teeth. On all fours, the beast stalked back toward where he had emerged, enveloped by the tranquility of his bloodletting, the splashing steps of his twisted paws clattered distantly down the halls. He paused ears forward, nose up, upon the recognition of motion in the dark. Familiar figures slithered through the broken door, stepping over the godforsaken field of mangled corpses and unrecognizable meat, their hidden expressions all but evident in the revulsion and shock they voiced upon finding him. Few had seen this face of his, this bestial monstrosity kept beneath the veneer of civility.

"Och, Sinclair... easy lad..." one of them approached the quivering beast more boldly, hands upheld and overturned to display empty palms, "'s me, mate. Caulen. Ye knoo me, don'cha?" The Highlanders dispatched had caught up to him, their venture on his path highlighted by the stench of copper and hot meat, human insides left to waste on the outsides of their tender shells, ripped and shredded from their safety with little regard for armor and the like. Staring down the creature responsible, even knowing it was technically an ally, was a daunting task, and one none of them had been particularly fond of undertaking without the young Laird by their sides, his gift granting him some sort of understanding on how to handle the lycanthrope when his ugly side came out. "We's here te cover ye, just keep doin' whit yer doin'." The man quickly patched himself through to their commander, confirming that they had caught up with their less-than-communicative comrade: <"Pinely te Barran, we found him! We're keepin' on him; hurry yer arse up, I dunnae how te control him, over!">

The beast lowered his head, reflective eyes drinking in the sparse light of their mounted beams to confirm what it was the man said. Gazing upon them, no urge to kill drove him to lunge, no desire for bloody carnage spurred his sides. The instincts carried from man to monster held fast, the distant voice in the farthest edges of his mind staying his wrath. Reinforced by his comrades, the monstrosity took the time to gather himself somewhat, easing back on his expenses to his stamina. Steadiness carried his stride, his hearing his guide, from his position hunched over, his terrifying countenance angled down the path on the right- mane bristling with the thrumming pulse of intention. He all but disregarded his team, shoving his way through them- though most darted eagerly from his path- to approach the door left ajar by hastened retreat.

Nose to the steel, the wolf pressed on, parting the entrance, and glowered down the long straight and narrow ahead. A trail of fear permeated the dark, its enticing smell dragged down the length, as much he noticed even before his ears caught the drumming slap of stumbling boots fading or the ripples of silhouettes against an almost equally black backdrop. The urge returned, igniting within his veins, and with a blood-curdling howl, The Beast of Galidraan was on the move, launching himself down the narrowing passage to give chase. Terrified breaths stuttered from the duo of soldiers fleeing the slaughter, fogging up the visors of their helmets and all but smothering them with their own panic in their attempts to escape. Running was certainly not the best option, he was faster. Fighting didn't look so good either, he was stronger. And in seconds their head start was dead and he was upon them. Muzzle flash strobed from the corridor, the soldier spared of his bite immediately pulling the trigger to score the nightmare's hide with further injury.

It didn't stop the bone-shattering 'crack!' and snap of his comrade's rib cage in Lachlan's jaws, or the spray of blood showering the hall as he violently shook the man caught between his teeth like a ragdoll. One moment, the man considered his escape, and the next, he cemented his will to die for the sake of killing this creature. "You want me!? C'mon then!" He tossed his rifle aside and snatched a grenade from his belt, ripping the pin and compressing the spoon against his palm to cook it. The wet, sickening 'thlop' of his slain brother's corpse splattering against the ground sent a shiver throughout his body, though he did not waver. The second his pressure came off the spoon of the grenade, it would detonate, and hopefully, it would kill this creature too. For a moment, man and beast stared at one another in standoffish silence, the evidence Lachlan understood what it was the man was planning unfolding in full in those seconds. "Oh hoh, you do k-know what this is, do you?" The trooper jeered, waving his arm around. Lachlan merely twisted his head and snapped his jaws twice, the concussive clap all but shaking the hall.

"That's right, keep back..." slowly did the man start to inch backward.

In a flash, the beast twisted around and kicked a leg, the ragged pad of his hind paw smashing into the soldier's chest before he could react, flinging him a considerable distance backward and into the side of the tunnel. The grenade detonated, rattling the hall and sending an angry flurry of dust and debris raining from the ceiling.

 

[Faison Kelborn]

OBJECTIVE: Iron Dawn
TAG: Chelenne Akaris Avenger Ghalric Rau Siv Dragr Xeykard

Faison gave a long, hard look at Blitz when he, for lack of a better term, chided the Mandalorian for simply giving the woman known as Nighthawk a taste of her own attitude. Was it petty? Probably. Did she deserve it? Most definitely. Despite the instance chagrining him more than one would expect, he said nothing. But this was in part due to some subtle turns of phrase the Imperial operative made in addressing Faison. "Mando'ade?" "Beskar'gam"? They were the proper terms of course, but as far as Faison could remember, only those who adhered to The Way in some form or fashion used those words; for most outsiders typically used basic terms instead like 'Mandalorians', 'armor', 'badasses', etc. The idea that a fellow vode was amidst the ranks of the NIO's elite operatives wasn't in and of itself totally surprising, but it did add some context as to why Blitz was a bit quick to check Faison nonetheless, outside of the obvious implication that he was likely a bit protective over those of his immediate circle. Come to think of it, said loyalty made even more sense with the slight realization rising to the fore. There was nothing to really do with that notion at this point in time, but perhaps it would be of import later.

Ghost followed Chelenne and the rest of their company as they neared the crevasse revealing itself before them. He found it somewhat humorous that she was whining over the idea of scaling the crevasse herself, and rolled his eyes from behind his visor at her insistence that someone go before her. Before he had time to do anything really, whether it was to push ahead or otherwise, Blitz made the group aware of an unidentified entity heading their way. He had little by way of information as to who this unidentified person was - for all he knew, it was some smuggler marooned on this rock foraging for shelter.

Or it could be a Sith pathfinder.

Regardless, it only took a moment for Faison to come to the conclusion he would then express to the rest of the team: "You can handle it however you want, but I don't think it's wise to give away our position over an unknown entity. Our main advantage is surprise, and I'm not in a rush to give that up." His tone was fairly matter of fact, devoid of any real emotion one way or the other. To allow himself to get distracted any further from this mission's objective would be a disservice to those being held within Camp Gideon. If Nighthawk wanted to worry more about her shoes, and Blitz wanted to go off chasing trouble, that was their prerogative alongside whomever they reported to.

Faison approached the crevasse and thought about the best way to proceed. He was tempted to just activate his jump boots and bypass the whole obstacle altogether. But, there was no telling what sort of monitoring they were currently subjected to right now on the part of the planet's Sith defenders. On a world as frigid and barren as this, even the slightest heat signatures would be easily detectable from a long range away. Their rally point was nestled well enough within the rocks to avoid detection for the most part, but he didn't want to risk becoming too careless as they drew closer to their objective. He raised his right gauntlet and fired off his clingwire, which embedded itself into the iced-over rock on the other side. He detached the wire from his wrist and shot an anchor into the rock nearby to fasten it, tugging on the taut wire to verify its integrity.

Thereafter, he shot a glance back at the group and gave them a collective nod as he shouldered his rifle and shimmied through the gap. He slowly made progress through, finding footholds while one of his hands maintained a grip on the clingwire. There were a few moments wherein he almost lost his footing, but thankfully the wire maintained its strength as he righted himself. In short order, the Mandalorian made his way to the other side, wherein he verified the integrity of the wire yet again and spoke over the comm frequency to the team: "I'm through! I've got you covered." True to his word, he slung his rifle back into his hands and scanned the area on the other side of the crevasse, which was a small pathway which weaved through the remainder of the rock formation and led to the side of the small mountain they traveled within.

 

[Dante Corvus]

M Y R M I D O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD-COMMANDER OF THE 173RD. LEGION "MYRMIDONS"
Michael Barran Lachlan Sinclair Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

BETWEEN ANGELS AND INSECTS


The trap sprung successfully, if not preemptively, as the predators-in-wait erupted from the shadows to pounce upon the unidentified signals now made manifest. Myrmidons dispersed from the darkness, approaching the ensuing melee like a pride of lions waiting for their chance to enter the hunt. A sequence of close-quarter maneuvers pitted the Elites against the unwitting soldiers, the Myrmidons easily holding the upper hand, and opening them up for potential vibroblades and axes to cut them down in the next following moments.

Dante was poised to let it happen, given he did not recognize who these individuals were at first. He stepped forwards, approaching the melee with his vibro-axe in hand, his attention drawn towards the one who had just received a solid boot to the head. His axe hummed increasingly more audible, the axe-head glowing vibrantly in the darkness. He was of the mind to end their lives, assuming they were nothing more than Sith-Imperials who'd happened to survive the trail of death they left behind. That thought was brought to an end once his approach grew closer, and upon their armor, he spotted a familiar symbol that he'd not seen in ages.

He cocked his head to the side, powering down the ferocious weapon humming in his hand as a voice filtered through their leader's helmet. He recognized it, even if it took a few seconds longer in part to the voice modulator changing her tone from what he knew. His axe-hand lazed to his side, but he did not sheathe it, even as he privately comm'd his men, bringing the violence to a halt almost immediately. The Myrmidons fell off of the two men at her side, stepping back in line with the rest of the platoon spread across the area.

A brief silence was given in response, although the Barran standing right next to him would gladly fill that void with a barrage of chatter that he honestly did not fully understand. Dante spared a glance in his direction, his face holding onto that usual annoyed look of his.

"Major General Voi'kryt." He spoke up, voice modulated beneath the security of his helm. "Last I was aware, it was you who dispensed with civility, and abandoned Lord Dooku."

Impassive as his tone was, there was a hint of venom laden within them. The 307th. had fought alongside the Myrmidons on many an occasion, and Lord Dante was fully aware of the...complicated relationship between their commander and his own. Dooku had spent countless hours searching for the woman, using his own resources and even the Legion itself to scour the Sith worlds and beyond for a single trace of where she was. Several of their brothers were lost during those fruitless manhunts, some to the Sith, and others to the hideous abominations they left to skulk about in their domains.

Dante's attention shifted away from her once more, another channel on hold, ringing in his ear and drawing his attention away from their guests.

"Uhhh, Lord Dante-" Devaron voiced out, the smallest hint of concern in his tone. "We've got a trail of bodies down here- or well, a trail of what use to be bodies, and some giant, albeit wolf-like tracks that i'm guessin' came from our furry friend. Not to mention the explosions, the bone-crunchin', the uhh.."

A pause. Dante didn't answer, not out of confusion, but instead out of a desire to wait and see what the lieutenant's angle was. Eventually, Devaron picked up what the Lord Commander was putting out, and continued on to finish what he was saying.

"...Right, well, if you've finished up over there, I'm broadcastin' our position. Devaron out."

Dante sighed, then finally sheathed his weapon on his hip. His gaze returned to Lyra, fixated upon her for a while, though not a word being said.

"We've got a job to do. If you came here to talk, feel free to tag along."

The Myrmidons shifted into the opposite direction, small squads dispersing forth into each of the smaller service corridors to finish what they started. Dante's command squad fell in around him and Michael, loosely dispersed in a circle to allow Lyra and her men to fall into the center.

Onwards they went, to walk and talk, and to rendezvous with his lieutenant, and the werewolf as well.

​

 

[Noel Strasza]

RESOLUTION
THE_IRON_MAIDEN
LORD EXECUTOR

RAVELIN
870 ABY
​

She did not turn away from him, nor did she retreat when he crossed the line that had divided them so many times. On his knees he rested, reaching for the hands she had done little more than killing with, reaching for the tools she had broken and destroyed so many times for the sake of her duty, and neglected to nurture their love together. The expression on her face etched itself in deeper, cementing in its encompassing span until what little features she clung to capable of emotion had turned to stone. Each word he uttered, every apology, every single syllable that crossed his lips struck her differently, it was a whirlwind of emotion she was incapable of processing- and one she doubted she would ever be capable of accepting.

It was an evasion of her question, so she thought. He spoke about his devotion and his love, proving it in the here and now, with how for once he held his ground and stepped to the plate. She had never been one to walk over him, but she had always been the one doing the fighting, and he had always retreated. The roles had certainly reversed now, the cyborg understanding that as soon as the thought to stand up and depart crossed her mind between his poetic verses. Crimson eyes lingered on his face, unblinking, unmoving as she simply stared, struggling to find a home in her tortured heart for the declarations he made. The woman sat back, drawing her features away from his grasp, and returned her hands to her lap. Though she said nothing, perhaps that was enough to expose the conflict fighting its way up her throat until it spilled out across her features, and there was nothing she could do then to contain it.

In ages when her body was her own, the act of crying would have enraged her. She would have reflected on it grimly, approached it warily, and done everything in her power to fight it back out of the light where no others could see it. Yet in the here and now, when such things had been caged for so long, the act itself would be cathartic. It would relieve much of the pressure and stress she shouldered, snatching away that weight and casting it to the wayside where it could hinder her no longer. And yet... her tears had all dried up. It was a frustrating realization in those moments, one that drew her ultimately to a conclusion that would determine the outcome of her venture here. She had already grieved the loss of what they had, she had already buried it, and moved on. There was nowhere else for her to go, nothing else for her to do. Julian had given her no say in the matter, he had stripped her right to choose away and forced her hand to make a choice that she never wanted to.

"You didn't leave any love for me to nurture when you took off," she stated mechanically, "you took it all with you and left me with nothing." Though her vocal capabilities had long since been drowned in lines of code and the voice projected from her throat was a mere digitized recreation of what it was once, there was no denying the bittersweetness to it. Spite had left her, anger even more so, and where she should have felt something, anything, she was empty- as cold as the glinting steel which had become her. "I buried it in the backyard, you didn't give me a choice," Noel continued, "when you left my world shattered a hundred times over and I was alone. What I felt for you had no option but to die, lest I allow it to kill me."

Strasza arose, stepping around him carefully, and plucked the folded beret from its place against her belt, holding it between her hands. "So, this is goodbye, Julian, formally." The anguish of her own words wounded her, crippling the segmented tongue that uttered them, though this was entirely unreflected by her icy exterior. "I'm glad we had this talk." The Lord Executor turned away and made for the door, opening it to step into the hall and put an end to this torture once and for all.

// Julian Qar \\
​

 

[Julian Qar]

✚ K N I G H T _ O F _ C U P S ✚
[ ghosts of all my guilt ]
RAVELIN
870 ABY

A door. A ring. Silence…and a mistake

Objects and sounds replayed in his mind like a broken record, they seemed to be carved into the metal of his corpse...that is what he was, a corpse still walking with an expiration that had long been overdue. He watched her hands pull away from his, feeling the lines of code dissipate into the sterile air of his office...along with the memories of their past.

‘You were the only thing that gave my life purpose when the world took everything from us…’

The noose around his neck tightened, restricting those mock chords from producing sound. He had felt this all before, this pain, this anguish - the moment a man stepped to his door announcing her death. He felt it when the Watchmen fell and she had melted into the steel beams on Ziost. He felt it when her heart would spike and fall as he sat beside her tank waiting for her to awaken. He felt it so much harder when he walked out that door of their apartment the last time. Yet, no matter what the world had thrown at them...they always chose each other.

‘You are the reason I am the man I am today...and I can’t thank you enough for that…’

Her words burned through steel, through titanium, through the stolen beskar in his chest...they burned through his heart...into his soul.

‘I’m sorry…’

He became what he had fought so hard to shield himself from, he became a machine. Watching and listening as he split apart the duality of her voice...where she had come from and what she became ...and yet to him, no matter the augment it was the voice that made his heart spike and a feeling of calm take over him. He could still see that rowdy girl from Krieg tugging at him to keep up. He could still hear her jokes and her laughter, the sounds she made when she cuddled up to the cat she hated so much. The look on her face when she would stand at attention as they pin new metals of her triumphs to her lapel. The good times...their bad times...the noodles and bottles of whiskey. That dismantled rifle on the coffee table. And through it all...through her words, through every memory that zapped through his mind... he had understood his failure. The broken promises all because of his cowardice. He took from her and left her with nothing...what act of love was this?

He broke the only person that had ever mattered to him, forced her to heal wounds that he caused...because of some warped sense of doing the right thing. As she stepped away, she drew her line again, the gesture familiar for them to not cross the boundary, don’t break the threshold. And he watched as she walked out the door...just as he’d let her do time and time again when things got too heavy.

Because he did not yell loud enough

Because he was too afraid to act out of line

Because he was a coward

Because he was weak and timid

The sound of the door clicking shut startled him back to his senses, his eyes burning a hole through the frame, feeling spikes of regret nail him to the ground just as they had done, just as he would allow.

But he got up.

“No…”

For a moment he felt weightless, feeling those heavy limbs push him up and off the ground. His hand went for the door, turning it with a sense of urgency, his mind begging him to stay back, to not cross that line - that it was too late, that all hope was lost. And so what if it was? There was nothing he had left to lose, for he had lost everything...and had become as hollow as the limbs that gave him life.

“Noel!”

He yelled out from the threshold, scrambling like a child after her. His legs moved with a cartoonish-like wobble that broke what had anchored him to the ground. He could see from the corners of his eye a detail that had awoken at the sound of his voice and necks snapping toward him in attention. He did not stop those feet from moving, he didn’t stop his hands from taking her hardened exterior and bringing her to his chest.

He hugged her, tight, burying his face into her shoulder...she was still smaller than him.

And he whispered as those troopers closed in...“No...if there is one thing you taught me screaming in my ears right now- is to never stop fighting....I know I can’t turn back the clock, darlin’...I can’t raise that love from the ground and breathe it back to life...but I made a promise to never leave and I failed you…I’m sorry...”

“Please…” it was a plea he had whispered to the darkness each time she lay in rejuvenation tanks, recalibrating, rebuilding, as he watched over the monitors of the heart that belonged to the war machine...no..to Noel.

“I-I...I will fight for you….I l-love you...I can’t say goodbye….not again.”



█ █ █
|| Noel Strasza ||

 

[Kovacs]

IRON RESOLVE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCY vol. I
Issue #1 w/ Delilah Jones
soon: Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Volgin Alto | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Eliz Krayt | Jalter Volff | WHO ELSE??

Dagger-5
Bravo Flight, 181st Fighter Wing​

v o i c e s​

The TIE surged over and then beneath the mountains on the northwest, the sounds of AA fire drowning beneath the thick veil of grim silence enveloping the cockpit. The confirmation of Six and Eight's payloads being unleashed upon the Sith passed through his ears unheard. Only Seven's last words echoed in his mind, rattling his psyche.

Eventually, Del's shouting came through.

<"...Del... Aayla...">

He swallowed a lump of sorrow.

<"...Gar's gone, Del..."> he adds, almost a whisper.

<"Head... head for exfil. Sitrep... and we'll see if another run's needed.">

<"...I'm sorry.">

First time he's lost a man under his command.

And as much as he smacked the panels till they gave out in static, he knew, he knew very well, that it wouldn't be the last.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

R E N E G A D E
New Imperial Order
Combined Fire Team of the former 193rd Infantry Regiment "Vindicated"
Wolf At The Door

Dante Corvus Michael Barran Lachlan Sinclair

​

“You good Ban?” Sybila tossed out, sparing no glance to her men..

The collective salute of lowered barrels did little to disperse the tension lingering in the air, one ear listened as her men picked themselves up from the ground. The Zabrak didn’t answer more than a simple groan. They were surrounded, not even a whole platoon, her eyes drifting left to right as she popped her fist under her chin-cracking her neck. A dull ache touched across her left temple and she spun the pain wordlessly into her fist. Hal was the next to rip off his helmet, seals hissing as he spat on the ground-grumbling just under breath.

The two of them brushed off dust before falling in at her flank, though there were a number of fevered glances as the men faced a stand off with the Myrmidons. The woman simply stared ahead in the brief lull of silence, her jaw was locked firmly a frown gracing her lips as the Commander’s weapon powered down. The vivid hum fizzling out-she decided this was what animosity tasted like. It was a new breed of soldiers and even if she was to credit Myrmidon's discipline. The ugly little voice prided and preened, knowing the difficulty it would of taken to put them down-

“Ah, I know some who encounter such confusions along the way, an' from the wisdom that was imparted on me, I'd say these are a new breed of Myrmidon in comparison to the heroes you've known from before....”

Sybila inhaled sharply, tempering the trickle of anger as the dispute was offset into..a flurry of words. They had dissected into the middle of a fire mission, they were lucky enough not to have ended up shot. Her lips pressed further in to frown as a dark gauntlet unhooked the emergency canister, turning back to pass it off to Hal. An disturbing pull of muscles distorted her face, scars that took up the greater half of her visage worsened by expression. The woman raised what was left of her brow, regarding the other man properly as they squared away their tools of the trade. The little anomaly, a diplomat-something else entirely-his voice wasn’t grating but..slurred. He wasn’t even fit-had he tried to pull something she wondered as she noted the dried trail of blood hidden at the corner of his mouth. With a hint of disdain-shoulders squared up as a collective click running down her spine as the armor adjusted. It was a new breed of weaker men, the little life line that entangled him amidst the living force or not.

Children in a field of mines, the thought drew a bitter snort from her as she turned her attention squarely back to the soldier. They all had to start somewhere.

“Dante Corvus-that was your name. I knew I recognized you-” Sybila interjected the moment they arrived upon introductions, it was the long way around as she tuned out the flourish of words. She hadn’t been too far off, and she was relieved her memory hadn’t deteriorated that far yet. The invisible timer that loomed over any strike teams head ticked away then, and she felt the echo of a call to arms from a lifetime ago. Familiarity was easy to cling to and she cautioned herself, knowing well what it entailed.

They needed to get moving.

"Last I was aware, it was you who dispensed with civility, and abandoned Lord Dooku."

“I deserve that, I will admit it,” Sybila’s voice was hollow-distant even, answering without hesitation. She didn’t need to mull over the words or the bite lying beneath-she had matured beyond that. There were a thousand wrong choices made, the domino effect it might have left had steadily grown to obscurity. Sybila had to cease to concern herself with the fall out, but Lucien..her eyes closed as she cleared her throat a lull in the exchange. The woman lifted her chin-setting her attention past the insistent Lordling on Dante.. “But I’ll remind you Commander Corvus. Lucien chose his mission over me on Generis, unless you’re privy to what took place there or Helgard. Take care. I chose my mission just the same-it’s what we were obligated to do. I am here now to assist in whatever capacity I can, and I intend to remain.”

It was a promise.

“Now-a little harder next time there butcher, you had all the advantages in your corner,” Sybila maneuvered around Lord Barran steering the conversation away from the hurt parties. Just as if nothing had taken place then, apologies due. Though the blood spilt in her name was lost on her, but she had been on the run across a trail of stars-there would be reckoning. Her gauntlet shot out to clap the blast plate on the Myrmidon who had jumped the gun, it was almost light hearted. Boots crunched away and a trail of wispy breath followed the woman as she hefted up the heavy trooper's helm off her belt, slipping it back over her head.

The dim backlight illuminated the screen in a blue haze-the terrible noise came reverberating up the dark corridor in that moment. It would of turned the lesser man, Ban stiffened behind her-they knew, he knew. A heavy exhale escaped her, kicking the ventilators on. The day they had begun this war..the woman still recalled the streets of Muunilinst in the fall out, the dust cloud as her fire team was eviscerated in a cloud of gore. The so called angels of death. She swallowed thickly, there was still sorrow to be held in the visceral reverie.

The only good monster was a dead one.

<“Lord Barran-yes right?”> The woman’s voice distorted once again, exacerbated, helm craning back as she dragged a finger along to secure the seals encasing her neck. <“You talk too much for a man in the field, greenhornes or not. We’ll assist with the task at hand-but try to keep the colonialism in check.”>

Flushing out the things that went bump in the dark, a far cry from what she expected. Her men's rifle clicked as each respective man locked in their rifle, Sybila's hand brushed the hilt of her blade strapped across her chest; waiting.

<“This..beast man was it? Tell me I am curious, why is it that the Order exterminated all allied Sith or darksiders but now employs mutated wraiths..that can be rhetorical too if that ruffles any feathers. I’d hate to derail the job.”> Her words were petty, petty and born from the hell that had ingrained itself on the field. The hypocricy never ended, why is never ended, why she had strayed-

“I wasn’t aware sith spawn had rights,” Ban echoed her sentiment as they fell in line with the platoon.

<“Yeah me either Ban, they don’t as far as I am concerned. Does this one rips out spines, perform party tricks? Spit acid while making pleasant conversation with the corpses?”> she hissed, moving with surety as they followed them deeper in to the recesses of the Redoubt. She wanted to laugh truly, somethings just never changed.

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

CLOUTCHASER
N I G H T H A W K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
Avenger | Faison Kelborn | Ghalric Rau | Obran | Siv Dragr

​

When no one heroically stepped forward to aid the woman in the perilous trek, she fought the urge for excessive violence, caging the plethora of undignified swears and curses in her tongue and otherwise deep within her chest to be rapidly spouted off in the event she was caught or otherwise. She huffed, fogging the air with her breath and twisted rather roughly, her movements forceful and sharp, displaying the full might of her irritation and malcontent for the group to see, accompanied by heavy, constant huffs and puffs that saw her chest rise and fall. Her rifle was slung and she ventured forward, shifting herself to reach up behind her head and flattened against the treacherous rock face. "Okay fine, but if I die, I'm gonna come back as a ghost, and turn all of your helmets into bantha girdles!" Chelenne hissed hushedly, knocking her helmet back against the rock to pin her chin upward and keep herself from looking down. It was just a narrow, icy pathway on a treacherous rocky outcropping, totally no need to fear. The drop was less than a hundred feet and sloped, but perhaps that was part of the danger really- she would hit every single rock on the way down. If the impacts there didn't kill her, the ground certainly might depending on how deep the snow had accumulated down there.

It wasn't worth the chance, at all, but the mission needed to go on. She needed to move on. Inch by inch, the agent strafed around the curving edge, pinning herself as tightly against the rock face as she could, even though only about half of each foot had enough room on the ledge to try and keep a grip. Every gust of wind threatened her, digging in its claws to try and pry her from the relative safety she had found, becoming increasingly annoyed then that none of the jarheads had offered her an alternative method for traversing this pass. Every man for himself, it seemed like it was going to be, and though she found the thought revolting, she decided then, as she almost died for the 3923620th time in the last thirty seconds, she could play that game.

"Unidentified individual observed heading in this general direction. To be considered hostile. Who's calling dibs?"

The zeltron froze, wedging herself into a small crack between the stone face of the cliff and tilted her face upward, sapphire eyes squinting through the slots obscuring them. <"We should just leave them alone, if they haven't found us yet, maybe they won't!"> she panted breathily, her voice leaving her as a petrified hiss of sorts, trying to find the balance between being quiet and being heard. The woman refocused, pushing more air from her lungs, and moved on, shuffling along the edge until at last, she flung herself around the curved face and thrust down into the snow accumulating far from the treacherous edges. <"Okay, I'm never doing that again,"> the agent chuffed, wrestling her way out of the mountain of chilly white, <"Since nobody wanted to help me, now you all get to listen to me whine for the next fifteen years."> Chelenne unslung her rifle and trekked upward along the slope, finding a narrow spot where the angle of the jutting rock was just right to block the snowfall and shield her from the wind.

This was the temporary nest she situated herself into, and there she dropped to a knee to produce her thermal monocular. <"Let's see here...">
Through the heat-seeking lens, the agent gazed, examining the outpost much, much closer now. Through the grey haze, heat signatures illuminated in painted yellows and reds, almost floating in the snowy storm, the outlines of the buildings and tower mostly lost due to the interference. <"I've got four heat signatures on the tower closest to us, here, I'm synchronizing my feed into our infolink-"> she paused in her scouting to tap a finger against the screen of her embedded tacpad, and resumed work after. Now, however their personal preferences dictated, the live feed from the zeltron's monocular would be displayed across their own tacpads or projected on the HUDs of their helmets, sharing the information. <"Four heat signatures, though it looks like all the other towers have only three, which means number four might be a roamer, or temporary guest of the towers. We take this tower as silently and swiftly as possible. Blitz, Ghost, you two sniping with me, Avenger, Siv, you guys make your way down closer and prep to jump onto the tower as soon as we give you the clear. I'll sit back in the tower from there running overwatch and communications, Ghost you'll help me. Blitz, you'll break off with Avenger and Siv to infiltrate underground.">

Her commands ceased for the moment, time given to see them done and for the inevitable protest she had come to expect.

 

[Siv Dragr]

S I T H B A N E

Objective: Liberate Camp Gideon
Enclave Tag: Faison Kelborn | Obran
NIO Tag: Chelenne Akaris | Avenger | Ghalric Rau

"You want something done, you do it yourself," Siv muttered to himself, just quiet enough that it wouldn't be able to be heard over the increasing wind. Jetpack flight under these conditions was probably not the best idea, but Siv only need a small boost anyways. He jumped, planting one foot on the side of the rocky surface, pushed off, and gave himself a short boost of momentum with the jetpack to propel him up, another boost to redirect his movement, and he hand landed on the other side of the curved edge not much worse for the wear.

He pulled out his holomap again for reference. "There's only a hundred yards to the hatch. I say let the bogey freeze to death; I'm going in." He nodded to the female agent before motioning for Faison and Avenger to follow him, if they still wished to.

The hatch was below their current position; the fastest way to get there? Slide. The Mandalorian hunter let gravity propel him down the snow-covered slope, traveling the distance in only a couple of seconds. He had to fire the rocket boosters of his jetpack again to stop his descent, but he'd arrived at the hatch in what was probably record-breaking time. The hatch was frozen over -- but Siv's beskar'gam didn't come equipped with flamethrower rockets for anything.

"I'm in," he called out after a few moments, also transmitting over the shared comms channel. "If you follow me, be sure to bring a rebreather." It sure did stink.




​

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[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
URSA'S REDOUBT | KROWNEST
ABSOLUTE PAIN: Jon Kovacs
ALLIES: Volgin Alto | Dante Corvus | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Jalter Volff | IMLESHA | @whoever else
ENEMIES: Blah
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives

ROADS UNTRAVELED

Her heart was in her ears.

There was nothing over the comms for several beats. She could almost hear Hughes holding up her own breath while war shells followed their run. The two ladies might give the boys all their days with the tough loving, but they were a tight knit group still. If your flight doesn't have your flank and tail, then what do you have?

Please please please not both of them.....

<"...Del... Aayla...">

Del nearly veered her Fighter into the ground as she finally breathed.
Thank you....

<"...Gar's gone, Del...">

She pursed her lips as emotion welled up toward her eyes. Blinking quickly to not fog up the helmet, she swallowed hard.
<Jon, I'm......> She cleared her throat. Now was not the time for squad breakdown. <Awaiting orders, Lead.> she said instead, albeit still hoarse from emotion.

<"Head... head for exfil. Sitrep... and we'll see if another run's needed.">

Her heart felt heavy. It was their first and she wondered how the hell Jon was going to give that Sitrep.
<Copy that,> she said heavily.
Hughes was still eerily silent.

As the TIEs veered toward their Exfil. point, Del chewed the inside of her cheeks. She felt sick to her stomach. She didn't exactly expect an easy run, but she didn't expect a loss either. And of all of them, it had to be the Green. Her throat felt constricted.
<Dagger-8, Dagger-6. Station 4, flipping over.> she almost choked.
<Copy.> came the quiet reply.
Del momentarily flipped to the secure channel. <How....> she tried clearing her throat again. <How are you holding up, Girl?>
She could hear Hughes trying to clear her own throat. <Not good, Del. But probably better than Jon right now.> she said. <The hell happened? Did you see?>
<I don't know. I literally made my turn when I just saw flames.> She was choking up again.
<Chit. How you think he is?>
<Probably a mess. He is Lead, after all. I'll check in with him on the turn.>
<Just don't let him do something stupid, a'ight?>
<Would that I could, but I'll try.> It was a chit feeling.

They flipped back to flight comms, but it was quiet, each stuck in their own sorrow. The Fighters howled toward their destination, the missile fire dying down the further they went.

Upon finally approaching their designated coordinates, Del cleared her throat again.
<Jon, what happened? Why didn't you pull?> she asked quietly and almost reluctantly. She dearly wished she didn't want to know, but shock prompted the question from her. She could guess all she wanted, but in the end they should share in the knowledge of how they lost a mate, as much as it will suck.

No use in letting one suffer alone.

 

[Michael Barran]

FIFTH POST
THE_CAIRNSMAN
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

OBJECTIVE 1: FALSE FLAG

ALLIES (NIO): Lachlan Sinclair Dante Corvus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Jon Kovacs
Shai Maji Chelenne Akaris Volgin Alto Nukth Kelga'an Delilah Jones

ALLIES (ENCLAVE): Kranak Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Alora Vizsla
Siv Dragr Lesha Priest

Enemies: helloo? Anybody there?

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR PISTOL
VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 4

'Major General Voi'kryt.', Corvus revealed in recognition of the woman leading the new arrivals, speaking in a particular tone, though only to be heard through the airtight trooper-helmet. Barran would find himself sure he'd read about the name from some military-history anthology, but his mind was naturally drawing complete brain-fogged obscurity on which exact book it was, though he was sure it was from a legionary-tactics anthology he devoured on his trawling trip to Krieg. Lord Michael also recalled his uncle Ollis had devoured the same anthology at sea with him, as they had both discussed the invasion of Helgard together as a result, but the painkiller stim was still wreaking complete havoc on his already-concussed mind. The name Voi'Kryt would bounce around in the inside of his conscious like a pinball, falling into the deepest recesses of his mind and bouncing back out again, and still escaping all realms of recognition but of the surname itself.

'Dante Corvus-that was your name. I knew I recognised you-'

'Last I was aware, it was you who dispensed with civility, and abandoned Lord Dooku.', replied the Myrmidons' Lord-Commander, expressing the second verbalisation Michael had no chance of expecting, feeling like he'd wandered into the middle of an argument at a yearly family-gathering party. The Woad wouldn't really know or register what was going on until long after he snapped out of his walking half-stupor, but Lord Michael could still see, and hear, that there was reconciliation in abundance that was needed for the rift he could see on full display; though even in Lord Michael's rolling double-vision, he could still see that Major-General Voi'Kryt stood a good chance of rectifying her predicament, giving Barran no reason to believe they couldn't reconcile after all was said and done in Ursa's Redoubt. However, their interaction also gave Michael enough reason to believe there wouldn't be any further tensions between the two contingents, killing enough uncertainty to briefly draw his focus to the distant mayhem further inside the sub-basement levels, pondering on Lachlan's predicament before General Voi'Kryt's response drew him from his momentary reverie.

'I deserve that, I will admit it,', the Major-General responded to Dante's cold reply, responding as soon as an opening was offered to speak up in her own defence. There was no doubt a fair amount of regret in Voi'Kryt's voice, and in the way she carried herself as she spoke, though still self-respecting enough to remain honest and forthright in her first attempt to reconcile with her comrades of yesteryear. Despite this, the Wanderer remained on the fence on the matter, neither siding with nor against Voi'Kryt as the conversation continued, for even in his intoxicated state Michael knew he had no stake in this interaction. Looking back and forth between them, the Woad would let the conversation run it's course as Lyra continued,'I'll remind you Commander Corvus. Lucien chose his mission over me on Generis, unless you're privy to what took place there or Helgard. Take care. I chose my mission just the same-it's what we were obligated to do. I am here now to assist in whatever capacity I can, and remain.', then watching as she manoeuvred herself around him to talk to the Myrmidon who punched her.

'Now-a little harder next time there butcher, you had all the advantages in your corner,'

Hell of an' overhand-right anyway, kudos where it's due.​

Being slower with his reactions than normal, the Wanderer would only have enough time to catch the playful punch to the Myrmidons' blast plate in the corner of his right periphery, not that it mattered much, as the Major-General would turn her attention to Lord Michael next - and Voi'Kryt would have much and more to say to the only unknown factor there. Barran didn't mind one bit, as the authority of Lyra's rank far outweighed his own, and the Wanderer's training was well-engrained enough that he ceded to rank for as long as the officer in question upheld it with distinction; and as far as Lord Michael saw it, this woman was almost entirely unknown to him, so he couldn't know for sure if Lyra really was besmirching or denigrating her role and military title. In this matter, the Laird would need to judge for himself, making assessments only on what he'd been able to witness with his own eyes, and probably for the foreseeable future at that.

'Lord Barran-yes right?', Lyra asked, finally turned round to speak to the one who was speaking to her first, though on account of the fact Michael was new to this group, the Woad didn't mind. Barran sluggishly nodded in reply as she appraised him with the same level of suspicion as her subordinates' own first impressions, though the tactical estimation may have been somewhat better if the Wanderer's choices had been a little less flashy in the run up to these moments. However, despite the poor first impressions, it appeared Barran had still earned himself an appraisal of the vocal variety, slightly taken aback by the honesty as Vo'Kryt continued,'You talk too much for a man in the field, greenhornes or not. We'll assist with the task at hand-but try to keep the colonialism in check.', cutting herself short by the distraction of the distant screams and roars from the Beast's rampage, then turning to lead them down the first hallway.

'This..beast man was it? Tell me I am curious, why is it that the Order exterminated all allied Sith or darksiders but now employs mutated wraiths..that can be rhetorical too if that ruffles any feathers. I'd hate to derail the job.'

Full o' the Kandaran spice, so she is! She'd haud 'er own on Galidraan III anyway.​

Lord Michael was on the verge of retorting when one of Lyra's subordinates piped up first, stepping forward a pace or two ahead of the other troopers as he said,'I wasn't aware sith spawn had rights,', something Barran didn't like. Sinclair was fast-becoming a brother to his Laird and the Highlanders alike, and thus comparison to the same things that attacked Lord Erskine's Blue-Heart Battalion on Bastion would strike a very small (but no less volatile) nerve, one such that brought a smirk to the Wanderer's face that could only be read as malice by other Goidels - but to all others, it would appear as nothing more than aggravated disapproval. The urge to snap the fingers on the trooper's shooting hand was beginning to well up, but the Major-General would take that as a cue to continue in her own disdainful curiosities on the matter, and the realisation that he'd only cause himself more pain dawned on him almost immediately as a result.

'Yeah me either Ban, they don't as far as I am concerned. Does this one rips out spines, perform party tricks? Spit acid while making pleasant conversation with the corpses?'

'If he were a Sith-spawn, he'd be dead long before dropping on this bloody planet anyway.', Lord Michael said, finally finding his focus and his footing in the process, like the anger had somehow woken him up a little. Snatching up the hand of the trooper who answered to,"Ban", the Wanderer would squeeze and crack the gauntlet until he relented enough to say,'Look, see it? I was considering worse for you just now, mind your tongue - mind your place.', before returning his attention to Ban's commander, playfully slapping the back of Ban's helmet as he increased speed to walk aside Voi'Kryt. There were times to let certain things go, but considering the earlier first impressions, the Wanderer knew this had no chance of being one of them; if one lets it all slip by the wayside, there is almost no chance of recovering reputations beyond that point, or at least - this is how Lord Michael had been raised.

'After all, that,"Beast", is what nature summons to devour said Sith-spawn, and now? Every witch who relies on the Sith Empire's remnant power, and every Howling Crag with it. So that, further in, is probably more natural than you or I could ever hope to be.... This is why Sith Imperials are screaming at the moment, an' not us. That's just the way old legends go - no point trying to rationalise it, not even maybe.'

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

D I S T R A C T I O N

Location: Krownest, Ursa’s Redoubt.
Local Time: 02:05
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Heal the Wounded
Secondary Objective: Crush Enemy Opposition
Equipment: Loadout 1 + Goran’s Stand
Vode: Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Alora Vizsla | Lesha Priest
Friendlies: Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Volgin Alto | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair
Hostiles: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Engaging: Open For Opposition!

He heard the Shistavanen vod chime into their Si’kahya squad net in his buy’ce as he was in the process of lining up his shot against the Remnant trooper he identified as a Forward Observer.

:: Alright, you two. I gotta quickly… yo, that dude can’t shoot to save his life… I gotta address the whole picture thing real quick. :: She started, clearly a little annoyed as she spoke.

:: When we get back home, we’re retakin’ the photo. Ideally burn the old one ‘cause I’m bein’ a petty mutt, but I ain’t gonna be missin’ that one out. That’s one consequence of my actions I ain’t gonna be carryin’, I want that photo. :: She grumbled over the gunfire and explosions around them.

<”Course,”> Alora replied back over Shai’s private frequency with Kranak on-board. <”One condition though: it happen again and the only picture Kranak’s taking is after you’ve been taxidermied.”>

It took the Alor’ad a display of willpower not to erupt into laughter in response to Alora’s reply as he adjusted his rifle’s scope, zeroing in on the Forward Observer’s range. He would keep a stern, professional composure while they were deployed on operations such as this, but their tech specialist would always find a way to make them all laugh with her witty humor.

Normally, the giant would respond to Shai with a quip on top of Alora’s, saying they would most certainly take a photo with her in the picture this time, but he was busy trying to compensate for the quaking of the very ground beneath his combat boots that caused his rifle to sway ever so slightly. The target he was trying to neutralize was about four hundred meters in the distance. The Supercommando breathed in and out slowly as blaster bolts whizzed by overhead with loud snaps and cracks. He was steadying his aim before eventually squeezing the Paranaor’s trigger. His rifle swayed as the ground quaked violently with each shell impacting on the snow covered earth around them. Keeping his steely calm, he managed to keep his crosshair right on top of the Forward Observer’s helmet visor. He waited for just a few more seconds, expecting another shell to land nearby. And sure enough, one landed about ten meters to the rear of the giant’s position, sending earth, rocks, snow and shrapnel high up into the sky. Compensating for the sway the last shell caused, the giant finally squeezed the trigger softly, and took the shot.

As soon as the trigger was pulled, the Forward Observer’s silhouette in the distance barreled to the ground on his back into the trench, right after his head violently jerked backwards. The blue blaster bolt had struck him in his visor, punching through the macrobinoculars he had held in his hands. He saw the bits and pieces of plastoid and visor glass flying out in detail as the blaster bolt struck him before falling on his back, never to get back up again. The giant raised his white glowing visor from his rifle’s targeting scope with a sinister grin. Target was history. As he searched for more targets to engage in the distance, his helmet comlink crackled to life. It was Dagger-6 hailing him.

<Cleared Hot. TOT 10sec.>

<Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Daggers engauging. Packages away!>

<”Roger that, Dagger-6. Over!”> As he lifted up his helmet mounted macrobinoculars, the giant responded over the comlink as he swiftly shifted his gaze from a handful of Remnant Troopers in the distance, popping out their heads out the trenches they were hiding in, to the four ferroconcrete bunkers he had marked previously with red smoke. The smoke hadn’t dissipated yet, continuing to highlight the target for Dagger-6 and her wingman. As soon as the giant turned his attention to the bunkers, an ear splitting shriek resounded in the air as the Slashers’ Heavy Turbolaser Cannons opened up on their designated targets. A flurry of high velocity, green turbolaser bolts pounded the ferroconcrete bunkers and trenches nearby. With the turbolasers penetrating the bunker with ease, the machine gun fire coming from the bunkers gradually fell silent as the structures blew up from the inside out, sending small to large debris and body parts high up into the sky in a gray dust cloud, as the Slashers boomed and zoomed away, returning to overhead upon completing their successful gun run.

<Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Confirm effect on target.>

<”Copy that, Dagger-6. Standby for BDA, over!”> The Alor’ad responded swiftly as he scanned the area where four bunkers once stood, with several trench lines connecting them with one another. His helmet’s MFTAS helped him see through the thick, gray cloud of dust with ease. The structures were in complete ruins, with several durasteel trench lines collapsed along with them. The Supercommando’s grin grew wider into a sinister smile. <”Kandosii Actual to Dagger-6, targets are history, over!”>

The Mandalorian warriors of the Sixteenth broke into cries of rejoice from their positions in the trenches at the sight of the airstrike. But alas, there would be no time for celebration, as a missile soared in the night sky like a comet, trailing in the air towards one of the pair of Slashers to their Southwest. It was one of the decoys! <”Aah, chit!”> The giant exclaimed out loud. He quickly got back on Dagger-6’s channel to warn the pilot and have them wave off until the area was secure from enemy SAM sites. <”Dagger-6! Wave-off! I repeat, wave-off! Return to IP Rancor, over and out.”> He watched the taken out Slasher fall from the sky. Set aflame like a fireball after being struck by a missile, its ion engines yelped intermittently. The crashing Slasher left a streak of thick black smoke as it inevitably hit the ground. The ground underneath their feet shook with a tender judder as it crashed in the distance, blowing up into flames. The sound of the explosion reached their ears soon after the craft crashed. His brows furrowed, the giant turned around vehemently as he walked back to Shai’s position at a brisk pace. <”We’re gonna need to silence those SAM sites if we’re gonna call in more airstrikes, Shai.”> The Alor’ad said over their private comlink circuit as he was on his way to regroup with her. As soon as the bunkers were down, Shai had given the order to her warriors to resume their advance. Enemy resistance was starting to dwindle. Their blaster fire died out slowly, as most of the Remnant troopers garrisoning the bunkers and the trenches around them were annihilated. There were probably some survivors from the strafing run, but they would still be in shock by the time the Mandalorians entered the trench.

:: All units, move up! Let’s take that fortress! ::

Shouting war cries that would be considered blood curdling for aruetiise, the Mandalorians of the Sixteenth took it to the skies as they launched themselves out of their side of the trenches, soaring in the night sky with their jetpacks as they passed the stretch of no man’s land and flew into Remnant held trenches to the front.

Favoring his medical backpack for the operation, the giant would not be able to catch up with them using his rocket boots. The Alor’ad climbed up the durasteel trench wall to his right and went over the top, sprinting through the no man’s land with haste as he brought up the rear. He could hear his second in command barking a series of orders to her warriors. The cacophony of wrist rockets and jetpack missiles exploding, long winded salvos of blaster fire from the members of the Sixteenth and the agonized cries of the Remnant troopers filled the night sky, almost drowning out Shai’s voice.

A few stray blaster bolts landed around him and struck the snow covered ground, but the Remnant’s retaliation went no further than that.

Or so he thought. He had only noticed something was off. The Remnant artillery hadn’t fired any ranging shots in the past minute.

His eyes widened in realization as his helmet’s high definition audio sensors picked up and relayed the noise of several batteries opening up in a thunderous roar over in the distance. His mind raced as he swiftly calculated the time it would take for the rounds to splash. <”ENEMY ARTILLERY! GET TO COVER, NOW!”> The Alor’ad shouted over the platoon coms while he picked up his pace, hurrying towards the half ruined trench before him. There were ten seconds to splash!

The snow loudly crunched under his feet as he began closing the distance. Fifty meters remained, with seven seconds on the clock! Several seconds passed by like minutes as he came closer to the trench. Twenty meters! He cursed under his breath as he ran. He wasn’t going to make it! He could hear the whine and rumble up in the sky thanks to his helmet’s audio sensors. It was the shells splitting the air in the night sky as they came crashing down upon them! <”Osik!”> His jaw clenched as he braced for the artillery barrage while he kept sprinting.

The earth beneath his feet trembled violently as the shells landed. The snow and dirt erupted like a volcano all around him. Each shell sent columns of earth to the sky upon impact. Several shells had landed ten to fifteen meters to the rear of the giant. He had just passed that stretch of land three seconds ago! The violent quakes caused the giant to lose his footing as he tripped and fell on the snow covered ground amidst the artillery barrage, with just ten meters remaining to the trench in front of him. His personal energy shield held against the overpressure the rounds caused for now, but for how long could it withstand the barrage? He tried to push himself off the ground, but it was a futile attempt. He could not find his balance under the artillery barrage. Instead, the Alor’ad hastily began to crawl towards the parapet in front of him.

A sharp, deafening explosion blasted his ear drums despite the protection his buy’ce offered as an artillery shell landed three meters in front of him. His surroundings became a blur as he was sent flying on his back, as if lifted to the skies by an invisible hand. The Supercommando gasped in pain for air as an invisible force punched out all the air in his lungs. He saw his personal energy shield flicker and fizzle away on his heads-up display as it entered a cooldown stage.

The giant landed on his back with a sharp ringing in his ear, thrown away twenty meters from the trench they had pushed up to. The giant laid on the ground on his back for several moments as the artillery shells poured over half the no man’s land and the recently captured trenchline. But the intense and accurate artillery barrage -- much to Kranak’s praise -- soon came to an abrupt halt as an ear splitting explosion in the distance by the stronghold drowned out the entire battlefield. Feeling dizzy, the Alor’ad could not lift his head from the ground to look at the source of the deafening explosion in the distance as he writhed on the ground.

Only after a few moments had he recovered just enough to raise his buy’ce, hesitantly so. Dreading the loss of limbs, he had closed his eyes shut while slowly raising his head from the snow covered ground. He heaved deep a sigh of relief after hesitantly opening his eyes to gaze at his limbs. His head dropped back on to the ground, eyes gently closed once again as he spent a few more moments to regain his composure. His limbs were still attached to him. He caught glimpses of shrapnel buried into his flesh, but he could deal with that.

”Medic! We need a medic over here!”
One trooper called out. Another screamed as he clutched what remained of a mangled arm.

His eyes fluttered open upon hearing the holler for a Baar’ur, and the pained screams of the wounded. Gritting his teeth the giant quickly rose to his feet, enduring and shrugging off the pain that washed all over his body. He felt something sting in his chest, but he paid no mind to it as he broke into a sprint, running towards the sound of the wounded. He wasn’t aware of it just yet due to the amount of adrenaline flowing in his veins, but he had several broken ribs, rubbing against his left lung. His sixth and seventh true ribs were fractured, with his eighth and ninth rib broken, jabbing into his left lung. He could taste the copper in his mouth as he crossed the now crater riddled no man’s land towards the captured trenchline.

Reaching the edge of the captured trench, the giant hopped in, and just in time. He could hear another barrage of artillery shells and rockets roaring in the sky. <”Haarchak!”> the giant cursed out loud as he sprinted towards the sound of the wounded, walking over the torn and unmoving corpses of the Sith Remnant troopers that littered the durasteel floor of the battered trench. The incoming artillery barrage was now accompanied with a hail of machine gun fire, raining down on them from the outer perimeter wall of the fortress. There was a hundred meter stretch of land between them and the wall. They were in the last stretch!

At last, the Alor’ad came across the wounded warrior. He was slumped against the durasteel wall behind him. His comrade was pulling security beside him, safeguarding the injured warrior. The warrior’s name was highlighted in the Supercommando’s HUD as Parjai. He was clutching his left arm by the bicep tightly. His blood flowed freely from his wound, dribbling on the durasteel floor, forming a small pool of blood. <”We’re in a killzone! Move, move, move!”> The giant’s voice boomed in the trench as he grasped Parjai by his right bicep and pulled him from the ground and directed him towards somewhere safer. <”Don’t bunch up! Spread out!”> He shouted over the platoon comlink.

He spotted a path leading underground to his right as he moved about the trench’s corridors. Swiftly, the giant pulled free his blaster pistol from it’s holster on the right side of his torn kama. Pistol drawn and raised, he took Parjai to a nearby dugout inside the trench to take shelter from the incoming artillery barrage. Small streaks of dust trailed from the ceiling above them as rounds splashed. After quickly making sure the dugout did not harbor any hostiles, he set Parjai on the ground with his back leaning against the wall as the giant crouched beside him. Putting his blaster pistol on the ground, he quickly took off his medical backpack and reached for a grav-press bandage cuff after unzipping the front pocket. Smoothly wrapping it around his left bicep tightly, a few inches above his hemorrhage, the Supercommando activated the cuff and stopped the blood flow to the wound, significantly slowing down Parjai’s blood flow to the wound. Lowering his helmet mounted macrobinoculars, the giant swapped from thermal vision to his medisensor. Kranak then performed a quick scan of Parjai’s vitals to get a better understanding of his medical emergency, receiving relevant and important medical data and background information in the process.

<”How… How bad is it, doc?”> The wounded Mandalorian asked, weakly. It must’ve been the bloodloss, the giant assumed. <”You’re gonna be okay. Hang in there.”> said Kranak, assuring him he would survive the ordeal. <”Brothers! Sisters! Ferry the wounded to this location!”> The giant called out on the platoon comlink as he uploaded his position, creating a small casualty collection point while he reached for a single use stim-shot from his backpack. Removing the plastic cap covering the injector’s needle, the giant extended Parjai’s right arm and gently jabbed the needle into one of his veins, and administered the stim. It would soothe his pain, and slightly speed up the regeneration process of his body. He was now stabilized, but obviously in need of further treatment. He would provide him further medical care but he needed to get out there once again and get as many wounded he could to safety, aiding the others in getting the wounded into the dugout.

<”Listen,”> The giant said in a soft tone as he reached for Parjai’s holstered blaster pistol and pulled out the blaster free from it. <”You’re not in a critical condition. You still need further treatment, but I got to go out there for the others.”> The Alor’ad said as he slipped the blaster pistol into Parjai’s right hand. <”Stay safe, and stay alive! I’ll be back very soon!”> The wounded Mandalorian nodded at Kranak in silence as the Supercommando began getting rid of unnecessary weight, such as his primary and the secondary -- the Scatter Gun -- he had carried on his back. His blaster pistols and his greatsword -- among few other weapons and gear he had on him -- would be more than enough to defend himself and others in combat while he was outside in the trench. Using a smaller sized weapon like a blaster pistol inside a confined space such as the trenches would help him maneuver better and react faster to danger.

The intense artillery fire from before had begun to subside as the giant made his way out the safe dugout with his pistol drawn, confirming the Remnant troop movement that one of the Paratroopers from the Sixteenth had called out not a moment ago. Seemed like the Sith did not want to hit their own guys with their heavy ordnance.

That, or they were getting ready to let loose another salvo.

Karking around and finding out which was which would be unwise. They had to continue pushing, and make their way into the Sith stronghold before them as soon as they could, but taking casualties here would surely slow them down a little. But if they could retain some of their momentum, then they’d be able to take the fight to them inside that damned fortress!

The particle blaster pistol shrieked with each squeeze of its trigger, sending Remnant troops jumping into the trench over the parapet to the ground on their backs, unmoving. They were pushing a small counter attack from multiple directions! One of them had managed to blindside the Supercommando as the trooper jumped him from his immediate right while the Alor’ad was engaging another one down the trench corridor. Gritting his teeth, the giant let out a muffled groan as the Remnant trooper that had jumped on him caused him to slam against the durasteel wall to his left. His chest painfully stung. The Supercommando responded in kind with a stern backhand blow at the trooper’s faceplate as soon as he regained his footing. The Remnant soldier fell on the ground on his face as the crushgaunt connected with his faceplate, but he was still moving, trying to push himself off the ground. Not giving the soldier time for respite, the Alor’ad mounted him on his back swiftly, curling his right arm over the trooper’s throat firmly as he tugged the coiled arm around his neck with his right hand to lock his neck in position, denying the trooper any hopes of escape from the giant’s clutches.

The trooper writhed desperately to escape from the giant’s grapple as he struggled for air, but his attempts were futile as his limbs slowly went limp. After a few more moments of the unfortunate Remnant trooper thrashing under the Supercommando, he finally stopped moving. The giant had strangled him. His arms uncoiled around the lifeless trooper’s body as the giant stood up once more. Turning around, he kept sprinting at a brisk pace towards the sound of the wounded, calling for the Baar’ur for help.

But where in Haran was Shai? He hadn’t heard her shouting orders to her troops in a while. Realizing her absence from the battlefield, the giant quickly brought up her vital signs and location tracker on his heads-up display.

His eyes widened in horror behind his white glowing visor as the giant came to an abrupt halt. <”No…”> The Alor’ad muttered in disbelief. Her vitals gave no sign of her pulse beating. She was flatlined! The giant shook his head in denial at the data he was receiving. No. No, that mutt wasn’t going down that easy! She couldn’t die that easily! After all those years…

The giant broke into a sprint, jumping and vaulting over debris and remnant corpses alike as he began closing in on Shai’s location tracker on her buy’ce. Maybe her helmet malfunctioned, displaying faulty vitals at the giant’s HUD and she was okay!

Blaster fire grew louder as he turned around the corner in the trench to his right with haste, sprinting through the communications trench into a support trench now. Her location was displayed there in his heads-up display. The giant turned to his left around the corner cautiously now, expecting the worst. Seconds felt like minutes as he rounded the corner as his vigilant gaze scanned his surroundings, looking for the Shistavanen among the men of the Sixteenth positioned in the trenches.

The giant heaved a deep sigh of relief as he saw her breathing. She was struggling to get up on her feet, presumably still in the process of regaining her balance. Passing by several warriors returning fire over the parapet, and a few warriors carrying the wounded to the dugout he left Parjai at, he reached Shai’s side to assess her medical condition. Crouching beside her, he could see several small to large shrapnel cutting into her flesh. Lowering his helmet mounted macrobinoculars, the giant scanned her vitals as he reached for his own IFAK for treatment. Her heartbeat was slightly elevated, but that was because of the adrenaline in her veins. Her blood pressure seemed okay, but it was slightly under what would be accepted as nominal. <”You’re going to be fine, ner vod! I’m here for you!”> The giant said as he reached for his field cauterizer and a single use auto injector from his IFAK to begin treatment.

She had a bunch of surface wounds here and there. Her beskar’gam seemed to have protected her against the brunt of the explosion, but she had several injuries that would pose a danger to her if left untreated for long. Assuming she wanted to get back into the thick of it, he began working on her injuries swiftly. Ripping a part of the flightsuit over the wound on the left side of her chest, he revealed the injury on her left extensor abdominal oblique before his eyes. A large piece of shrapnel jutted into her flesh. <”This might sting a bit.”> The giant said as he administered local anesthesia a few inches above her injury to numb that part of her body. Tossing away the auto injector after administering the anesthesia, the giant would remove the shrapnel, stop the bleeding with the field cauterizer, close up her wound and apply a bacta patch on her closed wound.

”To our left! To our left!”

:: We need a medic! ::

:: We got simps moving in on the right! ::

Right. There was an entire battle waging around him as he tended to Shai’s injuries. She would be back in action in a few moments after she was healed, but he had to assume command until then. Patching her up and commanding about fifty men and women would be no easy feat, but he could manage.

After closing up her wound with his field cauterizer, the giant swiftly pulled the lid of his utility pouch at the back of his warbelt and reached for his probe droid. The giant pressed down on its activation button with his thumb before he threw it into the air. As its small repulsors activated, the droid did not plummet to the ground like a rock, but kept on gaining altitude over the battlefield.

With the movement of his eyes, the giant activated its reconnaissance protocols using his interactive heads-up display as he continued his advance towards the pained cries of the injured. The probe would help him grasp the situation of the fight better, and allow both him and his vode get eyes out there from a bird’s eye view. He would be streaming the live-feed to the men and women of the Sixteenth for their use. Chiming into the Sixteenth’s comm circuit, the Alor’ad would begin shouting several orders to a number of squads in order to counter the Remnant advance on their position in the trenches. The Mandalorians would have to break the backs of their enemies before they could take the stronghold that stood before them.

<”First squad, break the Remnant's counter attack! Don’t let them gain a foothold in our trench line,”> The giant ordered over the Sixteenth’s com circuit as he smoothly jabbed the needle of a stimpack into Shai’s cephalic vein by her left bicep. The stimpack would greatly speed up the process of her recovery. Though there was another threatening injury similar to the first one he would have to take care of before she could return to the fight. <”Second squad, I want you to provide covering fire for the third and fourth as they push up! Use everything you got to overwhelm them! Third, fourth! When I give you the command, you’re going to push up to that large hole in the stronghold’s outer wall. I want you to get in there and start silencing those guns so the first and second can move in behind you for support!”> The large explosion from earlier had leveled a portion of the perimeter wall before them, providing means for the men and women of the Sixteenth to slip through their defences. <”First squad, I want you to push after the third and the fourth as soon as the Remnant’s counter attack is broken!”>

The squad leaders confirmed their orders swiftly as they all began to quickly for the counter attack. The giant gave the command soon after their squad leaders notified the Alor’ad that they were ready. <”Begin the assault!”> Kranak shouted as he continued to tend to Shai’s injuries. Their trench line erupted in loud and long salvos of blaster fire, with wrist rockets streaking in the air towards the machine gun nests and strong points of the wall before them. The third and fourth squad took it to the skies as their jetpacks roared to life, flying towards the large breach in the Remnant’s perimeter wall. As soon as Shai was combat effective once again, the giant would pack up and head to the dugout where the wounded were taken and begin treating them, leaving the command of her troops to Shai.

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

OBJECTIVE: Iron Dawn
Equipment: Blaster, Rifle, Detonators, Armour
TAG: Eliz Krayt | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Dante Corvus | Volgin Alto | Jon Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Open

​

Far away on the battlefield, where there were fewer bodies, a lone figure stood, a lucky survivor of a missile attack. Vulcan stared blankly in front of him, head swimming due to the infernal tinnitus screaming in his ears. He begged it to stop, to stop before he pitched forward with vertigo. He fought a wave of nausea that threatened to make him heave-ho is breakfast all over the snow. Which would be a blessing right now.

The ringing in his ears finally subsided, but one side, his left ear could only hear silence, he shook his head in the hope to get some sound back, still, nothing, he hoped this was not permanent. The deep cut on his forehead pulled and bled anew. He cannot stay in the same spot, he will become a target, so he took a step away from his position, then the stabbing hit, he wasn't stabbed but he sure felt it in his side.

Guess he got a little more than he had felt at the time, funny when you are fighting you never realise what you got when you no longer feel the Cortisol pumping all over. What he saw around him made him suddenly pause, the area had been littered with the shredded remains of soldiers, Vod that had just hours ago helped him blow up a defensive array. He bent down and picked up a helmet and could only numbly stare at it, he didn't know her name, but he would try to find out. He owes it to her to try.

Only snapping away and out from the numb void his mind had created, was a very sudden bolt of plasma glancing off the top of his helmet. He needed to move, he needed to seek cover. So that is what he did, resorting to crawling over bodies, he avoided more gunfire. He made it to a fox hole left by a missile, arms and gore pooled at the bottom. Vulcan didn't look at it, he pointedly ignored it. He knew it wasn't safe for him to remove his helmet, as his lungs were unsuited for the atmosphere, but he had to as blood was tangling in his eyelashes and sticking his eye shut.

Holding his breath and ignoring the pain in his body, he took it off and started rubbing at his right eye to clear it, he should wait for rescue, but he also wanted to see this through regardless of how much it hurt or how bad he felt. Stubborn to the end. He suddenly thought of Shai, she was out there and his Comm could not connect to hers. Panic ignited in his mind, he was afraid she was lost or too far across the battlefield to attempt long broadband communication.

As the vision cleared in his eye and the blood dried, he put the helmet back on, relieved that he does not need to hold his breath. He needs to get back out there and follow through. He didn't flee when that hungry and angry Beast charged at him and Shai. Took a lot of effort but they overcame it. He still had berries from the adventure. They were edible and carried no substances that will cause a stomach upset.

He prayed that Shai was alive and unhurt. But he knew that being struck by a missile will cause injury, but he hoped she got away in time. Now he had to concentrate on the future, and the task still awaited him. He still needed to get past that wall. He had to sink deeper into the messy foxhole as a Sith prowled the area. If he was spotted, then it will be game over and he would lose his life right then and there and he would never know if Shai was alright.

Vulcan aimed, lifting his arms hurt but he needed to be able to escape this quagmire of mud, snow, and blood. If he couldn't get free, he would die here and he had to live through this. For Shai, wherever she may be.

A Beast was one thing, a Sith was quite the other, but her is the crunch, he needed to survive and to do that he needed to make snap decisions, besides, they tried to blow him and his comrades to bits, he is very cheesed off about that. He pulled the trigger, and the Sith collapsed.

"Sooran, shab!" He hissed under his breath; he knew very little Mando'a but this one exclamation was the first to come to mind, well the one he can remember the most. He was free to climb out, he grunted as he got to the top. He was greeted by another Vod, he too was caked with bloody mud but alive. Vulcan sighed in relief, glad to see a familiar helmet visor.

Out through the dense snow sheets that lashed the scarred ground, the wall loomed, large and foreboding, this was what they needed to get over to take their fight to the Remnants. So he and several survivors charged forward towards the gap, adrenalin numbing the ever-escalating pain and pushing it back. Just up and over, not difficult.

They weaved past the laser fire and shot any enemy combatants that came their way, they were then finally able to go through the holes made in the wall. A small cheer erupted from the group as they were on the summit of the right flank hole. From here they can see just how much carnage was wrought upon them. Fire and bodies caked the area, the snow never letting up, even for an instant.

Vulcan leaned on the side of the breach, gathering up strength and resolve, the pain roared at him to lie down, just for a minute, he can steal a brief sleep, just to make it stop. The temptation made him slip further down.

"Oh no you don't squirt; we are too close to stop now." TJ, the Mando he met at the foxhole snapped pulling him back up. They were close to their objective to give up now and Vulcan knew this, so he pressed on down towards the other side. Firing on hostiles who appeared out of the frosty haze.

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

IRON RESOLVE
OBJECTIVE I | OPERATION: FALSE FLAG
OPPOSING | SITH REMNANTS

​

— 870, Ursa's Redoubt's surroundings, Krownest.

The Banshees were walking in the snow and the dirt, trying to reach the rendezvous point as quickly as possible. They had drawn from the supplies the DM&S-132 tanks, made to be performant during the sieges and to be used as mortars in those types of situations. Kelga’an led mortars’ group, composed of six squads from the Kyber and Kieph’err. Veersov was far ahead, preparing the trenches for the Banshees. The half-tracks allowed the sappers to be quicker than Kelga’an’s group. As for Kappa, the squads were dispatched in the surroundings to bring a side shield to the artillery section, in case of ambush from the Brotherhood. There were only two One-Thirty-Two with the captain, because of the imposant size of the crew that the mortars were asking for a good functioning. The snow on the ground was slowing down the commandos as they tried to join the rest of NIO’s troops.

<Major AC-022 reportin’ fo’ duty, sir,> a voice asked on the coms.
<Here I am, Twice. Let me know your situation.>
<We just reached the rendezvous point and we’re diggin’ a trench your boys, sir,> the major replied, <but lemme know where y’actually are, ‘cause we’re waitin’ for ya.>
<Good job, ‘22. We’re five klicks away from ya.>
<Oh, nice, we’ve all the time we want to dig those trenches. Anythin’ else to ask, sir?>
<No Twice. Ya can dispose.>
<Copy that!> the major ended.

Kelga’an held his datapad from one hand, and his vibroknife from the other. He was consulting the troops movements in the sector, against the Sith’s position of Ursa’s Redoubt. Bad and good news were together in the soldiers' reports.

“This place is a bit quiet for us, sir,” a soldier said to the captain. “It’s very borin’ for us.”
“I know, commando,” Kelga’an answered without taking a look at him, “but, today, it’s our job, an’ tomorrow, you can be sure it’ll be different.” He didn’t look up at the maybe future battlefield in front of him. “As an Imperial soldier, I have to follow the orders that the Command gives to me. An’ ya’ve too. War is not just a question o’ fight: overseein’ one place while an assault is ongoing in an other is a part of our mission.”
“Got it, sir,” the private simply answered. He had not been satisfied at all by this reply, but he was oski with this fact, now.

Bursts of voices interrupted the captain’s thoughts as some news was coming to him.

<What’s coming on?> he asked on the coms.
<Here’s Guardian Squad. Sith commandos’ squad spotted five deci-klicks ahead, over.> Sergeant Skull replied.
<That’s oski, Sergeant, we gonna fix that. Everyone in position! Take cover an’ wait for my orders.>

A wave of ‘Copy!’ answered Captain Kelga’an’s orders. The soldiers quickly rearranged the formation to better fit a defensive one. He tightened his grip on his explosive rifle.​

 

[Jalter Volff]

Location: Krownest
Objective: Operation False Flag
Tags: Interacting Kranak Vizsla | Vicinity Michael Barran Shai Maji Vulcan Krayt Volgin Alto Lesha Priest Alora Vizsla Eliz Krayt Jon Kovacs Delilah Jones | Sorry if I forgot anyone
Ship: TIE/HB Bruiser
Flight: x2 TIE/HB Bruiser

High Altitude
Darkstar​

The two bombers drifted in the sky as the battle below them raged on, Jalter watched through his targeting computer as Dagger squadron made its attack run. "Pop." he heard Crater say as the first TIE erupted into flames. Jalter let out a small chuckle. He was desensitized to seeing pilots going down and it didn't effect him much anymore, even more so when they weren't Darkstar. "Right, lets see if we can actually give them a helping hand eh?" he said over to Crater.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" he heard the response came over.

Jalter switched his comms over to Kranak Vizsla and Shai Maji . "Kandosii Actual this is Brawler 3-1. Got times 2 TIE Bruisers holding 2 clicks North of IP Acklay with a payload of guided Electro-Proton Bombs, could disrupt the SAM targeting systems, as well as the comms with their artillery, might give you a break." Jalter said before tapping the bomb bays contral pad. A large series of thunks came through as the bomb bay cycled over to the electro-proton bombs. "We can drop 'em from high altitude, possibly above SAM range. Just need one of your men to lase the target area so the bombs can be guided in." he finished off. In truth he had no idea if they would be above SAM range, he was simply hoping that he wouldn't be in range of all the SAM sites and that the Bruiser's shields would hold up, the TIE was a literal freight train of a ship after all.

He heard Crater speak over the comms. "Even with guided bombs we won't be accurate, have you seen the weather conditions that high up? The snow and winds will drive them off course."

Jalter leaned forawrd, looking out of the cockpit. "So we go for a wide spread, drop once we know we're clear of our forces. We just need some of the bombs to hit and even if we hit our own guys well we'd only fry their comms." he replied. It was a non-lethal response but one that could disorient the enemy. The remnant were dug in and desperate, the last thing they needed was to have the electronics down to the HUDs in their helmets to go down, even if it were for only a certain window of time.